“Well…” I look around at the casters. Kiora has her hands balled into fists. “It's been a good run…”

Silvy snores lightly on my shoulder.

How did I end up here?

My mind hops from Renald, to Arbor, to Lebec, to Marist, and right back to here.

Helping others got me here.

I should've stayed in Blackhart selling witchstones. Had I done that, none of this ever would've happened.

I glance up at Renald who leans over the balcony, my balcony, watching me with glee.

I can hand over the witchstone and hope they let us go.

And probably die.

Or I can fight.

And probably die.

“With options like these, who needs choices?” I mumble.

“What?” Kiora asks.

“Nothing,” I mutter. “We’re gonna have to fight. Can you fight?”

She looks at me and dips her chin a single time. Something in her eyes changes. Something shuts itself away. Her chin lifts and she smiles at me.

I cock my head to the side, surprised that she's smiling now, right before her almost definite impending doom.

“Stop, stop!” Renald suddenly calls down from the staircase. He rubs at his eyes as he pulls up his hood, bathing his face in darkness. “Listen.” He holds his hands up. “I don't want to fight any more than you do. I'm sure you can believe that.”

I can't.

“All I want is that witchstone,” he says. “Give me that and I’ll let you go.”

Not even five minutes before he’d been moaning about having to kill me without being able to torture me.

I raise an eyebrow. “Sure,” I say, hoping there was some avenue of escape.

“So give me the witchstone and I’ll let you leave.” He extends his right hand out and kinda waves it in the air at his casters. An opening forms, leading to the front door to Sulis. He's created a path out.

I swallow. Kiora looks at me and shakes her head no.

“Don't listen to her,” Renald calls down. “She doesn't know what she's talking about. She’s lived a life of luxury.”

Working as a barista in a coffee shop, even if it was in Anara, doesn't seem like luxury to me.

“I don't know,” I say. “Seems like a trap.”

Renald blows out a huge breath. “It's not a trap, I just want this over and done with. I feel like if you just give me the stone, I can get on with my life. You can too and we can act like none of this ever happened.”

I will never act like none of this happened.

“Sure,” I say. “That sounds like a great idea.”

I move my hand towards my pocket.

“Hold on,” Renald says. “What are the terms?”

Is he stalling for time? Why would he be stalling? He has us outnumbered. What am I missing?

“I give you the stone and you let me live?” I try.

He pauses.

Kiora and I exchange looks. What the hell is going on?

Behind him, a cloaked figure steps forward.

As soon as I hear the voice speaking from within the hood, I know exactly who it is.

The man who'd been sitting in the booth at Beckeldorff's, the man who I hadn't seen.

Renald's boss.

“You can return home,” the man says while looking at Renald.

Renald pulls his hood back and blinks several times, looking confused.

Renald's boss waits a moment before asking a question. “What is this?”

“She has the stone. It's in her left pocket and I've delivered it to you,” Renald says, but more than anything Renald seems confused.

Renald's boss looks down at me. All I can see is darkness inside of the hood.

“My apologies, witches,” the man says. “I did not know this was his plan. I came as soon as I heard.”

Renald starts to speak, but the man holds up a finger directly in front of Renald's face.

“Stop talking, you caster child,” the man says and then speaks to me. “Hexana Covington. Owner of Blackhart. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Are you? All these casters surrounding me say otherwise.”

“Yes,” the man says and I can hear the smile in his voice. “My associate sometimes forgets his place.”

“Okay.”

“How much did you want for the witchstone he was trying to buy?”

“20,000.”

“And he offered you what… 15,000?”

“Try five.”

Renald shifts in place.

“Five,” Renald's boss says. “You offered the witch five for the stone? You’re quibbling over 15,000 when I authorized you to spend upwards of 200,000?”

Renald swallows.

“What were you planning to tell me you bought it for?” the man asks. “Were you going to say you spent 195 and keep the difference?”

“She's lying,” Renald sputters, but the casters around me hiss as one.

Renald shakes his head.

“Oh,” the boss says, “you thought they were loyal to you? You thought I would trust you completely with this? Thus far you've done nothing but create problems.”

“I'm sorry,” Renald sputters. “I was trying to get you the best deal. That's all.”

The man sighs and waves his hands at the front door of Sulis. The casters fall back into a tight circle around me.

“I'm sorry,” the man says. “This should not have gone this way. We should have made a deal and been done.” He shrugs. “I suppose this is what happens when you trust a caster.”

“If I give you the stone, can I go?” I ask the man, ignoring Renald completely now. The real source of power is finally in the room. There's no reason to even acknowledge Renald any longer.

Renald's boss leans forward, lacing his fingers together. “Unfortunately no. You see, you've just witnessed a murder.”

I frown, looking around.

No one's died yet. Is he talking about them killing me? That wouldn’t make any sense. What would be the—

It happens so fast that I don't even realize it. The man's hand whips out, his fingertips elongating into sharpened talons as they tear backwards through the place where Renald's head once was. I frown, staring at Renald's now headless body, a fine red mist floating down to the lobby.

“Pretty,” Silvy purrs, floating off my shoulder. She spends in a circle as the bloody mist rains down, her mouth open like a child trying to catch a snowflake on her tongue instead of blood.

I've never seen a spell like that before. It it something he used from a witchstone? Or is he a wizard? Is that a power he has inside of him?

Renald's boss sticks his tongue out and licks at the last of the bloody mist.

I swallow and look around me. The casters change their stances, legs widened, eyes fierce.

“Fuck. Are you ready?” I ask Kiora.

She nods and turns around, pressing her back against mine.

I slip my hand into my pocket and as soon as I do the first caster fires a spell at me, a green seal that flies through the air.

These aren't just casters. At least several are adepts.

“Silvy,” I shout, “help.”

“No,” she purrs. “I'm full right now. Good luck though.”

“Fuck you too then.” I pull a witchstone out of my pocket and throw it against the ground as hard as I can.

Purple smoke billows up around us, enveloping the entire lobby with it.

I visited San Francisco once when I was a kid and a phenomenon happens there that the natives call tule fog. Much like tule fog, this witchstone creates a mist so thick you can barely see six inches in front of you.

The sounds of fighting are muffled in the magick fog and I crouch down, watching seals fly over my head, hoping Kiora is somewhere defending herself. I'm not sure what will happen to me if a witch royal dies in my care.

From up on the stairs, I hear Renald's boss let out a deep bellow of laughter.

“Crafty,” he says. “Casters, she's crouched down at the middle. You're all fighting each other. The other witch is pressed against the wall, waiting for one of you to approach.”“

One second later, a caster screams

The man up on the stairs laughs louder. “And it seems one of you found her. Unlucky for you, you’re now dying.”

Silvy chuckles to herself from somewhere to my right. “I like him. He has a good sense of humor.”

I ignore this, pulling the next witchstone from my holster and slipping it under my tongue. I don't hesitate, pulling another witchstone and shifting it to my left hand where I clutch it tight. The magick from the witchstone under my tongue flows through my veins, filling me with magick energy.

My skin crackles and my body puffs up the slightest amount, my skin cracking from my neck all the way down to my toes. What looks like glowing embers erupt from these cracks, covering me in sharpened, molten spines. The spines are most prominent on my knuckles, creating spiked brass knuckles made of red-hot rock.

I crack my neck, smile to myself, and get to work. I move through the magick fog, punching, ripping, tearing my way through casters, leaving bodies in my wake. Charred, cindered bodies that smolder from the inside out at the single touch of a spike from my fist.

I mow down my fifth caster when I hear Kiora scream. I make my way through the fog, dropping an additional three casters on my way, watching them burn in agony on the ground.

This lobby is gonna smell like burned meat for the rest of my life.

Kiora crouches in a ball by the wall. Blood drips down her face.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She nods and I stare at her pale face. I look at her horns. There's blood on them.

Not just blood though. There's flesh as well.

I close my eyes. “Did you kill someone with your horns?”

Kiora nods.

She's blooded. She can never go to Anara again because anyone with magick will see her horns now.

“Okay. It's gonna be fine,” I say. “Let's make our way towards the entrance.”

She reaches her hand out to me, but I shake my head. I can't touch her in my witchstone altered form. I'd light her up from the inside.

“Let's go,” I say. “We have to get out of here.”

More casters fall upon us. We fight for our lives and when I catch glimpses of her fighting in the magick fog, I'm in awe. She tears through casters at an astounding rate, using her horns as an additional weapon now.

When we make it to the front door, I see that there are five casters waiting for us. I don't know where Renald's boss is, but—

My body goes rigid, completely freezes, and I lift into the air.

I can't move a millimeter.

My body slowly spends and I could see that Kiora is frozen in the air as well. Through the fog, Renald's boss appears.

He pulls his hood back, rubbing at his eyes as he does so. He has long flowing locks of black hair. His blue eyes fasten on me and he smiles. Even though I'm about to die, my heart gives a little flutter.

He points at my left pocket and slowly lifts his finger up. The three witchstones there shift and pop out, making their way over to him. The witchstone Renald wanted, the tracestone, as well as the shadowstone I got for Kiora.

I swallow, trying to squeeze the witchstone still in my left hand but unable to. I can't make my fingers work. Or anything, really.

“You know,” he says as he watches me, “you killed quite a few people today. Both of you did. I do wish we could have done business on better terms but understand it was just not to be.”

I didn't say anything, I can't. My mouth won't move.

This is the perfect moment for Silvy to do something, to attack him, to rip his veins open and eat him.

That doesn't happen though. The man continues forward, grabbing the witchstones out of the air, and slipping them into his cloak.

He smiles at me. “The best part of all this is that the Austerium is going to believe that you're the one responsible. You and this other witch. They'll never trust witches again after this. They'll say you've all gone feral.”

I can't respond.

“Did you know that the Austerium put a bounty on your head? You assaulted that annoying adept Cerulea. You broke your exile by leaving your escort behind.” He steps back into the purple fog, disappearing from view. “They're going to execute both of you for this. I'm going to leave you hanging there and let Lebec know that there's a situation at Sulis. You'll take the blame for all of it.”

The lobby of Sulis is quiet for a moment but then his voice drifts through the fog one last time. “By the way, all these casters you just killed?”

I close my eyes.

“They were all adepts,” he whispers. “Austerium adepts.”