Chapter 167
ATASHA’S POV
Violet lunged again, fast enough that I barely had time to breathe. I met her halfway this time, pushing off the wall and catching her by the wrist.
Her strength hit me like a wave, she was small, but what was inside her wasn’t. The impact rattled my bones and sent both of us stumbling across the room, crashing into a chair that splintered under our weight.
The noise barely registered before Violet’s other hand shot forward. Her nails lengthened mid–motion with a wet, splitting sound, curling into sharp, blackened claws. The smell of iron and rot filled the air.
She slashed at me, missing by inches, and the claws tore through the wooden desk instead, leaving deep grooves in the surface.
I ducked under her arm and swung my elbow up, slamming it into her ribs. It should have made her stumble. It didn’t. She grinned instead, teeth red from her own blood, and caught me by the throat.
Her grip locked like iron. My feet lifted off the ground. I clawed at her wrist, gasping as the pressure built. My windpipe burned. “You’re… strong,” I forced out.
Violet tilted her head, her voice rough and uneven. “It seems you are more stupid than you look,” she said. Her claws pressed harder into my skin. “You can’t hurt me. I am stronger than you.”
My vision blurred at the edges, but I smiled anyway. “We’ll see.”
With both hands, I grabbed her wrist and pushed forward, forcing my palms flat against her chest. Her pulse, if it could still be called that, throbbed under my touch. I didn’t heal this time. I pushed.
The warmth surged from me like a current snapping loose. The force of it made my arms tremble. My power poured into her body in one rush, the same way it did when I sealed a wound, but this time, I wasn’t mending. I was forcing the body to remember what it was before whatever had taken it.
Violet’s head jerked back. A strangled sound tore from her throat. Her grip loosened just enough for air to rush into my lungs again. Her eyes widened, flickering between black and brown like the thing inside her was fighting to stay.
I didn’t let go. I shoved harder, both hands pressed to her chest, feeling the surge of my energy burning through her. The air between us crackled, heavy with the strain. Her body shook violently, the strength in her fingers faltering as her knees began to buckle.
Her other hand shot up, claws swinging toward my face. I twisted my head to the side, feeling one claw graze my cheek and slice a shallow line across my skin. The sting came and went fast, my body already healing it before blood could fall.
“Stop!” she hissed, voice breaking between hers and something else.
This time, I pushed again. The heat in my palms grew unbearable, spreading up my arms and down my spine. Violet’s body arched back, trembling. The dark veins running along her throat began to fade, replaced by the color of real skin. Whatever held her was slipping, losing ground.
Her eyes met mine. She tried to speak, but only a rasp came out. Her grip broke completely. I shoved her backward, and she hit the floor hard, coughing.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was her breathing, uneven and strained. Her claws retracted with a sickening snap, curling back into normal fingers. The black mist that had started to gather around her hands evaporated.
I stood over her, chest heaving, my palms still burning from the inside. My knees felt weak, but I didn’t let myself fall. Then I watched as Violet started to struggle on the floor.
Everything had happened in a blink and then it was over and not over all at once. My cars were ringing, my breath still coming in sharp pulls as if the air itself had been reached into and rearranged.
The world felt sped up and hollow, like someone had played the day too fast and skipped the safe parts. Even as I stood there, hands tingling from the heat I’d poured into her, there was no time to let the shock land.
The door burst open before I could think to move. Cassian filled the frame, coat thrown back, boots skidding on the floorboards as he crossed the room in two long strides. Relief cut through me the instant he was close enough to touch, but I did not take my eyes off Violet. Grace and Sister Veris crowded in behind him, faces draining of color when they took in the ruined table and the girl on the floor.
Meanwhile, Violet’s body was a mess of trembling limbs and ragged breaths. For some unknown reason, she clawed at her own throat as if something inside was trying to be wrenched free.
Then her hands scrabbled across her neck and then bunched into fists, nails digging into skin as if she could pull whatever had been inside her loose. When she screamed, the sound split the room, not a single human shriek but layered, as if other voices rode with it. The sound was wrong in a way that tightened my gut.
Then the wet, black tears came. They slid down her cheeks in thick ribbons that left dark tracks on her skin. The smell that rose with them was like old smoke and iron. For a second I could only stare. Whatever had used her had the power to make blood run black and laugh in a child’s throat.
Cassian moved faster than I expected. He was at my side, hands steadying me before I even registered his touch. He gathered me into his arms as if keeping me upright was more important than anything else in the room, he didn’t need to ask if I was hurt. Yet, I still nodded, silently letting him know that I was fine.
Then out of nowhere, Violet rolled onto her side and started to laugh, at first a hiccuping sound, then a high, delighted cackle that made the hair on my arms stand up. “You will regret this,” she cried, voice splitting the syllables until they sounded like prophecy. “The North will fall. It will happen soon. Very soon.”
