Children of Fallen Gods (The War of Lost Hearts Book 2) by Carissa Broadbent (good english books to read .TXT) 📕

I started to push towards it, but then, something more important caught my attention. One more presence, here, drawing from this level of magic.

I spun around and looked to the sky. A searing streak of violet light reached across it.

I recognized that raw magic, that presence, immediately. I had seen it, too, the last time I had been down here.

Max.

Max was here.

And I needed to break through Irene’s grip if I was to meet him.

Suddenly invigorated, I drew back, until I could see all of the threads connecting us lit up like streaks of firefly light. Me, Reshaye, Max, all drawing from the same deep level of magic. And Irene’s, hacking through my mind until she reached it, too.

I thought back to what Vardir had told us in Ilyzath. That this magic, deep magic, demanded life. Thrived on it. Consumed it.

I didn’t just burn my own energy. I could take it from others. And while the Stratagram tattoos had cut off my connection to my own energy… Irene was now feeding me hers, whether she intended to or not.

I grabbed onto Reshaye’s panicking presence, even as it fought me. Trust me! I hissed.

I stopped retreating from Irene’s magic. Instead, I reached out for it — her mind. Her presence.

Her life.

We can use this, I told Reshaye. It understood a moment after I did. Help me.

I tightened my grip around Irene’s magic. And then I Wielded it.

My eyes snapped open. Magic burned inside of me, like I had swallowed smoldering coals. Irene sagged against the table, her hand still clasped around mine, face contorted in pain. I held her mind in my grip — even though those Stratagrams still choked me.

Together, Reshaye and I pushed until we hit that cord around our throats, that sheet of glass that boiled our magic in my veins, refusing to allow it to reach the surface. The tattoos on my skin burned.

But I had more power now, fueled by Irene’s magic.

You can push through? I asked Reshaye.

{Yes,} Reshaye answered. I felt something different in its words — a strange sort of humanity. {But the cost to you would be—}

Do it, I commanded.

I didn’t have time to think. Reshaye’s magic surged, burning and shattering.

And the pain consumed everything. I didn’t realize I was screaming until my voice started to give out. With great effort, I turned my head, looking to my arms where they were strapped to the table. My own flesh rotted, tattoos withering into pools of blackened flesh.

My vision was dimming, my consciousness threatening to fade.

But just in time, Reshaye withered the final Stratagrams. With the sudden loss of resistance, power overwhelmed me. Irene’s scream drowned beneath the rush of blood in my ears.

My bindings heated and crumbled away, and when I sat up and looked down, Irene’s hand was still clutched in mine, now nothing but soupy rotten flesh and stark white bone. When I released it, she slumped to the ground, decay still crawling over her skin.

I tried to stand and immediately collapsed. The world was spinning, blurring.

{You cannot stop, Tisaanah. You cannot stop now, or you will not get up again.}

I’m not.

I watched my hands against the stone. Blue flames unfurled around my fingers. When I called my magic to me, they brightened, the stone itself shivering beneath my touch. I could feel vibrations from the entire building, like the walls were whispering to me. Below, I felt fear. I felt awe. I felt the clash of steel against steel, and the rising heat of fire.

And most of all, I felt another magic calling to mine — magic that belonged to a soul I knew better than any other.

I staggered to my feet. The world shifted and tilted. I didn’t let myself waver as I threw open the door.

Chapter Forty-Three

Max

He’s going to kill her. She’s already dead.

I seared those words into my mind. They made me quick. They made me focused. They made me fearless. They ensured that I didn’t hesitate when I landed outside the wards of the Capital and immediately opened my second eyelids, letting terrible magic tear through me. Letting myself become something that was no longer human.

I had forgotten how good it felt, like a spark taking to kindling. One blink, and my body peeled into flame itself, no longer bound by the restrictions of physicality — a serpent of fire, moving through the air like a gust of wind.

I came in through the back of the Palace. There were times in life for subtlety, but this was not one of them. The guards looked at me as if I were a demon. Many were so afraid of me that they staggered back and went for help. The ones that did try to fight fell quickly.

It was easy, to push through them, barreling through the doors of the Palace. I roared down narrow hallways, filling them with flames.

Where are you, Tisaanah? Where are you?

She’s already dead, the prisoner’s voice echoed.

No. She couldn’t be. I didn’t allow myself to entertain the possibility. Because if she was, I would… I would…

I shut away the thought.

The Palace was enormous, larger than most city blocks. Finding her in here would be nearly impossible if I had no idea where I needed to go. But I’d spent plenty of time attending to the cells here during the Ryvenai War. The ones on the third floor were often reserved for Wielders, since they were more heavily fortified and warded against magic.

I didn’t like leaving something this important up to chance. But if I were Aviness, I would put Tisaanah in one of those cells.

Which meant I needed to fight my way up to the third floor of the Palace, and halfway across its length.

At first, I moved quickly. It was easy to push back shocked, terrified guards who had no idea what they were looking at.

But by the time I made it to the second floor, Aviness’s soldiers were prepared for