Chapter 2 Chapter Two

Asterra’s POV

Just before the men could come for me, I shifted to Freya. I wanted to punch away the smile from her face, but I knew another one would replace it immediately.

“Plan B,” I told her.

She smothered her chuckle with both hands. “I told you that was the only way we could get them.”

“Less talk, friend, more action,” I growled. I was already dead tired of the I-told-you-so line she always paraded.

Zephrys traced to my front again, his jaw tight, his handsome, boyish features taking on some seriousness for perhaps the first time in his life. His gaze slid from Freya to me, and then to the three other faces downstairs, equally shifting towards me with murder in their eyes, and then to the hundreds of other faces suspended in curiosity, before making a detour back to me. “What in hell is happening, goddess?” his gaze dropped to my hand, where my fingers held tight to the lock of hair I had stolen from him. “And why do you need my hair?” he demanded.

“Because she wants to enchant you, pretty boy.” Freya giggled from behind me.

The bitch. I glanced back and glared at her, grinding my teeth against each other; my jaw ached.

“Just do what you have to fucking do,” I growled at her.

Again, another infuriating giggle.

Zephrys's grin had been quickly replaced by a frown, jaw ticking. “Give back my hair, goddess—” He charged at me to get it, but before he could, Freya acted.

A large bubble of pink light spawned from thin air and wrapped around Zephrys and the three other males, swallowing them fast, lifting and suspending them in the air. And they fought with it desperately. But they couldn’t win against Freya’s magic that easily.

“About fucking time,” I growled at Freya. Her petulant giggle followed me as I threw myself over the railings. The ground shook beneath me as I landed in the midst of the lower immortals, who were still suspended in shock, watching me, and importantly, the four men trapped in the bubbles with explicit disbelief. The whole hall was still, except for the echo of my landing resounding in the room.

The silence only lasted for a few moments until Fenrir’s men locked their gazes on me. “Free the king,” one of the beta’s screamed, wild, charging madly for me with his claws.

The rest came after him like a horde, face murderous, claws sharp. And instantly, it was all chaos. Everyone in the hall had worked the math. The four most dangerous men alive were trapped and vulnerable. This was their only chance to ever get rid of them.

Half of Fenrir’s betas broke off to defend Fenrir as a group of witches went for him. Well, that took Fenrir off my plate.

I moved my hands in practiced motions, letting my magic swirl into my palms, just the right amount. I had to conserve. I would need everything I still had for the main spell.

A beta swung his lethal claws for my neck. I dropped low, my boots sliding off the marble floor with a sharp, squeaky cry, and his arm flew past me.

I blasted the glowing bubble of light in my palm, just right against the back of his neck. He went down immediately, just as another aimed for my stomach. Again, I avoided the attack and waited until I found the perfect opening. I swept his legs clean from the floor by whipping them with my magic. And as he was free-falling to the ground, I gathered my magic in my fist, and I jammed it right against his head. He went out cold like his colleague.

I spotted a Valkyrie going towards Azreal, and I made a plate of bubble beneath my boots and floated away from the other betas lunging for me.

Just before the Valkyrie could swing her sword for his neck, I caught the obsidian metal, not minding that it cut into my palm, and I spun her around with all my strength and flung her away.

Her wail was swallowed up by the chaos in the hall, while she flew across the room. She took down the crowd of wraiths going for Lucivar with her, and they all crashed roughly against a wall.

I had a glimpse of the calculation in Azreal’s eyes as I reached into the bubble and snatched a lock of his hair. Surprisingly, unlike the others, he didn’t fight the magic. He just stood calmly in it, watching me.

I almost tripped at the intensity of his stare as I floated across to Lucivar. Lucivar clawed and bit at the bubble desperately. He almost caught my hand under his pointy, serrated fangs as I reached into the bubble and pulled a lock of hair.

I heard him growl out something at me. Whatever it was, it was muffled by the magic, but I had a pretty good guess from the murder in his eyes following me to Fenrir—he’d called me a bitch.

That should sting if I didn't already know I am one. Those words just helped me feel less of the guilt I had been battling for years now.

Fenrir’s betas were too preoccupied, wading off the other immortals coming for him, and I melted myself into a trail of air, expending as little magic as possible. I sneaked through the chaos and reached for Fenrir’s hair from behind. It would be a fatal mistake to take on a werewolf from the front.

I floated back beside Freya, staggering onto the floor, when the floating plate suddenly flickered and died. I pretended nothing had happened and fought hard for my balance. But I caught the gleam in her eyes. She’d seen my power wane again.

It was useless hiding it from her. She knew everything. But still, I wouldn't want her to know it happens this often.

I didn't need to bother about the Incubus. She had protected him all along.

“Now, Freya,” I breathed. I had no idea my breath was roaring in and out of me until then.

She dropped her hand onto mine while holding off the bubbles and their inhabitants with the other hand.

Her powers flowed through me, and it charged up mine. I trembled under the weight of the magic coursing through my old, weak, and tired veins now. I steered it fast out of me, knowing my body couldn’t handle so much magic, and I transferred it to the locks of hair, watching them float away from my hands to the air.

I shut my eyes tight in concentration, and I whispered my incantations so fast that I could barely understand myself. But I have recited them enough in my head so many times that I couldn't make even a single mistake.

The strength of the magic was too much for me. It tore massively through my veins, my soul, my whole body heating up until every inch of me was a conduit of pain, blood leaking from my nostrils. Yet, I endured. I had no choice. This was the only way.

The locks of hair I had collected fused into one, and together with the magic, it slammed hard against my chest to implant itself in my heart.

An agonizing wail tore from my throat. I broke off Freya’s hand, and I collapsed onto the floor as weak as I had ever been.

My breath rushed in and out of me with a force that knocked my chest high and low. I sat on the floor, a heap of bones and flesh, held together by nothing. The enchantment was done, but at a great cost. I stared down at my palm, and every trace of magic was gone. I felt no trace of it either in my veins. I was magicless now, hopefully for months, and at worst, forever, until I could get back my sisters. Until then, I was a fallen goddess, prey to all.

“Sorry, girl, but you would have to handle the rest yourself.” Freya chuckled stiffly, her voice heavy with excitement and dread at the same time.

I raised my tired eyes at her, brain still muddled and foggy from everything. “What are you talking about?”

She nudged her gaze forward, and I followed it to the males marching murderously for me. Fenrir led the charge, his amber eyes, embers of fire. Lucivar and Zephrys followed after him.

Only Azreal strolled carefully, like he had all the time in the world. Fuck! They had broken out of their magical cages.

I whipped my gaze immediately to Freya, yelling up at her. “This wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to hold them off until—"

“Sorry—” the bitch slipped me a giggle again, and then she fucking traced away.

Hell! I was going to strangle that fucking bitch.