Wielder

Chapter 32 - Broken

The Emperor had tricked her.

   Michael stood where she had left him, safely protected behind Commander Sole's shield. Though his expression was tortured, there were no signs that anyone had harmed him. No marks lay on his skin. No enemy stood above him with a weapon. No blood lay around him upon the floor.

   She allowed herself a moment to sigh in grateful relief.

   It was all the emperor needed.

   His power struck the back of her skull as forcefully as a hammered nail through wood. It stunned her, blacking out her vision and turning her limbs numb. The magic around her vanished out of her hold as he sucked it away. His thick, oily energy caught her as she fell, wrapping tight around her in the form of long strings. She felt as helpless as a fly caught in a spider's web. Round and round his dark silk threads wove, encasing her for devouring.

   Her consciousness plunged into the corruption that enveloped her. She fought it, her soul thrashing wildly even though her limbs no longer responded. But the power was too thick. It dragged her down, down, down into an abyss of despair and hopelessness.

   An abyss, she feared, there would be no rising up from.

   Failure, the power breathed into her, turning her spirit cold as ice. Foolish little girl. Helpless, hopeless, failure.

   No. She was not a failure. She had done what she had to. She had made a stand against the emperor. She had defended what was good, and right, and true.

   To what end? it asked, its voiceless words weighing heavy upon her heart. You have only wasted time. You have stopped nothing. You have accomplished nothing. You are worthless.

   No! She was not worthless. She was the Ultimate Wielder. The realm had believed in her. She had to believe in herself, too.

   You are nothing, the power hissed. Magic will replace you.

   It couldn't be true. Magic had chosen her. Her, out of all the people in the realm. She was destined to be its savior, its protector, its... its...

   She shivered against the cold. Cold and lonely, that's how she'd ended up. All that work; all that effort, for what? For magic to disappear the moment she had needed it most? For the so-called Ultimate to abandon her when she'd only taken one blow? She had given everything to the realm. Everything. How was it still not enough?

   Because you are not enough, the blackness said.

   But she had fought so hard. She had done so much.

   Not enough.

   She had traveled so far.

   Not enough.

   She had become someone new.

   Not enough.

   Alie crumpled. She collapsed into herself as the words rang over and over. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

   There was only a fragment of magic left. It had attached itself to her soul; perhaps it had even become part of it. It flickered in the howling wind of the darkness, a candle against a hurricane.

   She wanted to protect it. Even if it was only a speck. Even if it was less than a speck. It was life. Life was worth protecting.

   She wrapped the arms of her soul around that speck, barring it from the wind. She wouldn't let it go out. She would guard it with everything she had, even if she didn't have much.

   She hugged that little speck of magic, and waited.

   And waited.

   And waited.