Chapter Five

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Everything happens in a blur.

The Green Coat lifts his musket with surprising speed.

Victoria is quicker. She kicks the musket out of his hands before he can fire a shot, her leg moving in a perfect, powerful arch.

He scrambles for his glass vial but Victoria springs toward him. Just as he is about to throw it, Victoria launches the dagger.

An agonised scream leaves his mouth as the dagger plunges into the palm of his hand, nailing it to the wall behind.

Victoria dives forward, catching the vial effortlessly as it falls from his bleeding hand.

His face pales and spit flies through his gritted teeth as he tries to take the dagger out of his hand.

"What does this do?" Seraphina asks innocently as she holds up the vial. He pauses and turns to look at her. His eyes are wide and glistening with tears.

"Nothing," he gasps and then whines in pain.

Victoria chuckles and pops open the small cork. Immediately, the stench of rotting, and death fills the room. She represses a gag, but it doesn't stop her stomach from bubbling.

"This is potent stuff," she manages to spit, shaking her head.

With a determined shout, he swings out with his legs, trying to kick the open vial out of her hands and onto her. Victoria elegantly jumps back, not spilling a single drop. As his leg comes down, she strikes.

There is a sickening crunch as she kicks his knee with all her strength. He buckles and cries out, his voice breaking as the force from falling causes his hand to follow him. The dagger remains firmly buried into the wall, effectively slicing his palm in half.

He holds his wrist and stares at his shredded hand, crying out. Victoria approaches and grabs his hair. She viciously yanks back his head. As his mouth opens to scream once more, she pours the contents of the vial into it. He gasps and splutters, inhaling the liquid.

Immediately, sickly green bubbles start foaming out of his mouth. The wet sound of choking fills the room and he convulses. Blood joins the foam. It oozes not only from his mouth, but from his eyes, ears, and nose too.

His body starts to shrivel. Victoria lets go and steps back. Her expression is neutral as he silently screams and claws at his own face.

There is a horrid, muffled popping sound. The soldier stills, then falls onto his back. Blood soaks through the whites of his uniform, coming from his stomach. Green foam joins it, bubbling and oozing, burning away the uniform as it spreads.

Victoria doesn't blink as she stares at his body being slowly consumed by blood and foam. Numbness fills her. She witnessed this man torture and murder her sisters, but his death and suffering does not bring her joy. Satisfaction, yes. But it does not fill the empty ache that gnaws in her chest.

"Their potions are no joke," Thessaly laughs, breaking the awkward silence.

"No," Victoria agrees, her voice quiet. "And that was only a mild one."

"I'm surprised it even worked on him. Aren't they immune to their own magic?" Oscar asks.

"He didn't make this potion," she replies through gritted teeth. "They are only immune to the magic of their making."

"You sure know a lot about them," Aurora says through narrowed eyes.

Victoria shoots her a harsh glare out of the corner of her eyes. Aurora backs down and Mrs Tarlow clears her throat awkwardly. She walks over to Victoria, carrying a glass bottle of golden liquid and a glass. She pours it and hands the glass to Victoria.

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