The Last Harmon [Complete]

Chapter 11

Sam ties a thick piece of material around my eyes and presses my hands together behind my back as he marches me towards my death. This situation is odd, and I can't afford to be stupid. Sam is highly trained in recognizing chanting, and I don't think it'd be possible to cast a spell before he breaks my neck or slams my head into a wall. I still don't know enough about Slayers to feel comfortable with attacking them, yet with my own kind it would be easy. I know I must at least try to come up with something to save myself, but that mysterious power I accessed in Amara's dungeon hasn't returned, and without it, it's hopeless.

I still don't know how I did that. I used magic from my will, from tapping into something that separates me from my ancestors. It's a power scarily like Amara's. Did that power come to me because I was one of two Harmons left? Does being the last now change everything about me? The only way I could try to access it is to focus, and Sam and the other Slayers would see through it within seconds.

I feel as though everything is out of my control now. The fate of the witches, the fate of the mortals, the fate of the world, it's all withering away. I'm not experienced enough or strong enough to stop what's coming, and accepting that is painful.

Maybe I've done all I can. Maybe instead of wallowing in pity I should try to find a peaceful place inside of me that releases me from all of these burdens. Just like my mother did. She never showed fear, she never backed down and she never allowed herself to be controlled. She died knowing she did all she could and knowing that she was free. Can I say the same?

After walking for a few minutes across cold hallways and up many steep stairwells, I hear the roars of the Slayers. Their voices are loud and boisterous in the near distance, becoming closer and louder.

"Scared, witch?" Sam whispers. "You should be."

There is a sudden thunder roll as I enter the place I cannot see, the Slayers are excitedly announcing my arrival, as though they cannot wait to kill me. Sam pushes me through the noise, holding tightly to my hands and my shoulder as if to protect me. I begin to pant heavily, showing no fear is becoming more difficult by the sweat mark.

He turns me sharply, and I feel a step hit my foot. I walk up the steps carefully, knowing I'm about to stand on another stage. I walk for a few feet until Sam pushes down on my shoulders and forces me to sit on a small, wooden chair.

I hear snarls, hisses and types of vicious growls from all around me. I have no idea how close I am to them, or how easy a target I am, but that doesn't make much difference. Just being in the room makes me an easy target, just being this close to Sam means I could die any second.

"You can take your blindfold off now," Sam says.

My hands tremble as I reach up to my eyes. I slowly untie the bind and I pull it away from my face. The room is bright, brighter than the dungeon cell, and it's hazy for a few moments. When my sight returns fully, I notice the pillars first. They are scattered around the room, holding parts of the ceiling up like an ancient cathedral. Everything is made of stone; the walls, the floor, the dozens of rows of benches. I find the open archway at the back, the only entrance and exit, before I finally pay attention to the many eyes staring at me.

Each face is different, but they all look the same to me. Just figures of black leather and intimidating scowls. Some are sat, twisting blades in their hands or muttering to the air, while others, like the blonde girl I am closest to, are leaning over a banister tapping their fingers against it.

"Speak, witch," someone yells.

I try to pinpoint the speaker, but their faces are all blank. The blonde at the front row is smirking at me so smugly that I want to punch her.