Free Web NovelChapter 296: Chapter 296
Ragnar’s confession echoed in her mind—the pain in his voice, the haunted look in his eyes. Each memory fueled her pursuit. Her heart thundered in her ears, her breath grew ragged, but she did not slow. She couldn’t stop.
She pictured a younger Ragnar, small and defenseless, trapped in the clutches of that depraved woman. The image hardened her resolve into something merciless. Her single-minded focus sharpened into something terrifying.
Two of them had entered the forest but only one would leave it.
After a while, Circe’s pace slowed but not from fatigue. She wanted Irah to believe she had managed to outrun her pursuer, to taste the fragile hope of survival.
Moments later, Irah slowed as well, then stopped abruptly. A wide, fast-moving stream blocked her path, water rushing violently over jagged stones. Trapped. She doubled over, gasping for breath, her body shaking with exhaustion and terror.
That brief distraction was all Circe needed.
She nocked another arrow.
Weapon raised, she stepped out of hiding, emerging slowly into full view. The roar of the water masked her approach, swallowing the sound of her footsteps.
Sensing movement, Irah spun around sharply. Her surprise lasted only a heartbeat before it twisted into anger.
"Go on," Circe said coldly, her voice as sharp and merciless as the wind blowing through the trees. "Look at my face as much as you like. Because I assure you, it’s the last one you’ll ever see. Be glad that I plan to make this quick, it is better than what you deserve for your sins."
The rage burning in her chest felt hot enough to set the forest itself aflame.
Irah’s face shifted as understanding dawned, and a wicked gleam lit her eyes.
"Oh," she said softly, "I see what this is. Ragnar told you, didn’t he?" She didn’t wait for an answer.
"But did he really tell you everything?" Irah continued, her voice honeyed now, calculating. "Or just the parts that made him look like the victim?"
Circe’s grip tightened on the arrow.
"I don’t want to hear anything from you," she said, stepping closer, the arrow now aimed squarely at Irah’s chest. "His version is the only one that matters. Nothing you say will change that."
She was close enough now to see every flicker of emotion on Irah’s face.
Realizing that tactic had failed, Irah’s expression hardened. And quickly, she began to change her approach.
"You can’t kill me," Irah said, her voice sharp despite the tremor creeping into it. "The queen will smell my blood on you, and you will never leave this place alive. Think about how your actions will affect your husband."
Circe’s resolve barely wavered. It amused her that even at the verge of death, Irah still clung to her imperious attitude, as though her threats and rank could shield her from what stood before her now. freewebnovёl.ƈom
"Then it’s a good thing that I never intended on drawing blood." Circe replied calmly.
She tossed the bow aside, letting it clatter uselessly against the forest floor, and surged forward. The movement was so swift that Irah never even saw it coming.
Circe’s hand closed around Irah’s throat, fingers tightening harshly as she dragged her closer until their faces were barely inches apart. Irah immediately began to struggle, clawing at Circe’s wrist. In any other circumstance, she might have succeeded in overpowering Circe.
But that was no longer the case.
Something ancient and potent stirred beneath Circe’s skin, a newfound strength that had slept inside her for years, now fully awake. Power hummed through her veins, foreign and intoxicating, accompanied by strange abilities she had only just begun to comprehend.
Circe locked eyes with her. Then she lifted the lid on her magic. It poured into Irah in a violent, torrential rush, far more power than Circe had ever dared to wield before. It tore free from her like a storm, and in that moment, she did not care if there would be any consequences.
Irah bucked harder, her body convulsing as she tried to wrench herself free, but her efforts were futile. Her eyes watered as her lips parted in a soundless scream. No cry escaped her throat, only a strangled gasp as the magic invaded every corner of her being.
Ever since the day Dena forced her to reap the soul of that hare, Circe had wondered what her magic would feel like when turned upon another person. She had carried that unanswered question with her.
Now, as she watched the agony contort Irah’s face, she finally had her answer. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
She felt guilty when she used her magic on the hare. This time, she felt nothing but satisfaction.
Faint lines of light ignited along Circe’s arms, glowing brighter with each pulse of power. The light spilled outward, transferring to Irah’s body as Circe’s magic brushed against the woman’s soul. She felt it then—the delicate, invisible tethers anchoring the soul to flesh.
"How does it feel to be at someone else’s mercy? Your status will not save you from me. Neither will the queen." Circe said quietly, her voice low and lethal.
Irah did not answer. She couldn’t. Her body shuddered violently, her mouth working uselessly as terror eclipsed whatever pride she had left.
"I will kill you," Circe said, her words sharp as a blade. "I will rip your soul from your body."
She snapped the first tether. Then the second and third.
"You will never hurt anyone again," Circe continued, her voice unwavering. "Not the way you hurt my husband. And I will leave what remains of you here, for the wild animals to feast upon."
With a final surge of power, the last tether snapped.
Irah went limp.
Circe reached deeper, her magic closing around the unmoored soul, and yanked it free with a ruthless pull. The color drained instantly from Irah’s body, her skin turning ashen. Her eyes which were still wide open clouded over into a dull, milky white.
Circe released her grip and Irah’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground. She lay still, sightless eyes staring up at the sky above.
Circe stood over her, chest rising and falling, the faint glow along her arms slowly dimming as the sounds from the forest slowly filtered back through her senses.
