Sophia cornered Winston in the old market place. He turned and smiled at her. Bile rose in the back of her throat and she realized he purposefully led her here. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, then held his arms out to the side.

“Sophia, oh, Sophia. You are so predictable.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “How so?”

“I knew you would follow me here. You did exactly what I wanted you to. You see? I knew you wanted me.”

“What I want,” Sophia said, “is my sword and dagger back. Your head on a pike would be a nice addition.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “This cat and mouse game has grown tiring. This cat wants his reward. Give in to me, Sophia. Make it easier on yourself. I would hate to hurt a hair on that pretty head of yours by forcing you.”

She cocked an eyebrow at that. “You? Hurt me?” She scoffed. “You really are delusional.”

“I was hoping you would say that. Makes a firm hand a bit more meaningful.” Winston held out the sword and dagger with each hand. “These really are some peculiar weapons. A proper woman wouldn’t have need for them, would she?”

Sophia narrowed her gaze on him, wishing he would hurry up and get to the point. She hated all this monologue. He really loved hearing himself talk. Too bad for him, she didn’t share in that. “They are mine, regardless. Return them to me or I will pry them from your dead, cold fingers.”

He smiled wickedly and said, “Challenge accepted.”

An amulet around his neck glowed with dim blue light. His eyes took on the color and he used the sword to attack Sophia with a lot more force than he naturally had. She wasn’t expecting the force at first and stumbled a little, but she quickly recovered and returned the attack. He smacked her and it was like lightning shooting through her skull.

She held her cheek for a moment and pursed her brows. He didn’t have magic or abilities to wield it. He was just a stupid, puny, asshole of a human. Recovering, she stood a bit taller and rolled out her shoulders before stretching her neck from side to side.

Two can play this game.

She shot electrical sparks toward him. He dodged and the hit slammed into the corner of a building.

He looked at the damage, shook his head, and made a tsking sound with his tongue. “Now, now, Sophia. Careful of the damage you do. You wouldn’t want the people to believe in that pesky little accusation of yours, hmm?” He paced in front of her.

He was right. Unfortunately. Part of the rumor was that she wanted to destroy Nighthelm. If she was going to maintain the progress she made with the people, she would have to keep the collateral damage to a minimum if she could help it. Though it didn’t help that Winston managed to cheat and get his hands on magical artifacts that gave him powers he didn’t know how to handle much less should have in the first place. Magic was a fickle thing, and someone as power hungry as Winston should never have been allowed such access. Even now, the power corrupted him, poisoning his blood like the mountain magic would. His skin held a sickly glow and perspiration soaked his shirt. His body slightly trembled. It was as if he had extreme difficulty holding on to the power the amulets gave him. The man was completely out of his league. Sophia shook her head.

“Where did you get the amulet?” she asked as she matched his pacing, keeping a safe distance from his blade and the magic he had no idea how to use.

He shrugged. “I have my resources.”

She remembered him telling her that he had ways of bringing her back from the dead. Making her his, whether she wanted him or not. A sharp twist in her gut made her bite the inside of her cheek. The bile rose in her throat and she had to take a few deep breaths to keep the nausea at bay. The last thing she wanted was to empty her stomach in front of him and give him the time to slap on whatever he had that he thought would make her obedient.

“You don’t know what you are doing,” she said and thrust with her sword. He parried, attacked with his own, and she quickly blocked the attack, kicking him in the stomach.

“I have more control over this than you could ever hope to have over your magic.”

She smiled. “You have no idea.”

She tossed a ball of fire at him. He caught it and threw it back. It grew bigger as it rushed toward her, and she had to duck and roll out of the way to avoid getting hit with it. He laughed. She turned her attention to him and glared. The magic pulsed deep within her, steadily rising to the surface. She didn’t want to have an episode in the middle of Nighthelm, despite the control she had gained over her magic. But if it meant taking out this nightmare of a man, she would gladly do so, and deal with the repercussions of the actions with a smile on her face.

He shot purple lightning at her and she worked hard to dodge the bolts as she pulled out the same tactic and thought of how she could conjure ice. Or, perhaps, anything that would get him to just fucking die already.

He continued to laugh as he threw magic after magic at her, and she tried to do the same. It was all a game to him. And he had no idea the control of the power she had.

Having had enough of this, she charged him, sword at the ready, and knocked him to the ground. She straddled him, with her knees on his shoulders, and pounded at his face with her fists. Little zaps of energy sparked along her knuckles and left the man’s skin charged in spots. She pulled at the amulet and tossed it behind her and cut off the hands that had rings, and even pulled off a wrist cuff that she assumed enhanced his newfound abilities. Anything she suspected of helping him, she got rid of. She ignored his screams and the loud cries for help.

Standing, she took back her sword and dagger and then stared down at him. Holding out her hand over his body, she closed her eyes as a small, white ball of concentrated, wild magic burst from her hand and incinerated the bastard.

Standing back, she watched as he turned to ashes. Her gaze then shifted to the sword. It glowed at her touch. It was the first time she held it without her gloves. Reminded of what happened with the oracles, she quickly sheathed her sword and dagger. The sword was such a powerful artifact. She didn’t want to accidently destroy it and fail in her purpose to restore the crown.

She stayed for a few moments longer as she absorbed the heavy moment of when Grindel gave her the dagger and how he had died because of Winston and the Nameless Master. After letting a few tears fall, she wiped them away and went to find and rejoin her men. She hoped Andreas fared well. Though she trusted his wraith brethren, she worried about him fighting in the condition she left him in. That thought urged her feet forward and her pace quicker. The sooner she got back to her men, the better.