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through his royal vestments, he felt the four risen claw marks left behind by Raven s iron
talons. "The cave was also reinforced with traps and wards of elven magic which
fortunately for you, Tanith, you are able to withstand."
The thought of the cave being enchanted with elven magic did not bother Drake in
the slightest, however the particular kind of magic the dagger held made him uneasy as
he was more than familiar with it. It was the same idea behind the Arrow of Astaroth, the
arrow that had pierced much too close to his heart and had nearly cost him his life.
The Corrigan Dagger was meant to kill elves.
The Arrow of Astaroth was meant to kill devils.
Both were impliments of death, forged with a particular race in mind. And that made
him uncomfortable. Magic borne of such determined purpose was not to be taken lightly.
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The Chosen Soul
However, he would be dead if it were not for the elves and the healing their prince
had afforded him.
In the end, he had little choice but to accept the Prince's challenge and go after the
dagger.
Astriel waved his hand once more over the table. "This is what you will be looking
for." The table's surface shimmered and changed to reveal an image of a large dagger, its
blade bisected into two wicked points, its grip wrapped in what appeared to be snow
white leather. Symbols were etched into the blood grooves along each point and as the
image turned slowly this way and that, the symbols glinted gold beneath some unseen
light. Its enchantment has carried through time immemorial. He paused, his eyes
burning a cold blue fire. It would kill any normal elf.
Drake held his gaze, watching the Prince with the same intensity that the elf used
upon him. Astriel need not bother to expand upon the meaning of his words. Cruor was
no ordinary elf. He was the Death Mage. Whether the dagger worked on him or not
would remain to be seen.
Drake rose from his seat. As he did so, Malveis moved to the door, opened it, and
spoke softly to the elven guards outside. Almost immediately, one of them entered the
room, carrying Drake s confiscated weapon.
Drake moved around the table and took it, placing the long sword in its sheath across
his back. Then he turned back to Astriel.
The Prince strode slowly toward him until he was a mere foot away. Don t be late,
Tanith.
They eyed one another.
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Heather Killough-Walden
And remember our deal.
I gave you my word, your Highness, Drake said, his silver eyes flashing. It s as
good as done. Then he turned and followed Malveis to the door. There, he stopped and
faced Astriel once more.
Keep her safe.
Astriel smiled. I intend to.
*****
Loki stared at the head acolyte for a moment. Haledon s champion? Loki s mind
fairly spun at the thought. He blinked, almost dizzy, and then, he squared his shoulders
and took a deep confident breath. All right. If Haledon wants me as his champion, then
he s got me.
He motioned for the priests just inside the doorway to come all the way in. They
moved slowly toward him, as did Maelix. Listen carefully, everyone. Cruor has
returned. He is searching for the Chosen Soul - my sister - and if he finds her and kills
her, all life as we know it will end. We know that Cruor is Gray Beard, the Blue Robe
master mage at Eidolon. And we know that he has been leading the Omega Order for
more than a thousand years." He paused to seek out Maelix amongst the crowd of priests.
"Maelix, we have to cast another search spell. This time, we ll do it together. With our
combined strength and magical energy, we may be able to locate either Raven, despite
her shielding, or Cruor, despite his."
Either way, Loki knew the Death Mage and his sister would wind up in the same
place soon enough.
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The Chosen Soul
The Chosen Soul Chapter Twenty
Raven came awake slowly at first. She wondered what morning it was and what she
had done the night before that left her so wasted. She moved her legs. They felt heavy
and slightly numb, as if she were suspended in cold water.
Raven, a voice greeted. It was a deep voice, soft and gentle. She opened her eyes.
And remembered everything.
She sat upright with a jolt and found Adonides s arms around her waist, steadying
her, slowing her down. Her breath came hard and fast. She peered down at the ring on her
finger and felt a scream well up in her throat.
She d killed six men, no older than boys. She d murdered them. All of them.
With magic.
The scream escaped. It was a wail of rage and terror. She fought off Adonides s grip
as she tried to rise from the grass. She was numb with shock and stumbled slightly as she
stood.
Shh! Raven, calm down. Listen to me, please. He stood beside her, his massive
form towering over her quaking body. She stared up at him with wild eyes and then
glanced down at the black ring on her right middle finger. She reached for it with her
other hand, and he immediately caught her, stilling her action. She pulled away from him,
desperate now to get it off, and he came forward, catching both of her wrists in order to
hold her fast.
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Heather Killough-Walden
Let me go! She could only see the cold lightning and their twisted, dying faces, as
she fried and froze the young men in the middle of the street. It was the ring s fault. Her
father s gift. Its banded weight witlessly made her want to chop the appendage off.
No! he answered, her fight bringing the predator in him to the fore. Settle down.
Listen to me, Raven, and stop struggling! You re weak and you re not thinking straight-
You re evil, Adonides.
She stopped fighting and looked him in the eyes. His golden eyes burned an eerie,
heated yellow, but she held his gaze, refusing to back down. She knew what he had done.
She d figured it out. It had all been part of some twisted, malicious plan. He d tricked her
into taking the ring, into using her magic to kill those men.
Into becoming like her father.
And she hated him for it.
I said let me go. Her fangs extended as anger fueled her courage.
Adonides s gaze narrowed. His own fangs grew and a growl rose from deep in his
throat. He slowly shook his head, his face a mere few inches from her own. He held her
wrists in his hands and used his leverage to pull her even closer. He then trapped her arms
behind her back and placed both of her wrists into one of his hands as the other came up
to grab a handful of hair at the back of her head.
Yes, I m evil. I am an Abaddonian. Did you ever really think differently? His hot
breath caressing her lips as she pulled against his strength with all her might. He was
right. She was weak. She could feel it, not only physically, but elsewhere. It was as if
some deep reservoir within herself had been drained, emptied.
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