Hexed

must have realized that and blocked off all memory.
    Horrified that I was now far too powerful for my own—or anybody else’s—good, my first thought was to throw myself over the edge of the pit, but then Vikkommin laughed, and his laughter stopped me.
    You never could handle the concept of being a goddess, could you? I see you remember now. But you do not frighten me—you are terrified to use your strength and you won’t use it for fear of setting off some chain reaction.
    I stood my ground, staring at the glowing edges of his shadow form. He was less powerful down here. The darkness drained his strongest abilities, and what little light my hair gave off did him no good.
    I had to make him come to me.
    “You’ll never win. You may kill me, but the Lady is out for your death and you’ll never be anything but what you are now: a shadow of your former self. Because you can’t do it now, can you? You can’t control the weather. You can’t control the ishonar, and it beckons you and drives you mad.”
    He let out a howl of rage and moved closer. Pirkitta . . . I would have shared this with you. I would have brought us back together and we would have lived together in the shadow. But you mock me—and I will destroy you.
    I steeled myself. “I not only mock you, I spit in your path. I abjure what you have become. I deny you, Vikkommin. I deny your power and your shadow and the madness reeling within you.”
    You! You deny me! I can tear you to pieces, I can make you into what I am and you have the gall to deny my power?
    And then he moved. He headed my way and I picked up my wand. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but now that I had the power of the ishonar in me, I knew I could destroy him. I waited until he was within arm’s reach, and then I raised my wand.
    “To the Gates of the Underworld I send thee, to the depths of Tuonela I command thee, to the arms of Tuoni I direct thee. Thou creature of darkness and shadow, thou power-mad sorcerer—you are no longer Chosen of the Lady, you are a vile creature, an abomination, and I send thee to the arms of oblivion.”
    I focused and caught hold of one of the ishonar Elementals. She was dancing on the edge of my wand, and I thrust her forward, burning in all her frozen and brilliant glory. She rose up, growing larger, and her face, faceted in ice and bathed in purple fire, changed from sublime to monstrous as her mouth opened wide and she turned in Vikkommin’s direction.
    He lunged toward me, but she interceded, touching his shadow and sending shock waves of pain through the smoke. He screamed, loud and plaintive. But I held fast, dropping to my knees. This was it, this was the only way, to turn the power that he’d so craved back on him. I reached deep, sought for all of the threads within myself that knew how to use the ishonar. I gathered them up into one mass and ripped it out of myself, toward him: a rolling, wheeling spiral of energy that flamed so brightly it illuminated the chamber.
    For one moment it seemed to strengthen him and then I caught his thoughts as it touched the outer edges of his being.
    Pirkitta—what are you doing to me? No—how could you do this? How could you do this to me?
    And then he began to scream, and his scream echoed in the chamber, rising to a howl as his anguish grew. The wheel of ishonar rolled on, encompassing him, surrounding him, and he became the center of the wheel, spokes of fire radiating out from his core, meeting to eat away at his soul and devour and break him into shards.
    I covered my eyes, not wanting to watch, not wanting to see what I was wreaking on Vikkommin’s soul, and yet I could not help but lower my hands as the shriek rose to a crescendo.
    Vikkommin was in the air now, caught in the currents of wind that buffeted the chamber. He was being pulled apart, scattered to the four corners, ripped asunder. The wheel of ishonar moved on, rolling through him, and then it fell over the edge of the footpath, taking what remained of my love with it, down to the depths of Hel, where he would be washed clean and returned to the universe as new matter. Oblivion’s son.
    I sat in the darkness, breathing heavily. Memories flooded my thoughts, memories of that night. Yes, I had killed him at the directive of my Lady. I’d set in motion all of these events at her bequest. And she had left me to wander, to take punishment, because if I remembered what had happened, the temple would have killed me.
    But what