Chapter 419 The Voice Chant

Chapter 419: Chapter 419 The Voice Chant

Talia’s POV

Teeth against teeth, claws against claws, and fur against fur.

We fought, and our bodies collided, and the ground shook beneath us. Our snarls filled the air, and our claws tore through fur and flesh.

He bit my shoulder, and I felt his teeth sink deep. I howled in pain, but I did not stop. I twisted, and I raked my claws across his face. He yelped, and he released me.

I did not give him time to recover. I lunged at him, and I sank my teeth into his throat. He threw me off, and I hit the ground, but I was up again before he could strike.

Lyra was faster than him. Lyra was stronger than him. Lyra was fury and light and vengeance.

She was everything I had been too afraid to be. She was the part of me that had been caged for fifteen years, and now that she was free, she would not be stopped.

She tore into him. She raked her claws across his chest, and she sank her teeth into his shoulder, and she threw him back like he weighed nothing.

He tried to fight back. He tried to bite her, and he tried to claw her. But she was faster, and she was stronger, and she was relentless.

Malachai yelped, and he stumbled, and he bled.

He tried to stand. He tried to fight. But his legs were shaking, and his breath was ragged.

I had injured him. I had really injured him.

The sight of his blood on the ground was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It meant he was mortal. It meant he could die. It meant that all of this, everything we had suffered, had not been for nothing.

"We can win," Lyra said.

"We will win," I said.

I could see the fear in his eyes. I could see the doubt. I could see the moment he realized he might lose.

He staggered back, and he shifted into his human form. He had no choice. He was losing, and he knew it.

His body contorted, and his bones cracked, and his skin rippled. He stood before me, and he was bleeding from a dozen wounds.

Blood dripped from his chest, and his shoulder, and his arms. He was covered in cuts and bites and gashes.

I shifted back into my human form, and I stood before him.

We faced each other like two ghosts from the same grave, and I could see the truth in his eyes. He had never expected to lose. He had never believed that anyone could stand against him. And now, standing here, bleeding and broken, he was finally beginning to understand that he had been wrong.

He was breathing hard. His black eyes were wide, and his mouth was open.

"You," he said. "You are stronger than I thought."

"I am a Silvertongue," I spat. "You should have remembered that."

He reached into his cloak, and he pulled out another handful of silver dust.

He held it up so I could see it.

"This is what killed your mate," he said. "It will kill you too."

"No," I said, and my voice was steady. "It will not."

He threw the silver dust at my chest.

I saw his hand move. I saw the dust leave his fingers, and I saw it fly toward me.

I did not have time to react.

The silver dust flew toward me, and I did not close my eyes, and I did not turn away.

The silver dust hit my chest, and the protection charm my mother gave me glowed.

A golden light burst from the charm, and the silver dust fell to the ground.

It did not touch my skin.

I was still alive. I was still standing. I was still breathing.

The silver dust lay on the ground, harmless and useless.

I stared at the charm. I touched it, and it was warm beneath my fingers.

It was her love that had saved me. It was her love that had protected me. And now, standing in front of the monster who had haunted my family for centuries, I understood that her love had never left me. It had been with me all along.

"Mother," I whispered.

Malachai’s eyes widened, and his smile disappeared.

He stared at the charm, and he stared at the silver dust on the ground.

He took a step back.

"Impossible," he whispered.

I looked at him as I felt the warmth of the charm. I felt my mother’s love burning through it.

It wrapped around me like a blanket, warm and steady and fierce. It was the same love that had braided my hair when I was a child, the same love that had pushed me out of the fire, the same love that had kept me searching for her even when everyone told me she was dead.

"It is not impossible," I said. "I am a Silvertongue. Nothing is impossible."

I felt something shift inside me.

"This is it," I told myself. "This is what you were born for."

It was like a door opening. It was like a light turning on. It was like a part of me that had been asleep was finally waking up.

The fury was still there. But there was something else now.

It was the power of my bloodline. It was the power of my mother. It was the power of every Silvertongue who came before me.

I felt it burning in my chest. It was hot and bright and alive. I felt it filling my lungs, and I felt it spreading through my veins.

The power was mine, the power was my mother’s, and the power was every Silvertongue who had ever lived.

I could feel them all. My ancestors, my bloodline, my people. They were not gone.

They were with me, in my veins and in my heart, and they had been waiting for this moment just as much as I had.

I was ready.

I stepped forward, and Malachai took another step back.

"You cannot win," he said, but his voice was shaking. "You are just one wolf. I have an army. I have power you cannot imagine."

"You have nothing," countered, and my voice was steady. "You have fear, and you have hatred, and you have centuries of running from the one thing you could never destroy. And now, you have nowhere left to run."

He raised his hand again.

I could see that he was desperate, he was afraid, and he was about to die.

I could see all of it in his eyes.

He waved his hand at my face, but I did not flinch.

I opened my mouth, and my voice filled the sky.