The Dragon’s Crown was gone. She knocked over a clutch of emeralds, scrabbling behind the shelf for the telltale prick of the Crown. Instead, her fingers came back dusty and glinting. Frustration poured out of her before she could rein it in. A sudden cacophony squeaks and screeches and then-The lifeless bodies of an owl, crow and raven thumped to the vault floor. Elsewhere she could sense rat bodies floating among the piles of gold and spiders hanging dead off of half-finished cobwebs.
Breathe. Just breathe through it.
She took in lungfuls of dusty, slightly metallic air and contemplated the corpses. Her magic felt volatile, malevolent. It was hot, frenzied and rubbed her insides raw. This had never happened before. Again, the helplessness and rage bubbled up in her and as before it flung out tearing through the corpses. Feathers fluttered through the air as heads rolled one way and bodies dismembered itself. Blood and guts spewed across the floor and splashed onto her face. She grit her teeth, adamant to gain control without the wand or the crown. This was a process she enjoyed. This was her craft for fuck’s sake.
Her knuckles grew white as she clenched them and sweat pooled at the back of her neck. Her magic extended further than the vault and an unfortunate maid shriveled into husk. She grappled with herself as the kill released something sweet, potent, heady within her. Maybe it’d be best to let go…lovely skeletons to play with. As her thoughts wavered her magic became compliant with almost cat-like coyness. It flowed through her gently, almost lifting her off her feet.
The Wand in its leather holster around her arm grew hot and visions of a smoking, bloodied wasteland enveloped her mind. She almost whimpered at its brutal beauty. The flesh stuck to battlements and wood, blood splattered across walls and grass like large landscape paintings. She wanted that. Wanted to be the catalyst of that. The reason for that.
The edges of her vision turned black, she could feel the imminent explosion of her power. But just as she let go of all control the door to the vault banged open and there was a sudden pressure in her head.
Fuck. The Elders.
And she collapsed, covered in blood, reeking of Vitriol.
Her head throbbed like it had been trampled on by those ill-fated elephant chimaeras. Her throat was dry and there was a faint taste of blood and smoke in her mouth.