Free Incarnate: The Moray Druids #3 (Highland Historical) by Kerrigan Byrne

slow.  “Dear Malcolm,” she said quietly, her voice a warm flicker like a candle in the gathering darkness.  “I have seen the shadows and suffering in the days to come, as the Wyrd Sisters predicted, but there is a reason I have not succumbed to despair, as you are about to do.”
    Despair didn’t seem like a strong enough word for the bleak void inside of him. 
    “I’ve seen other things, as well,” Kenna continued.  “Sparks of transcendence from within the devastation.  Marvels of ingenuity.  I’ve heard poetry that would make your heart sing, and music that would cause the wounded to dance.  There are those whose love will inspire entire generations toward change and hope.  There is a limitless potential within us all, and how can we, in this very moment, take that potential away from those who would realize it?”
    “Don’t be a fool!” Badb scoffed, the wind blustering through the gathering with an angry hiss.  “Humanity will always be ruled by fear like the sheep they are.  They will be controlled with rhetoric and lies, and ultimately, their stupidity will be their downfall.  Why prolong the inevitable?”
    “The future is never certain,” Kenna insisted.  “But we owe the world a chance for redemption.”
    Malcolm stared down at his cousin with new eyes.  She was right, damn her .  He was wrong to be tempted by a future at the cost of humanity.  How could he have even contemplated it?
    Because the part of his heart he usually saved to encompass the entire world had been stolen by a raven-haired beauty, and then broken by their star-crossed fate. 
    “We’ll not cast.”  Malcolm addressed the Wyrd sisters with unyielding certainty. 
    “Don’t be so certain.”  In a confusing flurry of robes, Badb hurled her broomstick on a powerful gust of wind.  It impaled Kenna with such force, she was knocked from her feet and propelled backward before crashing to the stones. 
    Niall was at her side in a moment, his golden hair brushing her face as he gasped her name. 
    Bael ran for the Crone, but Nemain stopped him with an explosion of her fire, the strength of it knocking him to the ground, as well. 
    Reflexively, Malcolm lifted a flagstone from the earth and hurled it at Badb.  She didn’t counter in enough time to completely avoid it and her legs became crushed beneath its staggering weight, pinning her to the earth.  The Grimoire went flying, sliding in a flesh-colored heap toward Nemain. 
    Badb tried to lift the stone with her powerful gusts of wind, but Malcolm used his magic to keep it in place, locking them in a battle of elements.
    Nemain lashed out with her hands and a wall of fire crawled across the courtyard, effectively cutting Kenna, Niall and Bael away from the Four Horsemen and the four Druids. 
    Malcolm advanced on Badb, his hands out, intensifying the pressure of the stone crushing her legs. 
    Instead of shrinking in fear, Badb sneered triumphantly up at him, blood beginning to stain a few of her teeth that had been broken in the fall.  “That makes three of us casting at once,” she cackled.  “Now Morgana must heal your cousin, or she’ll die.”
    “Malcolm?” Morgana inched toward the fire.  “I can’t just do nothing.  Let me heal her.”
    “You’re running out of time, Druid King,” Badb taunted.  “How much are you willing to lose to save the world?”
    The void in Malcolm’s heart suddenly became a cavern, and all the loss, rage, and helpless fury rushed to fill it until his heart did slow, and his breathing stabilized as the answer to everything became startlingly clear.  “Nothing,” he answered coolly.  “I’m done with sacrificing what is mine for the greater good.”

Chapter Eight
     
    It was a reckless risk, but he seized it.  Whirling to face the Horsemen, Malcolm addressed Death once again.  “This Druid has taken tens of thousands of souls from you, including her own, and locked them in the Void.”
    Death narrowed