Three
Sienna was a tiny thing, but she had no issues dragging me through the dark castle halls to her private quarters. Sweeping black velvet curtains hung from the windows, their softness in opposition to the stone carved furniture she had strewn across her room. Pulling me into her adjoining office, the tones became warmer as we were greeted by an intricately carved wooden desk and chairs. Beautiful clothbound books covered every spare shelf lining the walls. Candles that had been burning for years—yet never extinguishing—sat in mottled dry drippings, casting a comforting glow around the room.
Standing by the entrance I watched as Sienna pushed her desk back against the wall and spread out what looked like a fur rug. Placing four bowls in a circle at the outermost edge of the rug: one containing water, another soil, and the third, small pieces of charcoal she had pulled from the fireplace. The last remained empty. Catching me looking at it, she pulled me into the centre, nodding for me to sit before she explained. ‘That’s air. The four elements make up everything we are and ever will be. So, in order to dig deeper, we must rely on their unyielding strength. Your sword.’ Sienna handed me my mother’s sword; Ihadn’t realised she had taken it from my chambers as we left still half dazed from the effects of the panic.
‘Why? What do I do?’ I asked, trying not to let the panic creep back into my voice. This was happening all too quickly, and it was starting to feel real. A flash of shame coursed through me, but from the moment Sienna came into my life, we had bonded over a shared brokenness. We had been warped and shattered for different reasons, but we had coped just the same. We became crutches for one another. She would help me in my times of pain, and I would guide her through her descending madness as we fought through years of the panic with it manifesting differently for each of us.
Sienna never stopped searching for a cure. One day, she rushed to me, speaking about an old ritual called ‘The Awakening’ that claimed to erase the panic. She tried it on herself first with the help of her mother. In the weeks that followed, she was worse, but slowly, she found balance. Shechanged. The process, however, was brutal, and I had been too afraid to leap that far into the depths of my darkness to see what was on the other side. What if it was nothing? What if there was no chance of getting better for someone like me? Instead, I forced Sienna to give me treatments and tonics that were merely a bandage on a wound that continued to fester and spread. We knew we would hit the end of the road at some point; I just didn’t realise it would be today.
‘Your sword is generational; there is no better conduit to link you to your past and to guide you through this. Hold it; nothing more is needed.’ Sienna hummed as she tapped a metal drum, the sounds harmonising and filling every recess of my mind. The water bowl rippled, while the flames and smoke from the charcoal flickered. Closing my eyes, the sound washed over me as I felt my mind and body freefall. As the intensity of the sound began to crescendo, sweat pooled at the back of my neck. It was like being sucked into a dream while still awake. I tried to move my hands, but I could no longer feel my sword in my grasp. I felttrapped in darkness as the drumming came to a halt, my mind’s eye focused.
I was standing in a black circular room where no light could get in, yet somehow I could see. I knew exactly where I was; I was not trapped in any darkness, but in my mind. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. My instinct was to panic, but I felt an unusual sense of calm.
‘Take me through every moment that broke you, one by one,’ Sienna whispered into the air around me. It was as if a cord snapped, with black smoke seeping out of my skin into the space around me, so thick that I couldn’t see through it before it suddenly disappeared.
Zoe. That was the face looking back at me. Pain instantly lanced through my heart; it had been so long since I had seen her. She was ethereal, with skin that looked like glass and waves of light golden hair that matched the blue, childlike glint in her eyes. She punished herself for years for what the men in her life had done to her as a child. Instead of giving her unconditional love, they had used her body to service their innermost twisted desires, night after night. As she got older and her body matured into that of a woman, they became disinterested in her. But the reprieve from their touch did nothing for the memories that plagued her, feeling their wet, warm and smoke flavoured tongues inside of her mouth. Their fat, calloused fingers dragging themselves up her thighs. The smell and feel of their sweat on her body. It would make her skin itch and crawl. The worst part was her father, who never believed her. She had no one to protect her, and at that time, I was nobody and nothing in this world, unable to do anything. It was the first time I had felt truly powerless.
Zoe could never escape the men in her nightmares until one night she couldn’t take it any longer and took her own life. I had spent years begging, pleading and fighting for her to stay with me, not to give up. I knew I was selfish; she was in pain, and I couldn’t face this world without her. But I knew what her lifecould be, even if she couldn’t see it yet; she was destined for so much more. As I look back on my own life now, perhaps she was the smartest one of all. Had I been brave enough to do what she did, I would not have suffered so much.
When I first came into power only a year ago now, I made it my mission to find these men and piece by piece I cut off their skin, flesh and bones until there was nothing left. I kept them alive for as long as possible throughout the process. That way, they would know why I was doing this, what they had done and how they would never live to hurt another child again. Although I was raised to be a savage without mercy from childhood, this was the first time I felt a true thrill for other people’s pain and began to relish the feeling of taking a life. It was justified; it was right, and I felt this down to my core. I would never be powerless again. That moment changed me, but I had no regrets apart from one—that I did not come into power sooner to kill them years earlier.
What broke me was losing her. At the time I was living at the Academy in my second year. It was hell but she was my light in that darkness and once the world had snuffed out her flame I lost myself. Two days after her death is when the panic set in. My chest heavy, breathing shallow and laboured, heart racing and blood pounding through my ears, drowning out every other noise. My limbs would turn ice cold as sweat coated my skin. My hands and feet would prickle with the pain of a thousand needles before going numb. Everything around me fading—as did my sensations—while the world turned black.
Losing Zoe was the first piece of myself that I had lost, one I would never be able to reclaim. A part of my heart and soul was chipped away when I lost her light. I had learned to live with it over the years and accept that the person I was from our shared childhood died with her that day, never being able to truly move on.
The all-consuming black smoke rippled out of me, washing away my childhood friend as I was catapulted forward until Iwas looking at my father lying in his bed. Nausea roiled through my stomach at the sight. I couldn’t let my mind come back here and go through this again. I had buried these still raw memories deep, as they had untethered me so completely.
I was in my penultimate year at the Academy during winter break. The doktora told us that father had become ill with the Rak. A black festering growth inside his body that could not be cleansed. They slowed down its growth for a time until it slowly solidified his organs from the inside out. Those three months were the hardest moments of my life. He was at peace with dying, although he wanted to live and was desperate to see me each day; but the pain was inexplicable and too much to bare much longer. No concoction the doktoras or Wiccans could brew eased the agony. He could barely move, and worse yet, he could barely breathe.
I was exhausted from being at his side every day and night, but it was never a burden; what pained me was that he viewed himself as one. I became emotionally unstable from the grief in the following months. I lashed out at everyone and everything. My mother blamed me at the time. She said that my wild and rebellious ways had caused the stress that poisoned his body with the Rak. Perhaps that is another reason why, when she died, I did not care. She deserved it for uttering those words to me.
It was hell watching him grow weaker. He became a skeleton wrapped in a thin layer of skin; his hair turned grey in a matter of weeks as he lost his appetite. Watching him waste away was the hardest part; not being able to do anything to fix it. Once again, I felt powerless. His once bright smile faded from his face until nothing could make him smile anymore. He once told me that he welcomed death to ease the pain and loss of his abilities.
I held his hand the night he passed, drowning on the black bile of the Rak filling his lungs. I will never forget the sound of his breathing—the death rattle, they called it. It was so loud that the sound filled every inch of his large room. The pauses between his breaths got longer and longer. I never knew if itwould be his last, not until he finally stopped gasping for air. I held him until his body turned cold and only silence filled the room.
The most confusing part was that, although I would have done anything to hold onto him, I held so much resentment towards him. He had beat me bloody most days in an attempt to strengthen me, to prepare me for this world. I stopped crying long ago because, when I was a child, my tears only made him angrier, more violent. But I was so sick and utterly desperate for love, I still loved him through it all and pined for him to tell me he was proud of me. Oddly my father had been my best friend, my confidant and my grounding force in this world, even if our relationship had been turbulent at best. Losing him felt like I had lost my grip on reality. The moment he took his last breath and I laid my ear to his chest, looking for a heartbeat and hearing nothing, is what truly made me unhinged and ripe with anger. That was when I felt my sanity spill out of me, never to be truly reclaimed again.
That now familiar black, acrid smoke leached out of me, filling my vision and senses once again as every space around me was consumed until it exploded into nothing. Vivianna now stood there, power radiating off of her. That is exactly why I chose her as my Master of War; her presence was commanding. Her sense of justice and integrity could never be questioned. Throughout our years at the Academy, she was the only one to best me in our war tactics and battle strategy classes. She lived and breathed the art of war, balancing being just with mercilessness in a way I never had. I veered too far into the merciless category.
Before graduating, she challenged me to a duel. Having never lost a fight—not even in a sparring session—I was unfazed. The terms were simple: if she won, she would earn a place by my side when I took the throne. Just as much as she was fighting to earn her keep, I was fighting to earn her loyalty. The Academy’s rules of the duel were straightforward—we could not use our gifts orweapons. It was hand-to-hand combat, and the first person to be rendered unconscious or deemed unfit to continue would lose.
I remembered standing at the edge of the arena, kicking up clay and dust while I waited for her to shake out the tightness in her muscles as the nerves set in. It would, however, earn zero sympathy from me. The war drums started slowly, indicating that the duels would begin shortly. All of our peers clambered to their seats, not wanting to miss a moment of this spectacle. Duels between friends were rare on these grounds. The drums peaked, creating such tension in the air that I could taste it. The second that silence descended over the arena—the drums now quiet—the duel began.
Viv started towards me without a lick of hesitation, delivering a flurry of blows that I only just managed to sidestep. Where she was forceful, I was agile. I didn’t raise a hand in the first half of the fight; instead, I focused on dodging each onslaught, at times rolling or sliding out from underneath a kick or strike. I watched her become frustrated and tired as she couldn’t land a single blow. It consumed more energy to miss than it did to make an impact. After five minutes of toying with her like this, she tried to change her tactics. Crouching low, she attempted a tackle; it was a futile effort that left me smirking down at her as she lay sprawled on the ground, covered in dirt.
Standing, she stared me down and spat at my feet. She was fuming at her lack of progress, and if there was one thing I knew, it was that the battle was just as much about the mind as it was about the physical attacks. Tilting my head, I took in every detail of her stance, knowing exactly what was to come, but I didn’t care. Instead of countering, I planted my feet firmly on the ground and took the hit. The force of every single muscle of hers slammed into me, but I didn’t give an inch. My strength was quieter, and my frame was often misleading. I could see the shock on her face; she was sure she would have pinned me to the floor, but instead, she found herself pushing against an impenetrable wall of stone. In all my years at the Academy, I had neversparred with Viv seriously. In class, we were often paired with our enemies to provide an outlet and hone our skills while learning their strengths and weaknesses. She had watched me time and time again, but reality was always different from when you were on the outside looking in, and she had never had reason to doubt what she was capable of.
But it was my turn now and the thrill as I dropped my stance lower and threw Viv’s arms off forcing her to double back was intoxicating. I loved the hum of pure power that came with dominating someone in a fight. Not giving her any space, I threw my elbow into her nose, blood spraying the ground. Instantly my other hand wrapped around her neck as my leg tucked behind her knee and I slammed her into the ground with so much force her vision clouded as a concussion rang in her head. Blinking, she tried to clear her daze as she drew her knee into my ribcage. Gritting my teeth as she made impact, I refused to react. She was strong; she had broken at least two ribs, but I would not gasp for air. This was not only about winning the duel, her respect, and in turn her loyalty; it was also about my reputation in the eyes of every single person who sat in this arena, especially my enemies.
I tightened my grip on her throat as she clawed at my arm but realising that wasn’t going to move me, she wrapped her hand in my long hair and pulled with all the force she had. In seconds the power had shifted and I was now under her, pinned to the ground. She felt triumphant but all I saw was determination in her eyes. The students of the Academy who had previously been cheering fell silent in shock. No one in my history at the Academy had ever landed me on my back, but it wouldn’t last long. Smiling up at her, I drew my head back and slammed it into her face. The crack of her jaw was piercing.
Using her reeling shock to my advantage, I stood while she feebly tried to pull herself up. Not giving her a single inch this time, I drove my boot into the side of her head with so much force that her body flung right back into the clay ground of thearena as dust flew up in every direction. The predator in me circled, allowing her to get on her knees. Regretting that choice instantly, she caught my ankle as it flew towards her a second time, pulling it towards her sharply I lost my footing and sank to my knees. Immediately, she landed a punch to my stomach. I gritted my teeth through the winded cough that threatened to escape me.
I took in Demir’s open mouth out of the corner of my eye, and anger erupted inside of me. I would not be made to look like a fool in front of those that should only ever see strength from me. His face turned into that familiar smug smile and it was the final match to the flames of rage that boiled inside of me. I had always filed my nails into talons and right now I would use everything to my advantage, sinking them into her forearm as she lashed out at me. A painful shriek pierced the arena. I pressed them deeper slicing her flesh as though it were made of water, melting through my fingers. Blood pooled on the floor at such a rapid rate she would surely lose consciousness soon having cut into something vital. Then I pulled her down and right into my other elbow, connecting with her chin her head flung back as she blacked out on the floor.
I was slightly battered, which was rare for me, but Viv looked like she was on the brink of death. That was when I realised that, given the right circumstances, I was not just capable of hurting my enemies but also those closest to me. There was something so twisted and vengeful within my soul that I would destroy anyone, no matter who they were, if it meant furthering my aims. I knew then even though we had shared nearly our whole lives together, I would kill her if this was a true battle to the death, no matter my feelings for her all for the sake of my ego and reputation. Perhaps a small part of me lashed out the way I did because it was one of the first times I felt overpowered, and it sent real fear through me, taking me back to those times in my life when I had felt powerless. My need to protect myself would drive me to hurt those I cared for, those I loved. IfI was even capable of that emotion anymore, I would do anything not to be at the mercy of others and this life.
The black smoke seeped out of me once more, filling the space before dissipating again. My mother, Queen Annastasia, now stood before me. When she died, I felt nothing; there was no sadness or pain at my loss because I didn’t actually lose anything. In our land, the power to rule is handed down through the maternal bloodline, and so are our gifts. Upon my mother’s death the eternal flame left her body to find the next in line—me.
