The door closed, and a buzzing sound vibrated through the room. Wards. We were trapped.
Morgana came to a halt. Her dark eyes wide, her mouth tight as she took me in.
“Lyr.” She shook her head. “I thought I heard you. You have something I need.” Her eyes swept across the shield. “Again.”
“Morgs?” My voice shook, my heart hammering, even as I tightened my grip. “Morgs, what are you doing?”
“Seize her!” shouted a soturion, snapping out of his daze. “Seize them both!”
I stepped back, my sword lifted and Morgana flinched, but then she held up the shard, sunlight catching the crystal and spiraling its light across the room.
She shook her head, slowly, and removed her hood. “No one will be seized today. Not by any of you.” She snapped her fingers, and the door opened once more. Three men entered the Throne Room.
I stepped back at once, my pulse pounding, my stomach twisting with fear. There was something terrifying about them, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. They were taller than any man I’d ever seen, looming well over a foot taller than Morgana. Their arms bulged with muscle, exuding strength and violence, and their fingers ended with long, tapered nails. Their teeth were so sharp they extended past their lips. It was almost as if …
No.
I stepped back again. And at once, all three lifted their faces revealing red glowing eyes.
Akadim.
No. No.
This wasn’t possible. It was day. This couldn’t be happening. My eyes were playing tricks on me. They were too small anyway. And whatever kind of evil they were, they couldn’t be with Morgana. Morgana wouldn’t, she wouldn’t …
Maraaka Ereshya.
She would.
The doors closed behind Morgana with another snap of her fingers, trapping us inside. The buzzing grew louder.
“You’re warded in,” Morgana said. “There’s no escape. I’m sorry it comes to this. But all Empires must fall. Even ours.”
A soturion flung his dagger at her. The blade flying straight at her face.
I yelled out.
But Morgana merely moved the shard in front of her, and the blade turned around, flying back at the soldier, piercing him in his gut.
He fell to his knees, crying out in pain.
“Remember,” she said, “That you were part of the oppression. Of the suffering. None of you who served him, who subjugated and tortured Lumerians on his orders can claim innocence. I want you to know, as you die, that this was always the fate you deserved.”
Then she turned to the akadim looming behind her. All three were wearing silver cuffs around their necks, the marking of demons loyal to Aemon, sharing his blood, and his strength.
“Himai,” Morgana said.
The akadim attacked.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
LYRIANA
I backed away, holding up the shield and my sword. My legs widened, my knees bent.
An akadim grabbed the nearest soturion, and within seconds had torn out his throat.
Blood spattered against the wall.
