There’s blood here, too, untainted one. Lots of it. Smeared over a sharp-edged rock, leaving a trail of thick droplets around. Seems like someone rolled down the edge of the ravine and landed here.
My fingers tremble, and I squeeze the hilt of the blade tighter. Traces of a fight, heavy footprints, and—
A cry of despair claws its way up my throat: Talysse’s broken, bent bracelet in the dirt.
Elders, no—
I drop to my knees and rake shaking fingers through my hair, wailing like a wounded beast, like someone whose heart is being torn out.
I beat the ground with my fists until my knuckles are a torn, bloodied mess, crying her name, cursing and pleading with all gods until my voice breaks to a mad whisper. A void opens in my chest, raging and hungry, threatening to swallow me whole.
To the darkest hell pit with this world. My pain turns into fury, and I speak blasphemous, dark vows, promising Atos to descend to his halls and rip his throat out should he not release her.
I cradle my legs, sobbing, and try to clear my head.
Talysse’s death was inevitable, but an end like this is the worst thing possible. Unbearable as it is, in my darkest moments, I’ve imagined her death at my hands—gentle, painless, sealed with a kiss, like laying a loved one to rest.
When I close my eyes, her face flashes before me, her soft skin and sweet lips, then clawed hands leave bloody marks over it, slashing it open. Was she torn apart by the horde or dragged away by a Shadowfeeder to be turned into one of them?
A pain so primal and visceral tears through my whole being that all I could do is howl like a beast.
Tears of rage blurring my vision, I check every single corpse, but alas. The only sign of her remains is the broken, deformed bracelet in my hand.
Nothing left of her. And the magical relics are gone too.
Galeoth.
It must be him; Talysse cannot cast such a powerful spell and kill that many. That fucking vulture robbed her and is probably on his way to the temple.
I grind my teeth so hard that the pain sobers me up.
Time to make him bleed. Time to make the world feel my pain.
*
There is a bleeding hole where my heart once was when I reach the halo of magic cupping the old temple. My parents, Aernysse Stargaze, and the most privileged families always attend the Trials’ finale.
Crystal clusters and mages feed the magic protecting the ruins, and squads of heavily armed royal guards have enclosed the ruins in a circle. Royal guards, not Shadowblades, I note and smile darkly. My parents, unsure of the Trial outcome, want to prevent my loyal men from interfering and tipping the scales in my favor.
Heartless but understandable. To ignore the rules in favor of your only surviving son would mean weakness, and weakness equals a death sentence in the Unseelie court.
The ruins are circular, like an amphitheater. They surround the shrine where the holy fire has been burning for centuries. My steps echo ominously among the ruins, cutting short the whispers of the colorful crowd of courtiers: a blur of gold and diamonds, complex hairdos and vanity.
My parents sit on thrones of gilded wood just above the mosaic-covered floors, mage Aernysse standing behind them. Toppled statues and exquisitely carved pillars crowd the arena-like surface, lined up by armed to the teeth knights. With the halo crackling above my head and the dozens of torches burning, the light is blinding. A wave of gasps ripples the crowd when I turn to face them, not bothering to hide my darkness and the pain, twisting my features.
All I have to do is wait for Galeoth, kill him, and take what he stole from Talysse. Then the bloodied crown will be mine and my chance to avenge her and make this cursed world a better place.
The sound of steps draws my eyes to the entrance.
Grief must have made me lose my mind. Because it looks as if Elder Cymmetra herself has strolled in.
But no—
This cannot be—
Beautiful and terrifying as the goddess herself, Talysse stands before me.
More beautiful than anything in this cursed, rotting world.
