Overhead, the sky darkens as a treachery of ravens eclipses the sun.
I raise my hand to shield my eyes as I look up, the vast expanse above now a looming void. The treachery twists and turns in a cyclonic motion, its center ominously approaching the ground before me.
This can’t be good.
And when I search my mind for Emme, hoping she might provide some backup, there’s only quiet emptiness in the space she usually occupies.
Coward.
I pivot sharply, muscles locking, ready to bolt.
But something flickers just beyond the smoke and black feathers drifting through the air.
A shape.
Aperson.
My stomach turns.
It’s me.
But not.
I cock my head, struggling to make sense of the wavering form as it solidifies.
Standing in the middle of the charred grove, black feathers still floating to the ground, stands a fierce warrior queen, every inch of her stained with blood.
She has my face, my features, and wears my magical form, but this horrifying, blood-soaked womancan’tbe me.
The violent imposter waits, warping the air around her, reality rejecting her very presence.
I don’t mean to, but I take a step closer.
Worn, cracked leather armor is molded to her body like a second skin. A blackened blade hangs at her side, still dripping with fresh blood. A dagger is strapped to her thigh, its hilt carved with delicate wildflowers, a soft detail that doesn’t belong in the brutal vision before me.
I swallow so hard I think the warrior queen version of me feels it.
Blood drips from her hair and body, making the whites of her eyes glow amid the deep red.
“W-who are you?” I ask hesitantly.
Honestly, I’m not sure if I really want to know.
The vision stares at me as a ferocious grin spreads across her bloodied face, her stark white fangs sparkling against the sticky crimson.
“I am the Morrígan,” she intones, her voice splitting into three.
It detonates through my bones, an echo carrying the sound of fate folding in on itself.
“The Phantom Queen. The Weaver of War. The Keeper of Fate.”
And then she bares her fangs, blood slicking her lips in a snarl that’s meant to be a smile. I think. There’s so much blood, shecould hand me a bouquet of unicorn plushies, and I’d still swear she tried to stab me and eat my heart.
“I have come for you.”
Fan-fucking-tastic. Another underborne.
Except … she doesn’t feel like the others. Ezra told me the first of them were powerful enough to be worshipped.
