And then, she sliced.
Garnet bloomed on her skin.
“Bloodletting? We are no better than Demons,” the female from before snapped.
I met her gaze and gave her a nod, urging her to continue even if I disagreed with her harsh views of the people who shared our continent.
Iaoth snarled, shooting to her feet. In three long strides, she stood before the Seer. Red dotted the air as she lifted a hand and pointed two fingers straight at the female’s forehead. “I only need a vessel for power. I don’t needyou.”
The Seer’s scream ripped through the air as radiance snapped forth and disappeared into the orifices of her head. Nails clawed at her temples as blood dripped from her ears.
“I’m going to be sick,” I muttered, pressing my hands into my stomach. Lyriasthe was there a moment later with a bowl, her hand rubbing soothing circles over my back. Bile heaved from my belly, my sounds drowned out by the female’s cries.
By the time she crumpled into nothing more than a glassy-eyed shell, my skin was clammy. Lyriasthe fanned me with a large palm, but it did nothing to steady the tremble in my hands.
The Seer sat there, blank, unblinking, as if her essence had been scooped out and only her exterior remained.
Iaoth spun on her heel, gliding back to the center of the room where Heraphia had waited, unflinching. Like she too had been hollowed out.
“Now, where were we?” the Korona asked like she hadn’t just stripped the poor female of her memories, her identity, everything that made her,her. And she’d done it in less than a minute. There was nothing the Seer, or anyone else, could have done.
Hate, black as pitch, surged inside me. I glared at my mate’s sister as she sliced again into her flesh, letting her lifeblood drain into the dish.
She offered the blade to Heraphia, hilt first. My friend accepted it, hands steady and sure as she made her own contribution.
“Sanctify us with Your grace. Let no doubt poison ourhearts. Let no mercy be given to the wicked,” the Korona continued to pray.
Once Heraphia had finished her offering, Iaoth used the tip of the dagger to swirl the ruby ruin. Dipping a finger into the mixture, she painted runes on herself, then on Heraphia’s outstretched arms. Incandescence whispered around them, locking their stained palms together.
And I knew once their blood mixed, nothing could be undone.
“Burn away all false visions. Leave only Your holy order behind. Let us See.”
Both females dropped their heads. Air froze in my lungs as I waited to see if whatever Iaoth had done had worked.
Others held their stones or inhaled their herbs, falling into their own power.
And still, I didn’t move.
Lyriasthe handed me a glass of water, and I drained it, barely noting the citrus flavor.
A masculine shout from the adjacent room nearly jolted me out of my skin.
“You need to relax,” Lyriasthe hissed under her breath.
“I can’t. Not when I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I snapped, not caring about the harshness in my tone.
Minutes passed. My fingers ached from how hard I gripped the chair.
And then…
A blinding, brilliant light snapped between Heraphia and Iaoth’s chests.
Fuck, they’d done it.
Awed murmurs rippled through the room. Even those who had been focused on themselves opened their eyes to witness what the two had wrought.
I wasn’t the most religious Angel—prayer wasn’t my first response to stress. I didn’t much concern myself with remaining without sin. The Goddess appearing in my dream, questioning why I rejected Her gift, was the closest I’d come in years to Her. Even that wasn’t of my own volition.
