Still, she wasn't certain how she was going to manage to get out of here.
She tried to move her legs, and... nothing.
A new fear enveloped her.
No. Not this. This would not be her price to pay, it would not be.
She fought long and hard, straining to force her weakened body to obey. The heavy beam across the middle of her back had no give to it, and the exertion left her panting, clutching hopelessly at the treasure in her hand, a treasure that was ultimately worthless if she couldn't force herself to escape this physical trap.
Her magic was useless, drained in the encounter.
Her body was useless.
"Damn you," Morgana cried, her forehead resting against the timber floors and a hot tear scalding her cheek. "You fucking useless piece of flesh. You bleeding little whore." Her uncle's favorite words to use against her, and she used them now to inspire that inner rage that always burned, but even her own innate fury could give her no release. "Get up!"
The door opened with a creak.
Morgana froze.
A pair of men's heeled shoes came into view and a tall shape materialized, wearing a long black cloak with a hood. His face was somewhat obscured, and she blinked away her tears, trying desperately to make him out.
The ominous click of the heels came closer. Morgana's breath caught in her chest, but it didn't matter. She was helpless.
That was when she saw his face, that bland marionette mask beneath the hood with spells of Illusion carved into the papier–mâché. Her eye wanted to follow the runes that burned with a brassy gleam, but she forced herself to meet his eyes, ignoring the flicker of an image—a young, handsome man—that the spell suggested to her weakened mind.
Those empty, black holes gleamed with nothingness. Every person who passed this man would see a different face in their mind. Nobody would be able to describe him. Only she, who knew Illusion, could see through it.
"What are you?" she whispered, forcing herself to swallow. "Show me your face!"
"I find it interesting that you think yourself in the position to make such demands," the stranger said. The words burned into her mind, as if they'd bypassed her ears entirely.
Her heart hammered, her blood seeming to freeze in her veins. She'd heard that voice before. She'd commanded it, so many years ago, when she, Drake, and Tremayne began to dabble with the Relics Infernal. Her fist clenched around the hilt of the Blade, but the creature merely laughed.
"Yessss," it whispered and reached up to remove its mask of Illusion. "Now you are beginning to understand."
Slowly, the mask lowered, and Morgana squeezed her eyelids tightly together. She did not want to see it.
"Look at me."
She shook her head.
"Look at me, or I shall remove your eyelids, so you may never look away again."
That made her open them.
Noah Guthrie's body. Or it had been once.
The creature squatted in front of her, his trousers straining over his thighs. His eyes burned holes of fire in his handsome face. He was beautiful, stunning, his skin made of pure alabaster, as if carved by a Renaissance master. Except... Except for the faint flaws, the sheer inhumanness of it. The skin on the middle of its forehead smoked and began to peel, a sigil of burning light branding itself there. A sigil she never, ever wanted to see again.
Morgana froze, turning her eyes away from the sight. She couldn't breathe. All of her life, her dreams, her ambitions... destroyed. She knew it already. And now she was at the mercy of a being who could, and would, do anything it wanted to her. Helpless. She knew that feeling so well. She'd spent years fighting to put herself in a position where she would never be helpless again, but the world conspired against her.
"I see you remember me."
How could she forget? It was the first creature they'd ever summoned from the Nether Reaches, a plane of existence that some termed Hell. Their audacity had been met by a being of power that had stared at them as though it were committing their faces to memory.
Tremayne had crowed, as if the world had been handed to them on a platter, but Drake had grown still. And Morgana had hovered between both emotions. Here was the world—power, revenge, and everything she'd ever wanted—hers for the taking... But meeting the demon's eyes felt like staring into an abyss that had suddenly opened beneath her feet.
The creature smiled, an expression that made her feel like a cold claw was trailing down her spine. "What can I do for you? Mastersss?"
