The archway yawns dark and foreboding ten paces away.
Somehow, the white stone entryway is pristine, not strewn with leaves or debris.
I take my time rising to my feet, fully expecting Antony to tug on the circlet to remind me of his control over me, but he doesn’t.
Despite the cold in his eyes, he seems relaxed.
Confusingly so.
I step into the shadows of the wide porch at the front of the temple, trying to see what lies within the building. It’s no use. It’s too dark inside.
My heart rises into my throat, and my stomach swirls, a fear I tell myself isn’t warranted, as I take a first step into the darkness. It’s just a temple, for fuck’s sake.
Light bursts around me the moment I pass through the opening, multiple bright orbs igniting where they’re positioned at intervals around the room.
I stop still, forgiving myself for my initial wariness now that it’s clear this place is filled with magic, and that means unseen dangers could lurk within it.
The large hall I’ve stepped into is now lit with silvery light, and its details are clear.
Statues stand around the room, three on my right, two directly ahead on the far side, but only one on my left.
The three on my right are all men wearing robes, each one holding a different object. One has what looks like a carving of a flame, the next holds a depiction of a snowflake, and the third has a blade, but it doesn’t have a hilt, just the blade itself resting on the statue’s upturned palms.
Notably, none of them is wearing a crown.
In contrast, the two men standing on the far side of the room each wear elaborate crowns on their heads. Without moving closer, it’s a little hard to see, but one of the crowned men looks distinctly younger than the other, his features smooth.
I’ve never seen depictions of the Serulian King and his son, but it’s very likely these statues are meant to represent them.
The three men to my right could be the Serulian King’s generals.
As for the final statue, the one standing to my left, the only female figure among them…
She looks like the sketch I saw in Victor’s book. Tall, willowy, gripping a dagger in her right hand while her hair billows across her face, completely obscuring her facial features.
Antony hasn’t commanded me to move further inside the room and, even if he did, I’m not sure I’d immediately obey.
The air within this place is oppressive, squeezing my chest like a noose tightening around my throat.
My stomach continues to swirl as I stare at the woman with the blade, my voice a whisper. “Why have you brought me here?”
“To break the curse.”
I feel his eyes on me, burning into me as surely as if he were an Ember Fae, but I don’t turn to him. Can’t tear my focus from the statue.
This faceless woman demands my attention even as my arm begins to ache where the blade is embedded beneath my skin. I fear another surge of energy from the Dragonstone Blade might happen at any moment, another vision during which I won’t be able to control my actions.
My voice tight, I ask, “What curse?”
The second the question leaves my lips, Antony moves. So fast, I’m left gasping for air.
“Do not toy with me!” His roar blasts my hearing as I find myself swung up into his arms, one of his hands clasping the back of my head, the other pressed to my back.
He’s holding me tightly, and the swiftness of his movement shocked me, but he isn’t hurting me, and that startles me most of all.
The careful way he’s holding me contrasts sharply with the way he’s looking at me. All of the cold nothingness has left his eyes, and now they’re full of hatred.
Full of rage. Directed at me.
