Chapter Thirty-Five
Joy
Ari's iron grip on my arm propelled me forward through the sea of soldiers who parted before us like waves before a ship. He led me to where Queen Alanna waited at the head of her army, mounted on a massive black warhorse that pawed the ground impatiently.
She was a vision of deadly beauty. She wore a black dress that flowed like liquid shadow, covered with interlocking chain mail that shimmered in the harsh sunlight like scales on a serpent. Her silver hair was braided in an intricate warrior's plait down her back, woven through with dark ribbons. She held a longsword in one hand—the blade etched with runes that seemed to pulse with malevolent energy. I wondered with sickening certainty if I was going to be her first victim, my blood christening that wicked blade before the invasion even began.
She flicked her cold gaze over me as we approached, assessing me the way a butcher might examine a cow before slaughter. "Open the portal."
Ari bowed slightly, the gesture mocking in its brevity. "Yes, Your Majesty." He leaned closer to me, his breath hot and foul against my ear as his fingers worked the locks on my silver manacles. The metal fell away with soft clicks that sounded unnaturally loud. "If you don't open it, then prepare to die out on this field. Slowly. Painfully. While everyone you love watches through the portal before I kill them too."
My heart pounded against my ribs like a bass drum, but I forced steel into my spine. I could do this. If I opened the portal, I could use my shadows to blind them momentarily—create enough chaos for whoever was still alive on the other side to act. It was a desperate plan built on hope and timing, but it was all I had.
"I understand," I said meekly, letting my shoulders slump in apparent defeat. Let them think I was broken, compliant, no threat at all.
Ari's fingers suddenly pinched my cheeks hard, his nails digging into my flesh until tears sprang to my eyes from the pain. He yanked my face close to his, forcing me to meet those cold blue eyes. "I will slam these back on you the minute you're done. So don't try anything clever, girl."
This was it. The moment everything either came together or fell catastrophically apart.
Every eye in that vast army was on me—thousands of soldiers watching, waiting, their hands on their weapons and bloodlust written across their faces. Their collective attention zeroed in on me like lasers. I had to put on a convincing show or die right here on this field.
I held out my trembling palms toward the empty air, forcing my breathing to steady despite the terror clawing at my throat. Then I felt it—that familiar flutter moved in my chest like butterfly wings; the power Marsha had awoken.
Open the portal.
Shadows crawled toward me from every direction—from beneath soldiers' feet, from the shade of the castle walls, from the darkness that lived in all things. They swarmed around my legs like eager serpents answering their master's call, then shot out of my fingertips in thick, black streams like water from a fireman’s hose.
The shadows swirled faster and faster around my outstretched hands, building in speed and intensity until they created a massive vortex of light and darkness that seemed impossible, unnatural—magic made visible. The wind from the gateway whipped my hair around my face. I could feel the raw power coursing through me, electric and terrifying, like lightning through my body.
The air itself seemed to tear like fabric being ripped apart by invisible hands, the sound sharp and wrong—a fundamental violation of reality. Dimensional barriers strained and buckled under the immense pressure of the magic I was unleashing. I could feel it in my bones, in my teeth, a vibration that went deeper than physical sensation.
Then, with a sound like a volcano erupting—a deep, primal roar that shook the ground beneath my feet and sent soldiers stumbling backward—a portal exploded open in the swirling maelstrom. The blast of displaced air hit me like a physical wall, nearly knocking me off balance.
The same solid metal door I'd seen before materialized from absolute nothingness, its surface covered in ancient symbols that writhed and twisted when I tried to focus on them. Looking at them directly sent piercing pains stabbing through my skull, as if my mind was rejecting what my eyes were seeing. The door hung suspended in midair, defying gravity, but there was no visible lock or handle—just smooth, ancient metal that seemed to drink in the sunlight rather than reflect it, creating a void of darkness against the bright day.
My shadows moved of their own accord now, slipping underneath the mysterious door like ethereal skeleton keys searching for tumblers to unlock. My stomach churned with dread as my own power was used to open something that should have remained sealed forever. Each shadow that disappeared beneath that door felt like a piece of my soul being torn away.
But it was the only way I could get home, home to Enzo.
Pleasepleasepleasebe alive.
The metal glowed with an eerie green light along the edges, and the unmistakable sound of ancient mechanisms ground into motion deep within the door itself—clicks and clanks that spoke of magic older than memory.
The door swung open with a groan of ancient hinges, revealing the world I'd been torn from. It was nighttime on the bayou, and St. Louis Cathedral stood like a beacon of hope against the dark sky, its spires reaching toward heaven. The courtyard was a battlefield—bodies scattered across the ground, the clash of steel ringing out, shouts and screams echoing off the stone walls. The vines that had strangled the building were gone, leaving bare stone walls.
My heart lurched with confusion and growing dread.
Queen Alanna's boots crunched across the courtyard stones as she strode toward me, raising her rune-etched sword high over her head. The blade caught the torchlight, gleaming with deadly promise. Death flickered in her cold silver eyes—not just the promise of it, but eager anticipation.
This was it. She was going to kill me the moment I'd served my purpose.
Ari clamped the manacles back down on my wrists with bruising force. So the bastard wanted me dead after all. He'd played me perfectly, used me, and now I was disposable.
My turn.
With trembling fingers, I squeezed my pinky and ring finger out of the loosened bracelet, feeling the cool metal slide past my knuckles. Freedom sang through my veins.
Protect.
