He stood there, hidden in the crowd, as they all gasped and stared at the black tears that leaked out of the statue’s eyes. And then it appeared as though dark blood began to pour out of the jug the statue held in its hand. Black as ink, with the faintest red hue. It filled the entire fountain with dark liquid that slowly spilled over the sides.
People screamed, rushing away from the water that poured out, threatening to overtake them. They couldn’t run fast enough. And throughout all the chaos, he stood still and reveled in the madness that surrounded him.
He was still a god to be feared. He was still the Deathless One, thenightmare in the darkness. Though they feared him, they feared the loss of their lives more.
“He’s returned!” someone screamed, their voice rising higher than all the others. “The Deathless One has returned!”
He certainly had. But he had a choice this time. No coven had summoned him; no witch tried to bend him to her will. He could be the god he once was, or he could become a god king who ruled this kingdom not just with a coven, but with a queen at his side.
The dark liquid paused, gathering back into itself and returning to the fountain. But it left a black smudge behind, words that, if anyone was brave enough to read, would reveal his message.
The woman in the purple gown was the first to approach, almost crouching as she braved the madness that had spilled out of the once-beautiful fountain.
“What does it say?” someone shouted.
“The king has returned for his queen,” she read, her voice quivering.
“His queen?” another person asked.
He couldn’t help himself. With another twist of his magic, shadows coiled around the statue. They gathered to create a dress that was eerily similar to the wedding gown Jessamine had been killed in. The crown he placed atop her head was the same Jessamine’s mother had worn for years. He left the illusion for a few moments, until someone whispered, “Is that the Harmsworth crown?”
“But the Lady Jessamine is dead! The king threw her off the cliff’s edge! What could it mean?”
Another person leaned to the side, muttering to their companion, “Didn’t you hear something when you were in the Factory District last month? Rumblings about the princess being alive?”
“Yes, but that was right before the Iron Knuckles fell apart. They’ve been completely disbanded. Infection got all of them.”
“But the Iron Knuckles were the ones containing the infection in that district. Didn’t their leader work directly with the king?”
His work here was done. Elric let all of his shadows fall, and suddenlythe square was sunny and bright once more, as though nothing had happened at all. More gasps echoed, some people even rubbing their eyes as though their sight was the problem.
Tucking his hands into his pockets, Elric whistled as he returned to the dress shop. Chaos needed to be sown in every district.
After all, it wouldn’t do to let the king sleep well at night.
Nerves churned in her belly. Jessamine knew they were going to find Fortuna here. After all, the woman rarely left the Pleasure District. But she hadn’t thought the mere anticipation of finding her cousin would be quite so terrifying.
They’d spent the last few days preparing for what to do and how to get to Fortuna. Elissa had some information on the woman, but not a lot. Which meant they’d needed to wander through the streets, asking people questions while avoiding bringing any sort of suspicion to themselves. Such was a task easier said than done.
Still, she’d found the address for Fortuna’s house and eventually gotten too tired to wait. Elric felt the same, even if Sybil claimed the two of them were so impatient that they were likely to ruin the entire plan.
Night had fallen on the streets. As dark as it was, no one would see them. She wore all black, as did Elric. No one could even see her unless she lifted her face high enough to reveal her pale skin beneath the hood of her cloak. And even then, the moonlight turned her skin into such an unnatural color that perhaps someone would think they’d seen a ghost.
A soft chuckle escaped her at the thought as they rounded the last corner street they needed to traverse around.
“Care to share what is so entertaining?” Elric asked, his dark eyes constantly searching the streets for some unseen foe.
“I just had the thought that if someone saw me, they would think Iwas a ghost.” Another giggle escaped her before she could catch it. “And wouldn’t they be right?”
He cast her an annoyed glance. “You aren’t a ghost.”
“I’m dead, though.”
“You have a body. Ghosts don’t.”
That stuck in her mind a little. He was right, and how odd it was to even think about that. “I suppose that is correct. What would that make me, then? A zombie?”
“Zombies don’t have minds. They’re more like your infected.” Elric waited at the end of the street for her and then gestured with his arm for her to go ahead. “I would simply call you undead, princess.”
