Page 109 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

‘I-I don’t know,’ she whispered, her eyes searching for me as though I’d be her anchor. ‘No matter how I try, I’m never enough. Never…’

The God leaned over his lectern, his hair billowing as flames burst through his eyes. His mouth shaping the words that would damn him. Damn us all. I placed my Sorrow’s hand against the thunder of her heart, pressed it close as she dragged in a breath.

‘This,’ I said with all the devotion in my soul. ‘This heart. This rage. This… spirit. This is my Sorrow. My chaos. My altar.’

Lifting her hand, I pressed her palm against my chest.

‘And this? It beats for you and you alone. A mirror to your soul. An answer to your prayer. She may steal your sight, but I will never let her steal our future.’

My Sorrow nodded, raised her chin. The wind whipped through the temple, candles flickering as the sky exploded in a bolt of lightning that shook the world.

Lightning that sparked from the empress’s fingers as she watched the now-steaming bowl. I couldn’t tell Sorrow how the hearts of the gods shone, casting the leering empress in a grotesque glow.

‘One last time, Elmswood?’

My voice caught. ‘Your wish, my command.’

Sorrow pressed her hands to my chest, as though she could tear out my heart. ‘If this is it.’ The whisper of a smile tugged up her perfect mouth as her eyes searched for mine. ‘If this is all we were permitted, you were worth every second, Matthias Elmswood. Every, damn, second.’

My smile answered her words. A smile she no longer saw. I dragged in a heavy breath, fighting to keep hold of the wisp of hope lingering within my soul.

Pressing a final kiss to her lips, she sat straighter, raised her closed eyes to the thunder above, her arms wide as her gifts flooded from her.

Steadying myself against the trembling columns. I slipped away behind a broken archway. My blade demanded the empress’s blood. Revenge for all she’d stolen. My eyes caught on my brother as he stood to the side. The boy who’d always tried so hard to make me proud swiped the thick black fluid oozing down his chin. Was Vyrus too late? Had the Vyrium seeped so far into his soul, the prince was damned anyway? As I watched him stumble, his trembling arms wrapped around himself, my mind warred with my heart.

But, Gods, I still believed that redemption wasn’t beyond his grasp. As his eyes found mine, before returning to his empress, I prayed that little boy still fought back against the poison. He hadn’t told her I was there. Perhaps there was still a place for Ifan by my side if, somehow, we walked away from this.

We jolted as the empress squealed, dancing around the bowl. ‘It’s almost there, vengeance. Don’t stop. Don’t⁠—’

The world tilted. The threads binding Eusis shuddered as Vyrus gurgled. I stepped into the shadows as the God gripped the dagger embedded in his throat. Ifan clutching it, twisting it as the God’s eyes widened. The empress’s scream drowned out the thunder as she stepped back, gripping the bowl, drops of Sorrow’s blood splattering the floor, hissing against the heat of the volcano. Vyrus collapsed, dragging the lectern, the book toppling. My brother turned, met my gaze, the slightest twitch lifting the corner of his mouth, before turning his eyes onto the empress.

This was it. This was our chance. I leapt over the rubble, sword raised as Ifan turned to his slaver. A tempest raged around Sorrow, but I knew if I turned to her, I’d never leave. Ifan raised the crimson dagger, the blood of the God streaming down his arm. Rage etched into every line of his face. Throwing his arm back⁠—

‘Too late,’ the empress screeched, her mouth opened wide, the bowl tipped back as she swallowed Sorrow’s blood. The glowing hearts slipped out, slamming into her chest, crashing against the cobbles as slivers of scarlet trickled down her chin. Her throat working as she gorged on the blood of the Deviant.

I stumbled, cursing as Ifan flew forward swifter than the lightning crackling above us. Roaring, the dagger flew towards the beast who’d stolen all from him. I raised my sword, ready to join my brother. To end her.

It all happened too fast. I blinked, certain my sight lied. Slowly, so slowly, the empress raised her pale hand. The tip of the dagger pressed against her putrid heart before it clattered to the floor. Sparks, silver and white, erupted from her fingers. Ifan screamed into her face as the temple exploded. Sorrow called my name, panic lacing her voice as I blinked away the sharp spots, my chest heaving, my legs refusing to move.

The empress stood; thick blood stained her pale chin as she turned her gleeful gaze towards me. Pale hair whipped around her as she raised her arms. A scream caught in my throat. Ifan lay at her feet, eyes wide open, the light already extinguished. His neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

Rage erupted, flowed through every vein, ignited every pain she’d caused me. Jaw clenched, I raised my sword as the body of Vyrus twitched. Even if I breathed my last, I’d buy the other part of my soul time to raise the Gods and end this heartless beast.

‘Still vexing me?’ Black fissures split across her flesh, scoring deep grooves into her skin. Lightning flashed erratically from her twisted fingers. ‘I possess the cure, Asmar. I am the cure.’

I raced towards her, determined she’d taken her last breath, when my world burst into a blaze of searing white, and pain, crippling, devastating. My face slammed against the rubble. Spitting out blood, clouds swarmed the edges of my vision. I opened my eyes.

Blood.

And before me, my sword, bent, broken, the charred remains of my twitching right hand still clutching the hilt as I screamed.

CHAPTER 42

SORROW

A new God, the last God, will rise from the ashes of the immortals. Their intent as dark as spilled ink. Our final days will be forged in chains, broken and split, until only the God of Devastation remains.

​— ​THE HISTORIES AND PROPHECIES OF THE STAR-CROSSED GODS: PROPHECIES OF MYRDDIN