Chapter Twenty-One

Almost instantly, Raith started to burn.

It was all so familiar. He’d been stolen and transformed into another being, had his mind erased and his existence reborn…only to end up exactly where he’d started.

Burning alive at the Fire Queen’s mercy.

But the pain’s familiarity didn’t make it any less intense. A cry was torn from his lips, and his knees buckled beneath him. The wound in his side became the equivalent of a tiny sliver as searing agony incinerated every inch of his being. It felt as though his skin was being flayed from his body while his internal organs were stabbed repeatedly with hot pokers. It felt as though his very soul was being boiled alive.

Through the haze, he saw Furie’s beautiful, blank face staring down at him. Her head cocked slightly, and her bright blue gaze was inquisitive, like she was wondering with scientific curiosity what his suffering felt like.

“You were always one of my favorites, Thirteen.”

Thirteen. That was his real name, his real legacy.

She laughed distantly. “My lucky number Thirteen.”

That was all he’d ever been. The thirteenth wraith. The favored assassin.

His hopes of having a new life and identity were nothing but a cosmic joke. The truth had been there all along, plain as day—even in the name he’d chosen. Raith. From the beginning, he’d simply labeled himself as what he was, and he hadn’t even known it.

“Your body isn’t nearly as impervious to harm in your new condition.” Furie’s voice seemed to come from farther and farther away. Or maybe he was the one drifting? “A weakness rather easily exploited, don’t you think? Ghostly wraiths are much stronger than flesh-embodied ones.”

Raith had tuned her out after the first sentence, for it was then he realized…that feeling of being boiled alive while his skin was flayed off? It wasn’t just a feeling any longer.

It was really happening.

His body was being incinerated. It said a lot for Darya’s Water-enhanced embodiment that Furie hadn’t just blown him to smithereens—he had seen it happen before. One touch, or even just an enraged shriek, and the enemy’s body simply…exploded.

Raith, on the other hand, was lasting. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing. A quick death was a mercy he didn’t deserve but one he wished for anyway, though he’d never lower himself to beg for it.

“So you thought you could be free, did you, Thirteen? You poor, wretched thing. Oh, I saw it all in the flames. How you found the Seer you failed to kill and fell in love with her. How you were foolish enough to believe she could love you back.”

Not Harrow, Raith wanted to beg. Do anything to me, but don’t torture me with thoughts of her. But he wouldn’t beg for mercy he knew he wouldn’t receive.

“Such a silly, naive creature. How could anyone love a monster like you? When she found out what you were, how you had slain her beloved mother and family, how you were my obedient assassin for centuries, she fled from you in terror, didn’t she? She was horrified she had welcomed such a beast into her body. She fled back to her real protector, Salizar, and begged him to kill you.”

It was all true. Raith wanted to howl with misery, but he kept his resolute silence. To not scream was the only dignity he had remaining, and he clung to it.

“Rejected by your beloved, you came back here to have your vengeance, is that it? To strike back at me for all the pain I’ve caused you? Or was it more selfless than that? Perhaps you came back to kill me to avenge your Seer. Perhaps you hoped she might forgive your crimes if you were successful. How romantic.”

She paused for effect and whispered, “A pity you failed and will die here instead.”

If she meant to frighten him, she failed in that. Raith could have cried with relief. She was finally going to end him. The agony would be over.

He could tell by the pain in his body, or lack thereof, that he hadn’t much time left. Or much body left, for that matter. Most of him was numb now, probably melted or burned away. His vision was black around the edges. Soon it would be over. He allowed his consciousness to fade to a gentle wisp until he felt nothing but a soothing caress against the edges of his soul…

And he suddenly knew.

When he died, he wouldn’t go to a shadowy void of isolation in the blackest pits of the dark Shades. He would go somewhere peaceful beyond the Veil. He felt it there, just outside his reach, though he was now grasping at it with both hands. It was welcoming him. Reaching out for him as he reached out for it.

Tears of gratitude would have streamed from his eyes if he’d had eyes left to cry with. Surely a purely evil being couldn’t find such peace? Surely this meant he wasn’t evil after all?

With a final, grateful exhale of his shredded lungs, Raith relaxed into death.

“Or maybe,” Furie said from a thousand miles away, “you’re even nobler than I thought. Maybe you came here knowing full well you wouldn’t succeed in killing me. Maybe you came because you knew that when you failed, I would kill you. Oh yes, you wanted to die, didn’t you? This was all an epic gesture for your true love—sacrificing yourself to restore the balance. What better way to avenge your Seer than by killing the one responsible for her mother’s death? Yourself.”

She laughed, and it reverberated around his blissful haze like a wildfire sparking in a peaceful forest.

“You clever beast! You manipulated me! And by the Goddess, I nearly fell for it. I nearly gave you exactly what you wanted. Oh, this is too much.”

No! Raith screamed mentally. Finish me! He was so close to the edge. Seconds from falling over it.

“Let me tell you something, Thirteen. Something you should already know from your years of service to me. I don’t like being manipulated. And I punish those who try in the worst ways imaginable. So now, I’ve changed my mind. You will not be dying today. I have something much greater in store for you.”

In an instant, the pain vanished, and with that, he finally broke.

If he could have, he would have begged for mercy. He would have pleaded for his own death. But he had no more strength left for begging, and no tongue left to speak with.

He had failed both his final tasks—Furie lived, and apparently, now so would he.

He could already imagine what she had in mind for him. Before, going to his death had seemed a dark sacrifice but a necessary one. Now, death would be a merciful gift—one he wouldn’t be receiving.

Had he the strength, he might have laughed at the cruelty of the Goddess for saddling him with such a miserable existence. It seemed even his desire to die honorably would be denied him. For he knew with certainty:

What awaited him now was a fate worse than death.

…

Raith must have lost consciousness, because the next time he was aware, he opened his eyes—he could see again?—and recognized the inside of the Room of Jars. Whatever was left of his body lay paralyzed upon the floor in the center of the scorch marks, right where Furie used to trap him with Fire magic when he’d been a full wraith.

“You’re awake,” she said from somewhere, though he couldn’t see her.

He saw above him and to the sides, as far as his eyes could travel, but he couldn’t turn his head or move his body in any way.

“I thought you might die on me on our way down here, so I had to heal you a little bit. Then I almost killed you again when I saw what you did to my wraiths.” She chuckled. “Very bad, Thirteen. But it’s no matter—I made them, and I can summon them back to me again. And perhaps one of your first tasks when I’m finished with you will be cleaning up all the glass in here. That’ll take ages.”

Finished with him? Raith didn’t like the sound of that at all.

Why can’t I just die? Never had a being wanted it more, he was certain.

“Darya did amazing work on you. I would never have thought it possible to do what she did.” Furie strolled into his line of sight then, looking down at whatever mess was left of his body. “I’ve gone and ruined all that hard work, now, haven’t I? A shame. But I have no use for you in a form I can’t control. And, since Darya isn’t here to claim you, I think I’ll make you back into something that is useful to me.”

Horror suffused him. Surely she wasn’t saying what he thought she was? Surely that wasn’t possible? Darya had made him a physical body and tied his spirit to it, effectively rebirthing him. Surely the process was irreversible? Please let it be irreversible.

If he’d even considered that the remotest possibility, he never would’ve flown within a hundred miles of the castle. But he’d dismissed it, thinking it impossible.

What a sad, sorry fool he’d been. In so many ways.

“I hope you enjoyed your little stint with a body, Thirteen, because it’s time to go back to how I created you. ‘That’s impossible!’ I can almost hear you thinking. I’m here to assure you, it is not. Darya overrode my magic with her own to create you, and I can do the same in reverse. It’s just going to be a little uncomfortable.”

A pause, and then…

Agony. Indescribable torture. Pain beyond measure, belief, or comprehension. Fire consumed every inch of him, down to his very soul.

Mercifully, he passed out.

While unconscious, he had a dream of sorts. He was swimming underwater in the quiet dark where no sunlight could penetrate. He felt peaceful, whole again. After the torture he’d endured, the feeling was such a relief that grateful tears poured freely down his face to merge with the oceanic depths.

He felt rather than heard a disturbance in the water above. Twisting around, he looked up, searching for the cause, and saw something moving toward him. A dark shape. It drew closer.

Hands. There were hands reaching out. Instinctively, he reached back. They were almost touching. So close…

Then he saw her. Harrow.

She was swimming toward him. Indescribable joy suffused him. He hadn’t known it was possible to feel such happiness.

She reached for him, straining to grab his hand. He strained back, stretching his fingers, desperate for even just a single brush of skin. A certainty filled him that if he could touch her, he could go to her, and he needed to go to her. So badly, in fact, that his very life might depend upon it—

He never got the chance. The next instant, he regained consciousness in his new reality.

The ocean vanished, replaced by that familiar stone room.

Instantly, he recognized what he’d become. It was familiar, as familiar as slipping into a worn jacket or pair of shoes. It was more familiar than his old life had ever been, for he’d lived in this condition far longer.

His body was weightless. He could dissolve it into the ether or gather it into a dark shape at will. Neither state was more comfortable than the other. He could become any color he wished, camouflaging to any surrounding, turning invisible. He could also solidify himself completely for a short time, but the state of being solid brought with it glaring weaknesses.

How could he have ever wanted to remain permanently so?

In this spectral form, he was untouchable.

His emotions were dampened, a memory attached to the physical world he was no longer part of. As he floated, he felt a sense of lightness, of disconnect from everything, as though he was watching the world through a veil. Nothing seemed to matter, and why should it? Why bother caring about anything?

He was nearly invincible, free from bodily troubles, gifted with unimaginable power. He moved unseen in the night, cloaked in shadows, as silent as a whisper, as deadly as death itself.

“There you are,” Furie cooed, and the wraith spun around to face her.

Hatred filled him at the sight of the sorceress who bound him, the only blight on his powerful existence. He was free in every way except for her.

If only he could kill her… But she’d prepared for this. He was surrounded by magical bars of flame on six sides—she was careful to cage him at his feet, too. If not, he would have sunk through the floor and come up behind her to slit her throat before she could blink. As it was, he was well and truly trapped.

A beatific smile adorned her flawless face. “Yes, you’re much better like this, I think.”

The wraith stared blankly, his hatred of her the only emotion to penetrate his smoky existence. And even that felt numb and far away.

“Now that I’ve restored you to your former glory, we have work to do. Since you freed all my other wraiths and I don’t have time to fetch them back just yet, you’ll have to do all their work combined. A suitable punishment for your insubordination, I think.”

He pumped his wings lazily, awaiting instruction or a chance to escape.

“But before we begin, we need to take care of your earlier indiscretions. You made quite the mess, Thirteen. I’ve got not one but two of my sisters breathing down my neck, and a piteous group of Elementals coming to stir up trouble on your behalf, including one short-sighted Seer.” She chuckled at her own cleverness.

Her humor abruptly died as she began to pace back and forth in front of him. He watched disinterestedly, his attention rapt on the cage he was trapped in. If her concentration lapsed for even the briefest instant, he would slip free and strike.

“That Seer has proven to be trouble. Oh, I’ve known about her all along, though the poor child probably thought she was hidden from me. I chose to let her live, thinking, ‘What could it hurt to let Darya have one last daughter to dote upon?’ But now she’s gotten on my nerves, planning to come here and take my wraith for herself.”

A flicker of recognition passed through the wraith. The Seer wanted him? Why? In his old life, she hated and feared him. What interest would she have in him?

He inwardly shrugged. It didn’t matter. Life was fleeting. Death could strike at any moment.

“And Darya helping her?” Furie continued her tirade, waving her arms about for emphasis. “My sister has gone too far. I must retaliate before she believes I’ve gone soft. Before she forgets what it means to incur my wrath.” She spun suddenly around to face him, a smile spreading across her face. Her eyes glinted with crazed anticipation. “You, my wraith, will remind her. Vow it.”

The wraith narrowed his eyes in loathing. She would force his vow now. The humiliation of the act never ceased to incur his own wrath, but again—against her, he was powerless.

“Vow you will remind the world what it means to challenge me.” The power stirred beneath her words, her blue eyes glowing from it. The Fire tugged at his essence, forcing him to obey.

“I vow I will remind the world what it means to challenge you.” His disembodied voice echoed around the chamber. He loathed the sound of it nearly as much as he loathed her.

Furie’s gaze lit with triumph. “You’re truly back, my treasured one. I shall be very careful with your vows this time, putting extra power into them. There won’t be any disobeying me again. Are you ready to hear your first task?”

His glare promised an excruciating death. His hatred of her burned deep.

“Vow to me you will find the Seer, wherever she lurks. You will not stop searching until you have found her. You will do nothing else but search for her.”

The Fire scalded him until he was forced to say, “I vow I will find the Seer. I will not stop searching until I do. I will do nothing else but search for her.”

“Vow to me that when you find the Seer, you will kill her.”

Deep within, a part of him cried out in horror. He knew that but a few hours ago, he would have given anything in the world to avoid such a compulsion. Yet he could do nothing about it, so why waste energy fighting it? Still, he hesitated, though it cost him dearly. The agony was quick to strike, and he knew it would only worsen until he said it.

So he did.

“I vow to kill the Seer.”

Furie’s eyes glowed with power and the light of victory. “Vow to me that you will never stop trying to kill the Seer until you are successful.”

The power behind the command hit him so hard, his essence briefly dissipated into smoke before reforming again. Again, the pain was excruciating. Quickly, he said, “I vow I will never stop trying to kill the Seer until I am successful.”

“Vow you will never disobey your vows again.”

Such a permanent promise was highly inadvisable, but again, there was nothing he could do about it. “I vow I will never disobey my vows again.”

“Vow you will kill the Seer!” It sounded more like a battle cry than a queenly injunction.

“I vow to kill the Seer,” the wraith repeated, feeling the binds tightening around him.

“Again.”

“I vow to kill the Seer.”

“Again!”

“I vow to kill the Seer.”

Finally, it was done. His words were given, and his bondage was complete. Unnecessary now, the fiery cage dissipated, and he was free to go—unable to strike at the Queen now that he was committed to another objective.

Without hesitation—as per his vow not to rest or do anything else—he shot instantly out of the room, through the walls, and into the night to find his prey.

His vow had been given. The Seer’s fate was sealed.