Epilogue

Aliya screamed as she fell through the portal. The sensation was not at all like what she’d expected. The minute she stepped foot into the portal, it was as if she was being pulled into the portal as if she was near a black hole and pushed onto the other side.

She wanted to land gracefully as she stepped out of the portal. Very much like she’d seen Enzo and Sienna had done. Aliya wanted to replicate how Sienna described Enzo in all her books.

But alas…

The minute Aliya stepped foot on the other side, Aliya lost her footing. Her eyes widened as she fell onto the ground. She only brought her hands up to protect her face at the very last minute.

Aliya grunted at the impact, groaning as she turned around, laying on her back. She gingerly rubbed her arms, breathing heavily. 

“You could have helped!” She muttered, her eyes still closed as she reeled from the impact. 

When neither Enzo nor Sienna came to her to help her stand, much less answer her, Aliya turned around. Her brows furrowed when she didn’t find either of them anywhere near here. In fact, the place she fell into looked nothing like the place Enzo and Sienna went.

Instead, Aliya saw a figure standing in the darkness just a few feet away from her. Aliya squinted, trying to get a better view. She expected to see Enzo and Sienna. She expected to see them cackling, or at least silently chuckling to spare her the embarrassment, at her attempt to look cool as she entered Indresal.

She expected to see the lush, tranquil forests that they entered. She expected to feel the forest ground at her feet - or rather, now on her back. She expected chirping birds, majestic animals Sienna had described in the books. 

That was not what surrounded her, however.

Instead of the lush forests she saw Enzo and Sienna enter, Aliya saw charred walls that looked as if they’d been demolished. 

Rubble from the walls was strewn across the floor making Aliya wonder if it was the rubble that made her stumble. She was beginning to wonder when the building was destroyed as nature was beginning to take over. 

This is not where they entered… Aliya thought. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she looked at the building around her. Is it?

“There’s only one person I know that can create portals.” Aliya heard a voice say. The person’s deep, silky voice echoed through the empty room. “If you are from him, this is a terrible spot for you to end up though.”

A man with silvery white locks and dark eyebrows smirked at her as she began to sit up. The deep scar on his cheek made Aliya wince even though it looked like it had healed a long time ago. She could see exactly how big he was as he stepped closer to her. 

His long sleeved black tunic did nothing to hide his broad shoulders and muscular arms. A silver sigil was engraved on the man’s tunic. A sigil that Aliya had never seen before. The man was easily three times Aliya’s size. Size that was evident the closer he walked towards her.

The man looked past Aliya at the fizzling portal behind her. The portal closed, sputtering the last embers. His hooded eyes narrowed slightly as he tilted his head, as if he was remembering something.

“Hm, interesting.” He thought out loud as he brought his hand up to stroke his chin. 

His hands bereft of any jewelry, save for the ring on his left index finger. Aliya couldn’t get a clear look at it though. Before she could say anything, the man continued. “I’m sure he didn’t intend to send you here of all places.” The man scoffed.

“Who are you?” Aliya asked. 

She hadn’t read about his character in any of Sienna’s books. Aliya’s mind ran through all the books Sienna had published thus far. 

When she couldn’t remember reading about him, she began to wonder if he was even a character in the stories. She was starting to wonder how much of this world she truly knew. Maybe he was in the other books that Sienna had yet to publish? Is he another side character?

But all thoughts seemed to flee her mind when the man turned to look back at her. His gaze darkened as his sweet smile turned into a wicked grin. 

Aliya’s throat became dry at the sinister smile he gave her as he approached her. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His sneer made her scuttle back on all fours, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. 

But it seemed that the man was faster. 

In three long strides, the man reached Aliya. He bent down reaching out his hand for her. The sneer on his face only made Aliya’s heart race. 

Aliya didn’t have any time to react. She wanted to bring her hands up. She wanted to smack his hand away from her. She wanted to…

Aliya yelped when she felt his hand grasp her hair, lifting her from the ground. Her hand clasped around his, trying her best to release herself from his grasp. But the more she pulled the more she only hurt herself. His grip on her scalp didn’t loosen.

“Let me go!” Aliya grunted out.

But instead, the man brought her closer to him, roughly, making Aliya whimper. She shuddered at how close they stood. Seeing his cold gaze land on hers. His iron grip didn’t let her look anywhere else but at his dark brown eyes that only conveyed a level of hatred Aliya had yet to encounter. 

His gaze flitted around her face, as if examining her for something. Her eyes searched his as she urged him to let her go. 

Aliya could feel herself shake. A cold shudder traveled down her spine, the longer he looked at her. Silence seemed to engulf them. And Aliya was too scared to want to disturb that silence. She had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate it if she did disturb it either. 

The man bent down closer to Aliya, enough that she could feel his breath fan across her face. She tried to claw herself away from him. She really did. But her strength was no match for him. 

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Was all he said before dragging her off as Aliya screamed for him to let her go.

Irina held onto the golden tray as if her life depended on it as she walked through the corridor of the Melorne Residence. 

Although with how big the residence was, it could have easily been called the Melorne Palace. The tray shook along with her hands as she tried her best to contain her nerves. 

The golden tray Irina was holding onto had a single letter on it. Irina didn’t know what was in the letter. She didn’t dare open it. Didn’t even dare to ask either. 

But the expression from one of the spies giving her the letter didn’t exactly give her the confidence that it was any good news.

Normally, Irina wouldn’t have cared much for spies. Their information and their politics only brought her trouble in the past. And here at the Melorne Palace, she didn’t have to.

Irina would normally keep her head down, working in the kitchen for the day. She only ventured out into the gardens for a break, sitting under the large banyan tree in the corner of the courtyard and taking a nap. The shade gave her the perfect temperature from the warm afternoons and the rustling leaves providing her the perfect lullaby to lull her into a deep slumber. 

When she was done with her rest, Irina would venture back into the kitchens, helping the others with the preparation of a feast for the evening. She didn’t care who the food went to. She didn’t care if they liked it or not either. She’d done her job for the day… meaning, she got to go home when the head cook gave her the say so. 

Others had told her that this was the most boring way to spend her time. But Irina didn’t bother. After escaping the atrocity that had been her childhood, this quiet, boring, mundane routine was most welcome. 

Irina looked at the tray she was holding again. But this…

This was new. 

Irina had been walking in the garden to get to her banyan tree for her daily afternoon nap when she was stopped. She turned around to see a young boy, barely fifteen, walk towards her in tattered brown clothes. 

He held a golden tray with a single closed enveloped letter on it - something that contrasted distinctly from the tattered clothes he was wearing. She wanted to scowl and tell him off for disturbing her routine. But the sigil on the golden tray made her stop.

The symbol of a snake eating its tail. 

The sigil of the lady who owned this palace.

“Please deliver this to the Lady.” The boy said, shoving the tray into her hands. Before Irina could protest, the boy ran away. 

So, now, here she was. Gulping and shaking in fear at the thought of even visiting the Lady of Melorne Palace.

Irina could feel her nerves raise with every step she took. Her heart pounded in rhythm with her footsteps and with every ornately carved column she passed, Irina could feel the dread pool up in her gut. 

Her grip on the tray tightened so much that she doubted there was any circulation to her fingers at this point. She gulped, biting her lips as she entered the main hall of the residence. 

Her eyes immediately searched for the person the letter was addressed to. Not that it was hard to find her. 

The Lady was sitting on a lone sofa - almost built like a throne, sitting atop a couple steps in the far end of the room. She lazily lounged on the chair as another group of women helped to dry her wet, long dark brown locks. Her brown skin glistened with the sunlight that streamed in from the windows making her look divine. 

Maybe she actually was. No one knew exactly how old the Lady was. She was here when the eldest servant in the castle died of old age and Irina was sure that the Lady would be here even after she was gone. 

Looking at the woman chatting and laughing now, no one would have assumed that the woman sitting on the throne was one of the Disciples of the Dark One.

Amara el’Damyrys

As Irina got closer, she could hear the soft laughter from Amara. Her steps faltered as she got closer to the sofa. Irina had heard of Amara’s wrath. 

Amara’s wrath.

That thought alone made Irina shudder. 

Amara’s anger was not one to be trifled with. Because Amara’s anger was silent and deadly. She never raised her voice. But all her attacks on her enemies made sure that they suffered before dying - whether it be emotionally, physically, or mentally. She didn’t care. Amara just loved to watch them crumble. 

And now, Irina was bringing Amara news that wasn’t very good. She’d much rather prefer to not be in Amara’s presence when Amara read the letter. 

“Do you have something for me, little one?” Amara asked, her voice chiming like bells on a warm, windy, summer afternoon. Amara’s lips curved into a smile as Irina nodded, inviting Irina to come closer to her.

When Irina hesitated, Amara continued. “I’m not going to harm you, little one.” She said, making Irina wonder if Amara read her mind. 

Maybe she did. No one knew exactly how powerful or what powers the Disciples truly held. “Come closer. Give me the letter.” Amara said, lifting her hand up to receive the letter.

Amara was smiling. But that was a command. One that Irina was going to follow whether she liked it or not.

Irina could see the golden tray shake as she held it up to Amara so she could take the letter. She bowed her head, not daring to lift it to see Amara’s expression. The chuckles that had filled the hall just moments before had faded. In its place was silence. 

A deadly quiet. 

The hall that was once filled with chatters and giggles of the women was now replaced with the sounds of birds chirping and the leaves rustling from the gentle breeze in the garden outside. 

Seconds turned into minutes but the silence stayed the same. Biting her lip, Irina dared to lift her head. 

Amara’s gaze hadn’t lifted from the letter. Her eyes moved from side to side as she read to its contents. Her jovial expression just moments before had transformed into one of rage. Pure unbridled fury. 

An expression that Irina was told Amara never expressed.

What’s in the letter that she can get that angry? Irina wondered. 

But more importantly, Irina wanted to get out of the hall before Amara’s anger burst. She’d heard the stories of Amara’s silent rage before. But Irina didn’t trust the stories. 

Quiet rage was not the kind of rage that Irina was used to. No. 

She was much more used to the kind of rage that turned people irrational and impulsive. She was used to the kind of rage where people lashed out, not caring about the people who they hurt. 

Irina had always feared that kind of rage. 

But this was different. The stories was correct. Amara’s rage was silent. Deadly.

When Amara finally finished reading the letter, she ordered quietly. “Everyone out.”

Letting out the breath she didn’t know she was holding, Irina turned around. Although she stopped when she heard Amara again. She cursed herself for not moving faster when Amara ordered them out. Maybe she’d have avoided being alone with the Lady now. 

Irina almost scoffed out loud at the thought. 

This was Amara el’Damyrys. If she wanted something - whether it was information, an object, or a person - she’d get it one way or another. 

“Not you, little one.” Amara said.

Irina gulped when she saw that Amara was speaking to her. She nodded and bowed as she waited for everyone to leave. She could feel the pensive stares the women left her as they left the room. That didn’t help her thundering heart. 

“Who gave you this letter, little one?” Amara asked as sweetly as possible. Although Irina could still detect the seething anger barely contained behind every word. 

What could agitate her so much that she actually shows her anger? Irina wondered before answering Amara.

“I was only told to deliver this letter to you. I don’t know where it’s from.” Irina answered truthfully.

Irina simply nodded, turning the letter in her hands as if she was inspecting it. 

“Do you know what’s written in it?” Amara asked again. Irina didn’t know if Amara wanted her to answer. It was almost as if Amara was talking out loud to herself. So, Irina simply chose to shake her head no. Words had failed her every time Amara looked at her anyway. 

“Hm.” Came Amara’s only response. 

It was another moment of uncomfortable silence that Irina wondered why she was the only one in the room with Amara. 

“It would seem that Damon al’Kara is dead.” Amara sighed. 

Irina’s eyes widened at the admission. Everyone knew how important Damon al’Kara was to Amara. Everyone knew what he meant to her. If he was dead…

Irina dreaded what was to come next.

Amara, however, simply arched her eyebrow as she pursed her lips, giving Irina a tight smile. “It would seem that the next few months would be… interesting.”