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Blurry vision wasn’t the only side effect he had from being knocked unconscious. His head hurt and he had ringing in his ears. It took a second for him to remember where he was.
Valley of the Kings.
Once everything flooded his mind, he rushed to his feet and swayed from getting up too fast.
How long was I knocked out?
He wasn’t in complete and utter darkness. His flashlight lay on the floor of the tomb a few feet away. The beam cast an eerie shadow on the wall. As he dusted himself off, he realized it had to be Ulrik that bashed him over the head. He seethed with anger for trusting the son of a bitch.
The thought occurred to him that Ulrik could have gone after Morgana before or after he dispatched with him. Fear shot through him. “Morgana.” He knew he shouldn’t call out. What if Ulrik was still here? Something told him Ulrik was smart enough to flee the scene of the crime and not hang around. He grabbed his flashlight and started shining it about to see if he saw her body laying anywhere.
Alarm bells were going off. He could have taken Morgana hostage and went looking for Willow. He knew he had to find Morgana first before he could go racing from the tomb to find Willow, but he was anxious, nervous and scared. If Ulrik got to Willow there might not be any saving her.
“Morgana.” He shined the light frantically around the tomb. Then the shaft of light landed on something. Something was off as he approached. The body was nearly perfectly mummified and looked like it should have been entombed in the sarcophagus that sat behind the glass. There was something familiar about the body. He nearly dropped the flashlight as recognition dawned.
The corpse was Ulrik. Someone had used magic to drain every drop of blood from his body. That meant one of two things, Morgana was safe and had gained the upper hand on him and fled or... the alternative made his blood run cold. He went tearing towards the entrance of the tomb. He had to find the others. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late.
When he exited the tomb he realized he didn’t remember which one he’d seen them run into. He ran to the nearest one and called out as he shined his flashlight. At this point, he didn’t care if the noise he made alerted security. He wanted to find everyone.
His heart wouldn’t stop racing. He decided they weren’t in the tomb he’d entered and rushed from it and went to the next one. This tomb was well lit. Maybe they were in this one. He was about to call out when he heard a woman’s loud wail.
“Willow” He bellowed and raced into the tomb unsure what he would find.
His heart was in his throat as he panicked over what he would find below. He skidded to a halt when he came into the chamber. The first person he laid eyes on was Willow. Their eyes met across the distance. He wanted to breathe a huge sigh of relief, but when he heard the loud wail again, he was pulled from her gaze. What he saw made him feel like someone had kicked him in the chest and left a big gaping hole.
For a minute, it didn’t even register that he was walking, but then his brain was back in his body and he moved slow and stiff towards the scene on the floor. He hoped his eyes were playing tricks on him. When he reached them, he dropped to his knees and took her hand.
Zoriana’s face was buried in the hair of her lifeless daughter. Mathilda’s eyes were still open. They stared blankly up at the ceiling. Blood ran from her nose and her ears. He was stunned. He couldn’t stop staring. That wasn’t Mathilda. Tears stood in his eyes when he looked up at Willow with his mouth hung open in a question. She had her arms wrapped around herself. Her body shook with the force of her weeping.
When he was finally able to tear his eyes away he looked over and saw off to the side that Phaedra cradled Max in her arms. Was he dead too or just unconscious? Tears spilled from her eyes. In all the years they’d known each other, he’d never seen her cry before.
Who did this?
The question sat on the tip of his tongue, but he was too scared to ask and hear the answer. He couldn’t get the horrible, guttural sounds of Zoriana’s cries out of his head. She’d just lost her only child. He didn’t know how to comfort her.
A loud cry tore through the air. It was seconds before he realized it had come from him. He cried out again, trying to release the physical pain that sat heavy in his gut at losing Mathilda. His head fell into his hands and then he felt Willow’s hands on his shoulders and around him. He leaned back into her.
His eyes returned to Mathilda once more. He wanted to tell his little cousin to get up, but he knew she wouldn’t.
“Sana! Sana!” Zoriana repeated frantically, the white light glowing from beneath her hands, but having no effect. How long had she tried to resurrect her daughter, despite knowing their magic was incapable of that.
“My baby!” Zoriana sobbed and howled. The hurt he felt intensified at what he imagined Zoriana was feeling after losing a daughter she’d never had the opportunity to get things right with. The two had never settled whatever it was between them and now they never would.
All he could think about was the teenage girl who was eager to talk about spells and magic potions and who probably hadn’t had her first kiss yet. Now she would never have any of that again.
He finally found the breath to ask the question he didn’t want the answer to. “Who... who did this?”
Willow’s tears fell on his neck. “Mor...” It was a struggle for her to say the name, like the name was getting caught on something as it tried to exit her throat. “Morgana... she killed her and took The Book of Prophecy.” She rushed out the last part.
The betrayal sat like bile in the back of his throat. Even if he could have spewed it up at that moment, the poison of it would still be running through his veins much like the silver ran through Max’s veins. How long had she been plotting and scheming to betray them? She’d known Mathilda since she was born. How could she so easily kill her? All of these thoughts plagued his head and his heart.