WE WERE ALL GOING TO DIE.
The toxic vapors in the air were getting stronger and every breath was like swallowing a bucket of broken glass. My head spun, and I struggled to keep from keeling over. Prince Aurion wasn’t so lucky.
His pale face had turned pink as he fought for breath. He collapsed to the floor, shrieking in pain and coughing blood. All around us witches fell, all of them with blood spurting out of their mouths. Eventually no one was left standing.
Most of them were still alive, but it wouldn’t be long until the toxic fumes killed them all.
But I wasn’t dead yet. My blood magic was different, and I knew I had to keep searching for the stone. I still didn’t know what the hell I’d do with it, but it was the only thing left for me to do.
I needed to get the stone.
“There’s no need to keep fighting it,” called a voice from across the chamber.
The Fransian priest was watching me. I recognized his deep-set eyes and has large girth. He looked like he’d fallen into a barrel of ale too many times.
“It’s too late. You should just give up. You cannot stop the inevitable. The Unmaker will rise, and he will take this world as his own. You’re all going to die.”
“No,” I wheezed and continued to search to search the ground.
“I can’t. I won’t.”
The priest laughed. “You won’t find it. But even if you did, I’d let you keep it as a gift. It’s no good to us anymore. It has served its purpose.”
He smiled. “The master is coming, and all the light in this world will be extinguished.”
He turned to the mist and raised his arms.
“Come forth, Unmaker, Lord of darkness. Banish dawn and the destroyer, sunshine. You are the master of shadows and the dark of night.”
Together, the priests all turned toward the looming mist. There was something almost childlike about the expression of adoration on their faces.
Bile rose in my mouth.
“Use this blood, master,” continued the Fransian priest. “Take this blood as you will take this world.”
At first I thought they were going to sacrifice themselves, but then they drew daggers from their robes. As I watched, the remaining temple guards crossed the chamber, kneeled to the ground in front of their priests, and threw back their heads.
A chill ran through me. I saw the flash of their silver blades, and the priests sliced the throats of their guards. Their lifeless bodies toppled over, and pools of blood gushed from their throats. Some kind of black magic within the mist seemed to be feeding on the blood.
The mist lifted slightly, and the priest began to chant in a strange language. It was haunting and guttural, nothing like the poetic lilt of Witchtongue. The language of their blood sacrifice was hard and vile.
The light in the great tear in the fabric of the earth began to glow. And then the priests’ eyes changed from ice-gray to a deep crimson as they channeled the magic.
The shadows in the mist moved as though something inside it was climbing out of a hole. Slowly, a gigantic shadowy apparition disengaged itself from the roiling fog. Its yellow eyes gleamed with intelligence and malice. Its grotesque body was twisted and gnarled, and its yellow fangs dripped with black blood. I could see that its thick powerful arms and massive shoulders were roughly the shape of a man.
The great horned beast was wreathed in the shadows of smoke and fire. It raised a fiery sword in a gesture of triumph, as though it owned the world.
I realized I was staring at a god from the underworld.
The Unmaker was coming.
I could hear Ada’s words inside my head.
When shadow and darkness cover the world, when the balance is lost, then the portals to the demon realms will unlock. And when they open, demons will have free reign over this world.
We were all doomed.
I searched the ground frantically using my witch blade to cut through the soil. I was going to pass out from holding my breath. I knew I couldn’t last another five minutes. I crawled on my hands and knees, digging into the dirt with my fingers, desperately trying to distinguish the magic stone from the thousands of others. My fingers bled from handling the sharp rocks, and dirt stuck to the blood on my hands.
The Anglian priest rose in a fury.
“You might have escaped me, steel maiden,” he said.
He moved closer to the great gap in the earth that separated us.
“But no mortal can survive the darkness of the shadow of death. The master will destroy the light of the mortal world. His kingdom will be a world of night. Unfortunately for you, you will not witness this event.”
I turned from him and continued my frantic search for the stone.
Goddess help me. Help us.
“I will enjoy watching you die,” he laughed. “And after the darkness takes your soul, you will rise again as my revenant. You will be my puppet, and you will do as I command. You will be my pet.”
“Shut up,” I coughed, and my blood splattered on the ground.
I scrambled on the ground, and although I could barely see through my tears I never stopped searching.
The Anglian priest chuckled at the look of panic on my face.
“Soon, little steel maiden, you will die. And then you will be mine. You’re finished. Your world of light is finished. The dark lord will rise and take this world as his own. It was always meant to be. Even you, steel maiden, will be unable to resist. This world doesn’t belong to the weak anymore. It belongs to the Unmaker and his faithful servants. We will be the overlords of his demon legions.”
I remembered the words of the shadow knight I had met in the demon realm.
I choked a laugh. “I don’t think the demons will regard you as their overlords, seeing as you are still men. You are fools if you think your god will share power with you.”
A violent coughing fit overtook me, and I collapsed on the ground. I couldn’t stop shaking.
“But they already have,” said the priest. “For centuries. How do you think we’ve been able to live for so long? The master has been very generous in his gifts. But I cannot say the same for you.”
He paused. “Where are your gods now? Why aren’t they showing themselves? Why don’t they save you? Because they can’t. They don’t care.”
I fought the tears. They were pointless, anyway.
I could see Aurion. His face was contorted in pain, his eyes were bloodshot, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
The priests were right. It was hopeless. We were all going to die.
And then I felt a tug of magic. It was faint, but it called to me. I rolled over. Though I couldn’t see the stone, I could feel its magic, and I knew exactly where it lay. I could see a yellow light that peeked through a jumble of fallen rocks.
The Heart of Arcania. It was there. And I could reach it.
I felt a surge of renewed strength and hope. I reached out with my left hand. The stone wanted me to find it. When I grasped it in my hand, I was surprised to find it was warm and pulsing with life.
I was instantly filled with power. I had never felt so much power. Whether it was dark or black or white, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was strong again, and the stone was mine.
I panted and shook as the familiar magic poured into me. My skin tingled. The stone emitted a pulsing, beautiful, and terrifying stream of light. I knew the air was still toxic, but I didn’t need it. It was as though my skin breathed in the energy and magic of the earth beneath me.
The magic and power was intoxicating. I could feel everything. I held the stone against my stomach, and my muscles fed from it and gathered even more strength.
And then I just knew what to do. It was like a little voice inside me had spoken.
Fawkes had been wrong. I could control the black magic I had awakened.
I smiled.
I scrambled to my feet and took a moment to let the new power flow through my limbs. A shudder went through my body. My vision twisted and faltered, and I lost my balance for a second, but I quickly steadied myself.
Finally, I took several slow steps towards the hole that had grown below the place where the stone had lain. I halted just at the edge and peered into its depths. All I could see was bottomless bright light. The air crackled as wind and magic swirled around me. It was cool on my skin.
Ada’s voice came to me again, The Unmaker is the ruler of darkness. His weakness is light.
Light. All I needed was light.
The ground shook and echoed with thousands of cries. The unholy god was emerging from the mist and taking its first steps into our world.
The Anglian priest suddenly realized what I was about to do.
“No!” screamed the priest.
He hurled a filament of black magic directly at me.
But he was too late.
I had tossed the stone into the fountain of light and magic.