Page 156 of An Empress of Fire & Steel

Deleine was summoning something. Unchecked fear tightened Emara’s spine.

“Sereia knew who Balan was, of course. He didn’t hide that from her. Part of me wondered for some time if he actually cherished her. But that was never possible.” The Supreme stopped dead. Not even the rattling could be heard. “He was the God of Darkness’ favourite subject. Born in the dusk of the underworld, Balan was his most treasured creation. Veles favoured him over all. He could come and go between worlds as he pleased, and he did what Veles asked of him in the meantime, no matter what that was.” Her voice took an ominous dip. “But your mother, being a foolish, idiotic romantic, believed that Balan had good in him. She believed there was good in all living things if you showed them enough love, if you tried hard enough to show them a different path, even things born in unthinkable darkness. But we both know that is not the case when it comes to a demon. Darkness is darkness.”

A suffocated whimper left Emara’s mouth as she tried to bite down a scream and swallow the vomit that crawled up her throat. The Grand Witch continued, shaking the rattle of bones and darkness again. “She pleaded with him, begged him to leave the underworld for her, for a future, for you. But he was a commander of the Dark Army; he would never choose her over his station. You see, she hadn’t yet told him of her situation, of you, and once he learned of the babe that grew in her stomach, he wanted to take her to the underworld, but Sereia refused. Never in her wildest dreams would she have wanted that for her child, to grow up in such darkness and desolation that is the nine realms of hell. So she fled, not ascending as the Empress of Air, not even telling your grandmother. She came to me to aid her in her escape, but you see, I was loyal to my coven. I would not hide the mess she had made for herself, bringing that very darkness that grew in her stomach into this world. I had also seen how powerful your mother was in fire magic, and I was the Empress of Fire.”

Emara stopped breathing altogether.

“I was happy for your mother to disappear, taking with her the chances of her coming for my crown, my legacy.”

Emara let the tears flow down her face.

“When Balan learned of her betrayal, he pillaged towns, cities, and villages just to find her. And he did.”

“Please stop,” Emara begged, her sobs coming out in raspy, uneven breaths. “Please stop talking. I’ve heard enough.”

The rattle stopped again, and the tension that had been creeping into the air of the room levelled out once more. “He found her three years after you were born, in fact, in a little cottage in the Fairlands. But your mother had known that he would come for her; she knew he wouldn’t stop until he found her, and so she was prepared. Sereia was a clever little witch, and set him a trap. She used the time apart from him to find a powerful set of stones that she had read about in ancient grimoires. They had already bound Veles to the underworld, and so she mirrored the same spell that the ancient ancestorsbefore her had used to ensnare him. Sereia only found two of the stones in her time of searching, but it was all she had, and it was enough. When he came through the door of that cottage in the Fairlands, Sereia began the ritual that would send Balan back to the underworld and keep him trapped there. She used every part of magic that she could pull from, forfeiting herself to trap him. And that, my dear empress, was the fate of your late mother. She died in the fires of her own enchantment,” confirmed the Supreme, “unable to stop the dark magic she had tapped into to create it. It was too much for her. Unspoken magic that had existed long before the Gods gave us human life.” She paused. “That’s when your grandmother abdicated and was never seen by the magic world again, and I assume now it was to hide you. No one knew if you’d lived or died until you showed up a few moons ago with that untamed power of yours, just like your mother’s.”

Emara scrunched her eyes, hoping for darkness to find her, hoping she would feel nothing soon.

But her mouth betrayed her. “And what of my fath—Balan, what of him? Did the spell work?”

“He is still stuck in the underworld, like Veles. He cannot walk in these worlds until he finds the keys to his cage, which his armies have been on the hunt for.”

“And he thinks I will know where they are?” Emara couldn’t help but allow the disgust in her voice to come through.

“The Dark King has no other reason not to believe that you would be the key to finding them. You are your mother’s daughter, after all, sly and crafty. If he applies enough pressure, you will figure it out.”

The key.

Emara let a snicker burn up her throat as the restraints of the magic still pinned her to the floor. “That’s ridiculous. I didn’t even know my grandmother was a witch, never mind being entrusted with powerful stones that she kept hidden from your king.”

“Are you forgetting I know about how you held the key of resurrection in your very hands?” Deleine’s teeth bared.

“It is no longer in my possession, and if you want to fight Viktir Blacksteel for it, then be my guest,” Emara hissed.

The Supreme looked unfazed as she said, “The king will have it in due course.” She began to rattle the bones again and a darkness formed, circling around her.

A smoky screen like a mirror began forming, and swirling blackness festered in the void.

A portal to the underworld.

Emara let out a curse as she tugged at the unseen magic that bound her body to the floor.

“You took it upon yourself to tell my mother’s story.” A coarse laugh barked from Emara. “No guilt parted your darkened heart as you divulged the details of her sorrows, did it?”

Deleine chuckled coldly. “That is something not even I could wrap a lie around. I couldn’t help but take just a little bit of pleasure in telling you who you really are, especially now that you have fallen in love with the very thing that hunts the blood that runs in your veins.” She cackled, and another thunderous crack bellowed, the portal to the underworld growing larger. “Now tell me again, which one of the Blacksteel brothers do you love, Gideon or Torin? I can’t possibly keep up. I wonder which one will be the first hunter to try and slit your throat when they find out you have demon blood running in your veins.”

Emara wasn’t going to think of that. This was all mind games to distract her from the fact that the Supreme was dying and someone was taking her power into their own. And that someone could be her.

And if it was Emara who was to enter the path of supremacy, it was because the Gods of Light wanted her to. That would be her purpose. And if she were to die here, in this moment, or to be delivered to the underworld, she would fight to show the Gods of Light that she stood with them.

She would show them what lay in her heart.

Emara realised that there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. If this was her fate, then so be it, but one thing was clear: the Supreme was afraid. Deleine was afraid of dying, of fading, so much so that she had turned her back on the Light Gods for a way out of her fate. And as she lay on the ice-cold floor, Emara realised something else.

Deleine was afraid of following through with her deal to the underworld, because she could have completed the ritual by now. She could have had this over with as Emara lay unconscious, unknowing.

But she hadn’t carried it out.

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