Page 110 of An Empress of Earth & Darkness

Dead.

The Fae guards that had been protecting the gates of the temple were dead, slaughtered and pushed behind brick and iron. Their bodies lay in a heap in front of Emara, their gaping wounds still spilling crimson blood into the sacred soil.

Torin was now in full hunter mode, as was the rest of the clan. She had no doubt they were ready to fight. Her element was curling around her, ready to attack. The goosebumps that littered her skin when something awful was about to happen rose with a vengeance, coursing all over her body. Her stomach churned and her heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to listen to her and slow down or batter against her ribs in defiance. The magic under her skin thrummed in her blood, sending a spark into every bone that she had, fuelling adrenaline through her body.

Emara wasn’t sure if it was a warning for her to run or if her magic was responding to the darkness that had been here.

Steady, she warned her magic as they took a few steps past the gates. Maybe she shouldn’t use too much magic in case the swirling shadows arose from her palms once more.

Shoving a hand into the strap around her leg, she unsheathed her spear, gripping it tight. The red ruby begged to be pushed, but Emara kept Agnes contained for now.

“The wolf in my blood is telling me to shift,” Breighly said lowly, looking like she was fighting with her urges to transform. Her breathing was heavy. “That’s never a good sign.”

“My magic is sizzling too,” she told Breighly. “It’s pulsing under my skin. The Dark Army is here.”

“Yes, they are.” Torin nodded as they made their way along the path through the temple gardens.

Tall hibiscus plants bloomed in oranges and reds on their left, and as Emara turned to the right, she was faced with tidy bushes covered in white and violet petals. Behind her, two archers pulled their bows tight.

Torin threw a look her way. “Just don’t look, angel. He’s gone. There is nothing you can do.”

But she did look. A guard dressed in the Fae cobalt robes of his court lay in the bushes. Emara noted that his throat had been ripped out, and the flesh of his neck was hanging to one side on the path. Crimson blood spilled into the flower beds, and a little vomit tracked up her chest.

Just as the nausea rose to her throat, they took a left and the Temple of the Gods came into view. Its jagged rooftop was coated in gold, and the lowering sun reflected a glare off its spires. White columns that stood momentously at the front of the temple held up other layers of the ridged roofs. The entire building was covered in a hand-crafted mosaic design made of small, mirror-like tiles that glinted like diamonds. Emara had to move her arm up to shield her eyes. Borders of red defined the edges of the roof, and the architecture seemed to curl and wave like a beautiful spell to finish off the composition. Four smaller columns stood behind the larger, and the mosaic tiles on them seemed to form faces. Emara quickly realised they were the Light Gods.

As Emara stood in front of it, a thousand tiny tingles made their way across her skin. The magic that radiated from this place of worship was so powerful. The brush of wind against her skin was a sign that she was always supposed to have made it here to this landmark, to this moment.

Centuries ago, this would have been the place that many thousands would have come to pay their respects to the Gods when faith was not dying or lost to a new world. They would have come here to be closer to their spirituality, each God representing something different but good.

Emara explored the depths of its power as she pushed her magic out to feel it, and as it came back, it whispered to her. Feeling the magic enchant her skin and thrum against her heart, she took a breath. It was captivating. The colossal size of what she could see from the front of the temple was jaw dropping, never mind what lay inside.

“If you think she’s beautiful in the light of dusk, you should have seen the way you looked walking towards me on the day we got married.”

The comment caught her off guard and took the air from her lungs.

She flickered her gaze over Torin. “You cannot compare me to the beauty of the Temple of the Gods.”

Torin grinned. “You’re right.” He closed the distance between them, turning his back on the sacred place of worship. “My wife is more exquisite.”

A cough came from behind them.

“Being in such close proximity to the temple makes me feel like the Gods will send me into flames any minute,” Breighly muttered. “Only if the sickness of listening to your marital bliss doesn’t kill me first.”

A chuckle left Emara’s lips as Breighly’s remark earned a few sniggers from the clan.

“If you’re going up in flames, Baxgroll, then I certainly am,” Torin said.

“I guess I am the only one deemed worthy to enter the temple, then.” Artem grinned like a cat.

“Doubt that,” Emara said.

He threw her a scowl. “You take that back, Mrs Blacksteel.”

Gods, would she ever get used to that name?

“That’s Commanding Wife Blacksteel to you. And need I remind you that I am also still your empress?” She gave him a wink.

Torin’s face was feral with desire. She could feel that he loved when she used her authority and even more so when it involved her new name.

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