Page 22 of Reign of Betrayal

Thick drapes block off the rest of the room. The room is dim, but I see the familiar flickering of golden light from nearby candles behind the drapes. The smell of incense in the air wafts my way.

“Hello?” I call out, unsure if I should just walk behind the curtains.

“Hello, my child. Come in,” a raspy voice says.

Opening the thick, red curtains, I head further into the room. There is a heavy, round metal table with candles lit upon it. In the center of the table sits a bronze bowl filled with what appears to be water, beside a dagger and multiple vials of dark, swirling liquids that move on their own. There is a fireplace behind the table with kindling in it, barely lit. The seer is sitting at the table, watching me as I examine the room.

The seer is a blood magic wielder. They are said to be extremely powerful and sought after by every kingdom. If a kingdom finds one, they capture them because of their rare powers. They can make curses, break curses, see things, and perform all sorts of intense types of magic with the right training. Some kingdoms have ancient books with different curses or spells. My father said spell books were just as much sought after as blood wielders themselves. I have never met one before… until now that is.

“Have a seat child.” Her voice—it’s so odd. It has an otherworldly quality, as if she hails from another time. It is almost indescribable.

Holding my arms at my sides, I clench my fists nervously—nails biting into sweaty flesh, making crescent-shaped indentations. My veins flood with trepidation as I walk to the wooden chair and sit down. The seer has stringy silver hair and white eyes. Despite that, her face doesn’t look old. She wears a thick black cloak with golden swirls sewn into the fabric.

“Give me your hand,” she says, holding out her own.

Without hesitation, I extend my right hand. I know I am a Nomatrab—or at least I suspect I am. She clasps my hand in hers and dunks it in the bowl of water. As she reaches for the dagger, my leg bounces underneath the table—my heart rate picking up.

“You are going to be fine, child. It is just a little scratch. I need some blood, but it will heal,” she reassures me with a sweet smile.

Maybe not all the palace dwellers are malevolent creatures.

Nodding, I watch as she draws the blade across my palm. The cool edge of the dagger cuts into my skin, releasing crimson droplets into the water. She quickly douses a cloth in a strange elixir from one of the swirling vials and presses it against my wound before letting go of my hand.

The seer dips her finger in the mixture, stirring my blood with the water, and then touches a drop to her tongue. Instantly, the smoldering fire behind her roars to life, filling the room with fierce heat. The candles flare, their flames stretching higher. Her white eyes widen, glinting with alarm.

“Cursed… double burning hells,” she mutters.

I glance between her and the blazing fire. “So… am I a Nomatrab?”

“What magic did your parents have, my dear.” Her demeanor has changed, and I am not sure why.

“Both my parents had lesser plant magic—practically Nomatrabs themselves,” I reply.

The seer looks at me with those eyes, devoid of color and feelings. “I see… you have fire magic.

“How strong?”

“Until you train, we won’t know for sure… but I sense an ample amount.”

I have magic! I hold up my hands staring at them in amazement, like I could actually see the magic flowing through my veins. I notice the cut on my hand is now healed thanks to whatever elixir she placed on the cloth. There is a knock on the door. I assume it’s another prisoner. I get up to leave and as I do, she grabs my hand.

“If you ever have questions that need to be answered, come find me first, okay?”

I stare into her depthless, white eyes for a second, not sure how to process what she is saying. What questions could I have that she would need to answer? I politely nod at her and leave the room to follow the guard, hoping I see Elm and Larah so I can tell them about my magic.

Sweat drips down my face as the heat from Kylo’s fire magic billows into my shield of shadows. The deep depths of my darkness, my shadows, collide with his vibrant flames—cold against heat. Our magic always seems to reflect who we are: Kylo brings warmth and happiness, while I bring darkness, death, and a void that chills others to the bone. My magic mirrors the emptiness I often feel. Maybe that’s why we’ve stayed best friends for so long—we’re complete opposites.

We continue our dance, battling with our magic, pushing each other to our limits. We test each other’s strengths and learn our weaknesses until we find every frailty and train it into nonexistence.

I start advancing on him, step by step, my darkness taking over his light. But then I think ofher. Did she see the seer yet? Does she have magic? Is she a Nomatrab? Why do I even care? Why does she fascinate me? She is just a prisoner—probably from the Drifts—and only the gods and goddesses know what she did to get into the Hollows.I bet I have done worse. But my goddess, those eyes—those lavender eyes—so full of fire. I need to bed someone. That’s what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’ll send for Cora?—

Suddenly, Kylo’s power suddenly slams into me, and I’m thrown to the ground, the impact stealing the breath from my lungs. That was unexpected.

I glare at Kylo, who stands there with an unreadable expression. Sweat glistens on his dark skin as he approaches and offers me a hand. “What’s going on with you? You’re distracted today. That’s not like you.”

I meet his gaze, scrambling for an excuse. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m fine.”

He squints his eyes, seeing straight through the flimsy lie I fed him. Well, it’s not truly a lie. I really didn’t sleep. “Well, please, by all means, continue to get less sleep. Knocking you on your ass is the highlight of my day,” he laughs, hauling me upright.

---