Page 94 of Monster's Pretty Bride

They come in numbers, flanked by other purnas, their robes moving like liquid darkness. Their shadows stretch long against the forest floor, unnatural and shifting like living things.

Behind them, twisted creatures crawl from the night, warped beasts of flesh and bone, grotesque mutations.

But my stomach turns to stone when I see the rogue gargoyles at their side. Creatures who should have been our enemies, now marching beneath Purna control. What the hell are they doing?

In the middle, Amelia.

Alive. Changed. Drenched in power that should not be hers.

Her once elegant features are sharper, her skin too pale, as though she has bled out every part of herself that was ever human. Her robes shimmer with deep, corrupted energy, her eyes the color of raw void.

Now, with certainty, I can say that our coven is over. Darkness has overtaken my coven. What did they do? What did Amelia start?

She steps forward, her lips curving into something that might have once been a smile. “Ah, sister,” she purrs, voice silky and soaked in amusement. “You’re still clinging to him, I see.”

The ground feels unsteady beneath me.

I meet her gaze, searching for the woman I once loved like blood. She is not there.

My throat tightens. “What did you do, Amelia?”

She tilts her head, dark amusement flickering over her expression. “I was reborn.” She lifts her hands, and the unnatural creatures beside her shudder, their bones snapping as if responding to her very breath. “And now, dear Eryss, we will finally fulfill the purpose you were meant for.”

Naranus stiffens beside me.

I see it then, the way his hand twitches toward his weapon, the way his cracked body pulses with restrained power.

A slow smirk pulls at Amelia’s lips. “You were supposed to kill him, sister,” she muses, eyes glittering with something vicious. “But now?” Her fingers flick, a whisper of command.

The warriors move.

“You’ll watch as we do it for you.”

The world erupts into chaos.

The Purna warriors surge forward, their magic clashing against Catalina’s shields.

The rogue gargoyles launch themselves at Naranus, forcing him to fight despite his splintering body.

The twisted creatures skitter forward, lunging with snapping teeth and twisted limbs.

I throw up my hands, magic flaring bright, shoving back the first wave of attackers. My breath shudders from the force of it, my body still not accustomed to the power barely unbound inside me.

Catalina moves beside me, deflecting attacks, but she’s struggling, weakened from her wounds, her magic unstable.

Naranus rips through the enemies, but he’s faltering. Each use of his power deepens the cracks, his movements slower, heavier.

We can’t win this. Not like this.

A laugh slithers through the battlefield.

Amelia doesn’t move. She watches.

She waits.

She knows.

This is her game.

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