Page 52 of The Cursed and the Broken
I blinked, a slow sneer spreading over my face. She stared at my lips hungrily, but I didn’t flinch at that depthless gaze. “You would beg a mortal’s strength? Why should I help you?”
Her nostrils flared, eyes flashing dangerously. “If you don’t, your precious family will perish, the woods will die, and the rot will spread into the hearts of every man, woman and child across this earth. Do you wish for the end of all things, girl? For that is the card I offer should you defy me. From the blood of witches, a new world will dawn.”
The colour fled my cheeks as my face drained of blood. “You would allow the world to burn out of spite?”
She smiled sweetly, a slash of red in the dark. “I allow nothing. Demons may not interfere in mortal affairs—not unless a bargain is struck. Even if I wanted to, I would be powerless against Sylvie and her cult.”
That name slipped like silk from her tongue. A silvered slip of truth from the snake’s mouth. Lifting my chin and looking her square in the eye, I whispered, “Sylvie is dead.”
“Not for long.”
My knees felt weak, my bones wobbling beneath me but, to my surprise, Fate took no pleasure in her delivery. Her lip curled as she waved a dismissive hand. “The cultists will succeed in resurrecting her and their forces shall scourge this land. This thread be sewn, thy fate unaltered.”
The Dark Queen threatened to destroy everything I held dear. Everything good in this world. Blinking, I stared at her, curling my fingers into fists. A hate so blindingly bright flared to the surface and sudden realisation filled me. IhatedSylvie Morici, this ghost of the past. Hated her so vehemently it fused my bones with iron strength until rage consumed me.
All I saw was red. My vision swam with it and the dark creature inside me roared, clawing to the surface, scratching to be free. Blood-red misted from me in violent waves, snaking around every branch, sizzling over every surface in proximity. It poured from me until it consumed everything within a ten-foot radius.
When the last of my frustration turned to a simmer, the red mist coiling back inside me, I saw the destruction. The decimated trees. Nothing but blackened husks remained—if anything at all. My power had just erased most of them from existence.
Fate stepped into my vision and the bitch was smiling. Smiling as if this was one big game and she was the game master.
“What do I need to do?” I asked, determination now filling the void my anger had left in its wake.
She placed a hand on my arm and the lifelessness I felt—the sheer coldness—grounded me. Brought me back to reality and purpose.
“It’s quite simple,” she said, casually picking at a thread on her dress. “There’s only one way to rid ourselves of the Dark Queen and that’s bringing her back to Earth. Right now, she’s rotting in a dungeon under the watchful eye of hell’s caretaker. She died as all mortals do, so I may not gift her with my”—she caressed my arm with that sharp claw—“favour. But if the cultists resurrect her using magic, she’s anyone’s game. She will not be a witch when she comes back, but an imitation of her old self. No less powerful, mind, but not strictly mortal either.”
“So if she’s a supernatural entity, all bets are off,” I said, following her logic. But one thing kept niggling at me. “Why? Why go to all this effort to destroy Sylvie? I’m guessing it’s not from the goodness of your heart.”
She laughed, a cold, humourless thing. “Only an idiot would believe I cared for the wellbeing of you pitiful creatures. No. Sylvie took something from me before she died. I want it back.”
I raised a brow, but she simply swished her skirts, striding towards the pond. The light from my fireball seemed to sink into her dress, consumed by the darkness within. Honestly, I couldn't believe something so evil was embodied in perfection’s form.
Narrowing my eyes, I glared at her back. “And you want me to search for it,” I drawled. What item?”
She turned, pursing her lips. “A crown. A very powerful artefact. That’s all you need to know.”
I sighed. Of course she wouldn’t tell me more. “Why do you need my help? Once she’s resurrected, can’t you take it for yourself?”
She laughed again and this time the sound seemed to spear smoky tendrils into my heart. “Oh, poor girl, you really do not know what lies ahead, do you?” She cocked a head, her gaze piercing my very soul. A sliver of pity flashed in her eyes. “In order to defeat the Dark Queen, you must deal the final blow. It’s all in the blood, you see. But there’s something I should mention before I go.”
My stomach flipped, anxiety forming in painful knots. I couldn’t bring myself to ask and trepidation demanded I leave this place before my world could be shattered. But Fate, that damnable demon, waited with a sly smile until at last I nodded just once, resigning myself to whatever horrors awaited.
“Blessed be the blood overflowing from their cups. And when her heart dost cease to flutter, the dead will rise, rise another.”
Nostrils flaring, my temper poured out. “I don’t speak in riddles. What are you saying?”
“You have the power to raise the dead, Kitarni. But such power demands sacrifice. You must pass through the veil, journey through the Under World to return to this plane.” She smiled, her eyes glittering with cold humour. “Ifyou can make it back.”
Fate disappeared in a flash of smoke, her voice echoing in her wake. My head pounded, ears ringing with the tolling bells of doom. There was no mistaking the message. It suddenly made sense why Fate needed me so deeply. It always circled back to one thing. Blood.
“Oh gods,” I whispered, falling to my knees.
No, no, no. But there was no denying the outcome. Fate had said so herself—the threads were fixed. The weaving of the future could not be changed. To save my home and indeed, the world beyond, I would have to die.
There was no other way to put it.
I was utterly and royally fucked.
