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As we manifested, I quickly realized I was going to need to adjust my environment to protect my exposed skin from the elements. We arrived in the middle of a blizzard. The snow around us raged so ferociously I could barely see my own hand in front of my face. Instead of trying to yell over the wind, Amon spoke directly into my mind.
‘Come, the castle is this way. We cannot shadow walk directly inside. We must first pass her security checkpoint.’
I allowed him to lead me by the hand through the icy sheets of snow, until a large, dark castle slowly became visible before us. It was an ominous structure made of black stone and coated in a sheet of ice. Despite the hideous appearance, there was a curious stirring deep in my chest as we approached. My aura curled against the container I had learned to hold it in and let out a luxurious purr. I had the oddest sensation that I was returning home.
‘It did not always used to be like this,’ Amon explained as we came to a large draw bridge that led to a gatehouse. ‘When The Origin ruled, this land was full of life. We are relatively far north, so it was never a warm climate.
‘But there used to be fox-wolves and arctic cats. In the summer months, large herds of pointed elk would migrate through these lands. Now there are only the widowmakers.’ He said, staying close to me as we crossed the bridge.
‘Like the widowmaker that attacked Rycon and I in that motel room?’ That creature was why I had owed Amon a life debt in the first place.
‘Yes, the very one. They are disgusting creatures that feed on fear. They are drawn to Ash Nevra’s palace, as there is always a generous helping of terror for them to feast on.’ I shuddered.
As we approached the gatehouse, the surrounding structure of the castle slowly began to provide some reprieve from the raging storm. I caught a flash of movement on the walls, and my blood ran cold as I realized Amon had been right. Several widowmakers crouched like spiders on the walls, watching us with their child-like faces and all-black eyes. their heads cocked and twisted on their necks at unnatural angles.
“Prince Amon,” one of them cooed as we approached. It slid upside down from the stone arch that led into the palace on a long line of stinking black string. At first glance, it resembled a human child, except for its extra-long spindly fingers and dripping black mouth full of pointed teeth.
Amon transformed before my very eyes. His face became unreadable, and cruel. The most significant change, however, was his aura. I forced myself not to react, as he let go of the barriers that he typically contained his aura in. The force of his power rolled over me, and I suddenly longed for the freezing winds we had just passed through.
His energy was cold, deadly, and infinite. I realized I had never been exposed to the full weight of what he was capable of. Knowing that he would never turn that power onto me did not make it any less awe inspiring. Amon was more than deadly. He was death itself.
“We are here to meet with the Queen,” he said, his voice as cold as the ice that crawled up the stone around us.
“Yes, mistress said you would be coming to bring us a new toy to play with.” The widowmaker cooed, spinning on its thread to face me. It reached out a long finger as if it were going to touch my face.
“Do not give me a reason to light you on fire,” Kasha hissed with disgust. Amon said nothing; he just watched the spider-like fiend with that aloof, almost bored expression. It was as if he were daring it to touch me.
“Mistress would not like that, chameleon.” The widowmaker crooned. “She said that this one belongs to us.” I shuddered. Ash Nevra would give me to these disgusting things without a second thought. The creature continued to reach for me, its smiling mouth dripping with tar that was black as its eyes.
Without warning, its head was severed from its body. The widowmaker’s face hit the ground with a sickening thud, followed soon after by its body. Black blood began to spill over the stone beneath our feet as it screamed. I glanced at Amon, doing everything I could to school my expression into one of cold distaste instead of awe. He hadn’t even moved.
He looked down his nose at the fiend as it screamed before kicking its severed head out of our way.
“You’ll heal.” He snapped coldly, leading me forward into the castle. The rest of the widowmakers scuttled away as we passed. I assumed they were not interested in meeting the same fate.
We entered the fortress, and my blood froze in my veins as we were greeted by none other than Kieran Nightshade. He stood in the middle of the echoing expanse of the castle’s entrance.
His grey eyes and salt and pepper hair reflected the glow of the brutal medieval torch sconces that lined the black stone walls of the castle. I noticed that the palace was a contrast of cold, hard edges made of stone and iron, accented with thick warm animal pelts and furs. Kieran, in an all-black suit, seemed right at home.
For a moment, I forgot that I had trained for weeks and was now a deadly daemon who could hold her own. For a moment, I was just a human girl, strapped to a gurney, being tortured by Kieran’s fire mage.
Amon’s aura brushed against mine, and I knew he had sensed my terror.
‘He is nothing,’ he whispered into my mind. I forced myself to relax, allowing my own aura to flow forward, examining Kieran’s. When I had first met him, I had not had nearly the level of control over my magick as I had now. Running my energy over his, I realized that he was nothing. If I so chose, I could rip him apart where he stood, without a second thought.
However, there was a line, a strong, thick line of energy that attached him to a daemon that I had never met before. One that rivaled Amon in power. I knew, without prodding further, that Kieran was bonded to Ash Nevra, the same way that Rycon was bonded to me. This explained why neither Amon or myself had been successful in killing him that day on the docks. He must have been drawing power from her.
Kieran met my eyes and dared to smile. The entire stone structure that surrounded us seemed to groan in response to the rage that Kieran’s smile kindled in my chest. This was the man responsible for torturing me. The man responsible for his own daughter’s death. Looking into his cool grey eyes, I had never felt such hatred.
I forced myself to keep my expression as stony as Amon’s. Modeling myself after the Dark Prince, I allowed the evil wizard to see that he was a dead man walking. Kieran’s smile did not falter, though I did notice, that he hardened his mental shields in response to my silent threat.
“Welcome, Prince Amon,” he did not even bother to acknowledge Kasha and I, and his tone implied that we were not worthy of a greeting. Amon said nothing, he just regarded Kieran coolly, looking at him as if he were something unsavory that he had discovered on the bottom of his shoe.
“Please, follow me,” the dark wizard continued. “Our Queen has set aside a large suite for you. We hope that you find it to your liking.”
Again, Amon said nothing. The rage that Kieran’s presence evoked within me was nearly unbearable. I forced myself to keep as quiet as Amon. I wondered if he felt the same, and the reason he did not speak was because if he did, it would be the last thing that Kieran ever heard.
We followed Kieran through the halls of the palace. Distracted as I was by my hatred for him, I couldn’t help feeling like everything that surrounded us called to me. I looked closer at the dirty stone walls and realized with a start that they were not black at all. The stone was coated with a thick, dirty layer of what looked like grease. Brushing my aura along the stone, I knew immediately that the filth was a product of hundreds of years of widowmaker silk. The original color of the stone that lived beneath it was undetectable.
