I move forward, trying to scream, trying to warn Dasmyrin about their betrayal. But once again, the second I move forward, I fall. This time, the images don’t return, just utter darkness, with the whispers flying all around me, speaking to me in a language I can’t decipher.
“Vireth at’zul… e’kara sulan…
Kae;’vireth a’sul… shetha’zai en’karan…
Thaloriren ez’rem, vae’sharak il’drun.
Na’kaziel vel’tharan… kael’rion et’shara.
Vireth kai’syl… elthea’nur az’shal.
Aelari su’nai vel’zur… il’saerin et’kal.”
“I don’t understand,”I sob. “What is happening?”
I land on my back with a thud, the impact so brutal the breath whooshes out of my lungs. I sit up, coughing while trying to catch my breath.
“I’m getting real tired of falling through shit now,” I mutter.
“Creator of worlds. Queen of Hell. Risen from the ash.”
I snap my head up, watching a man I’ve never seen stand towering over Dasmyrin. She’s on the floor, bleeding, her silver hair coated in crimson.
“You were created from the ash. You will be destroyed in the ash.”
He laughs, a wicked sound that makes the hair on my arms rise. He looks familiar. Those eyes, that smile. He looked like an older version of Korithax.
“How could you, Korran. You were my sword and shield. My brother in arms,” Dasmyrin spits, blood pouring from her mouth.
He sneers at her, kicking her in the chest so hard she lands on her back.
“You are not worthy of the throne,” Korran snarls. “You make a mockery of Hell with your laws. Your codex is bullshit. Your court is bullshit. You do not rule with fear, you rule with a kindness that does not work in a world like this.”
“I built this godsdamn world,” she growls. “It is mine to rule as I please.”
“Well, now it is mine. Nobody will remember you, Ashborn. We will erase you, and if your sister tries to leave her pretty little realm, I will erase her too.” Korran sneers down at her as he places a boot on her chest.
“You fucking touch her and I will burn you all.”
He barks a laugh, the Divine Six following suit. All but Velentha, who just stares on, her expression vacant.
“You will do nothing. You will be nothing.” He spits. “Your crown is gone. Your throne is burned. And now your soul will be erased, your body incinerated.”
“You cannot,” she breathes, trying to stand.
Elaron moves forward, and Dasmyrin raises her hands. Nothing happens, and she stares at her palms in disbelief as a mocking laugh breaks from Seraphiel.
“Disabling elixir,” Amarithe purrs.
“You fucking bitch,” Dasmyrin screams. “Fuck all of you. I created you, I can end you.”
I watch as Elaron places a hand upon Dasmyrin’s forehead, an unseen magic holding her still. “This will hurt.” He smirks.
I watch in horror as a light shines briefly from his palm. Dasmyrin’s screams tear through the space so loud I have to throw my hands over my ears. I try to run to her, but I run into an invisible barrier. I pound my fists against it, begging them to stop. But what good would it be? This happened over fifty thousand years ago. I was just watching as history played out right before my eyes.
A pain spears through my head as Elaron works at using his magic on her. It’s so painful it burns. I drop to my knees, holding my head between my hands as my eyes screw shut. A scream tears from me, loud enough to match the goddess being torn apart in front of me.
“Stop. Please. Stop this,” I beg of anybody who will listen. “STOP!”
