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Chapter Five
Sofie laid Romeria’s body next to Elijah, pausing a moment to regard her most precious of possessions, the ring Elijah once slipped on her finger to profess his undying love. Centuries had passed, but the luster of the gold had not dulled in her eyes, for she knew its true value. She felt naked without it, but she would have it back soon enough.
The bloom of blood around where Malachi’s horn pierced Romeria’s chest remained insignificant. That was a relief. The fate promised this token would keep her mortal form alive long enough for Sofie to complete her task, but while Sofie trusted that Malachi’s orders were sound, she was distrustful of the results. The fate never gave without taking. Elijah was proof of that. That he would force Sofie to rely on the success of one so ignorant to the world beyond her own demonstrated once again how cruel he could be.
Sofie may not be able to read minds, but she could read pulses. They all carried a signature—the rush of lust, the race of fear, the plummet of heartbreak—and she knew Romeria hadn’t believed a single word. She wouldn’t allow herself to. She thought Sofie mad with grief.
Or simply mad.
That is how Malachi intended it. He was explicit in his instruction—Romeria could not know what she was—and Sofie knew better than to question it. She could see now, how all the seemingly random duties he had tasked her with over the years culminated in this gifted mortal before her now. The fate hadn’t been ignoring her. He’d been weaving his scheme all along. What he would gain from all this, Sofie was unsure, but she did not care. All she cared was that Elijah was freed from the Nulling, consequences be damned.
She had never enjoyed playing the part of court jester with her powers, but had Malachi granted her more time and freedom, she would have made the stone shake and the sky cry and the wind howl and the flames dance until there was no other option but for the girl to believe. To expel such energy when she needed every ounce for this undertaking was a luxury Sofie did not have. Surely, Malachi intended it that way. He had his reasons. The fates always did.
Perhaps the girl’s ignorance would save her. Or, more than likely, it is what would keep her focused on her mission. The little thief was strong-willed and resilient. She was young, but not sheltered to evils. She’d learned how to navigate her cruel world, adapting to survive.
Soon, Romeria would see. She would know the world of vengeful gods and monsters, and the lengths one would go for love. And nothing would ever be the same for her again.
The blood moon was almost upon them. Sofie could not miss this window.
“It is time for your journey, my little pilgrim.” She shuttered Romeria’s piercing blue eyes and smoothed the tendrils of dark hair to frame her face. She was an adult physically, and yet so young. In some ways, she reminded Sofie of her dear friend, Adele, from long ago. Not so much in looks, but in her feigned swagger, the way she imitated confidence when her little heart thumped like that of a frightened bunny’s. Under different circumstances, Sofie might have even enjoyed her company.
“May the fates be merciful.”
Sofie dragged the blade across her palm. Blood trickled out in a steady stream to coat Malachi’s horn and farther, seeping into the girl’s wound, just as the fate had instructed. This was not a ritual she’d ever learned or heard of during her time in the guild.
With that important step completed, Sofie fell to her knees before Malachi’s likeness—for it was thanks to him that she might hear Elijah’s voice again—and called forth her full power.
Vermin scampered as the ground shook.
