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EPILOGUE
Balt
“Those fools,” Samara cackled, clutching the five vials of elemental essence in her hands. She held up each bottle, admiring the swirling and energizing effect. “Can you believe they collected all five? I must admit, I underestimated their ability to get the spiritual element, but they did. And from the Underworld, too! They’re making this too easy for me. And to think, I was worried about not being able to cross to other realms. But who needs that ability when everyone around me is an idiot?”
She chuckled giddily, like a child on Christmas. I turned away so I could roll my eyes, unable to do so in her presence without considerable punishment. Being in this woman’s presence was pure torture, and yet, I was forced to remain rooted to her castle, never to be free.
If it weren’t for Ember, I wouldn’t believe such a thing as hope existed. I glanced at Cecille, whose eyes were cloudy and unfazed. A servant of Samara, wholly unaware. She would never have that spark in her eyes again. Neither would my poor Lucinda, who brought Samara her afternoon tea.
Samara smashed the cup off the tray with her hand, the porcelain shattering against the hardwood floor. “Lucinda!” she screeched, her voice that of a wild monkey from the amazon—a shriek that made me want to claw my ears out. “Can’t you perform the simplest of tasks! Moron!”
Lucinda turned away and prepared another cup of tea, with no reaction or understanding to what happened. “God, Cecille, aren’t you going to clean this up?”
Watching my wife—the woman I’d loved more than my own life—abused by Samara, the life drained from her very existence, was torment. Cecille and Lucinda were merely shells without a vessel. They worked. They cleaned. And they did it all without any awareness or concern.
They couldn’t even know what was happening enough to hold contempt for it. If I could’ve killed us all, I would have, just to end our suffering.
But that is my curse. That is what I get for standing against Samara. A lone warlock, wishing to change the world and end her reign. And now look at me.
“All I need is to restore my powers,” Samara said. “And now that I have Asana’s journal, I can complete the spell. I knew that keeping Morgan around would benefit me. A pathetic creature, she is, but she does come through. Once I restore my powers, the world will be mine.”
Please, Ember. Please help me destroy Samara.
