15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

T he new day brought a tense air into the house, one Elaine didn't know what to do with. Sabra was quiet, staring into the cold fireplace. An empty teacup sat forgotten in front of her, already drained of the seventh refill Elaine offered her.

Alexios and Tobias continued their work at the table, leafing through diaries and the endless scrolls. They, too, had tried to lure Sabra from the chair, but to no avail. It was Tobias who said it was best to let her be for the moment, that all they could do was wait.

Unfortunately, the kitchen only afforded so much in way of a distraction. Elaine opted to prepare food when Aya finally stumbled downstairs. All shuffling, bleary-eyed, hair a chaotic fray, and as breathtaking as the day Elaine first saw her. A smile instinctively pulled at her mouth. Some of the worry ebbed from her bones. Aya blinked at her, then leaned in, kissing her cheek in greeting. Tiny shivers rippled across her skin. Elaine turned, meeting Aya's mouth. Warm, and familiar, and tasting as sweet as ever.

Aya pulled away first, grinning sleepily. "Want some help?"

A nod was all she managed. Together, they piled the fried eggs and bacon onto a large platter; then some fresh fruit picked from the trees out the back, and a pitcher of spiced wine. Not exactly the drink of choice for the morning but Elaine had little interest in juicing their remaining oranges. Aya scooped up the tray and pitcher before she could, then set it down at the table.

"Books away," Aya growled.

Tobias smiled but did as he was commanded. Alexios plated him up some food, earning an arched look from Aya.

"Feeding your mate—you two are determined to be so nauseatingly cute, aren't you?"

"Yes, Miss I just had to moon over her witch and kiss her sleepily just a few moments ago," Alexios retorted.

"I was not mooning— "

A laugh bubbled from Elaine. "Oh, hush, if the creaking floorboards were anything to go by, he worked up an appetite. Leave them be."

Alexios spat wine right across the table, spluttering for several seconds as all eyes fell onto him. Red bloomed up his cheeks. "Uh, I thought…"

Elaine returned with an arched look, a smile barely contained. "You made the house shake."

Tobias rubbed his mate's back, blushing brightly. "Sorry, I didn't—"

Aya lifted a hand. "Do not finish that sentence."

Tobias snorted. "You and Elaine aren't exactly quiet. Hell, at least we keep our activities indoors. I heard screaming one day and thought someone was being murdered at the back of the house. Thank god for—"

"Ok, ok, can we agree not to talk about this anymore?" Aya cut in. "And in exchange I won't tell Alexios about the time you and a certain human—"

Tobias growled, earning a small, victorious grin from Aya. The same wicked gleam that made Elaine's heart swoop in her chest.

The conversation flowed onto more gentle topics but an uneasiness soon crept in. Sabra eventually joined them, as quiet as before, but managing to eat. She even shared a small, weak smile with Aya. Their world wasn't fixed, and the problems still lurked beyond their door, a beast in the dark, but for a few hours, that was where the monsters stayed.

Elaine cleared her throat. "So, I was thinking we should split up today." As Tobias and Aya went to argue, she held up a hand. "Sabra and I can head to the temple, check in with the witches. The rest of you should head into the Dusk Quarter, see what you can dig up about the mysterious orders Marisol placed."

Aya slanted her a lingering look; not quite fighting her plan but worried all the same. "Are you sure?"

"Tarla would've strengthened the shields and if the demons believe the office was mostly destroyed, they might not go back. Besides, if anything happens, Sabra can get me out of there fast. As for you three heading to the Dusk Quarter, you all have sway there. It makes sense."

Not at all because she wanted to delay her own return to the Dusk Quarter. No, not because of that at all.

Aya's mouth opened and shut, her brow furrowing. A second ticked by. Alexios cleared his throat and leaned forward.

"She's right. Besides, I'd like to use the time there to check in with a few of my spies."

Elaine pushed her empty plate back and stood up. "It's decided. I'll go change and will head off soon." She looked toward Sabra. "I promise I'll be fun."

Sabra, to her surprise, lifted her head and nodded just once before returning to her world. In the corner of her gaze, Elaine sensed Aya's frown deepen, her worry thickening. She reached across and gently squeezed Aya's shoulder, drawing her gaze up.

"I'll look after her, okay?"

"And yourself," said Aya quietly. "At the first sight of any demonic trouble, you go straight home. I want you safe."

Elaine kissed her and pulled back with a smile. "I promise."

They were greeted at the temple by only two witches and let through without argument. One advised them Tarla was in the main hall, tending to some of the remaining damage. Elaine bowed her head, asking quietly if they were okay. The pair looked at her, stunned for a moment, before shrugging off the question.

"It's fine."

Elaine offered a quiet nod, letting the conversation end as she headed in. Out of the corner of her eye, Sabra stiffened as they passed by the site where Zari seemingly tried to kill her.

"Maybe they think I abandoned them," Sabra murmured.

"I don't think we're going to figure out the truth until we can force them to speak to us." Elaine grabbed her hand and offered a quick squeeze. "But no matter what happens, we are all right by your side—family to the end, remember?"

"Elaine…I wasn't a good demon back then. Aya thinks she's a monster now but the things I did as a soldier? They make her look like a fucking saint."

"Don't tell Aya that. She might get a bit of an ego if you start calling her that," Elaine retorted. The quiet smile slipped, and she nudged Sabra with her shoulder. "We've all got ugly pasts but whatever you've done, nothing will change the love we have for you."

Elaine certainly had her fair share of blood on her hands.

They reached the main temple. The front doors were wedged open, and Elaine spied the witches busy cleaning up. A metallic stench, barely concealed by the smokey tones of burned herbs, flowed out on a lazy breeze. Much of the ruined chairs and prayer bowls and tapestries were cleared away, leaving only blood-stained stone and claw marks gouging the once polished stone.

Once, she might've relished a little in such destruction. That younger, angrier version of herself might've even danced or laughed. Now, she found it sad, senseless, and frustrating. There was no victory in this.

Elaine's gaze lifted across the carnage, finding the new Grand Matron walking among her witches. This was a witch of such great power, now thrust into such a precarious and tenuous position. Who did she have to lean on? Did she speak with her fellow witches, or did she stand apart, like so many of the Grand Matrons Elaine had met before? An unexpected pang of sympathy lanced through her chest.

As she neared, Tarla's head pricked up. Dark shadows hung beneath her eyes. Elaine doubted she'd gotten any sleep since the demon attack. She didn't blame her. If she was in the same position, she might've been the same.

"I wasn't expecting—" Tarla shook her head. "I mean, I was intending to reach out to you. There was something I wanted to show you."

"Oh?" Not exactly the greeting she expected.

Tarla wiped her hands against her plain gray dress and cast a fleeting look down a nearby hall. Her brow furrowed. "The diaries were all destroyed, save for the handful of ones that were sealed. But I remembered Honoria talking about the temple she found, the one where she took Aya."

Oh.

A heaviness settled in her gut. "What did you learn?"

"More than I expected. I would explain but it's better to show you." Tarla glanced beyond her for a moment, her gaze shuttering over the witches still cleaning.

"We can meet you there later or we can help you clean up here, if you'd like?"

Tarla's gaze snapped back, one brow lifting. "You'd help?"

She turned to Sabra, about to ask her when her friend was already grabbing a nearby scrubbing brush and bucket of water. Sabra slanted her a wry look.

"I've cleaned before. You don't need to look so surprised."

Elaine bit back a smile. "Does Aya know you clean?"

"Tell her and I'll burn all your clothes."

"I don't think Aya will mind that."

"But you will. You like your dresses."

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to Tarla. "Where do we start?"

After two hours, they'd cleaned the main hall and two more smaller rooms. Had anyone ever said Elaine would willingly clean alongside a Grand Matron in the halls of a witch temple, she would've flipped them off and laughed. Yet there she was, scrubbing the blood out of the stone; righting upturned furniture or removing the broken pieces outside; helping in whatever small way Tarla needed. The other witches kept their distance, but no one whispered behind her back or sneered when she met their inquisitive looks.

Once it was all done, the three of them headed outside. Tarla spoke to a couple of witches, informing them she'd be leaving for a few hours. A flash of panic paled their faces for a moment before Tarla assured them that she'd intensified the wards, and they were safe, no one was going to attack them anymore.

At the gates, Tarla faced Sabra. "Would it be alright if you transported us there? If you don't feel up to it—"

"It's fine," said Sabra and held out her hands. "Let's go."

Elaine grabbed hold, then onto Tarla's spare hand. Once the loop was complete, the world spun away into darkness. And all too soon, a forest materialized around them. Towering ancient trees with gnarled limbs, intertwined in one imposing force. No sound broke through the haunting quiet, as though afraid of disturbing a great power within. A strange magic that brushed against her skin and whispered through her hair, calling out to her. She swore she heard a voice from the shadows.

Hello there.

"Did you all hear that?"

The others stared at her like she was mad.

"Uh, Elaine?" Sabra cocked her head, worry glimmering there.

"Nothing." Elaine glanced at the deep woods, wondering not for the first time, if she was finally losing her gods damned mind. "Let's just keep going."

Through the trees, she spied the ruins. It was the first time she'd been there since her fight with Honoria. Flashes of it burst through her mind. Fire and light; the dead rising from the earth; the Grand Matron burning to ash; the brief moment after when she thought that the worst was over. How foolish she had been.

"Are you ready?" Tarla's voice cleaved through Elaine's mind.

She blinked several times. "Uh, yes. Lead away."

Tarla led the way through the thicket until they came to the ruins, just as she remembered. Sabra kept close, their hands nearly touching. Twin souls in defiance of the memories assailing them. She might've fought here but Sabra died in the temple, cut down in front of Aya.

"Sab?"

"I'm fine."

The doors of the temple gaped open. Dirt and leaves had blown in, strewn across the broken tiles. The main hall with its tall walls and arched roof, designed for a large place of worship, reminded her of the few temples she'd walked before.

She hadn't been in there during the fight, but Aya had. Knowing what happened here, the blood stain still etching the horror that played out so recently, sent chills down her spine. She'd come so close to losing them all.

Seemingly oblivious to the turmoil churning through Elaine, Tarla led the way deeper into the temple. Thick shadows crowded around them, snuffing out the light. As she raised a hand, Tarla summoned light to her palm. Only their boots clicked eerily against the stone, echoing against the halls, the sound swallowed by empty rooms and endless halls snaking into the darkness. This temple, old and abandoned as it was, felt hungry; for light, for magic, for whatever life wandered its cursed grounds. It pulled at her, ten thousand tiny talons latched into her skin. If she let it, she suspected she would be consumed completely.

"Doesn't feel good, does it?" Tarla asked as she stopped before a large, heavy door.

Elaine chuckled weakly. "Don't suppose the creepy vibes are what you wanted to show us."

"Afraid not. We're close though."

Tarla pushed it ahead, the stone groaning deeply down the hall. As she held open the door, Elaine treaded along a series of steps descending into the dark. She raised her hand, light sparking around her fingers. Shadows shrank away but the bottom was still cloaked in darkness.

Behind her, the door groaned shut. Tarla slipped past, appearing at her side.

"It's just down here."

Sabra snorted. "This feels as though we are about to be murdered."

They descended deeper underground where the air warmed and moisture thickened around them. A thin band of sweat gathered along Elaine's brow. She didn't like being confined deep underground like this, not when the temple itself seemed intent on consuming her. As she nearly asked how much further it was to be, the hallway gave way to a cavernous room. The edges melted into shadow.

Elaine stalked forward and threw a hand up. Light erupted into existence, blasting the darkness away to expose the arched walls curving to reveal a domed ceiling. An impressive feat of building by any standard but not what she expected. She started to turn to Tarla when her gaze caught on the walls, seeing them properly as the room settled into clarity.

A detailed mural etched every single surface; great battles, ornate throne rooms, intimate gardens behind stone walls—and two goddesses mostly by each other's side. Elaine drank it all in as she found herself staring at what appeared to be the start.

Akaria coming across Aurora in a forest; the latter was kneeling among a bed of flowers, looking up with a startled expression. The goddess of death held out a hand, as if in greeting. There was a gentleness in Akaria's face, the artist perfectly capturing the look of first love. A little shy but intrigued, two souls recognizing each other.

The following paintings depicted secret meetings and stolen kisses. One showed Aurora hiding behind a pillar, one hand at her chest. A smile pulling at her flushed cheeks. Nearby, Akaria was in meeting with a god she vaguely recognized as Arcan. His face was a little harder, his hair a deep red rather than the black she recalled from her temple.

Elaine continued on, trailing over the secret love affair. Some of the scenes she didn't know what to make of; battles with great monsters of scale and fire; tense meetings of the gods; and what appeared to be a secret wedding. The pair stood side by side, their hands intertwined. Their magic threaded together in perfect balance.

"They look so happy," she whispered.

Tarla appeared at her side, looking at the scenes next to it. "That's the last one of them together."

She was right. The next depicted Akaria on her knees, screaming out. One hand stretched out as she was held back by the gods. Her eyes, completely black, possessing the very same rage she'd seen within Aya's own eyes, streamed with tears.

And the final scene. Ice flooded her veins.

Aurora was on her knees, head bowed, as chains wrapped around her body. She appeared in a cave, a town built on the surface. A shimmering shield wrapped around the scene.

Purgatory.

"Oh gods," Sabra breathed. "It can't be…"

Elaine looked over, followed the vision to what appeared to be a poem etched in a language she didn't recognize. But Sabra appeared too as she reached out with a trembling hand, pressing her palm flat against it. Her lips moved, though no sound escaped, as though she were murmuring a silent prayer—or perhaps the very words painted upon the wall.

Drawn by curiosity, she closed the distance. "What does it say?"

"It's a song," said Sabra as she stepped back, her gaze flitting up to the top of the text. "A Ballad of Betrayal."

Elaine reached for the wall, but Sabra snatched her wrist back.

"It's written in demon blood. Not good to touch," said Sabra. Her brow furrowed deeply. "It can't be possible."

"The blood?"

Sabra shook her head. "No, the handwriting and…that mark on the bottom corner. I recognize it but that's impossible. It's too old."

"Who wrote the ballad?"

After an achingly long silence, Sabra finally turned. Her gaze shuttered to a close, unreadable, as she spoke a single name. Soft, scarcely above the whisper of a breeze, as though by uttering it, she was confirming the fear it dripped with.

"Zari."