Chapter 42

D ead.

The Fae guards that had been protecting the gates of the temple were dead, slaughtered and pushed behind brick and iron. Their bodies lay in a heap in front of Emara, their gaping wounds still spilling crimson blood into the sacred soil.

Torin was now in full hunter mode, as was the rest of the clan. She had no doubt they were ready to fight. Her element was curling around her, ready to attack. The goosebumps that littered her skin when something awful was about to happen rose with a vengeance, coursing all over her body. Her stomach churned and her heart couldn't decide if it wanted to listen to her and slow down or batter against her ribs in defiance. The magic under her skin thrummed in her blood, sending a spark into every bone that she had, fuelling adrenaline through her body.

Emara wasn't sure if it was a warning for her to run or if her magic was responding to the darkness that had been here.

Steady, she warned her magic as they took a few steps past the gates. Maybe she shouldn't use too much magic in case the swirling shadows arose from her palms once more.

Shoving a hand into the strap around her leg, she unsheathed her spear, gripping it tight. The red ruby begged to be pushed, but Emara kept Agnes contained for now.

"The wolf in my blood is telling me to shift," Breighly said lowly, looking like she was fighting with her urges to transform. Her breathing was heavy. "That's never a good sign."

"My magic is sizzling too," she told Breighly. "It's pulsing under my skin. The Dark Army is here."

"Yes, they are." Torin nodded as they made their way along the path through the temple gardens.

Tall hibiscus plants bloomed in oranges and reds on their left, and as Emara turned to the right, she was faced with tidy bushes covered in white and violet petals. Behind her, two archers pulled their bows tight.

Torin threw a look her way. "Just don't look, angel. He's gone. There is nothing you can do."

But she did look. A guard dressed in the Fae cobalt robes of his court lay in the bushes. Emara noted that his throat had been ripped out, and the flesh of his neck was hanging to one side on the path. Crimson blood spilled into the flower beds, and a little vomit tracked up her chest.

Just as the nausea rose to her throat, they took a left and the Temple of the Gods came into view. Its jagged rooftop was coated in gold, and the lowering sun reflected a glare off its spires. White columns that stood momentously at the front of the temple held up other layers of the ridged roofs. The entire building was covered in a hand-crafted mosaic design made of small, mirror-like tiles that glinted like diamonds. Emara had to move her arm up to shield her eyes. Borders of red defined the edges of the roof, and the architecture seemed to curl and wave like a beautiful spell to finish off the composition. Four smaller columns stood behind the larger, and the mosaic tiles on them seemed to form faces. Emara quickly realised they were the Light Gods.

As Emara stood in front of it, a thousand tiny tingles made their way across her skin. The magic that radiated from this place of worship was so powerful. The brush of wind against her skin was a sign that she was always supposed to have made it here to this landmark, to this moment.

Centuries ago, this would have been the place that many thousands would have come to pay their respects to the Gods when faith was not dying or lost to a new world. They would have come here to be closer to their spirituality, each God representing something different but good.

Emara explored the depths of its power as she pushed her magic out to feel it, and as it came back, it whispered to her. Feeling the magic enchant her skin and thrum against her heart, she took a breath. It was captivating. The colossal size of what she could see from the front of the temple was jaw dropping, never mind what lay inside.

"If you think she's beautiful in the light of dusk, you should have seen the way you looked walking towards me on the day we got married."

The comment caught her off guard and took the air from her lungs.

She flickered her gaze over Torin. "You cannot compare me to the beauty of the Temple of the Gods."

Torin grinned. "You're right." He closed the distance between them, turning his back on the sacred place of worship. "My wife is more exquisite."

A cough came from behind them.

"Being in such close proximity to the temple makes me feel like the Gods will send me into flames any minute," Breighly muttered. "Only if the sickness of listening to your marital bliss doesn't kill me first."

A chuckle left Emara's lips as Breighly's remark earned a few sniggers from the clan.

"If you're going up in flames, Baxgroll, then I certainly am," Torin said.

"I guess I am the only one deemed worthy to enter the temple, then." Artem grinned like a cat.

"Doubt that," Emara said.

He threw her a scowl. "You take that back, Mrs Blacksteel."

Gods, would she ever get used to that name?

"That's Commanding Wife Blacksteel to you. And need I remind you that I am also still your empress?" She gave him a wink.

Torin's face was feral with desire. She could feel that he loved when she used her authority and even more so when it involved her new name.

He rolled his lips, and she thought she caught sight of a dimple, but then it was gone and now he wore his commander's mask. "We need to get past the grand doors and make it inside to an area that sits in the heart of the grounds. That's where the room that honours the Three-Faced God is. If my assumptions are right, I would bet my life that we would find something in there regarding the Stones, if not one of them. It is dedicated to their creator, to their mother."

"How do you guys not know this stuff for sure? Aren't you sent off to hunter school for this shit?" Breighly scowled. "Are we really going off assumptions? This place is huge."

Torin's gaze flickered over her. "I learned more about this temple in the fighting pits, than I did in the Selection, put it that way."

"What do you mean?" Emara coaxed, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.

"I wasn't only in the fighting pits to let off some steam and avoid my father's decisions." Torin finally halted and looked over his men. "I had caught wind in the markets that some temple raiders were betting stolen goods instead of coin on the winners in the pits. Some were said to be invaluable. I was hoping there was someone crooked enough to have stolen one of the God Stones or something that would help us find one. I was hoping that they would have been stupid enough to talk. Or, if I won enough fights, that I could negotiate some information." The lowering sun blessed Torin's hair with a golden shimmer amongst the black. "I was hoping that someone down there was working on behalf of Veles or Balan, something that I could go on."

"But nothing?" Breighly asked.

"Not nothing," Torin replied as his eyebrows pinched. "I didn't come across any Stones with my wins, but the traders did like to talk, especially after I got them shit-faced. One night, one of the fixers told me that he had once tried to raid the Temple and had gotten as far as the room of the Three-Faced God. The man said he had almost gotten down the steps."

"Steps?" Artem butted in, surveying their surroundings. "There is no downstairs in the room of the Three-Faced God; it is at the lowest part of the temple. That's impossible. So your fixer wasn't just drinking rat piss, he was talking rat piss too."

"That's what had me intrigued, Stryker." Torin grinned wickedly. "Get a temple raider drunk enough and they begin to trip over their words; they lose their secrets to the liquor." His ocean eyes glowed like he was part of something more mysterious. "There must be a secret floor. There must be something that holds a secret passage to a tomb underneath, because the man who told me the story lost his own eyes and hand as the Fae guards seized him. They didn't want him seeing what was in that room or where the passage was, so the blinded him and cut off one of his hands for even having been near the tomb. That leads me to think that there is something there. And we are going to find it."

"Well, as the saying goes, there is no smoke without fire." Artem twirled an axe in his hand.

"Exactly," Torin agreed. "These temples are bound to have hidden passages—look at how many the Tower has."

"The Tower has secret passages?" Emara exclaimed.

"Maybe I can show you them when we get back." Torin's tone was so low and suggestive, heat flushed through Emara's cheeks. Did he have no shame?

Gods, it was warm outside.

Breighly held out a hand. "Are we going to pretend that there are not dead guards lying everywhere? Like the something that wanted to get inside got inside and—oh, I don't know—maybe hasn't come out yet?"

"It sounds like the princess wolf might finally feel fear," Artem teased, his eyebrows dancing up.

"It's not fear that I feel, you idiot, it's intelligence. You should try it sometime," she hissed. "Seriously, what if the knights of the underworld are in there and it isn't just a band of lower demons? We are fucked."

If the Knights of the Underworld were here, it would be more than slaying one demon and moving on to the next. They were faster, more powerful. They could use their voices to manipulate your mind into pain. They could transform into Rhiannon only knew what. They would be much harder to kill, and everyone standing here knew that.

Arlo came to stand with his brother. "The wolf has a point. We have no idea how many demons are here."

"Well, we are here now, so you need to make the decision if you are in or out." Breighly swallowed, and her gaze turned steely as her shoulders pressed back. Torin glanced at Arlo, who squared his shoulders. The clan behind them also agreed that they should continue the hunt. Torin nodded. "I have already killed a few of the higher demons in the Dark Army, so these won't be my first or my last. If there are any knights of the underworld here, take no chances. Aim for the heart and the head. Do not miss." Torin began his climb up the temple steps. "I mean it, do not miss. They are hard to kill, not impossible. Hunt smart."

"Let's hunt." Artem grinned.

Emara could feel the power radiating from the temple. It leaked magic, and some of it brushed against her skin like an ancient hand caressing her magic.

The steps to the entrance were steep, and Emara was terrified that if she looked down, she would lose her balance and crash into the stone. The gilded doors were open, suggesting that whatever had come before them had pried them apart. Torin's movement slowed in front of her. Her heart almost bruised her ribs as she took in the blood on the floor. Yet there were no bodies.

Aromas swirled from multiple hanging copper incense balls at the front of the temple; they seemed to levitate in the air above them like huge planets, spiralling under some sort of air witchcraft. Candles burned, flickering as they walked past each one, and Emara wondered if the person who had lit them still lived.

The space was eerily quiet as they tiptoed through the huge room with high ceilings and floors like water, the blue marble detailed with swirling gold. Silver and gold tiles continued up the walls inside, casting broken reflections of the unit as they walked through the home of the Gods.

Following Torin's lead through the temple, they finally reached a mural-covered door. Fire licked up from the bottom, painted in russet and bronze, and water spilled from clouds, droplets of rain trickling down onto gardens of metallic green. Emara's eyes slid to the silver whooshes of air that blew in tiny orbs of spirits that glowed in a delicate lilac.

All five elements, working together.

Above the colourful beauty was a golden rune, the old symbol for the maiden, the mother, and the crone.

Torin reached out like the door called for him to open it, but there was no handle. It was locked.

Artem hissed a curse. "Great, a door with no handle! Is there anything else you want to throw at us, Gods?"

Emara shuddered as that question went unanswered.

"Are you sure this is the one?" Breighly asked, moving closer to the door to study it. "This is the Three-Faced God's door?"

"It has to be; look at the rune," Torin whispered. "It was said that after her mother was slaughtered by Veles, Rhiannon enchanted this door with magic from every element. Only those worthy of entering the tomb of the Mother God would be allowed to open it."

"And you think I am going to be worthy of opening this thing?" Artem snorted.

"No, but I think Emara could be worthy of opening it." Torin's sapphire gaze landed on hers, stealing a few beats of her heart.

He thought she was worthy.

Without wasting any more sacred time in this temple, Emara closed her eyes and gathered all the strength in her heart. Her magic prickled as she called to it, spreading shivers all over her body. Summoning air, she pulled her hands back and threw them forward, casting a spell towards the door. Fire of vibrant red intertwined with the green of her earth magic and the silver of her air. The double doors flew open, and she stumbled back. A few gasps and whispers came from the men behind her, but she didn't look around as a flush moved up her neck to her cheeks.

She had opened it.

"Damn." Artem whistled. "I reckon we should have witches with us on every mission."

"You're welcome." She grinned at him, a little breathless from how much her magic had pulled air from her lungs.

An impressed smile cut across Torin's lips. "Don't even think about trying to lure my wife into every dangerous mission you can think of, Stryker. I will have your balls on a stick."

Emara cleared her throat. "Excuse me, your wife can speak for herself. I think we have established that."

"I am telling you, Blacksteel"—Artem patted Torin's shoulder, and a breathy chuckle escaped him—"you married the right girl."

"You are all too distracted." Breighly barged past them and into the room that was a little darker than where they stood now. Arlo followed close behind.

Emara hid a half smile as she followed them.

The only light in the room came from a few large lanterns in the far corner. However, her eyes went directly to a beam of light that shone from the floor to the left of her. A rug had been rolled back, exposing a secret hatch. Someone clearly hadn't had the time to cover it back up.

"Well, I am not going to lie, I expected that to be a lot harder," she heard the oldest Stryker say. "That looks like our secret passageway." Artem pulled his favourite axe from his weapon belt.

"It does," Emara agreed, taking a few more steps inside so that she was in front of everyone else as some of the clan spread out in the room. "But who could have been in here?"

She felt Breighly's shoulder brush hers, and the wolf's warm presence was a reminder that she always had her back. "Maybe the temple priests who look after the grounds lit the beacons. They could have access."

"Or maybe the Dark Army did," Artem countered.

"Only one way to find out," Torin said casually, moving towards the trap door.

"Wait," Emara called out, the words spilling from her mouth and echoing around the room. "Breighly and I should go down."

"We should?" Breighly's head turned so quickly it almost snapped.

Artem's shapely eyebrow angled up.

"You should stand guard here." Emara lifted her chin, and a breeze blew against the back of her hair, spilling it around her shoulders. Her element was awake and present with her in this decision. "The Dark Army couldn't have gotten in here. Surely, Rhiannon wouldn't have deemed them worthy? You should wait for any signals from the other men outside."

"No," Torin said.

Artem hit his elbow against Torin's arm. "You were right. She is slightly crazy."

Emara glared at him. "If I am wrong and there is something down there, if it is something dark, then I can match it," Emara said. "Think about it. The Dark Army doesn't want me dead; I am the best person to go down." She looked between the few hunters she could see in the dim light. "I need you hunters to be able to protect me from up here. I don't believe that this room has been infiltrated with demons, so I need you to keep them out. The Dark Army doesn't stand a chance with you all protecting the entrance."

Arlo glanced from Torin to Artem. "She has a point."

"You can go down," Torin agreed reluctantly. He knew when to bow out from an argument to save time. "But I am going with you. Breighly and Artem will stand guard up here at the foot of the passage. I know how well they work together. Arlo, I need you stationed outside the doors with the rest of the clan. Nothing comes in here."

The youngest Stryker nodded, and the rest of the clan did as instructed.

Emara noted a glance from Breighly to Artem, and she couldn't decide if the wolf liked the idea of them being left alone or not.

It didn't matter.Artem kneeled on the ground beside the door to the underground tomb and lifted the hatch. Everyone took a step back, and Emara was thrilled when nothing popped out. Torches threw out some light, and it cast shadows on their faces. Artem found their gaze again. "Be careful, you two. You just so happen to be my favourite people. I need you both back alive."

Torin said nothing as he stepped onto the first step. Emara rested a hand on Artem's shoulder as an acknowledgment of his kind words, and he gave out a sigh. Before Emara and Torin disappeared down the stairway, she threw a glance over her shoulder at her remaining two guards to let them know that she would be safe with Torin—her husband. She needed them to protect one another, no matter what. She had no idea what awaited her at the bottom of the stairs.