Chapter 51

51

LECTURE NOTES FROM SPELLCASTING AND CURATION:

Only a Supreme’s blood is pure enough to perform the Blood Sacrifice. The release of undiluted power is so grand, it can be cast across the land—in exchange for their life.

T hessa rubbed her eyes dry, repressed the pain that was deep inside her chest, and rode Hades back to the Central Divinity.

Rain had fallen all evening, washing away most of the blood from the streets. However, it’d done nothing for the rotting corpses. The reek of decay lingered in her nostrils as she approached the iron gates.

Her magic swelled around her in a thick, shadowy sphere, having regained its vigor overnight. The row of guards securing the gates didn’t attack Thessa, learning the hard way that their powers were useless against hers.

“I’ve come to speak with your Supremes,” she shouted. “And I believe now they will listen. ”

The guards eyed each other before one stepped forward. “If it’s a message you wish to share, I will share it.” Her white hair and soft features reminded her of Ivy.

Thessa reached into her saddlebag, retrieving the agreement she’d configured and shook it in her hand.The female guard approached, snatching the parchment faster than necessary.

“I’ll wait,” Thessa said, then watched the witch scurry down the courtyard and into the Central Divinity.

Putting on a mask was easier than settling into despair. Here, anyway. She stroked Hades’ mane for comfort.

“Are you going to summon an army of insects and serpents this time?” A soldier barked the question.

“Do I need to?” she countered, nostrils flaring.

The soldier stayed silent.

There’d been no winner in their battle. There was no victory in so many needless deaths. Killing their Supreme was a long-standing message—their lies would no longer be tolerated, and her kind were here to stay.

It’ll be that, or chaos.

Shadow-wielders had endured torment over centuries. The level of cruelty shed was similar to that of mortals—burning witches on stakes. Denouncing the shadow line of magic to demon status, then eradicating it, had been a misstep that would require acknowledgment.

To generate a prosperous society, the bloodlines would need to work together. There would need to be respect for the framework of all the souls that made up their realm, and a position of power should never be strong enough to eliminate an entire population. Importantly, the children of Andera deserved an accurate portrayal of their history.

So that’s what Thessa had written … in a desperate attempt to forge an agreement .

The creaking of iron gates stirred her to attention. Flanked by guards were two Supremes in billowing robes, one glistening white and the other shining green.

Madame Morganna approached first, signaling her guards to stay back.

Thessa sat taller atop Hades, lifting her chin with a false sense of pride.

“We received your message,” the Celestial Supreme said. “However, the display of Celestial magic yesterday spoke to me well enough. Their subsequent demise was only a taste of what your kind have endured for centuries, and for that, I am indefinitely regretful.” The Celestial Supreme dropped to one knee.

Guards shuffled on uncertain feet.

The Botanical Supreme, Madame Hearthling, set her knee down too. One scowl from her lips and all the guards knelt. “Will you accept our two-century-late apology?”

Thessa shook her head, confused by the sudden changes of heart. “Apologize to Andera,” she countered.

Madame Hearthling met Thessa’s eyes. “It’s going to take a lot of time and grace for Andera to accept the rise of one Supreme and the loss of another.”

“It’s our fault we let our power-hungry sister carry on for so long. That is blame we accept, and now wish to correct,” the Celestial Supreme added.

Madame Hearthling continued, “There were things we couldn’t stop. Not fully. You have our word; we’ll help undo what’s been done.”

Squinting with speculation, Thessa asked, “I’m supposed to accept a sorry and promise?”

“As fellow Supremes, that is what we offer,” Madame Morganna said simply.

Thessa’s lips parted. “Fellow, what? ”

“Having enough magic to cast night over this entire realm tells us exactly how potent your blood is—exactly who you are. That type of power would have ended in the Blood Sacrifice had you not stopped.”

“I am no Supreme,” Thessa snapped. She was the offspring of an overzealous goddess, yes, but no Supreme.

“After darkness swept over this fortress.” Madame Hearthling eyed Madame Morganna briefly before continuing, “We knew you’d risen. We looked deeper into your file after you so politely visited us.” She paused to raise an eyebrow. “Were you aware Skiafer translates to shadow-bringer? It’s an ancient language.”

“Latin,” Madame Morganna added. “The mortals call it Latin."

Digesting the information, Thessa quieted. Shadow-bringer? All those years of searching, trying to learn about her non-existent family, not once had she sought out the origin of her surname. To be called Supreme was not something she’d ever expected to hear, especially not with so much blood on her hands.

“And when will the Elemental heir take her position?”

Madame Morganna said, “She is protected within the walls of this fortress and will remain so until she turns eighteen. Then, she will rise.”

Thessa wondered how long a potential truce could last. “And what of the lives lost? The remains of this city?”

Madame Hearthling placed her fingertips on the ground in answer. She released the greenest magic Thessa had ever seen, sending emerald tendrils of life spiraling towards the dead.

The power of Earth Rendering was unique to the most potent of Botanical witches. Her magic wrapped around dead bodies like cocoons, coating each one. When it dissipated, what remained were grassy beds, full of herbs and wildflowers.

Inch by inch, the gravel-ridden streets of Gravenport transformed into a blossoming city of hope.

Madame Morganna stood first. “Come, we have much to discuss.”