40. Adelaide

40

ADELAIDE

Despite the chaos raging around me, I force myself to focus. Crimson's essence churns within me, a vortex of dark energy seeking release. The pain is excruciating, like molten lava flowing through my veins, but I grit my teeth and push through it. We've come too far to fail now.

"What do you mean?" Corvus yells, but I ignore him.

"Zaiah!" I shout, my voice is hoarse from screaming. "We need to change the plan. We can't send her to the NetherRealm!"

Another wave of pain wracks my body. It feels like I'm being torn apart from the inside out. "I need to get her out without destroying everything around us!" I know if I just expel her, everything will go to hell. Not that it's exactly a picnic right now, but it will be worse.

As I struggle to maintain my focus, the world around me begins to shift. The chaotic battlefield of MistHallow fades away, replaced by a series of vivid, overwhelming visions.

The world is shrouded in darkness. The sky is a roiling mass of black clouds, perpetually churning and flashing with sickly green lightning. The land below is a desolate wasteland, barren and lifeless. Twisted, blackened trees dot the landscape, their branches reaching up like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky.

At the centre of this nightmarish realm, I see a towering obsidian castle, its spires piercing the turbulent sky, and seated on a throne of shadows, is me. But it's not really me - it's a version of myself twisted by Crimson's influence, a tyrant queen ruling over a realm of eternal night.

This dark Adelaide's eyes glow with malevolent power, her skin pale and veined with darkness. She wears a crown of twisted black metal, and shadow pets writhe around her like living servants. I watch in horror as she extends a hand, and a group of terrified humans are dragged before her throne.

"Pitiful creatures," her voice echoes, cold and cruel. "Your resistance is futile. Bow before your queen, or face oblivion."

The humans tremble, some falling to their knees in terror. But one man stands defiant, his eyes blazing with the last embers of hope.

"We'll never submit to you, demon!" he cries out.

The dark Adelaide's lips curl into a cruel smile. "Then you shall serve as an example to others," she says, her voice dripping with malice.

With a gesture, shadows engulf the man. His screams are cut short as the darkness consumes him, leaving nothing behind. The other humans wail in despair, all hope extinguished.

I recoil from the vision, my heart pounding with fear and revulsion. Is this what I could become if I let the darkness win?

Before I can process what I've seen, the vision shifts.

The world is bathed in blinding light. The sky is a perfect, cloudless blue, the sun shining with an almost painful intensity. Pristine white cities stretch as far as the eye can see, their towers gleaming in the eternal daylight.

At first glance, it's beautiful - a world seemingly without conflict or strife. People walk the streets with serene smiles, their movements graceful and coordinated. But as I look closer, I see the truth behind the fa?ade.

The people move like automatons, their eyes blank and unseeing. There's no joy in their smiles, no passion in their movements. It's as if the very essence of what makes them human has been stripped away.

In the centre of the largest city, there is another version of myself. This Adelaide is radiant, her skin glowing with an inner light, her hair a halo of golden strands. She stands on a balcony, addressing a vast crowd below.

"My children," her voice rings out, impossibly beautiful yet devoid of true emotion. "Rejoice, for we have achieved perfect harmony. No more pain, no more conflict, no more free will to lead you astray."

The crowd responds with a perfectly synchronised cheer, their faces showing no real excitement or joy. It's a utopia built on the complete subjugation of the human spirit, a world where light has won at the cost of everything that makes life worth living.

I feel a chill run down my spine. Is this the price of perfect peace? The loss of everything that makes us human?

The scene changes again.

This is a world that's neither shrouded in darkness nor bathed in blinding light but a complex tapestry of both. I see cities where modern skyscrapers stand alongside ancient temples, where technology and magick coexist in a delicate balance.

In a vast plaza, I watch a group of light mages perform a ritual, their hands weaving intricate patterns of radiant energy. Nearby, shadow wielders practice their craft, their powers complementing rather than opposing the light mages' work.

But this world is not without conflict. In the distance, I see battles raging - light and darkness clashing in spectacular displays of power. Yet even in these conflicts, there's a sense of purpose. Balance. As if the struggle is what keeps the world in check.

I see myself again, but this version is neither a tyrant nor a false saviour. She stands at the centre of the plaza, mediating a dispute between representatives of light and dark factions. Her eyes hold wisdom and strength, but also weariness. It's clear that maintaining this balance is a constant struggle, never allowing either side to gain too much power.

"We must find a way to coexist," this Adelaide says, her voice firm but compassionate. "Our differences make us stronger, but only if we learn to work together."

It's a world of balance, but also of constant conflict - never truly at peace, but never falling completely into darkness or light. A world where choice and consequence shape the future, for better or worse.

These visions swirl around me, each one vying for dominance. I feel overwhelmed, lost in the possibilities of what could be. How can I possibly choose? How can I know which path is right? This is what has been hovering at the edges of my consciousness since we started the ritual. What I do next, the next choice I make, will define which world we wake up in.

I roll over, curled up against the pain, as the choice is too immense. I can't make it because there is a sacrifice in each and every one.

"Adelaide!" Corvus's voice cuts through the visions. "Stay with us, Dollie!"

I open my eyes and blink, the stone circle of MistHallow comes back into focus. The battle still rages around us, but it seems distant now, less important than the choice I have to make.

"I... I don't know what to do," I gasp, looking at Corvus with desperation in my eyes. "I've seen... so many possibilities. How do I know which one is right?"

Corvus grips my shoulders, his blue eyes fierce with determination. "You don't have to decide the fate of the world right now, Addy. We just need to get through this ritual. One step at a time, remember?"

"But—"

"Just do what you need to do," he says, gripping my hands, a frantic look on his face. "We've got you, whichever way, Adelaide. We've got you."

Tears, prick my eyes, real tears this time as I take in the enormity of his support.

I nod, taking a deep breath. "We can't send Crimson to the NetherRealm - it'll kill Zaiah. We need another option."

Those are some great big balls you've got there, sis. I'm impressed.

"Will you get the fuck out of my head!" I roar and rise to my feet as if I'm yanked up by a string.

Focusing again, I reach out to the swirling energies of the ritual. I can feel the power pulsing around me, seeking direction. With every ounce of will I possess, I visualise the space right in front of me.

Around us, the battle reaches a fever pitch. I'm vaguely aware of Malachar shouting in rage, of Alec's desperate attempts to stop us. But they're too late.

With a sound like reality itself tearing, Crimson's essence rips free from my body. I scream, the sound raw and feral, as I feel her presence being ripped from my soul.

The backlash of energy sends me sprawling to the ground again. The world spins around me, voices calling my name from what seems like a great distance. I feel drained, empty in a way I've never experienced before.

As darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision, I see Zaiah's form collapse, the book falling to the ground with a heavy thud. The guys rush towards me, their faces blurred and indistinct.

The elders stop fighting and gaze up into the sky.

But before I slip into unconsciousness, I have one last thought: Oh, fucking fuck.