Chapter 45

She drifted in the void, darkness enveloping her.

“Ursula.” Nyxobas’s voice rumbled through her bones, his voice reverberating in the darkness, seeming to come from every direction. Or maybe from within her mind.

“Why are you fighting Abrax?” his voice boomed.

If she hadn’t been floating in a void, Ursula would have sighed in frustration. “He was trying to kill you. I was trying to save you.”

“Do you know why you are here, in the void? Do you know why my power imbues you?”

A thought, an idea from the back of her mind, blazed to life. Something she’d known for a long time, but that she’d refused to really entertain. “I come from you, don’t I? My mother was one of your followers. I saw her eyes—black as the void.”

“She was my lover.”

“And I’m your daughter.” How long had she known this for? It was the first time she’d allowed herself to think it, and yet it seemed so crystal clear to her now. The night had always called to her. She’d felt the power of shadow magic flowing through her veins. She felt a distant horror at the realization that Abrax was her brother.

Emerazel had known all along, hadn’t she? When Ursula had first met the fire goddess, Emerazel had forced her to kneel with a gleeful sense of dominance.

“If you can find your way out of the void, I’m pulling the mark of that bitch from you,” said Nyxobas, as if hearing her thoughts. “You won’t belong to her anymore. You’re a demigod, Ursula. And that’s why I needed to test your ability in combat at Lacus Mortis. You did not disappoint me.”

“You sacrificed my mother, didn’t you? You used her as a pawn in your war against Emerazel’s followers.”

“Your mother was a powerful warrior, like you. She made her own choice. She was very devoted to me,” said Nyxobas. “She made her own decisions. She chose to try to kill the king for me. He was a follower of my greatest enemy, Emerazel. He needed to be stopped, his bloodline ended. In his quest for power, he was converting too many souls. I couldn’t allow Emerazel that sort of advantage. Your mother understood.”

In the void, Ursula’s emotions were dulled, and yet she felt a distant sense of betrayal. Her mother had chosen Nyxobas over her. Her mother had left her alone. Still, here in the void, that clean, soothing emptiness pulled her under, that freedom from the pain of memories. If she could just stay here forever…

“I need to get out of here,” she whispered.

“But you prefer it here, don’t you? You long to escape. There’s nothing in your memories but the darkness. You did that to yourself.”

“I remember some things… I remember watching my mother die. Her eyes were filled with your shadows.” Still, Ursula couldn’t feel the memory—until all at once, she found herself back in Mount Acidale.

It was the floor of King Midac’s hall, and her gaze went to the king’s table. King Midac sat at one end of the table, near the queen and Kester.

But it was the woman next to the queen that drew Ursula’s attention, her auburn hair tumbling over a purple velvet gown. Bright blue eyes, a heart-shaped face—the woman who’d once rubbed her back at night when she had nightmares about dragons. The woman who’d baked her favorite bread on her days off, who’d patiently taught her to wield a sword. The woman who’d pulled Ursula onto her lap, reading her stories about faraway lands, before she went to bed at night. My mother. Ursula wanted to run to her, to ask her not to leave.

She knew what was coming next, and a sense of betrayal pierced her ribs like a dozen arrows.

Ursula stared as her mother drew a steak knife, driving it into the queen’s heart. Blood poured from her chest.

Why did you choose to leave me? They’d been members of the king’s guard together. Ursula had been proud of her uniform—the purple and gold. She’d been a proud soldier, like her grandfather. Her mother was ripping her world apart.

The woman who’d combed her hair, who’d soothed her tears when the other children had called her a fatherless child.

Once, her mother had been her world.

Time seemed to slow down, and grief slammed into Ursula. Her mum lunged for the king, but Kester was already reaching for his blade. For the briefest of instants, Ursula’s mother turned toward the hellhound, her eyes black as Nyxobas’s void. Ursula’s mind screamed.

Then everything sped up again. Bael leapt over the table. Across from him, Kester drew his sword. Pushing the king aside, Kester drove his blade into her mother’s stomach.

The world went dark again.

“How did that feel?” asked Nyxobas. “Now you see why you rid yourself of your own memories.”

“She left me,” said Ursula. “She betrayed me, and I was ashamed of her. But I can’t stay here.” Grief threatened to swallow her whole—but she could take it. She didn’t need the void now.

Gasping, she pulled herself from Nyxobas’s shadows once more, and light shone in her eyes again. Across from her, Abrax lay stunned, his eyes filled with shadows. Still lost in the void.

Those emotions from her memory—the shame, the pure sorrow—still ripped her mind apart, threatening to drive her mad. My mother was once my world—and she left me.

Ursula snarled, picking up Excalibur from the marble floor. She swung it once—clean through Abrax’s neck. Blood arced over the floor, and his body slumped to the marble.

“Sorry, Dad,” she whispered. “But he had to go.”

When she looked up at Nyxobas, she found him lost in the void once more. She slid her fingertips under the collar of her shirt, finding the skin smooth.

The mark of Emerazel was gone.