Chapter 18

"My sister does not lie." Gideon's back was so rigid I wondered if he might snap in two.

"That's like saying water isn't wet." Tristan snorted before I jammed my elbow into his side.

"What about this warning?" I asked quietly. We were so close to getting the knife, yet Tristan was bound and determined to undermine this transaction. And why the fuck had he brought a vial of his wyvern's blood? I didn't care if I was related to them, the thought of these craven creatures using any part of him in their rituals made me ill.

"A woman was spotted in the forest three weeks ago. Alone. The same time I had my vision of you, Princess. Not a coincidence, I think." A shiver crawled up my spine.

"I'm not sure why that's especially noteworthy." I kept my tone even, but every hair on my arms stood up. "What did she look like?"

"Dark haired. Beautiful. Wrapped in shadow." Ophelia's expression was unreadable, but her eyes burned. "Like the spider that used to sit beside the Fae King, she was an ancient monster wrapped in a different skin, not of this world but another."

The air went out of my lungs. "You saw the Oracle."

Ophelia's smile was pure delight. "In the flesh. Her new flesh, thanks to you."

The world tilted and my mind went blank. I met Tristan's gaze and found him staring, his white-knuckled hands knotted at his sides.

Gods. Three weeks. The Oracle had been free from her mind prison for three weeks and…had she spent those days hunting us? Or laying this trap, knowing, somehow, we'd end up here with Ophelia and Gideon at the edge of the blight-ridden forest?

Or was she already at the palace where our friends were defenseless against her magic?

We had to go. Had to get into the air. Had to…

"You look worried, Princess. Could it be you didn't expect the spider to escape your trap?" Ophelia did not blink. "A blood circle. Very clever."

"So you spoke to her. What message did she ask you to pass on?" My voice came out flat, my mind weighing every threat and danger, scrambling over blood-splattered images of Raz and Zor and Tavion lying dead at the palace, Gelvira's mocking laughter already ringing inside my head.

"Give us her fucking message."

"That you need to learn your place, Princess." Ophelia recited the words, as if she'd been waiting her whole life to say them. "And that thieves deserve to lose that which they love most."

Oh gods.

"You are outmatched, Princess," Gideon taunted, openly gloating now. "This quest is for naught, your efforts a waste of time."

"We need that knife, Anaria," Tristan murmured, so quietly I barely heard him. "We need something to fight her with."

I ground my teeth together. "The weapon. Give it to us so we can save our friends. Stop this blight."

"I doubt you will be the one to stop anything." She tapped her finger against her lip. "We have been at war with the Mystara since the moment they arrived. Our ancestors treatied with their queen, but that agreement was broken by the twins, who slaughtered us and destroyed our city." She waved a hand at the surrounding forest. "In the same manner that is happening now."

Ophelia's eyes never left me. "Amalla was their queen's name. A traitor, in name and deed." Beside me, Tristan stiffened. "She promised they had not come to this world for conquest, that they would remain north of the Pale, but she lied."

I dug for that memory, peered into the deepest parts of myself, but only darkness peered back.

"This world will never be free so long as Corvus and the Oracle exist," I begged, torn between leaving the sword behind and going to save our friends.

"This cycle will repeat itself, over and over again, until there is nothing left. If the knife…the Aetherial can stop them, then let me wield it. Let me try to stop them."

Ophelia's eyes raked over me, her smile matching her brother's. "After meeting the Oracle in the flesh…you're too weak for this task. We would be better served to choose a new champion."

"There is no time," I hissed, temper snapping. "If she is free, we are all going to die."

Tristan shifted behind me, close enough our bodies brushed. Close enough to snatch me up and transform to fly me to safety. But for those precious seconds, he'd be vulnerable, and if my magic failed for even an instant, if these two managed to overpower us…

"What price do you want for the knife?" I looked at the untouched, deserted village around us, the leering gargoyles overhead. "Surely you can't mean to stay here. We could get you out. Take you south to safety."

Providing we survived what waited for us at the palace.

"Anaria," Tristan hissed. "We have to go."

"It is not for me to demand payment for such a weapon. The Aetherial commands a high cost of those who dare wield it." Ophelia's sour expression told me I didn't quite live up to those expectations. "That is price enough."

"Then give it to us and let us be gone." Tristan's demand tore through me, every bit of pretense stripped from his voice, leaving only raw terror. "These games are…" His words trailed off, blood draining from his face as the siblings attacked.

Magic cleaved the air apart, an onslaught that would have—should have—decimated us both.

But I was ready.

Power swelled inside me like a symphony, blowing Ophelia and Gideon through the open doors and flattening them against the far wall, shock written on their bloodless faces, their magic locked down beneath a layer of my own, vicious and unyielding, no matter how hard they fought.

"These games were a distraction while the Oracle breached the palace. Find the knife," I ordered softly, stopping Tristan with a hand banded around his wrist. "Not you. Them."

I pictured the knife in my head, held out my hand, palm up, and sent liquid shadows slithering across the floor like living ink, fanning out in all directions, the temperature inside the room plunging. "Find this knife called the Aetherial. Bring it to me."

Gideon and Ophelia's eyes flared. In fear or surprise or both, I didn't care. Tracking the shadows as they disappeared into the building and tangled around each other in their haste to obey my request.

I felt lighter without them, as if shadow and magic carried a great weight. I blew out a long breath and watched Tristan tuck the vial of blood back into his pocket before he stepped beside me.

"You could have survived this." My voice rang through the cavernous room, lined with torches, a fire burning in the great hearth. "We would have carried you to safety, you could have joined the rest of your coven, but that is not how today will end for you two."

"You're too soft to allow us to die," Gideon sneered. "A little girl pretending does not a queen make."

"Who says I'm pretending?" I stepped closer, the strong smell of burning pitch and smoldering wood filling my nostrils. "You only know me by the name I was given at birth. But I have another. One that is far older. Amalla."

Gideon's malicious glower faltered; Ophelia's eyes widened. "I did not come to this world for conquest. I came because my sister dragged me through a portal and trapped us here. And I never lied. My sister betrayed us. But this ends now. I will use your weapon to free this world."

"You are not strong enough to bear such a weapon. Not since its forging has anyone been strong enough to bear the Aetherial. The weapon demands too much magic, too much strength of will." Spittle gathered at the corners of Gideon's mouth, his eyes blazing with malice. "Merely touching that blade will kill you. Nor will you discover where it is…"

The shadows spun back into the room, eagerly bearing a silver box like an offering.

"…hidden," Gideon finished lamely, eyes bulging out of his head.

"Thank you, my lovelies." I reached down and stroked my fingers over the sea of frozen shadows writhing at my feet. They quaked in pleasure, lifting the box up into my waiting hands.

My breath caught when I flipped open the lid, the silver knife—smaller than I'd expected—gleaming softly beneath the flickering torches. The engravings on the handle glowed softly, not reflections, but with some inner light.

"Let's go. We got what we came here for."

"What should we do with them?" Tristan asked, not a flicker of warmth on his face.

"We're leaving you here." I spoke directly to Ophelia because fuck Gideon and his sneering arrogance. "I hope your wards hold out long enough for me to stop this blight. If they fail…" I shrugged. "Maybe the Oracle will swing back through and save you, but I wouldn't count on it."

"You won't be able to wield that weapon," Gideon ground out. "You're a half-breed."

"I prefer child of two worlds. Sounds nicer." I snapped the lid shut, holding out my hands for my darklings. My fingers went numb as they slipped into me, like ink into paper, soaking in deep. But a deep sense of foreboding settled into my gut like I'd touched one of the skulls.

"Three worlds if you count wherever we came from in the first place." My magic swirled around us like a tapestry, shadow and stars and liquid, sentient darkness.

"Let's go."

"The weapon isn't complete," Ophelia called, her voice strangled. "You cannot wield that blade until you have the other piece."

I kept my expression bland, though every piece of me wanted to gloat. "If there's another piece, we'll find it, even if we have to hunt to the ends of every realm," I told her. "Your opportunity to negotiate is over. You had your chance, now you take your chances with the blight."

"You can't leave us here. What if the wards fail?" Gideon screamed. "You're taking our most valuable artifact and leaving us with nothing?"

"I came here to forge an alliance with you, but that appears impossible." I shrugged. "You chose your side, and now we'll see if you chose well."

"You aren't going to convince us to join your side? We're two of the strongest witches in both realms."

"I don't give a good godsdamn how strong you are. You are both pieces of shite and if I never see you again, it will be too soon. Your only hope is if I find this other piece before the blight oozes through your wards. Any idea where it might be?"

"The Oracle," Gideon offered quickly. "She wears the other piece around her neck. She knows if she possesses part of the weapon designed to kill her…"

I was nodding on our way out the door.

"She's safe."