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The clan followed behind him, spitting curses.

A gasp left Kellen’s mouth. “She was the one who brought down the wards at the Uplift. They didn’t die with the empresses, they were already down for the Dark Army to walk right in.”

“Exactly,” Torin confirmed with venom. “She was the only one who could really have that sort of power. She knows her time is up. And one of those empresses that we have left helpless in the palace with her will be the one to take her crown. She isn’t going to have that.”

“Shit!” cursed Artem. He was finally climbing at the rate that Torin was, always matching him.

“She has been the puppet master behind it all.” Torin fumed. “And it was right under me this entire time.”

“It’s funny how you never look at the ones at the top,” Marcus hissed, making his way across the jagged terrain.

“There are no fucking demons here, this is a diversion. Deleine needed the guards out of her palace, and everyone else was sent to their rooms.” Torin wanted to punch something. “She’s had us all on strings.”

“But why?” Gideon’s rugged voice broke from a few feet behind him as he climbed too. “What is she planning?”

“I have a feeling it has something to do with how Deleine feels her power depleting. I was told many moons ago by a trusted Spirit Witch that there were rumours of her powers fading,” Torin suggested, looking over his shoulder. “Surely, you all have heard the rumours too. She will be able to sense it in her blood, in her magic.”

“That’s why the kills were made at the Uplift,” Artem called out as his boots made a racket on the sturdy rocks. “She’s hunting her successor. She made it look like that elite prick and some demons had formed an alliance, when really it was all for her,” he spat. “All the important witches were in the same spot at the same time.”

Gideon raged this time. “She was trying to take out whoever her replacement could have been to buy herself more time.”

“Exactly,” Torin agreed. “The problem is, after killing all of the other witches, she clearly feels no different. She probably thought that the witches that she killed would have been strong enough to take her crown, but it was never going to be one of them. The Gods must have gifted the supremacy of witchcraft onto a current empress, one that we all guard now.”

Gideon panted. “Shit! Shit! Shit! Every empress of their House is in the palace with one guard each. Alone.”

“The Supreme couldn’t have acted alone,” Kellen cut in, managing to keep up. “She must have people helping her. People who are willing to betray others. She is only one woman, she can’t do it alone.”

“That is why we need to get back to them.” Torin growled in anger and frustration with himself. He had left. He had left Emara in a place where she wasn’t safe.

How had he not worked this out before? Why had he been so focused on the elite?

The evidence was there.

The Supreme was vain and conceited. Her vanity had always been known. So why would she let someone take her power? Why would she let someone best her?

She wasn’t going to.

Torin punched the air and roared as he moved.

“Halt!” Marcus hollered, stopping everyone in their tracks. “Someone must inform the others.”

Torin turned and nodded. “Inform the hunters and find Murk Baxgroll, then make your way to the palace as fast as you can.”

This could end in so many ways, ones that he dreaded to think of.

Marcus nodded and was gone in a flash, making his way back down to the other clusters of guards scattered across the mountain. Torin whirled and continued his run to the palace, where he would raise the underworld himself if anything had happened to Emara Clearwater.

Running through the corridor to her room, Torin almost hit the wall as he turned the corner, the speed too fast for him to control, his boots wet. He had ordered for Gideon and the others to check on their empresses, and he would head for the Empress of Air with Artem.

His empress.

His mind and heart racing, he powered on. It had been a while since he had run at his full potential, and it pumped pure adrenaline into his body. He noted that Artem probably hadn’t run like this since the selection either, where they had both pushed their bodies to their utmost limit, testing boundaries that normal humans would never be able to achieve. He tightened his muscles so that his body would slow, every muscular tissue coiling and shuddering as he did.

Artem almost hit him as they stopped.

He had never felt panic like he did when he noticed Magin did not stand outside her door. His jaw hardened, and he could feel a muscle pulse in his neck. The door was open, ajar an inch or two, and before he moved his boots, he looked down to the ground. Different patterns of blood trickled along the floor, moving in dissimilar ways. His heart leapt into his mouth. His skin pricked, all hairs standing up.

“Check the other rooms, Stryker, all along this corridor.”