Page 18 of A Game of Monsters (Realm of Fey #4)

It certainly was a perfect day for a wedding. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight. There was a warmth to the air, as though spring was finally allowing summer to take over. I was almost too warm in the thick jacket that I was dressed in before dawn that morning, courtesy of Cassial’s personal seamstress. I felt weighed down by material, glowing like some pompous prick dressed to be paraded before a crowd – which was exactly what today entailed.

In the open-air carriage, thundering across roads toward our destination, I distracted myself with the view, rather than the stoic guard sitting at my side.

Erix, for the most part, had pretended as though the almost-kiss last night had never happened. Duty was duty, and he played the game well. I did my part in playing along, conjuring small talk and discussing the weather like two strangers would. When in reality, I wanted nothing more than to lean into him and seek comfort for my sins, regardless of whether he could offer me that.

“We should be arriving at the hosting grounds in a few hours,” Erix said just as our carriage slowed when our convoy began its descent into a small human town, a few miles outside of Lockinge. It was one of many stops planned along the route, allowing humans to witness our procession, building up the excitement for the wedding and making them feel a part of such a monumental day.

I understood why Cassial ordered for this to happen, but my anxiety was making patience an impossibility. By early afternoon, Althea and Gyah would be wed. By evening, I’d return to Imeria.

Thanks to my lack of sleep, I’d visited Rafaela before dawn crept over Durmain’s sky. She had seemed in better spirits, her wounds all but healed, but her inner torment was too great. Since then, I already had word from Zarrel that Rafaela would follow us to Imeria – and with her arrival, we’d complete our plan of truly saving the world.

This was, all in all, my last few days.

“I understand the need for charade, to bolster relations and dress up a political move in silver thread and expensive materials, but this feels less like a celebration, and more like pageantry,” I said, as I got my first view of yet another town with its main street full of humans. They, like Erix and I, wore their best outfits. Humans cheered and clapped – waving as the carriages of fey passed through. Ahead of us, Althea and Gyah led the convoy, doing their bit at thanking the crowds with waves of their own.

“It is all to further the greater cause,” Erix reminded me. “There is nothing more powerful to bring two peoples together, then the promise of a party. And to Cassial’s credit, he has done an iron-clad job at arranging this.”

“I understand that,” I replied, trying to forge a fake smile as our carriage began the procession. “Although that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Not a marriage kind of man?” Erix asked out the corner of his mouth.

I scoffed. “Maybe a long time ago. Now, not so much.”

Erix took my hand in his and squeezed. The sudden contact made me gasp. “Maybe that will change again. But for now, smile and wave. Allow yourself a day of enjoyment, you can afford it.”

A day. It’s all I had – and from the way Erix said it, I believed he was beginning to work it out. My comments last night, my request for him to look after Duncan, it all pointed to the fact that I wouldn’t be around to do it myself.

In moments, we were engulfed in the cheers of humans. Crowds of them lined the streets, clapping and whistling, faces flushed with excitement and awe. Oh, how fickle the world was. Not three months ago, I was being screamed at for returning to Durmain, now they celebrated my presence.

A burst of light flashed across my eyes, almost blinding me. I winced back, my smile fading as I lifted a hand to my brow. It happened again, sunlight refracting off glass. I thought it was the reflection off a building, until suddenly the entire street lit up with it.

My blood cooled to ice in my veins as reality set in. The noise faded to the back of my mind as I took in the view of humans – hundreds – waving handheld mirrors at us.

“What is that?” I asked, more to myself than anyone in particular.

“I do not know,” Erix answered, hands over his brow to block the glare. There was no denying his voice was as distressed as I felt.

I leaned over the carriage, sweeping my eyes from east to west, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. It was like shards of sun shone sporadically in the hands of the crowd.

“Excuse me,” I said to the Nephilim leading our carriage. “Everyone we are passing is waving something at us. Do you know what is happening?”

The answer came swiftly. “Cassial has arranged a gift to be sent to every human and fey, to commemorate this special day. Memorabilia of sorts.”

“Mirrors,” Erix breathed, brow furrowed as more flecks of light cascaded over his face. “They are all holding mirrors.”

Discomfort bubbled in my gut, sinking roots and refusing to let go.

“Why mirrors?” Accusation poisoned my tone.

Mirrors started this hell with Duwar. They had since taunted me, going so far as representing the very way Duncan prepared to end his life. Nothing about this brought me a sense of celebration or joy.

“After the poison that was Aldrick, he made many people fear a reflection for what they’d would find in it. There is no need for that anymore.” The Nephilim pulled on the reins, slowing the carriage even more. “But that is only my understanding. The workings of Cassial are not for me to speculate. However, you can ask him yourself when we are reunited, which will be shortly.”

And with that, the conversation was ended. Cut short, swift as the slice of broken glass across a neck.

I was dumfounded, unable to comprehend why he’d make such a decision, knowing the importance mirrors have had. Aldrick used them to converse with Duwar. Since then, I’d hardly been able to stare at my reflection, for fear of what I’d find. Except last night, when I fell asleep beside the mirror, wishing and hoping Duwar or Duncan would reveal themselves.

And here I was, surrounded by hundreds of mirrors.

It only got worse as the journey progressed.

For the final hours of our journey, every town, village and hamlet we passed through, it was clear these same gifts had made their way across the realm. There was hardly a hand spare.

At some point Erix had placed gentle fingers on my thigh and squeezed. The offer of comfort was welcome, but I barely recognised it beneath the thundering beat of my heart – and the desire to vomit all down the outfit Cassial had made for me.

Despite my discomfort, I recognised our destination as soon as we arrived. I almost didn’t have the space in my mind to understand why we stopped here. But I didn’t miss the message that was laid here.

Grove – my home, the human village I’d grown up in – was to host the wedding.

“Are we not heading further west?” I asked the Nephilim, who audibly huffed at the question. “I was informed the wedding was being hosted at the borderlands between Wychwood and Durmain, not here?”

“Plans have changed at the last hour,” they replied. “There was a disturbance with a small band of Hunters yesterday. Do not worry though, they have been dealt with, but due to the disturbance, the wedding was decided to be moved here.”

It certainly answered my question, but that still didn’t mean it pleased me. Was this why Cassial left earlier? He said that it was not of our concern, but if the Hunters were massing near the Wychwood border, that certainly was our issue to share.

“Did you know?” I asked Erix who simmered in silent contemplation at my side. He didn’t need to speak for me to know he was suffering with inner thoughts.

Erix was silent for a moment, staring ahead as the convoy slowed, one by one, and the guests from Lockinge departed. I spotted Althea and Gyah ahead, being shepherded off; Elinor Oakstorm followed with her Nephilim guards. From the looks on their faces they were equally confused, whether or not they knew the importance this place had to me.

“No, I did not,” Erix finally replied, eyes wide and unblinking. As his lip curled over his teeth, I saw the twin points of fangs that had been left from his transformation into a gryvern. For a moment, he looked more monster than man.

I kept my gaze strained forwards, not wishing to let the memory of my past blind what was to happen next.

Erix leaned forwards, grasping our Nephilim guard by the shoulder. “We would like to be taken directly to Cassial before any proceedings.”

There was no use of please. No room for niceties or manners.

“It will have to wait until after the ceremony,” the Nephilim replied, shrugging off Erix’s hand.

“Now,” Erix growled, fervour pitched in his gravel tone.

The Nephilim regarded him, up and down, sizing the berserker up. Before either could make a scene before the adoring crowds of fey and humans watching, I took Erix’s hand in mine, diverting his focus back to me.

“Not now, not here .”

Erix snapped out of his trance-like state, following the tilt of my head to the hundreds of people watching.

He calmed down, enough to leave the Nephilim and stay by my side.

As we departed the carriage, I had no choice but to drink in my surroundings. I looked around at the adoring crowd, people I recognised from my childhood. They didn’t cheer when they saw me, not like those we’d passed during the day of travel. Early afternoon was upon us, and with it the gleam of bright sunlight. A few clouds had built over the sky, foreshadowing the ominous feeling I harboured inside.

A path had been made for us to walk through, leading directly toward an old church which, in previous years, had been used as a school rather than a place of worship. It was the very place I’d had my education, limited though it may have been. And now it looked refreshed, the walls draped in the splendour of the Creator’s emblem, angelic warriors standing guard, wings used as barriers to keep the humans separated from us.

Discomfort seeded deep in my gut. If I had the ability to turn away, I would have. But I needed to see Cassial, I needed to speak with him, understand the need for mirrors.

The church was overflowing with humans, sitting around sharing excited whispers at our arrival. There was barely a space to spare, the room crammed full of life. There was also an overwhelming presence of Nephilim. I searched for fey nobility, hoping to find them amongst the crowds. I spotted one fey, his face familiar with sky-blue eyes. For a moment I thought Doran Oakstorm had rose from the dead, until the stranger fixed his eyes on me and I noticed the subtle differences.

A name came to my mind, spoken by Elinor days ago. Ailon Oakstorm, Doran’s brother and the thorn in Elinor’s side. He kept to the corner, head bowed once again as though he didn’t want to be seen. Perhaps his discomfort came from being the only fey here amongst a hoard of humans.

Erix and I entered last, the doors closing behind us. We were submerged in a blanket of dim light. Candles danced with flames across every surface, offering the only source of light. Any and all windows had been covered with banners, as had the walls. Each one displaying the symbol of the Creator in elegant gold stitching.

“Cassial isn’t here,” I muttered, catching eyes with Althea and Gyah, who stood before a dais. Elinor had been seated in a chair of dark stone, her arms naturally laid out across the arm rests. Zarrel was there – looming over her, the golden hammer in his hands, not strapped to his shoulders.

In fact, one quick glance around and I saw that all the Nephilim had weapons.

Silence fell upon the room as the clang of the great doors settled. The excited murmurings of the crowd settled to whispers as they anticipated the ceremony to begin.

But nothing happened. No announcement, no grand display that would start the wedding. Only silence, thick and heavy.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Althea’s voice called out, echoing up the stone walls, bringing with it the heat boiling inside of her. She was swallowed in a dress of pure white. Whoever made her outfit had made the layers of material look like pale tongues of flame. Her bodice was tight, her heels higher than anything I’d seen her wear before. Red hair had been gathered in a bun atop her head, the strands of hair pulled taut across her scalp. Not a detail was out of place. She looked stunning, but that was the exact thing that unsettled me.

This wasn’t the Althea I knew.

“Patience, Queen Althea Cedarfall,” Zarrel replied, candlelight glinting off his weapon of truth. “Our ceremony will begin shortly. There is a final matter that must be secured before we can begin.”

I drank in the rest of the room, seeing doors barricaded by the broad bodies of Nephilim, never a gauntleted hand straying from a weapon. My fingers itched, tingling as though preparing themselves for something I could not yet name.

“What matter is this you speak of?” Gyah demanded, the trained eyes of a solider noticing the unbalanced nature of the room. Her suit was form-fitting, a cape clasped to her shoulders, dragging out on the floor behind her. She, like the rest of us, had no weapons to note.

Elinor was the same. I searched for the Elmdew representative then, wondering if they too looked as uncomfortable in their worry. But I couldn’t find them, not amongst the crowd. I searched the room three times, and still didn’t locate them.

Outside the church, the crowd roared with cheers, reminding us that this was a celebratory day, although it felt nothing of the sort.

“Perhaps you would like to take a seat for the time being,” Zarrel commanded, gesturing to the spare stone thrones that had been erected on the dais. A fourth waited for me, opposite where Elinor Oakstorm sat. “Cassial will join us soon. I apologise for the delay, this was not how we planned for this.”

Cassial was many things, but lacking in detail was not one of them. Everyone up until now had praised his planning, and yet there seemed to be a problem on the single most important day he had arranged.

Something about that didn’t sit right with me.

“Answer the question,” Gyah snapped, baring teeth toward Zarrel. A few muffled gasps filled the room, spreading in a wave across the humans who watched from the pews.

Fear, sharp and sudden, filled the air.

“Please, calm down,” Zarrel said, but spoke directly to the humans, a sickly sweet kindness spoiling his tone.

Gyah, realising how she’d caused this reaction, simmered back with a blush across her cheeks.

“There is a final guest we are missing, someone of great importance,” Zarrel explained, white teeth on display thanks to his plastered, ear-to-ear grin. “Soon enough he will come, and we can begin with the proceedings.”

“It looks like there are a few guests missing,” I called out.

Zarrel’s smile faltered as he turned to me. I noticed his fists tighten around the handle of Rafaela’s hammer, which made me reach out for my magic.

What I found inside of me was silence. An abyss of never-ending silence.

Before I could understand why, Erix loosed a keening scream. I spun around to find him falling to the ground, clutching his head as though his skull was shattering apart.

“Erix,” I gasped, joining him on the ground, hands reaching, mind a storm of panic. I was vaguely aware that Althea attempted to reach us too, but Nephilim stopped her by crossing spears. If she had access to her power, no doubt those spears would be husks of ash in seconds. But the lack of heat and fire proved that she too suffered the same powerless fate as I did.

Erix rocked backwards, his screams singing of the pain he was in. I searched for the cause, but he was all but physically unharmed. No one had got close enough to hurt him, and yet he was still incapable of speaking, of answering me.

“Someone help him,” I cried out, scanning the crowds who attempted to scramble out of the pews. “Please. A healer, someone. Help him!”

The lack of response tore me apart from the inside.

“In good time, Robin. For now though, it would seem we have our signal, and we can begin,” Zarrel said, his voice cutting above Erix’s suffering.

I watched, through furious tear-filled eyes, as Zarrel turned to his fellow Nephilim. He offered them a nod, a signal, and said, “It’s time. Brothers, sisters. Prepare yourselves for the arrival of your Saviour.”

Humans fought from the pews, looking to the closed door in confusion. Chaos reigned this small room, filling it with Erix’s suffering, and the utter horror that spoiled each and every human.

The guards blocking the door refused to move. They let no one out, and no one in.

“Make it stop!” Erix howled like an animal in a trap when the room exploded in light.

Squinting against the glare, I watched as the banners covering the walls were pulled down, revealing floor-to-ceiling glass. Mirrors lined every possible space, reflecting the horror on our faces, and the placid, expectant faces of the Nephilim.

My reflection looked back at me ten times over, wide eyed and red faced. It made the chamber look far larger than it was in reality, turning the crowd of panicked humans into a horde of scared people trying to flee.

Then, as suddenly as it began, Erix’s screams stopped. He gasped for breath, his hands grappling at my arms. I didn’t notice as Nephilim swept over to Erix and accosted him, dragging him out of my embrace.

“They are dead,” Erix bellowed, eyes ringed with dark shadows, pointed teeth flashing over pale lips.

“Who?” I screamed as rough hands dragged me away from Erix, thrusting me to the ground.

“Maren. Gregory. Cassial has–” A metal-plated fist dove into the side of Erix’s face, knocking him to the ground. Humans screamed. Bedlam reigned. The rest of Erix’s words came out in the form of blood and spit, splattering against the ground. His lip had split, the mouth I’d touched with my own ruined in a single moment.

Growling, I sprang at the Nephilim, all teeth and nail, a berserker in my own right. I grabbed a fistful of feathers, tearing back with my might, making one of them yell in agony.

“Release him!” I cared for nothing else. “Get your fucking hands off him.”

I looked to Althea, Gyah, Elinor – anyone to help. But they were frozen in their seats, unmoving. Physically trapped, whereas their expressions revealed their inner struggle. Althea was the only one who attempted to fight free, but she was bound by stone, thick hands of it rising up from the throne before flattening over her wrists.

“Labradorite,” Elinor Oakstorm cried out, straining against the power of the throne, veins bulging in her neck. “They’re made of labradorite, Robin!”

I saw the truth in that moment. As light cracked out of Elinor’s skin, seeping into the stone as though it was a sponge, absorbing her power.

No, not her power. The key. The final key to Duwar’s gate.

I took in the scene of this perfectly laid plan. The ruse that had us sign away control of the fey lands in the place of a baby prince, all for the Nephilim to finally grasp full control.

Magic built beneath my skin, itching for a release, but the heavy presence of something was keeping it at bay, refusing the release I desperately desired. “Resist it,” Althea commanded, frantic eyes pinned to Elinor. “Don’t give it up…”

Elinor’s head dropped, chin to chest, and didn’t move again.

“No,” I bellowed as Nephilim took my body, forcing me onto my knees. “My magic… I can’t feel it, Althea.”

“And – mine!” Althea screamed back, continuing to resist her stone bindings. “I can’t feel it.”

A figure swept in front of me, blocking my view of my friends.

“That would be the small deposits of iron which have been threaded throughout your clothes,” Zarrel announced, pacing to where I was being held down by his winged followers. He swung the golden hammer as though it weighed no more than a sack of twigs. Then, as he stepped into me, he held it up, laying the flat cool metal against my chest. “Before you can begin to strip, this room has also been bathed in it. Last night, the food and wine also tainted. For the safety of our guests, above anything else.” Zarrel gestured to the humans whose fear and confusion rippled off them. “We wouldn’t want such devious creatures to threaten anyone else, now that we know the truth.”

At the use of the final word, I felt the draw of power beat between where the hammer touched and my flesh. Rafaela had used it against me once before, but the draw was stronger now, frantic in the hands of a man like Zarrel.

“And yet you stand here,” I sneered, muscles straining, a throbbing vein protruding across my forehead. “With weapons held in your hands. Who are you keeping them safe from, us or you ?”

Zarrel tilted his head, popping a hip to display just how little of a threat he found me. “Well, Robin, that would all depend on you, wouldn’t it? Would you like to tell us all what you have been keeping all to yourself, lying to us – your allies – all this time?”

I squirmed against the pressure of Rafaela’s golden hammer, but its influence was already upon me. There was nothing I could do to stop the truth rising out of me.

“Duwar,” I cried as the name was dragged out of me.

I couldn’t look to my friends even if I wanted to, my focus was on Zarrel, the hammer, and the truth was leached from me.

“Do you see how freeing the truth can be?” Zarrel asked, but didn’t wait for an answer as he pressed on. “Tell me, Robin Icethorn. Where is Duwar?”

I felt the shocked gazes of my friends scoring into me. But my focus was on the golden hammer, and the drawing persuasion as it forced me to speak the truth. I tried to regain control, forcing out the truth in my own way, trying to save myself some of my secrets. “In – Wychwood.”

“Resist it, Robin!” Erix cried out, voice muffled by the blood in his mouth. “Don’t give–”

I could only imagine his sudden silence was a result of another fist to his jaw.

“But where in Wychwood, Robin Icethorn?”

I sank my teeth into my lower lip, splitting skin, trying everything to stop the truth from coming out. Zarrel forced the hammer into my skin, making the sway of its power impossible to ignore.

As the final answer came out, I bellowed it across the church, so loud the sky far above would hear. “Duwar is inside of Duncan Rackley!”

Zarrel withdrew the hammer, satisfied with the answer. “Of course, I already know, courtesy of our dearest sister Rafaela. Although for the sake of our relations, I appreciate your cooperation.”

I didn’t have a choice: the hammer had taken away my free will.

In an act of divine fate, I heard the muffled cry of a woman. I snapped my head around to watch as Rafaela, garbed in dirtied clothes, her hunched back stained brown with new blood, was brought out of the shadows. She was held in the arms of two Nephilim, golden blades held at her throat and one at her gut.

One eye had swollen shut, the skin black and blue with bruises. Even her mouth suffered the same fate. But even through her obvious agony, she locked her single eye on mine and said, “I am so sorry, Robin. I had no choice.”

Guilt, the familiar friend it had become, rose within me. I’d seen her this morning, and yet left her in the hands of someone like Zarrel.

“Believe it or not,” Zarrel taunted, “Rafaela is telling the truth, she really did not have a choice. I only needed to use the hammer on her to get the knowledge out of her. Such a unique weapon, one I have grown rather fond of using since it was given to me.”

From the pain across Rafaela’s face, I knew exactly what means Zarrel had used to extract the information.

All around me, my world was crumbling, and I was helpless to stop it. I fixed my eyes on Erix, finding strength in his unwavering glare. My eyes swept to Althea and Gyah who looked at me like I was a stranger. Then to Elinor, whose soft expression of pity nearly tore me apart like the claws of a beast.

I was a fish out of water, tangled in a net of iron, powerless and helpless.

Then my mind went to Duncan, who was no different. In the moments of chaos, I put together a few pieces of the puzzle. Cassial missing, the gryvern guards protecting Duncan now dead.

I strained against the arms of my captor, not caring for the pinch that bruised my skin. “This isn’t a game. Duncan is dangerous–”

“Duncan is a gift ,” came a voice from the mirror – within the mirror. “In ways that I could not possibly begin to explain with the little time we have.”

Every person in the room turned, human and fey, to find Cassial’s reflection staring outwards from the mirrors. A familiar room behind him, an empty bed layered with chains, a sideboard beside it with the hint of a syringe waiting, the vial full of golden liquid.

We were looking into Duncan’s room. Back in Imeria.

A keening cry rose up in my throat, but couldn’t get past the lump of dread there. Behind Cassial lay two bloodied, torn gryvern bodies. Maren and Gregory – dead – just as Erix had told me. He must’ve sensed their murder through their connection, which caused his reaction. The pain he felt inside had been theirs.

My eyes finally swept away from the corpses to the man kneeling, head bowed, at Cassial’s feet.

“Duncan,” I exhaled, an agony unlike anything I’d felt before threading up through every inch of my body.

Cassial’s meaty fingers tangled in the length of his dark hair, lifting it up until everyone watching could see his face. There was no denying it was him, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to care for my friends’ reactions, how they would view me now my greatest lie had been revealed.

For the first time, I wanted Duncan to be the very thing I had feared him for.

Dangerous.

“Robin, Robin, Robin.” Cassial beamed with pride, his bright eyes glittering with the hunger of a starved man. “What a deceptive little creature you are, harbouring such a threat behind your walls.”

“No,” I gasped, hoisted to my feet by uncaring hands. “I was protecting–”

“Lying now will not get you out of this one,” Cassial interrupted. “The damage is very clearly done .”

Then why did he look so pleased? Why did Cassial look like a man who’d just won a game I didn’t know I was playing?

“My followers,” Cassial shouted, and every Nephilim in the room shifted. “Allow the humans to leave, get them away from this danger the fey have brought to our door once again.”

Watching from beyond the mirror, the doors were thrown open, allowing humans to escape from the perfect picture of danger that Cassial was painting.

And yet he was the one with dark blood – gryvern blood – splattered across his armour, dead bodies littered on the floor behind him.

Once the last human escaped beyond the church, the doors were closed once again, the Nephilim returning to their places, weapons held ready.

“Poor humans, what a terrible shock you have put them through,” Cassial said, beaming, hands still tugging carelessly at Duncan’s head. “Between me and you, I had my own plans to free Duwar today, until I discovered that task was already completed for me. Imagine my relief that you, Robin Icethorn, have been harbouring the power required to fix the unbalance of this world. I should thank you, truly. The effort you have saved me is great. For that, granted you act responsibly, you will be rewarded.”

Maybe it was the lack of humans watching me, or the knowledge that Duncan in danger, but I found the energy to act.

My body moved without aid of my mind. Drawing on training and skill, I slipped out of the hands quickly, spinning around and snatching a short blade from the sheath at Zarrel’s waist.

This was what Erix had trained me for, relying on my body instead of my power.

I swung the short blade like a mad man, attempting to carve a space out between me and the betrayal suffocating me. Erix tried to fight free too, but the more he squirmed, the more Nephilim came to assist with him being held down. It took little effort to splay him on the floor, positioning his body face down. Those Nephilim who didn’t pin him to the ground held his wings at an angle, proving that one tug would rip them free.

“Choose your next action wisely,” Zarrel warned, so close to me that I felt his hot breath singe the skin on my ear. “Remember the treaty you signed. Think of all the innocent life outside this church, the humans who will be harmed in this crossfire if you make a move against us. Or, are we too late for that, considering what secret you’ve been keeping from us…”

My grip faltered enough for Zarrel to take the blade from my hand and return it confidently to his belt.

“ Duncan Rackley ,” Cassial said his name, command lacing his baritone voice. “Open the way for us to pass. We have a reunion to attend.”

Duncan’s verdant eyes were overwhelmed with the power of the parasite within him. He looked at me, through the mirror, as web-like cracks formed across its surface.

“I warned you,” Duncan – Duwar said, voice tinged with sadness that I couldn’t ignore. “Your hesitation has caused this, darling.”

Not a second after he used his nickname against me, glass shattered across the room, turning the mirror into a doorway. One which Cassial dragged Duncan through with ease, passing through time and space like it was nothing.

Heavy boots slammed against the ground, whilst Duncan’s knees were dragged over broken blades of glass. Cassial didn’t care for the vessel, only what lurked inside. But I didn’t understand. Duwar was the Creator’s enemy – the opposing power to the Nephilim’s master. If anything, they should want to destroy it, once and for all.

“Duwar is a demon,” I spat. “Duwar’s very presence goes against everything you live for. Every lie you accuse me of has only ever been given whilst I found a way to solve this problem.”

“Lies on both accounts,” Cassial replied, followed by a deep belly laugh. “Although I admit, the first has been spread by us for generations. Duwar being a demon, crafting that very perspective to further our own plans. I am confident you have many questions. So, sit and listen. I will do you the honour of explaining ourselves.”

My mind was frantic, but I knew what Duncan’s fate would be in the hands of the Nephilim.

Death. Certain death. The very thing I had fought hard to prevent.

“Cassial. There is nothing to discuss. Don’t do this. I beg you,” I hissed, spitting at the Nephilim who grasped me, holding me in place. “There are other ways to remove Duwar from this realm, ways that do not include killing him. If you hurt him–”

“Hurt Duncan?” Cassial pressed a hand to his chest, mocking shock. “As if I could harm him any more than you have, Robin. Look at how you have treated him. The torment, the pain – the punishment. And all because you didn’t recognise what you held so dear.”

“A demon!”

“Wrong. Wrong. Wrong ,” Cassial replied, lifting Duncan’s head again from where it lolled to his chest. “You have been told that Duwar is bad. A demon-god. You have been told stories woven by us to believe that Duwar is the Defiler – a beast, ruin, a monster. But the truth is so much simpler than that.”

Duwar’s words filled my mind, just as the same words left Cassial’s mouth. “Duwar is power . ”

I am power.

I couldn’t think – couldn’t breathe – as a small spark of relief turned to terror.

Hate pinched Cassial’s face into a mask of disdain. He narrowed eyes on me, burning pits of endless promises of suffering. And yet, his smile never faltered. It morphed into something darker, but still drew at the corners of his mouth. “I have no plans to kill Duncan today. Whereas his potential was wasted in your hands, in mine he will help change the world. Fix the wrongs left in the wake when Altar betrayed our god.”

I grappled with what he said, but one thing clicked in my mind. “You never wanted to protect the keys. You… you wanted to use them.”

Cassial looked at me though his dark lashes, this perspective of his face morphing into something utterly demonic. “Yes, Robin. That is exactly what we wished to do.”