Page 73

Carla

D arkness. Complete, consuming darkness.

I’m standing in nothing. Existing in nothing. There’s no light, no warmth, no sound except my own breathing, carrying on in the stillness of this void. This must be limbo—a place where unwanted souls are trapped, neither welcome in hell nor desired back by Mother Fate or the human god.

I try to look around but there’s nothing to see, just endless black stretching in all directions. The emptiness closes in, cold and isolating. It’s worse than any punishment I could imagine—at least in hell there would be something. This is just... nothingness.

“Hello?” I call out, my voice small and frightened. The word bounces back at me, repeating until it fades into nothing. “Is anyone here?”

I keep walking, though I’m not sure if I’m actually moving or just thinking I am. The ground beneath my feet—if there even is ground—feels neither solid nor insubstantial. It’s just... there. Or not there. I can’t tell.

Cold seeps into my bones. Not the physical cold of winter, but something deeper, a spiritual chill that reaches into my very essence. Loneliness crashes over me in waves. Fear crawls through me, slow and steady. Have I trapped myself here? Will I never see Amari again?

“Limbo isn’t much to look at, I know,” a voice suddenly calls out from somewhere in the darkness.

I freeze, fear prickling across my skin. My eyes dart around frantically, trying to locate the source of the voice, but the darkness remains impenetrable.

Looking down, relief floods through me as I spot Moria and Kemnebi at my feet. I drop to my knees instantly, reaching for Moria who scuttles up my arm to rest against my chest in her familiar position. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close, and the tears come without warning.

“Am I stuck here?” I sob, clutching Moria tighter. “Will I get back to Amari? Please, I need to get back to him.”

Moria taps her legs against my skin, sending images that spell out “wait.”

“Wait? Wait for what?” I look down at Kemnebi, who remains on the ground, his familiar form bringing a small smile to my tear-stained face despite everything.

“They certainly love you,” the disembodied voice speaks again, closer now. “Willing to sacrifice themselves to limbo just to bring you back.”

I look around nervously, holding Moria protectively against me. “She’s protecting your heart,” the voice observes.

“What the hell do you want from me?” I snap, fear making my voice sharper than intended.

A soft, wicked laugh ripples through the darkness, sending chills through my entire being. Ahead, a shadow begins to take shape, drawing closer with each passing moment.

“I was waiting for you to find a way to get to me,” the shadow says. “I suppose you’ve found one of my spellbooks. I put cryptic spells in each of them that only the new generation of Blackwood witches could open. You only needed three to unlock the spell.”

The shadow finally comes into view, and I find myself face to face with Tabatha.

She’s even more striking than she appeared in my children’s memories—her deep brown skin smooth and radiant, her blue eyes vivid against her complexion, and her elaborate braids decorated with golden threads woven with care.

She exudes power and confidence, a witch who knows exactly who and what she is.

“Why are you trapped in limbo?” I ask, still clutching Moria protectively.

Tabatha looks down at Kemnebi and smiles at him, her expression almost fond. Then she begins to circle me, studying me from every angle as if sizing me up.

“You’re too damn noble for the position,” she says finally, her voice tinged with disappointment.

She continues circling, her movements graceful and predatory. “When I cast the spell on you and your children, bringing you back from death, it came with a price. I’m stuck here until your children lift the veil and you take your rightful place as the Queen of limbo.”

“I’ve tried,” I protest. “Amari has won their trust but they still won’t lift it.”

“It’s because you aren’t ready,” Tabatha replies, stopping in front of me. “Even with Amari, you’re still this timid, innocent little girl. Limbo would eat you alive. This place is cold, nothing, heartless.”

“But there’s a reason for it,” she adds cryptically.

“Why did you give me this power if you don’t believe I can handle it?” I demand.

Tabatha’s expression grows serious. “If these lost souls were able to get free and wreak havoc on the world, there would be total chaos.” She continues circling me, her footsteps quiet in the nothingness. “I never said you couldn’t handle it. I said you aren’t ready.”

“But the veil restricts me,” I argue. “I can’t love my fated mate the way I’m supposed to.”

“That’s a small price you’ll have to pay until you’re ready,” Tabatha says dismissively. “Better than chaos. And I already know you’ve been reckless. You’ve let humans take two of your children and extract your blood.”

“Why do humans want access to limbo so badly?” I ask.

“The afterlife has always been a curiosity to them,” Tabatha says, her voice taking on a lecturing tone. She motions for me to follow her. “Come with me. You need to see exactly what you’re guarding.”

I glance down at Kemnebi, then take a deep breath and start following Tabatha.

“You might want to hurry along,” she calls back. “Time moves differently here in limbo. The longer you’re here, the more time passes in the living realm.”

I quicken my pace, staying close behind her as we walk down what seems like an endless path of nothing, Kemnebi moving alongside me.

Tabatha looks back with a smirk. “Your children are guarding you. Not a soul from limbo will come within a foot of you right now because your children find lost souls delicious. They keep limbo clean, well, as clean as they can. There’s always a new soul popping up, always something to eat.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, growing impatient.

“You’ll see.”

Suddenly, a house appears before us—a small cabin standing alone in the vast nothingness. I try to pull Moria away, but she clings harder, her legs digging painfully into my shoulder.

“Ouch, Moria, what the hell?” I wince.

“Moria’s just doing her job,” Tabatha explains, turning to face me. “You’re vulnerable in limbo. That’s the one place you weren’t covered, and it’s where you died.”

“I died because worthless humans shot an arrow through my heart,” I retort bitterly.

“No,” Tabatha counters. “You died because humans broke your heart.”

She studies me, her head tilting slightly. “You are such a strange witch. I’ve watched you for centuries, always begging and only getting scraps.”

A grin spreads across her face. “I saw the argument Amari posed to you—that you always take the bare minimum from humans and supernaturals. You are a queen, Carla. It is beneath you to beg.”

I glare at her. “What the hell do you know? You haven’t suffered just for being who you are.”

Tabatha gestures at the endless void surrounding us. “Look around, Carla. This has been my prison. Don’t talk to me about suffering.”

My mouth snaps shut at that. I look down at Kemnebi, then back to the cabin. “What is this door?”

“The doorway back home,” Tabatha replies.

“You aren’t ready for your true position,” she adds.

“And what is that?” I demand.

“To be the Queen of this realm.”

“What about the veil?” I ask.

“The veil will stay in place until you’re ready.”

Frustration bubbles up inside me. “Ready for what?”

“You were born to be a guardian,” Tabatha says simply.

“Yes, I know that,” I respond impatiently. “To protect Anora.”

Tabatha shakes her head, her braids shifting with the movement. “Your job is not to protect Anora. It’s to protect the realms should Anora get out of line.”

“What are you saying?”

“You are the guardian of limbo,” she says. “And it is a dangerous position to have.”

She gives me a hard look. “I’ve been watching, and I’ve seen you be reckless. You’ve let humans take two of your children and a sample of your blood. Giving humans access to limbo is worse than giving them access to the tree of life.”

“Why do they want access to limbo so badly?” I ask again.

“Humans have a strange obsession with the afterlife,” Tabatha explains. “They feel if they can control it, they can control who lives and who dies. Your children made a deal with me, to protect limbo even if it means keeping you in the shadows.”

“If they don’t lift the veil, I’ll never know love,” I protest. “I can’t claim my mate under this veil.”

“It’s a small price to pay for the living realm,” Tabatha says coldly.

Anger flares up inside me. “Why did you give me this power? To make me some sacrificial lamb?”

“Because Fate chose you, that’s why,” Tabatha replies.

“I was waiting for the humans to kill you—it was the only way the spell would work. I’d been watching you, watching you beg for a place in this world.

” Her expression softens slightly. “Carla, you don’t have to beg.

You were born a Queen. When you realize that, that is when the veil will lift.

It is not your children holding you back.

” She points directly at me. “It is you. Stop begging to sit with people who are beneath you. You have a throne. They do not.”

“You knew those humans were going to kill me and you let them?” I ask, incredulous.

“I’ve been watching you a long time,” Tabatha says, her voice softening.

“How do you think your adoptive mother found you? You appeared in that cot out of thin air. You were born in my coven after the prayer. We thought you were our savior. We placed you with humanity and watched you grow out of safety.”

She pauses, her gaze distant as if looking into the past. “Aya was hunting us, and we knew she’d kill you if she found out you were an answered prayer. But as I watched you grow, I realized you weren’t that prayer at all. You were something else. A guardian.”

Her eyes focus on me again, intense and sincere.

“It was then I knew that Fate was just giving me someone to pass the key onto. That I wouldn’t be in the living realm much longer.

I knew you’d be stronger if you died first and I brought you back.

You could absorb the key along with your children.

And I would be here until you accepted your fate as Queen of limbo. ”

She throws her hands up in exasperation. “You’re still not ready.”

“I don’t know...” I begin, uncertainty weighing down my words.

Tabatha approaches, but Moria and Kemnebi both hiss at her, causing her to stop. She looks down at them with a smile.

“You’re doing your job. Good children. Protect your mother no matter what.” She looks back at me. “I don’t want the position. I just want to be free from limbo, and I can’t until you accept yourself for who you are.”

“I just want Amari and to have a happy life,” I say, my voice small.

“That was never your life,” Tabatha replies firmly. “Your life is to be the queen of limbo. Even Amari knows you’re queen —only you don’t know that. And that man is already making sacrifices for you. But what sacrifices are you making for him?”

“What will it cost if I embrace who I am?” I ask quietly.

“You wouldn’t lose Amari, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Tabatha assures me. “That damn vampire is willing to stay here in limbo with you—he loves you that much.”

I look down at Moria, still determined to protect my heart.

“I wish I had such companions while I was in the living realm,” Tabatha says softly. “It would have given me a fighting chance. But the key was never meant for me to keep forever. It was meant for you.”

She pushes open the door to the cabin and steps aside. Kemnebi immediately runs through.

“Go home,” Tabatha says.

“Thank you,” I tell her, “for giving me life again.”

Tabatha shakes her head. “No, do not thank me. Being a Queen on this level will require you to make decisions that will hurt you to the core. But when you officially take the throne, Wintermoon won’t have much to worry for anymore.

Because you’ll be fighting battles for them forever—a thankless job that I know they’ll never come to appreciate. ”

I start to step forward but pause, a realization hitting me. “My children are protecting Anora’s son.”

Tabatha smiles at me. “Ah yes, those thankless battles.”

She groans. “I’ve got more time in limbo than I thought,” she mutters. “I was hoping when you came to me, you’d be ready. But you’re just as lost as when I found you.”

I glare at her but don’t respond.

“When you’re ready, the veil will lift,” Tabatha says. “Not before.”

With a sigh, I walk through the doorway, only to be consumed by a bright light so intense that it forces my eyes open.

I blink, disoriented. Moria is no longer clutched against me. Instead, I’m in Amari’s arms, cradled against him like something precious.

“Hi,” I say weakly.

Amari narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t ever leave me like that again.”

“Sorry,” I murmur, but then I hear screams that make me sit up alert, my eyes finally focusing on the scene across the room.

Angie is on a table, yelling at Moria who’s hissing back at her ferociously.

“These motherfucking spiders, goddammit!” Angie screams.

I sigh and fall back into Amari’s arms, just staring into his eyes. They’re so deep, so full of concern and relief and something else—something that makes my heart race despite my exhaustion.

“Did you get any good news?” he asks softly.

“It was a message from Tabatha,” I reply. “A cryptic one.”

“Can you take me home?” I ask, suddenly desperate to be away from here, to be alone with him.

Amari stands up with me in his arms, then looks to Angie, grinning as Jacob picks her up from the table and throws her over his shoulder.

Jacob points at Moria. “Bad girl. Stop scaring my mate.”

Angie starts beating Jacob’s back. “Don’t take her fucking side! These monsters need to be put in a cage.”

I groan, “Moria...”

Amari’s voice takes on a commanding tone. “Moria, get down and go home.”

To everyone’s surprise, Moria listens immediately without any argument. Damon, Kade, Anora, and Selene stare in awe, then look at Amari with newfound respect.

“That is enough for tonight,” Amari announces. “I’m taking her home. Let’s reconnect in a couple of days to go over what Carla’s learned in limbo.”

Anora nods but narrows her eyes at me for a moment before teleporting away. Kade, Damon, and Selene just stare at each other while Angie continues fussing in the background.

“Wintermoon is getting fucking weird,” Kade says, shaking her head. “Real weird, and that’s saying a lot for a supernatural community.”

Damon just grins at her, and I close my eyes, letting Amari’s strength support me as the reality of my situation sinks in.

Queen of Limbo. Guardian of the realms.

Tabatha’s words stay with me: Stop begging to sit with people who are beneath you. You have a throne. They do not.