Page 59 of Crowned In Venom

59

VARKOS

T he palace is falling apart.

The walls tremble, the very foundation groaning like a dying beast. Magic ripples through the air, unstable and violent, the remnants of the Matriarch’s unholy power devouring everything in its wake.

I barely have time to react before the throne room erupts into chaos.

The very place she ruled from, the seat of her power, is crumbling under her destruction.

The moment my blade struck her, I felt the shift—felt the magic unravel.

And now, it is taking everything down with it.

The Matriarch is dead.

But her vengeance lingers in the ruin she leaves behind.

The shadows that once obeyed her now turn to chaos, writhing through the corridors like starving creatures seeking flesh. Chunks of the ceiling break free, crashing down in massive slabs of stone, shattering into dust and rubble.

"Anya!"

I reach for her, yanking her toward me just as a section of the ceiling comes loose above her. The stone slams into the floor where she stood moments before, a cloud of debris choking the air.

Her face is pale, sweat-soaked. The ritual took so much from her.

"We have to go!" I shout.

She nods, but her legs nearly buckle.

I catch her.

No. No, no, not now.

I hoist her up, cradling her against my chest. She gasps, clutching at my tunic, but she doesn’t fight me.

I run.

Kareth screams at us to follow him, gesturing but I lose sight of him.

The corridors are hell.

The once-grand palace is becoming a graveyard.

Fires spread from the collapsed torches, devouring curtains and furniture, filling the halls with thick, choking smoke. The bodies of the Matriarch’s loyalists—her guards, her mages—litter the floor, dead or dying.

And yet some still fight.

Her most devoted warriors, the ones still clinging to a power that no longer exists.

I see one ahead, a dark-elf commander still shouting orders even as the palace caves in around him.

He turns—sees me carrying Anya.

His lips curl, rage twisting his face.

"You—"

I don’t let him finish.

I unsheathe my dagger with one hand and throw it.

The blade sinks into his throat.

He gurgles, clutching at the wound as his legs give out beneath him.

We don’t stop.

We don’t look back.

Everything is collapsing.

Kareth’s men have taken the outer courtyards. I can hear their battle cries, their war drums.

The Matriarch’s reign is over.

I don’t know when I cross into the open air, but suddenly, the smoke thins, the burning palace behind us, the sky above a deep crimson, painted with the fires of war.

The battle is nearly won.

The rebels have seized control.

It is over.

The implication of it slams into my chest.

I turn to Anya.

She is barely conscious.

"Anya?" I shake her gently. Her head lolls against my shoulder.

Too pale. Too still.

No. No, not after everything. Not after we survived.

"Stay with me."

She doesn’t respond.

Fear grips me and I panic.

Suddenly, a hand grabs my arm. I look at up and I see the Ghost without its cloak.

He smiles and says, “She just fainted. Don’t worry.”

Kareth appears, looking worse for wear but grinning. “She’s over. Forever.”