Page 48

M.I.A

I was born to rule, trained to kill, feared by most.

And still… It wasn't enough.

I realised too late; power is a fragile thing. You don't realise how empty it is until it shatters in your hands, and you're left bleeding in the dark with nothing to hold onto.

I'd only ever felt that weakness twice in my life.

The first time I was too young, too innocent to understand the weight of the world. Too soft to know that monsters don't always hide in shadows. And when they took my brother, all I could do was watch while he screamed.

I thought if only I had been stronger. If only I hadn't hidden behind that tree as he fought for his life. If only…

I knelt before my mother. It was a statement in itself; I was a Royal Princess, and I bowed to no one. But one night, I knelt before my mother and I vowed, "I'll get strong. I'll avenge him. I swear on my soul, Mother."

She didn't react. She was already dead inside.

But the second time was unexpected. I didn't expect my world to collapse around me as the Nightwalkers tore apart my husband, and Ricci Gonzalas laughed over his corpse.

He was only there because I wanted to kill Ricci. Because of my promise to my mother. I thought if I dropped Ricci's severed head at her feet, then perhaps my family could heal from what he had broken so many years ago.

And it was there, as Ricci prepared to kill me, that the Gods had made me their oracle.

Oracles have no place in the world. We're not leaders, or soldiers, or even mortal in the eyes of most. We're vessels—empty of self so the Gods can pour themselves in.

Our bodies, our actions, our words belong to them. We exist to channel their power, to secure their dominion over humanity.

But that's the price I choose to pay—for power. For revenge.

"Should I be concerned?" A familiar voice drawls. I flick my gaze to Maya Crux, my twin, and my opposite in every way.

"Why?"

"Not that I don't like having you here, little sister, but I have a better chance at inviting the Gods to a tea party than to get you to come to your own brother's memorial," Maya says, her eyes sharp and spitting fire.

I blow an annoyed breath. "I was busy."

"That's what you say every year." I roll my eyes, not the least bit threatened by the bite in her tone. "So, are you going to talk, or would you prefer to mope around the place and set a bad example to my soldiers?"

"How am I setting a bad example?"

"Well, you're a hot-shot Oracle with God-like powers, and your fucking pouting." Maya narrows her eyes, and demands, "So, talk, little sister. You know I'll get it out of you eventually."

She won't. She hasn't been able to since I became an Oracle, or perhaps it was when I had lost my husband. I don't know. I do know there was a time she felt the exact moment I scraped my knee in the garden; she ran six hundred miles to make sure I was okay. We were ten.

Apart of me misses that— us.

"Riot and I are in a disagreement," I lie. I'm not mad, at least not since last night when he asked me to keep my distance from the castle. I knew instantly it wasn't because I had disobeyed him. He was protecting me from something… Someone.

I wanted to refuse. I wanted to demand to be part of whatever he was planning. But I hesitated. We had fought together long before the Gods interfered. Bled for each other many times… but I hesitated.

Something has shifted in Riot; something I hoped I'd never see again.

I brushed it off at first—it was nothing. It had to be nothing. But he almost killed Damien. He almost broke the loyalty sworn between them. And I don't know what pissed me of more; his recklessness or that he did it all for that abomination .

"Well, I figured that much out." Maya sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "But fine… Keep your secrets. Since you're too occupied to train my soldiers, go up and eat something. You look pale. We'll talk after."

My throat tightens. I force it down, but the weight doesn't move. If one thing could have stopped me from becoming an Oracle and selling my soul, it would have been my twin.

I hate disappointing her. I hate that we're not as close as we used to be.

I glance at the Imperial soldiers, side-by-side with my sister. We always trained them together, always one.

Now it feels like we couldn't be further apart.

Their leather armour is torn and scuffed, skin streaked with sweat and soot, eyes dull with exhaustion but never without focus. There's still fight in them, barely. My sister's been training them well. Too well. They look like they're on the verge of collapse.

Not that the conditions help.

We're deep beneath the Silver Palace, where the air stinks of sulphur and sweat. Where the stone walls bleed heat, and the earth groans like its alive.

Lava seeps through jagged cracks in the rock, casting the cavern in a pulsing, red glow.

It spits and hisses with every movement, like it's starving.

The floor is scorched black, split with trenches carved by rivers of fire, and lined with ash that never settles.

Every breath here feels like a punishment.

"They're your best soldiers, aren't they?" I ask, watching them through narrowed eyes. Maya hums in response, arms folded, gaze unblinking. "Shouldn't their bodies and minds be familiar to these conditions by now?"

"The cavern isn't what's breaking them." She doesn't look at me when she answers, her voice low, almost amused.

I turn to ask what she means—but then I see it.

A shimmer sparks in the centre of the cavern. It was brief, fractured, like a glitch in reality. Then, it begins to take shape. Bit by bit, the figure pulls itself together.

And then, it solidifies.

I gasp.

It's an Ashbark.

A nightmare born in the Black Zone. Tall. Skeletal. Its bark-charred skin cracked open to reveal glowing veins of ember that pulse with heat.

The air bends around it—too hot, too dry. Ash rains from its body like black snow, and every breath it takes is a rasping groan, as if the forest it once belonged to still screams inside its hollow chest.

But it's the eyes that stop me cold—gold and unnaturally bright in the cavern. Not warm. Not alive. Just hungry.

"Relax," Maya reassures me. "It's not real."

I release a breath and whisper, "I know."

I do know. I've fought these monsters before, and while it looks real, not even the humans and their amazing technology can mimic an Ashbark’s power . To even stand in its line of sight would be paralysing.

The soldiers move in formation, blades drawn, breath tight. They circle the Ashbark cautiously, but it moves faster than something made of dead wood should—jerking, lashing, carving through the air with a shriek.

One soldier lunges. The creature meets him mid-strike, claws flashing, striking deep into his side. He drops with a choked scream, and the ash-covered beast turns to the next without pause. "How is that possible?"

"Their armour," Maya answers, her jaw clenched, and her eyes narrowed. "It sends out electric pulses to my men when the Ashbark touches them."

The soldiers keep coming—relentless, wordless. Each blow they land splits bark and sends splinters flying, but it's not enough. The Ashbark doesn't seem to be slowing down; its severed limbs keep reforming, and its fire-fuelled veins pulse with the heat of its rage.

But as relentless as they are, I know without a shadow of doubt, if this was real—they'd all be dead.

Its golden eyes shift then, locking onto a soldier.

She stands near the edge of the trench filled with lava, blade trembling in her grip, blood slicking one arm where she'd landed on a large boulder.

She's smaller than the others, slower, too, and there's a stiffness in the way she moves—a limp she's trying to hide. But that isn't what makes me pause.

I know her.

"Princess Luna Imperium," I murmur quietly. Unsure if my eyes are deceiving me, but my sister’s shoulders stiffen from beside me, and I know I'm right. I glare at Maya, and seethe, "What the hell is she doing here?!"

"Relax." Maya rolls her eyes. "She only wants to train."

My eyes practically bulge out of my head. Has my sister gone mad?!

The species don't train together, not ever. Apart from the Royals, they don't interact, either. But that isn't the most pressing concern here. "Do I need to remind you her father was murdered on your District? During your event. In your home."

Maya glares at me. "Do you expect me to just turn her away?! She claims her mother is too soft on her."

"Yes! Her mother—Queen of District 1—is on a killing spree to find the thing that killed her husband. And right now, your lands are Ground Zero. Are the consequences really worth it if her only daughter and heir die on your watch?"

Maya bites her tongue; she knows I'm right. Instead, she asks, "Are you going to help my soldiers or not?"

I huff, annoyed, and I press my palms together, fingers trembling as I draw a breath thick with smoke and heat. My voice is a whisper at first; ancient words that aren't mine, carved into my bones by the Gods themselves.

"Prayer."

The ground hums beneath me. The air shivers. And then—they answer.

Power floods through me, pouring into my chest, filling every vein, every hollow corner of my soul. My eyes burn. My breath catches. I can feel her— all of her—speaking through me, burning through me.

The Goddess of the moon is too much, too big, for a body that was once mortal.

My skin cracks with silver light, but I don't scream. I can't. There is no room for fear, no space for pain. Only divine will.

I pull my hands apart, and the power stretches between them—pure, molten light forged into form. A blade born of divinity. Its edges gleam like moonlight on steel, humming with power. With purpose.

Then I vanish. I become a ripple in the air, a shimmer of divine presence, unseen and untraceable. Gone completely from sight.

The Ashbark turns, its golden eyes scanning, searching—but it's too late.

I move.

One step forward, silent and invisible, then a slash. Clean. Final. Absolute. The blade slices through its chest, right where it matters, through the one thing it can't restore—its heart.

The Ashbark shudders. Cracks split its form—then it collapses.

I reappear, hovering above the scorched floor, Selene's power still humming beneath my skin.

Below me, the soldiers stare—jaws slack, eyes wide, too stunned to blink.

"The heart," I say, voice cold, unshaken, "that's its weakness."

But the lesson isn't over.

The simulation rises again, bones of bark knitting back together. This time, I don't move to kill it.

My eyes connect with my twin. She nods once.

I bring my hands together, and power thrums through me anew. A smile curves my lips as the soldiers begin to stiffen, their instincts already screaming.

"You've had it easy until now," I murmur, as divine energy floods into the Ashbark, igniting the power technology couldn't mimic.

"The Ashbark isn't just a monster in form. It's true power is fear."

The monster's golden eyes snap open, burning brighter than before.

The soldiers tremble.

"Overcome fear…" I say softly, staring down at them as the Ashbark growls, "and you'll slay the monster."