Page 176 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts

The Queen’s serpentine gaze burned through her neck. “Give me the necklace and the watch!” Amelia remained perfectly still, as motionless as a statue. “Sevar!”

He advanced towards Amelia, his grin widening.

“Fine. I’ll give them to you,” she said before he could touch her.

He eyed her like she was prey stolen from under his nose by a bigger predator. “It’s a shame you’re so quick to surrender.”

The Queen snorted. “Don’t regret it, son. She’s far too tasteless for your preferences. Come on, foolish girl! Hand over the Sacreds if you want those poor creatures in the building to survive the night.”

Amelia stepped forward.

“No,” the Queen ordered her. “Place them on the ground.”

Amelia hesitated – deliberately – but as her fingers moved to the necklace, the twisting in her stomach was all too real. The necklace burned against her trembling hands.

“Leave them,” the Queen repeated, her voice cold and imperious.

Bending down, Amelia set the two artefacts on the ground. It was like being stripped bare – every ounce of her strength and her defences was torn away and replaced with a crushing vulnerability.

The Queen glided towards the Sacreds with the composed confidence of someone who didn’t doubt their victory. With the necklace no longer adorning Amelia’s neck, she appearedunguarded, almost relaxed. Hecate’s Mirror glinted in her hand, and with the other, she reached out, fingers curling with slow intent towards the pocket watch.

Her expression stayed neutral, but just before she bent down, excitement flickered in her eyes – a gleam that betrayed the thrill of claiming what she had long coveted.

Amelia’s mind raced as Renenutet’s words echoed in her memory.

‘Be careful. A name is a weapon.’

That was not a random warning. Not among a race that created artefacts controlled by names.

Summoning every ounce of her resolve, Amelia moved forward and pressed her palm onto the Queen’s golden head, as though bestowing a blessing. And like a bullet, the words shot from her lips. “Prenatheia, daughter of Gord and Priyanka, I command you to hand over the Seven Sacreds voluntarily, then gather your soldiers, return to Antambazi, and never again leave the realm. Remove all obstacles to the regeneration of immortal species and seek peace for the rest of your life.”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. The world seemed to hold its breath. The wind fell silent. Amelia’s lungs froze. In her peripheral vision, Sevar stood as if turned to stone. For a moment, it was only her and the Queen.

For several agonising seconds, nothing happened.

It might have worked. Maybe…

A sharp screech pierced the silence – an enraged cry that shattered the stillness. The Queen sprang to her feet, her gloved hand striking Amelia’s face with enough force to send her sprawling to the ground.

Amelia’s heart clenched with terror as she raised her hand to her throbbing, bloodied lip. Her fingers brushed the spot where something hard had struck – Mikhail’s ring, hidden beneath the Queen’s glove.

Looking up, Amelia saw the Queen’s twisted expression, her eyes blazing with seething fury. “Did you really think I wouldn’t see through this little trick with my name? The trouble with such magic is that it might have worked – until I had this.” She waved Hecate’s Mirror in the air, the polished surface catching the faint light.

She swivelled around to face Sevar. “You’ll have the chance to entertain yourself, after all. Tie her up! Dawn is near, and I intend to prepare for the connection of the Sacreds.”

Sevar approached Amelia with a predator’s grin as she struggled to suppress the rising dread in her chest. He quickly restrained her hands and legs with ropes. Meanwhile, the Queen clasped the necklace around her own neck.

Amelia swallowed the lump in her throat. The only thing left for her to do – to ensure their victory – was to activate the Sacreds.

63

Amelia

Amelia knelt in the grass, her ankles and wrists bound tightly behind her back.

The Sacreds were coming to life. The serpents on the necklace started to move, twisting as if engaged in a passionate dance. The strands of the net wound around the Queen’s arm, while the quartz at her neckline glowed, emitting tendrils of smoke that curled towards her collarbones. The dark fabric of her gloves shifted, deepening to the crimson hue of fresh blood, their surface shimmering with a scaly, lustrous texture. Beneath one glove, a bright light pulsed – the ring.

The Queen raised the mirror before her face, studying the iridescent colours swirling in the glass with a curious expression. Her attention then shifted to the pocket watch, its dial alive with the same vivid energy it displayed when it had sent Amelia to Renenutet. The Queen herself radiated light, connected by threads of power that stretched between the Sacreds, weaving her into a dazzling, otherworldly figure.