Page 2 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts

But how many times could he die and resurrect before it destroyed his sanity?

Once –if –he managed to get back to Amelia, would he be anything more than a feral beast?

2

Amelia

Amelia was confined within the cavity of an enormous, oppressive heart. Not one of those charming, cheerful hearts from a schoolgirl’s notebook, but the authentic kind depicted in anatomical atlases. The analogy was inevitable – after all, a year ago, the anatomy atlas had been her most trusted companion.

She harboured no illusions that her suffering could be healed bythisheart–her new reality as the Queen’s guest in Antambazi.

Mahogany ceilings, arched like inverted crescents. Bronze curtains, woven with crimson veins, obscured her view of the outside world. Around the tables, reptilian figures in formal attire lounged, draped in ruby-red cloths. Scarlet, nearly raw meat lay on their plates, while massive golden goblets – enchanted to enhance the potency of their wine – helped wash down the grisly feast.

She often caught furtive glances in her direction, but dismissed them with a neutral expression. Few of the reptilians had ever encountered a creature different from their own kind. Here, she was an alien presence, burdened with the heavy task of survival – of preserving her own heart.

An elegant gown. A painted face. A carefully measured smile. None could tell that such a polished façade concealed anger, insult, tears. Love.

As if to mock all she mourned, angelic voices from the singers filled the grand hall with melodies more sorrowful than death itself. The music, though sad, possessed an enchantingallure. Some men drew their partners onto the centre of the dance floor, gliding to the rhythm.

They resembled ordinary beings, captivated by the music, until… they transformed, as though they were performing a well-rehearsed choreography. Their reptilian forms were not much larger than their human ones. Their formal garments remained on their bodies, and shoes encased their feet. However, reptilian markings appeared on their faces, hands, and, for the women, above their décolletage. The skin beneath these spots ranged in colour from murky yellow to venomous green and woody brown. Their human features became lizard-like, with flattened noses and glossy scalps, many devoid of hair.

An entire race of beings, unknown to the rest of the world. A hidden reality concealed just a step away from the small town of Malko Tarnovo, in Bulgaria.

Amelia’s pulse quickened as recent events flashed through her mind.Thump-thump. Mikhail, kneeling at the Queen’s feet.Thump-thump. The reptilians, shoving her into a luxurious limousine, leaving her unable to glance back without giving herself away.Thump-thump. Travelling along desolate roads deep within the Strandzha Mountains while the Mother of Reptilians explained that the shadow beneath the intertwining crowns of two black alders was a portal to the hidden realm of Antambazi.

Breathe, breathe!

Amelia had mastered the art of calming her heartbeat through breathing techniques, but still had no idea how to end the nightmare she was stuck in.

She scanned the ballroom, attempting to count how many reptilians were within its walls. At least two hundred. And these were merely the most esteemed citizens of this realm – the residents of the Circle of Arius. Beyond this elite group, Antambazi contained the Middlehoud, the Low, andthe suburbs. From what she had overheard from the palace’s younger residents, the lower the quarter, the more populous its inhabitants.

It was not the number of reptilians that fed her fears, but rather the time she had spent in Antambazi without finding a way to help Mikhail. Five agonising days. Days filled with guilt and incessant reflection on missed chances. Days of soul-tearing self-reproach. Days of panic that she barely managed to suppress.

The Queen had admitted she was holding Mikhail prisoner in her dungeon until she devised something ‘more fitting’ for him. Her vague statement had conjured a series of nightmarish scenarios in Amelia’s mind.

“Will you dance with me, Oracle?” The man sitting beside her – Sevar, one of the Queen’s Chosen – extended his hand. The fact that he was aware of Mikhail’s whereabouts had her wanting to grab the heavy goblet from the table and smash it over his head.

She was tempted to send him to Hell. But the past months had taught her that words were empty bullets, to be fired only if you held a blade… and were ready to use it afterwards. She had no blade, nor any other weapon.

Feigning interest in the dance floor, she said, “No, thank you.”

The scent of musk and vanilla drifted into her nostrils, causing her throat to tighten. Sevar’s glare burned her profile, but she kept her focus on the magical display of ruby tailcoats and mourning dresses swirling beneath the central arch.

“You’ll grow accustomed to our traditions in due time.” Sevar wasn’t abandoning his attempts at conversation, and the evening had just begun. Perhaps spending the evenings in her room, freaking out over her inability to do anything about Mikhail, wasn’t as bad as the current situation.

She bit the inside of her lip and summoned all her willpower to appear cordial as she turned her head towards Sevar. “Of course.”

He smiled, the smooth skin around his eyes remaining free of even the faintest wrinkle. Tonight, he had traded his elegant daily suit for a black shirt adorned with a jabot, matching trousers, and a deep crimson tailcoat embroidered with gold-threaded details.

“In the earthly realm, death is an end, but in Antambazi, it’s akin to a birthday,” he said.

Amelia crossed her legs beneath the translucent fabric of her gown. The bodice, sharing the same cobalt blue as her skirts, featured a V-shaped neckline and clung to her torso like a gigantic snake coiled around her. “Death is a celebration? Is that why you use a serum against impaired regeneration – to shield yourself from it?”

At last, he withdrew his hand. “I don’t use a serum. And you dislike me, Oracle.”

“Perceptive of you. I understand why the Queen chose you as her right hand.”

Sevar chuckled. “You have no idea why she chose me, but you will, soon enough. Now, excuse me, love. If I’m not to teach you to dance, I have other matters to attend to.” He rose from his seat. Before leaving, he leaned in close to her ear. “The Queen may trust you, but I don’t. Either you convince me you’re deserving of her faith, orIwill convince the Queen the only thing you deserve is to follow the manticore to the ritual pyre.”