Page 84 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts (Hospital for Immortal Creatures #3)

The masked man grabbed her shoulder and shoved her onto the path cleared by the agents. She flew forward, her body hitting the ground with pain shooting through her elbows and knees.

“Amelia!” Mikhail rushed towards her, but the agents encircled him, blocking his path.

“I said alone ,” the masked man growled.

Amelia scrambled to her feet, her eyes widening at the beasts trapping Mikhail. “Leave him!”

The masked man lunged at her and wrapped his arm around her torso like a vise, stealing her breath. “Tear him apart!” he ordered the agents.

The pack closed in on Mikhail.

Amelia kicked and screamed, but that didn’t stop the masked man from dragging her away.

Only the impulse to destroy the Queen kept her from the burning desire to unleash her necrosis and turn the masked man into black remnants.

And even though everything was going according to their plan, her cries were genuine.

Mikhail didn’t know it, but they would probably never see each other again.

The weight of that realisation made her scream with all her might.

Growls and shrieks filled the night. Mikhail will manage. I have to do the same.

As the tree canopies thinned, the massive bulk of the Hospital loomed against the sky.

Amelia braced herself for what lay ahead, but the sight struck her harder than she’d expected.

The entire facade, with its arches and towering columns, teemed with harpies.

They perched like gargoyle statues, their glossy black wings occasionally shifting – a subtle, menacing reminder they were alive and poised to strike.

Her heart was heavy, but her resolve remained unshaken. With each step closer, a sharp current coursed through her body, electrifying every nerve.

The masked man’s claws dug into her shoulder, forcing her to halt. “You don’t want the magical barrier to fry you, do you, blondie?” he growled, pulling a black stone from a pouch on his chest. “Let’s move.”

He guided her through the gate, keeping her close to his side.

Once inside, he turned back, stepping between the two metal pillars to usher in two lycanthropes who’d followed them along the path.

Once the agents crossed, they reverted to their human forms. Amelia glanced at their blank faces and noted the simple black clothing they had layered to endure the transformation.

The masked man lunged at one of the agents with startling speed for his bulky frame and pushed him towards the gate.

The unseen threads of magic latched onto the agent’s body, as if eagerly anticipating a feast. His body went rigid, his lips unable to scream.

His hair bristled, the barrier crackled, and the magic seared him alive.

Then, as if dissatisfied, the barrier spat his charred corpse onto the courtyard.

“It’s always smart to double-check after a disruption,” the masked man remarked, a note of satisfaction in his voice.

Amelia’s gaze dropped to the lifeless body.

A magical barrier.

Presiyan had told them – the only means of disabling it lay with his traitor.

Her pulse quickened. Mikhail and the others stood no chance of breaking through the magical barrier. They couldn’t breach the Hospital.

She… was all alone.

Her hands trembled as she faced the courtyard. Beneath the glow of a tall lamppost by the building’s entrance, the Queen waited, her form shrouded in shadow.

***

Mikhail

He was following the plan to lure the agents into the trap.

But it wasn’t just the rush before battle – something deeper was twisting inside him, driving his pulse into a jagged, painful rhythm. At first, Mikhail couldn’t decipher it.

While he was racing through the forest, fragments of the past few days fell into place, fitting together like pieces of a grim puzzle.

‘But if this is my last night alive, I want to spend it with you.’

The memory of Amelia’s parting words hit him hard. The way she had looked at him, the raw sincerity of her scream, and the heavy hopelessness that lingered afterwards.

Those weren’t the actions of someone expecting to return. It was a goodbye.

The realisation almost made him stumble. His steps wavered, and his pace slowed. Cold sweat drenched him.

Amelia wouldn’t survive the activation of the Sacreds. She’d lied.

The signs had been there – the subtle avoidance of his gaze when she claimed the necklace would protect her, the slight twitch of her lips, and the unwavering determination etched into her face.

Now that he had his memories of her, he could interpret her micro-expressions and the stories they revealed.

Amelia was planning to sacrifice herself.

With the taste of her still on his lips and her voice echoing in his mind, another truth struck him. It had been easy to push her away when she was just inches from him – when he could still reach out and pretend it wasn’t final.

Now, with a different reality threatening to take hold…

No matter what he’d told her in the car, he didn’t want a world she wasn’t part of.

A surge of fury rekindled his strength. He forced his manticore form to push harder, hurtling through the forest. Behind him, the traitors of the Tribunal chased.

They had taken their regeneration serum and fuelled themselves on the enthusiasm of fresh recruits, but this was his domain.

No one – absolutely no one – could defeat him here.

He moved like a shadow across the terrain, navigating every stone, root, and tangled thicket with instinctive precision.

He knew the forest’s secrets – where the trunks grew too close for even the largest transformed bodies to pass, and where gnarled roots coiled above ground. Perfect traps for the careless.

He realised he was close when he leapt over the crumpled body of a soldier in camouflage.

Shadows flickered around him as Presiyan’s subordinates emerged, silent and precise.

Unlike the cocky, newly transformed immortals, these agents were equipped with silenced rifles and sharp swords designed for swift decapitation.

Mikhail didn’t wait for the gunfire to begin. He spun and fastened his jaws around the neck of a lycanthrope, the bones cracking beneath his bite.

The plan was straightforward: lure the agents into weaker, less well-defended lowland areas where they could be neutralised.

Rage had sharpened his instincts, and the terror that clawed at his chest drove him harder. He wasn’t fighting for revenge any longer. He was fighting against time – racing to reach the Hospital before it was too late.

***

Amelia

The Queen was a vision from another world – a humanid beauty in a black dress with a lace bodice and a mermaid-style skirt, as if she were heading to a ball rather than to unleash Pandora’s box.

The Hospital loomed behind her, a powerless and silent witness, while the harpies clung to its walls like vultures biding their time.

Beside her, her loyal dog, Sevar, radiated smug confidence. Dressed in an elegant suit, he watched Amelia’s approach with the sly grin of a python about to strike.

The closer Amelia drew, the more the details sharpened.

Belphegor’s Gloves adorned the Queen’s hands.

The Shifting Net rested under her left shoulder.

Hecate’s Mirror shimmered, held in her right hand.

Although Amelia couldn’t yet see the Manticore’s Ring or the Smoky Quartz, their presence called to her – they were hidden, but not absent.

The ring was probably concealed under the glove, and the stone…

somewhere beneath the flowing fabric of the Queen’s dress.

Preni. Prenatheia.

Reptilians circled the courtyard, ready to strike. However, in the centre, there was no one else except the three of them.

The necklace seared Amelia’s neck, its heat a constant, stinging reminder of the power it carried.

She resisted the urge to clutch it, to reassure herself that she still had control.

The pocket watch in her fist remained silent, its stillness almost mocking, yet it reminded her she held more than one trump card.

Prenatheia , she whispered in her mind.

Prenatheia, echoed the wind through her hair.

Prenatheia, gleamed the moon above.

‘Be careful. A name is a weapon.’

“The Oracle of the Sacreds!” the Queen’s voice rang out, her tone dripping with disdain. “To this day, I can’t understand why the gods chose such an unremarkable creature like you for such a crucial task.”

Amelia stopped in front of her and Sevar.

“Well?” the Queen continued with an acidic smirk. “Have you finally realised how futile all your pathetic attempts to outmanoeuvre me have been?”

Amelia studied the Queen’s beautiful yet alien features – features she had never truly examined before.

The pointed chin that tapered too sharply, cheekbones that sliced into knife-like edges, and ears that were reminiscent of a human’s.

“At least I don’t pretend to be someone else. I am what I am.”

“And what does that matter? In the end, you’re still here – all alone and ready to bow to me.”

Amelia lifted her chin. “I’m here because of your threat. Not to bow to you. I’ll hand over the Sacreds, and in exchange, you’ll release the Hospital and every creature inside it.”

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 appeared unguarded, 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.