Page 48

CAMI

I nto the creepy-as-fuck palace I go, I thought as I crept up the stairs. Because it’s totally normal to know where I’m going in a place I’ve never been before .

There was probably a rule I should be thinking about, but I couldn’t exactly go back now. Not when I was this close to learning what power was drawing me here. And who…

The hallways were vacant, but the scent of decaying roses lingered in the air. Not the most inviting aroma. Yet it drew me forward, my flat shoes silent against the marbled ground.

Actually, no.

My steps… weren’t silent. They seemed to whisper along the floor, the sound echoing softly in my ears. Which was strange. I’m not dragging my feet, so why…?

I slowly stopped walking, the line of thinking trailing off as the sound continued to float around me. I’d just traversed the stairs alone. There’d been nothing around me. Nothing behind me. So where is that noise coming from?

Turning, I searched the space for the source and found nothing but dying candles and dusty mantels.

My eyes narrowed. Because the whispering remained. Maybe I can’t see it…

That thought suggested this might be another mirage, a consideration that had my gaze narrowing even more. Because fuck this. And fuck Vivaxia.

I started toward my quarry again—that beacon of energy that warmed all my senses—just to pause as a gust of frigid air hit me from behind. Accompanied by that sound…

Spinning around, I tried to catch the cause of it but only found the soft flickering of candlelight once more. My jaw clenched. Either a ghost was playing with me, or I’d missed some sort of opening.

Like a portal, I thought, scanning the bare walls for clues.

My father had taught me all about those, how they could blend into anything, especially in the Hell Fae Realm. There were codes that activated hidden ones, too. But some didn’t require passwords at all. It just depended on where the portal led.

Tiptoeing backward, I listened for that raspy sound again and froze when a breeze ruffled my hair. Frowning, I followed the source of that airflow to a mirrorlike shimmer coming from the top of the staircase—a mirrorlike shimmer that hadn’t been there when I’d ascended moments ago.

It blinked out of existence as I approached, only to appear once more as soon as I stood in front of it.

My lips parted at the image on the other side, the familiar face one that seemed to make the stone in my hand pulse. Or maybe it was my own heartbeat coming through as I gripped the rock tighter than I should.

But I couldn’t help it.

Because it was my mother staring back at me, mouthing something I couldn’t hear.

After a beat, she held up her hand and pressed it to the mirror.

I studied it warily.

This was absolutely a trick, some sort of distraction from where I needed to be.

“You taught me never to fall for something like this,” I told her, folding my arms with that rock clutched even tighter in my fist. “Hell Fae Rule #8: If It Sounds Too Good to Be True, It Probably Is. Oh, and Hell Fae Rule #13: Nothing Is What It Seems.”

Her nostrils flared in response, suggesting she could hear me just fine. “Camillia,” her mouth seemed to say. “Trust. Me.”

I snorted. “Fat chance of that, Mother . The last time I trusted you , I ended up in a fake utopia and met my grandmother .” A shudder worked through me at the term. I never wanted to use it in relation to Vivaxia ever again.

She’s my nemesis and nothing more, I thought.

“Camillia,” my mother tried again. But the mirror disappeared for another long blink, and when it came back, it was to reveal an image that had my lips parting for an entirely new reason.

The visage before me was… dystopian. A wasteland.

Dead trees—and not like those I’d seen in the Netherworld Kingdom and the Midnight Fae Realm.

These trees were shriveled into strands of ash.

Feathery wisps danced around them, their gray quality causing my lips to curl down. They… they kind of looked like ghosts.

A strange visual.

But as my mother appeared again, I realized what I was seeing. Souls . She held up her arm—or what was left of it—to show me the translucent strand that should be a wrist and a hand.

Her blonde hair blew in another gust of wind, causing several strands to just fly away. But it was her wings that captivated me.

The last time I’d seen her, they’d been a brilliant white color, their beauty nearly taking my breath away. Now they resembled skeletal branches with smokelike ends.

“I…” I didn’t understand. “Is this real?” Was I looking into the true Virtuous Fae Realm? Not the mirage she and Vivaxia had created, but what actually remained of their glorious world?

A memory nagged at me, one of me seeing Vivaxia’s wings—the tattered ends blending with her gorgeous plumage. In one visage, she possessed beautiful white wings with golden tips. And in the next, her feathers appeared worn and dead.

Just like my mother’s, I thought, swallowing as another breeze stole more of her essence. The smoky tendrils seemed to be crawling up her forearm now, morphing her skin into a husk-like texture.

Sadness rimmed my mother’s ice-blue eyes, the color appearing paler than usual. “Run,” her cracked lips mouthed as a tear slid down her cheek. “Camillia… Run !”

The mirror shattered on that final word. My arms flew upward just in time to protect myself from the glass splintering all over the hallway.

Followed by an icy breath of wind that whirled up and down the halls.

A tsk followed, the echo of it sending a chill down my spine. Because that tsk had been here . Real. Not beyond a veil or a portal. But in this very corridor.

And as I peeked out from behind my arms, I found the owner of that condemning sound. Vivaxia .

The stone heated in my palm, almost as though it were angry. But when my fingers loosened in response, it instantly cooled. Maybe it wanted to remind me of its presence. Or perhaps it was a sentient form of energy like Vita.

I couldn’t discount anything at this point, including my own vision. Because while Vivaxia certainly appeared to be real, it could easily be another trick.

However, the cuts on my arms certainly felt real.

“Mystika always was dramatic,” Vivaxia drawled, sounding disappointed. “At least she served her purpose.” With that pronouncement, she disappeared through a threshold.

To the throne room, my mind somehow knew. A throne room riddled with secrets.

My brow furrowed as a memory played through my mind of Vivaxia standing behind a throne holding a dying Strigoi King. It was a vivid reimagination, one that felt like my own experience. Yet I knew I’d never been here.

So how am I remembering this? My arms slowly fell to my sides, the stone still in one hand.

More of the memory rolled inside my head, showing me the Strigoi King’s death—at Vivaxia’s hand. Only it hadn’t been the cut across his throat that had killed him, but Vivaxia’s power over him. The pet spell .

She’d owned his soul… because he’d struck a deal with her.

A deal that involved granting her access to the throne in exchange for a queen.

I blinked. This was all too specific to be my own imagination at work. Yet I possessed the knowledge as though it were my own.

Was Melek here? I wondered.

But no. That didn’t feel right.

This… this visage and the information that accompanied it felt like it came from Typhos. Why am I suddenly aware of his…? The question trailed off in my thoughts as another replaced it. Vita .

I’d shoved all that energy into Vita, breaking some sort of lock inside that had allowed those memories to go to Vivaxia. Or perhaps she’d just inherited the power.

But I, too, was linked to Vivaxia.

And Typhos’s Source.

So something… something had caused a feedback loop. Or maybe the Source was the one sending me these details. Or perhaps it was Vita fighting her way back to Typhos via my connection to Vivaxia.

Regardless of the how or the why, it was happening. Because I could feel the energy humming through me now, the strands far too powerful to be my own. And they weren’t linked to the spell I’d siphoned outside.

However, I could still feel the lingering effects of that magic humming in my blood. Just as I could see the remnants of it all over this palace.

The strands seemed to ripple around me as I moved, my feet automatically taking me to where Vivaxia had disappeared through the threshold.

I wasn’t at all surprised to find her standing on the dais, her fingertips playing across the decrepit throne.

A vision in my head told me what that opulent power symbol should look like, and it was nothing like this broken-down chair before me.

Even the blood-veins decorating the stage appeared to be dry, the formerly polished golds darkened to a deep bronze.

This platform looked nothing like it used to.

And the same could be said about the Strigoi lingering nearby. Gone was their vampiric presence and in its place, shadows of ghosts.

Oh, they were still alive. I could see their souls clutching onto their corporeal forms. But they were on the verge of death.

All because their king—the one meant to lead —had failed them.

He’d struck a deal with the real devil. With Vivaxia . And the Source had turned on him in response.

I could feel that punishment thriving inside me, the concept one I instantly understood. Because it was exactly as it should be. He’d betrayed Lucifer and the Hell Fae Realm. Why would the Source continue to empower him and his people after something like that?

I almost nodded, like I was agreeing with some figment lurking in my head.

Maybe I was. Maybe I’d lost my fucking mind. Yet I’d never felt more knowledgeable in my life.

It was as though something had cracked open inside me, allowing all the details of this world to flow through the membrane of my mind and into my very soul.

The Hell Fae Source is empowering me , I realized. Or maybe I’m siphoning all of this information…