Page 55 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)
Aflame
Calliste
They followed a narrow, crumbling road in a forest filled with sprawling black oaks and spruces, familiar to Calliste in a way she couldn’t puzzle out.
The stagnant air was weighed down with a scent that took her a while to put a name to. Bitter limes.
Theron placed his hand on the hilt of his sword as he scanned the trees on both sides. “Can you hear that sound?”
It was unlike anything she’d expect to hear in a forest: first it was like a distant murmur of the sea, then silence, then a velvety rustle like that of a cautious snake weaving through the maze of tangled roots.
She glanced over her shoulder, squinting at the glittering rivulets of water guiding them with their murmuring flow when a sudden recollection struck her. “Theron,” she whispered, “this looks like the road to Mount Hellecon.”
Theron stopped beside her, his face stony. “It does.”
She clutched her pendant, her mind filling in what the place should look like, and turned back in the direction they were headed. Her stomach churned. “It means that in front of us will be Mount Hellecon.”
“A mirage,” Theron clasped her hand, squeezing it. “Not the real Mount Hellecon.”
“I know, but—”
In the distance ahead, there was a faint cracking noise, like a dry branch snapping, but harsher, thunderous.
The hair on the nape of her neck stood up.
The explosion of orange light was twice as bright against the surrounding darkness. When the afterglow faded and she could see again, she wished she were still blinded. The trees in front of them bent back, as if pushed by a gale, and for a moment, smoke swallowed them.
She raised her protective sphere, stepping close to Theron, so she didn’t have to expand it much to shield them both.
The swirling puffs of smoke thinned as jagged orange light broke through, illuminating a sight that filled her with terror.
They stood at the gates to the courtyard, just as she remembered doing when they left, but all around them, the temple on Mount Hellecon burned.
The ancient mountain seemed to drown in a sea of fire, like a stone cast into lava.
Calliste’s breaths wheezed in and out, hot and sharp. Her vision frayed at the edges; even though it was unreal, it was terrifying, and a part of her wanted to scream at the devastation of fire, shattering the columns and turning her beloved temple into rubble.
Theron held her hand, and she focused on his warmth. “She’s trying her hardest, isn’t she?” he murmured. “This isn’t even possible.”
She tore her gaze from the haunting vision and met his eyes, lit up by the fire, focused and unwavering. Her breath eased slightly—until she noticed movement from the corner of her eye.
Leontia emerged from the ruined temple, shrouded in smoke that clung to her in swirling eddies.
She was dressed as she had been on the day of Calliste’s vow-taking, in the full regalia of the Head Priestess: a mossy-green robe with golden embellishments.
Her white hair whipped free, blending with the smoke twirling around her like hazy ribbons.
An emerald pendant glittered at her chest, but it was stained with the screaming scarlet of a deep wound where her heart should have been beating, blood trickling down.
“Stay with me,” Theron muttered.
Leontia stumbled closer until she was a step away from the sphere, her eyes fixed on Calliste. “Happy, aren’t you?”
Calliste shivered at the sinister similarity to Leontia’s voice. She wanted to look away, but the red on her mentor’s chest unsettled her.
“Now that you’ve offered yourself to the king, are you content to abandon your duties and leave us to rot?”
“Enough of this,” Theron growled. “Show yourself and stop this nonsense, Eris. We’re not fooled, so why not save yourself the trouble?”
Calliste swallowed, trying to goad herself into rage . This is all lies. She tries to separate us.
A slow smile spread across Leontia’s face, one that showed who she wasn’t—because the real Leontia’s smile could never be cold and ominous like this. She pressed her hand against the wound on her chest and then pushed through it, as if reaching inside.
Calliste’s insides twisted.
“Come,” Leontia said with a sickly smile, her hand emerging with a halved pomegranate, its ruby seeds glistening, juice dripping like blood. “Feast on my broken heart, eat pomegranate seeds, and celebrate your union on the grave of our temple.”
For a few chilling moments, Calliste’s stomach churned, because this deceiving reflection of Leontia sounded and looked like her beloved mentor—except some aspects were glaringly false, making her likeness unconvincing as a whole.
Calliste lifted her chin, her thoughts settling.
“Leontia would never say anything like this, Eris.”
The likeness of Leontia stared at her, face twisted with a sneer, as she squeezed the pomegranate. Red juice dripped over her hand and down to her feet, staining the hem of her robe before her guise melted away, transforming into the familiar shape of the Condemned.
As if on cue, other Condemned appeared in the courtyard, filling it with a faint buzz like distant angry hornets. She counted six of them, just as she remembered: faceless, human-like shapes with gelatinous, semi-transparent bodies and a few dim specks of light shining in their chests.
She moved closer to Theron and infused her orb with more energy to strengthen it.
He glanced at her. “I’ll take them down.”
“But your energy—”
“Might disturb Erebus, I know, but there’s no other way for us to get through. We have to take this risk. It may be her last trap—perhaps she has nothing else left and is betting we’ll back off. Stay inside.” The glow of his purple sword illuminated his reassuring smile.
Calliste wanted to protest, but he was right. She suppressed every emotion that might sabotage her focus and cast him a calm smile. “Show them.”
He grinned, quick on his feet as he stepped out of the orb faster than she could blink, sword ready.
The Condemned surrounded him as soon as he left the orb’s protection, forming a snarling circle.
When the first one—the one who had taken the form of Leontia—leapt at him, he was already in motion, his sword leaving glowing purple streaks in the air as it split the Condemned in half, its inhuman shriek piercing the air.
She had seen him in battle before when they fought wild harpies, but now, watching him fight alone, she held her breath in admiration.
He was mesmerizing, like a dancer who knew his body and skills so well that he performed with no conscious effort.
He could assess risk in a split second and respond before it became dangerous, guided by his unwavering confidence.
When three rushed at him, their arms twisted into tentacles, he cut them off in one smooth move, then swiftly attacked, cutting them down one by one and leaving their misshapen bodies behind.
Three left.
The remaining Condemned retreated several steps, their arms stretching, merging, and drawing their bodies together.
Theron paused, then stepped back into his orb to observe. “Interesting,” he muttered. “I didn’t know they could do that.”
“They transformed into a parasitic plant before—it wrapped around Kalias’ tree and anchored it in the Roots,” Calliste replied, also watching their transformation. “I guess she can make them shape-shift into anything.”
“Ah.” He didn’t say more, his head tilted at the emerging shape.
The creature that emerged from their gelatinous, semi-transparent bodies had three maws with flowing manes and lifeless, opaque eyes. Its body resembled a lion with powerful claws clicking at the end of four muscular legs. Its whipping tail was a serpent.
“A chimera,” Theron murmured. “I’ve heard of them but never thought I’d fight one in the Underworld.”
“Its tail—”
“Mhm. The claws look dangerous too.” He glanced at his sword and then at her. “I could use a shield—how do you direct your energy to create objects?”
“I… focus on what I want it to be, and shape the image in my mind, but then it’s easy for me because I’ve spent years channeling Epione’s energy.
..” She trailed off as he grinned, his amethyst pendant lighting up, energy swirling to him and gathering at his forearm until it formed a large, round shield, glowing purple.
“I guess you’re under divine patronage too. .. or just showing off.”
“Likely both,” he replied, his smile widening. “Let’s see what this chimera can do.” He stepped out of her protective sphere.
The chimera let out an unsettling, hair-raising growl, then lunged at Theron with lightning speed, its claws poised to tear him apart.
He dodged, sidestepping with immortal speed, wrapped in a purple glow that reflected off the monster’s body, and ran his sword across the chimera’s side.
The creature let out a screech so unearthly that Calliste had to cover her ears.
The chimera turned on Theron, snapping its jaws, but he slammed his shield against the nearest head and, in a swift, precise move, hacked it off.
It screeched again, retreating, the wound Theron had inflicted unraveling the spell that held the Condemned together.
Its form started breaking apart, revealing the three Condemned struggling to maintain their unified body, unraveling into a misshapen, smoking heap.
In just a few breaths, it was over.
Theron spun around, eyes sharp and narrowed, scanning for danger—but there were no more Condemned. He sheathed his sword and let his shield vanish as he frowned at the remains of the chimera. “That was too easy for what I expected,” he said.
“Probably because you’re right about her,” she said.
“She doesn’t have much left to thwart us.
To my knowledge, she only pulled a few corrupted Shades into the Roots because she needed to be stealthy and avoid drawing attention.
” She joined him, collapsing her orb and letting her healing energy wash over the remnants of the Condemned.
Her energy flooded the smoking heap, its tendrils reaching the remains of the defeated Condemned. A heartbeat later, they burst into green, wavering flames—high, bright, all-consuming—before scattering into emerald sparks that spurted into the vaulting of the Underworld.
Theron took her hand. “You said they were Shades once?”
“Yes. Abandoned Shades, unable to be seen by the Judges. Now they’re free.”
A green glow reflected in his eyes and outlined his short-cropped beard as he watched the courtyard before the mirage of Epione’s Temple.
The last of the green sparks drifted through the air in front of them like swirling constellations of fireflies, mesmerizing with their erratic, radiant trails.
In the eerie tranquility that washed over them, Theron exhaled and glanced at her. “Calliste—”
An explosion of marble shattering into a thousand pieces split the silence, ripping through the air.
The mirage of Epione’s temple fractured and collapsed, disintegrating into rubble and dust, scattering in every direction.
Everything around them wavered. She grasped his hand and quickly formed a protective orb around them.
The temple and courtyard lost their sharpness, the image rippling, unraveling, and slowly fading away like smoke, revealing Kalias’ tree shining just a few steps ahead of them.