Page 17 of Ringmaster (The Kingdom of Shadow & Bone #1)

Azrael

Inside Zora’s boxcar, she’s enchanted the ceilings to glow full of twinkling stars.

It stretches endlessly, like the sky itself has been bottled inside.

The incense is heavy and thick; the smoke curls and twists like a serpent dancing through the air.

Jars filled with unbelievable things—teeth, severed fingers, toenails, and mysterious liquids—line the shelves.

An adjoining wooden rack brims with dried herbs and strange plants, a narrow ladder linking it all like a spine.

It makes me uneasy. A goddess of the night, black magic, and a corpse Lucifer specifically asked for.

I’m practically asking for something bad to happen.

A crackle makes me jump, twisting my neck to see an oversized hearth with a coal-black cauldron.

Silver swirling symbols glow around the rim in a language so old I don’t recognize it.

The fire blazes beneath the cauldron, warming its base until it glows red.

She leads me to the granite workstation, littered with pestles, mortars, and more equipment, where she deposits the Seraphim body casually—like she’s done it countless other times with creatures in her possession.

Turning, she motions for me to follow her over to a round table on the opposite side of the boxcar.

It’s adjacent to the one where the ominous crystal ball rests.

To my right, the crystal ball radiates a soft purple light from the stand where it sits, swirling full of clouds filled with crackling power.

I gulp but can’t look away, entranced by the rhythmic movement.

“Don’t stare too long, Azrael,” she warns in a sing-song voice. “It might show you something you’re not ready to see.”

Zora hands me a stack of oversized cards, and I shiver. I know what these are. The weight of them makes my magic hum protectively.

“Shuffle these, play with them, move them around. I don’t really care, just keep them in your hands until I return to take them from you.” She lights a tall black candle in the center of the table and walks back over to the Seraphim.

I don’t need to watch to know what she’s doing.

I hear everything—each cut, slice, and drop of blood as it pools out to be collected for payment.

In my hand, I turn the cards over, fanning them out, then back together before I begin to shuffle.

I need the distraction as I lick back the protruding fangs poking through my gums. I know better than to feast on the Divine, but my body still reacts to the call of soul fragments left behind in the blood.

The tantalizing, tangy aroma can’t be overpowered by the incense.

It takes all my self-control to resist the primal urges burning inside me.

Turning my attention to the cards Zora handed me, I study them.

One side is completely blank; the opposite is hand-painted with delicate designs—moons, stars, planets scattered across the one on top.

Flipping to look at the ones beneath, I find intricate flowers, while others are simple patterns and swirls.

Black magic caresses each one, calling to my own magic as if in answer.

“Azrael,” Zora whispers, sitting across from me.

She’s placed a bowl of blood on the table.

It sings to me, begging me to drink from it.

I crack my neck and watch the clouds moving in the crystal ball in search of something to distract me while I gather my control.

After a few quiet minutes, I settle the urges, no more than a small annoying cry in the background now that I’m focused.

“Sorry,” I grumble.

Zora watches me with all-knowing eyes, seeing things she’ll never tell me as they flash through her mind. “I can see you’re troubled, Azrael. No need to apologize for your nature. After all, you’re its natural predator. It’s your prey.”

I smile, careful not to reveal the sharp incisors still waiting to rip something warm and soft open.

A pinging ache from deep in my jaw reminds me how much I crave indulgence.

Across the table, the clatter of the pestle startles me out of my thoughts.

Zora sprinkles a powder from her mortar bowl as I run a hand down my face.

“You must be very clear in the question you’re asking, Azrael. The magic is truthful, but it will bend and twist the truth if you’re not precise. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I reply.

Zora stirs the liquid for several minutes. Then she dips her fingertip into the bloody mixture, drawing a line from her forehead down to her chin. She dips her finger again and presses a dot onto my forehead.

“So they know who you are, and which medium you belong to.” She picks up a rune, dips it in blood, then places it in a pile, repeating the process until she’s built a spiral of blood-soaked runes around the tall, black flickering candle.

“Shall we begin?” Zora asks.

I nod.

“Remember, Azrael—do not stare into the crystal ball for too long, or you may find yourself trapped between worlds,” she warns one final time.

This is equal parts dangerous and reckless, but I need answers.

“I’m ready,” I whisper.

“Think about the answers you seek, and hand me back the cards,” Zora instructs.

I hand her the cards, and she fans them out so I can choose. As I reach for it, she asks, “What question are you seeking the answer to, Azrael?”

When I look up to reply, her eyes are rolled back, showing only the whites. The crystal ball buzzes and hums with electricity, flashes of purple and pink swirling inside until Zora’s eyes appear, floating in the magenta mist, glowing emerald green and all-knowing.

My throat feels like sandpaper. I try to swallow again, this time with a gulp. “Is Mercy the one the Divine and Lucifer are both hunting? Is she the soulmate the Fates promised me?”

“Clever boy,” Zora’s lips murmur. “Draw your card and lay it where the spiral begins.”

I pull out the card, laying it exactly where she instructed. The side that was blank now shows two hands clasped—one made of shadow, the other of bone. In the crystal ball, Mercy’s image flickers, then disappears.

“Ahhh. The Lovers,” Zora croons. “A test of the heart, laced with a warning. Only you can decide who to fall in love with. A gift from the Fates, but not one they control. Follow your heart to find the answers that you seek.”

More riddles. My magic sizzles with my growing rage.

“Another question, another card. Make your next selection. Remember to think of the answers you’re seeking first, then tell me what it is you seek to know.” Zora’s voice is musical.

“How do I break my curse? What must I do?” I mumble, irritation lacing my words in anticipation of more webs to unravel.

“No heir has ever succeeded. Great question. Draw a card. Place it next to the first.”

I do. This card shows a crown, broken and bleeding, onto a lamb laying in a meadow below it. How strange. It looks split in half, blood spilling out like raindrops.

In the crystal ball, my father’s throne appears. Souls claw their way up until they become a black tornado of shadow and feather. The ball flashes, then the images disappear.

“The Betrayer,” she hisses. “Not all betrayal is as it seems. Slay the king if freedom is what you seek. But be warned—only the strong will survive this fate. Two parts to the story. Draw again.”

More fucking riddles. These aren’t answers.

I sigh in frustration, drawing a third card and placing it next to the first two.

This one features a veiled woman dressed in black, standing on cobblestone steps.

In the right corner, a dagger pierces a bleeding heart.

The crystal ball flashes white, and three black silhouettes appear.

“The Sacrifice,” Zora gasps. “The throne demands a price. The bride—a willing sacrifice.”

My magic erupts inside me, a blur of angry fury, but I suppress it.

“Last card, Azrael. What is the final answer you seek?” she whispers with more uneasiness than before.

It feels like something—or someone—is watching us, but I shake it off. “I want to know my destiny.”

The card I pull is blank as I flip it over, except for my thumbprint where I gripped it.

Zora gasps. “This isn’t supposed to happen. Someone is blocking us from seeing the answer. They don’t want you to know. This destiny can’t be revealed because it isn’t fully written.”

The candle extinguishes. The ball goes blank. The air stills—unnaturally.

Whoosh!

Crimson mist blasts through every crack in the boxcar, gathering to form three distinct figures. My shadows rise in response, poised to fight. Malevolent laughter erupts, echoing around us.

“Do you really think you stand a chance against us, Azrael? One snip is all it would take to end you.” The Fates screech in unison, voices hissing and swirling as their shapes refuse to take a solid form.

Heeding their warning, I stifle my powers.

At my feet, the shadows sulk, waiting to be called forth once more.

What was once a roar of power is now a mere trickle.

One by one, the Fates solidify—appearing exactly as they did in Hell.

Dressed head to toe in flowing ebony gowns, their faces hidden by a black veil.

Every hair on my body is raised in anticipation as I wait for them to reveal their reason for the visit.

“You shouldn’t be asking questions, Azrael. Your destiny isn’t yours to know. It must result from free will,” the Fate in the center warns, pointing a long, bony finger at my chest.

“Only suffering can come from the answers. Stop before you learn too much,” exclaims the one closest to me.

At my sides, my fists clench. Did they come all this way to demand I stop searching for answers? My powers surge in response, tingling beneath my skin, waiting to be unleashed.

Their laughter rings in my ears. “Calm down, Azrael. We aren’t here to threaten you. We came to alert you. Someone important is looking for you. Find them before he does, or your fate will be sealed in heartache, just like all those who failed to break the curse.”

The center Fate adds, “We want to help you, but even we are bound by rules. You must find the answer.”

“The King of the Divine is furious,” another adds. “He will stop at nothing to keep you from reaching your destiny.”

“A final reminder, Azrael, and then we must go. One soul of our choosing. Remember our bargain. Soon we will come to collect, and you will once again be forced to choose.” They burst into crimson mist once more and vanish.

The crystal ball hums to life, glowing faintly in the now dim space. I creep closer for a better look, remembering Zora’s warning not to look for too long. Cautiously, I peer at the crystal until I’m able to make out the blazing fire. Inside, a silhouette wrapped in chains.

Of course, it’s another clue. A hint I have to unravel for answers.

A few seconds pass before a knock on the door makes both Zora and me jump. We exchange worried glances, then I’m gone—nothing more than shadow slithering my way through the darkness to see who dares to disturb us at this hour.

A second knock pounds louder than the first, more urgent this time. I move faster, taking a solid form, and reaching for the knob. With a twist of my wrist, I jerk the door open.