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The earless guard shoved one of the younger ones towards Aurora. All the while she glared them down.

“Do you want to pit yourselves against me? I could kill you all before you touch a hair on her head,” he threatened. His magic rolled off him in waves, pushing through each of them. He relished the shivers that stole down their spines.

“She must be quite the skilled whore to have gained your protection. But this is the vivarium. This is what your protection is worth here. Strip her, now!” the earless guard ordered.

The youngest fumbled with her top as Aurora thrashed against him.

“I’ll rip away every year you have left in your miserable life if you don’t stop touching me!” she screamed.

“I can’t—”

The earless guard grunted with impatience, shoved the younger one out of the way and took his blade to her clothes.

“Squirm, and my blade will slip, fairy ,” he threatened.

In seconds she was stripped down to nothing, her foreign clothes in tatters. Aurora’s eyes widened in panic. Theron saw red. His magic exploded in a tidal wave. He rebroke every healed bone in the guard’s body in the same moment he revisited every bruise, cut, laceration, and illness back onto him. The guard crumpled in a howl of agony, bleeding out onto the floor.

“You were warned,” Theron growled.

Guards rushed to drag the dead guard from the guest palace while others held shaking swords trained towards him. He let loose another blast of magic at the remaining guards.

“Who else wishes to test their luck against my magic?”

They looked to each other and lowered their blades. Some snuck glances at her. Theron snarled.

“Anyone who so much as looks at her gets their eyes gouged out! Now get out!”

They retreated from the guest palace and locked the doors behind them.

“Aurora? Are you hurt?” he asked as he struggled to his feet, his arms still bound behind him.

“A few cuts…” she replied, her voice hollow.

He let his magic wash over her, healing the hurts of her flesh. But the terror he saw in her eyes could not be so easily treated. Theron walked toward her and turned around.

“Can you untie these knots?” he asked.

“Mmm,” she replied.

He could feel her hands trembling as she worked the knots loose. Soon he was free.

“I’ll get something to cover you.”

“Wait!” she grabbed at his tunic. “Please don’t leave me. What if they come back?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, refusing to turn around completely. He could spare her that indignity at least.

“They won’t come back yet. Be brave, just for a few more moments.”

She released a shaky breath and let go of his tunic. He raced to his room, grabbed a thick blanket and returned, keeping his gaze on hers as he returned and fashioned as best an outfit as he could with her chains.

“Can you take this off?”

He inspected the collar and manacles.

“No. It requires a key.”

“They were going to…” she trailed off.

“And the ones who tried are dead. Between the two of us, no one will ever hurt you in that way.”

She crumpled into a puddle of tears. Theron held her as the sun dipped down and the moon rose, until her tears had given way to exhaustion. In the dead of night, a guard roused him from a fitful sleep with her in his arms. Theron might have resorted to violence but for the very visible red scarf tied around the man’s neck.

“Your Majesty, the guards are refusing to patrol inside the guest palace, but that might change soon. I have a report. Each unlucky groom of Princess Epicasta met with Queen Flora before official engagements were announced. Once they left the meetings, they were all reported to have become resigned to their fates. Flora then went about her usual schedules and appearances. Curiously, every time one of the husbands appeared in public, Flora was present. We tracked down a former nanny of the queen’s who requested asylum for her information. She was taken to a safe house and said that the queen’s wild magic was that of a soul swapper.”

The blood drained from his face.

Epicasta had been speaking truth. Except that the foul magic belonged to her mother. But as a soul swapper, Flora couldn’t take over the bodies of others herself, merely insert another soul inside for a short time. Had his parents known of the danger back then, that she could more than paralyse with her magic, they would have surely killed her. Had this power been why she’d been able to slay so many in her campaign? After all, she needn’t put another soul into a body that she’d violated with her magic. A body left empty, even for a moment, was long enough for any half-decent warrior with a blade to dispose of. A shiver ran down his spine.

Had she exhausted herself on the battlefield all those years ago? Was that why she hadn’t violated the royal family? What had they done with the unwilling husbands in the times between, when her magic was spent? Who would have volunteered their soul in Flora’s plan?

“Find out how long she needs to recover between uses of her magic. And the distance over which she can work it. Find out everything you can. Be especially alert to times when those husbands were either unable to use their wild magic, or used one they hadn’t awakened.”

Epicasta would’ve only been wed to some of the most powerful families, and anyone with the kind of sway to threaten Flora would have wild magic of their own. Their magic would be well-known. Whereas a new soul would possess different magic altogether if they possessed it at all.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Aurora shifted in his arms, her chains clinking.

“Find the key to her fetters. This woman is the most important asset in the whole of Trisia. More important than me.” The spy widened his eyes in shock. “She’s an oracle, and in two days, the day the queen throws a party here to celebrate the end of the plague, monstrosities will appear in the vivarium. She gave me her bag, now confiscated. There were two ancient artefacts inside. Retrieve them along with the scroll. The beast she drew on it must be hunted down and eliminated at all costs. Do you understand?”

“But Your Majesty, are we to protect her over you?”

He looked down at her. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed with anxiety. He brushed a blonde strand from her face. Was she more important? Was her life worth more than his? If he died, Batea would have a small army of capable, loyal advisors whose secrets she knew well enough to manipulate. A good king ensured his kingdom was so robust as to function in his absence. If Aurora died, the greatest power in Trisia went with her.

“Yes. Find a way to get her out of here as soon as possible. Spare no expense, use every resource. And protect her by all means necessary. I don’t have to tell you how valuable a true oracle is.”

“I will relay your orders…and have some of the more sympathetic attendants see to you both in the meantime.”

“One more thing,” he added, taking his own miniaturized ancient artefact from the lining of his tunic. He handed it to the spy. “Have this infused with divine magic. On the day of the attack, they’ll paint me in gold, and force the rest of the prisoners here to wear the garb of prostitutes. Have both my gold and whatever garb is made for her similarly infused with divine magic. Any of our people here that day should do likewise.”

“I’ll see to it at once.”

He waved him off.

Once the spy left, Theron tried to get some sleep.

He didn’t like the idea that this one woman was more important than he was, that her life mattered more. Once again, he wondered at the Theron from her vision, the one who had stepped in front of the monstrosity. Since that afternoon, he’d begun to understand why he might be willing to sacrifice his own life to save hers. Aureum needed her. Trisia needed her. She understood the gravity of the situation to come and acted accordingly. It was simply his good fortune that she didn’t seem to understand the leverage that afforded her.

Always, she bargained from a place of weakness. It made her so easy to control, as Orithyia seemed to know. But where Orithyia had decided to control her through fear and pain, Theron knew the better option was through softer, more insidious means. Aurora was alone and scared, so he would show her how steadfast an ally he was, how protective, how…loving. This was a woman who was wary enough not to fall for his seductions, but not guarded enough to rebuff even the most minor kindnesses. In the few days he had left in her company, he would tie her to him so thoroughly that even if he died, she would feel indebted to him—to Aureum.

Theron closed his eyes and leaned against the hard column at his back. It figured that in this wretched queendom, he’d only managed a few days of sleeping in a paltry excuse for a bed. When he woke in the morning, it was to Aurora pleading with the attendant.

“Please, you must tell the queen or the high priestess that monstrosities will appear here in only a few days. She can’t hold her party here. People will die!”

“You’re insane. There’s no such thing as an oracle. Now, let go of me!” The attendant shoved Aurora off her and went on with her tasks.

“Please, whatever you do, just don’t be here that day! Please!”

Theron reached out to her. She turned around to face him, shaking beneath his touch.

“Save your breath, Aurora.”

“We can still stop it. No one has to die!”

“Very few will believe you. You know that, right?” he asked, trying his best to calm her. She really was made in a different mould, to care about the lives of people who had treated her with such disdain and cruelty.

“Then I’ll save the ones who do.”

But over the course of the next two days, all she’d accomplished was to earn the contempt and derision of the attendants and guards she pled with. The atrium had become a place most preferred to avoid, save for the necessary tasks of delivering food and drink or escorting Aurora in chains to relieve herself. Even then, she begged them to heed her warning. It didn’t help that rumours had begun to spread about what she’d done to the guard in the temple plaza, or that the temple of Justice had begun a quarrel with the palace in the meantime. There was no one inclined to listen to her within the walls of the palace, not even when he lent his voice to hers.

Except his spies.

Unfortunately, Flora had decided to take note of Aurora and Theron’s connection to her, and so the queen kept the key to Aurora’s fetters on her at all times. Worse, not one of his spies possessed the magic to destroy the chains in a fashion that wouldn’t rouse the guards forever stationed just outside the doors to the atrium. He was beginning to lose any semblance of hope that the future she’d witnessed could be changed at all.

When the morning bells announced the end of the plague and the reopening of Boreas, it was all he could do to tamp down his terror at his looming execution. Shortly thereafter, the attendants and guards entered the atrium en mass. His last ray of hope extinguished as he spotted the garments they held in their arms.

Pale green and see-through, the airy wisps of nothing were the garb of prostitutes. Two attendants carried a vat of gold paint, struggling with the weight of the liquid between them. Just as her vision had shown. Moments later, the other residents of the vivarium were herded into the atrium, giving him and Aurora as wide a berth as possible.

The head of the attendants, a plump older woman with tanned skin and grey streaks in her black hair stepped forward and clapped her hands to garner everyone’s attention.

“Tonight, Boreas’ most illustrious citizens will gather here. You are to be bathed and attired in celebration of the end of the plague. If you resist, the guards have been authorized to force your compliance. Please Her Majesty and her guests, and your accommodations may be made more comfortable. Upset Her Majesty or the guests, and you will rue the day you were born.”

She motioned for her small army to march forward to their charges.

“Theron,” Aurora whispered in a panic.

“I won’t leave you alone with any of them. No one here will touch you,” he promised.

As the guards and attendants dragged them all to the baths, the guards stood outside, facing inside, leering at their charges as they were forced to strip. Aurora began shaking once more.

Theron stepped into one of the corners where attendants waited with buckets to douse them. He glared every man into retreat.

“I’ll shield you,” he reassured her, pulling her close. “I’m going to unwrap this sheet, alright?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

“My brave little fairy.”

“I don’t feel brave,” she whispered, her breath hitching as the sheet came loose.

“And yet you’re standing here with me in this den of vipers. Do you wish to ready yourself, or will you allow them near you?”

She ran a hand through her messy locks, looking around at the attendants near them. Her shoulders dropped a fraction when she saw only women.

“I’ll allow them to help.”

“If they touch you in any way you don’t want, you tell me.”

She nodded.

He snapped his fingers and brought two attendants over, commanding them to hold up the sheet so that the guards at the entrance were denied a view. Theron covered her as best he could, always putting his own body in the way of any extra set of eyes that could be avoided. All the while, his gaze never strayed from hers. As the attendants moved to do their work, he watched her for any sign of distress at their touch.

In focusing himself entirely on her, he could dull the sharpest edge of his own terror. But in every sluice of water against his skin, in every slide of a comb through his hair, in every hesitant touch of a frightened attendant, that terror shredded more of his reserve. Nothing could stop what was coming. If he fled now, he’d merely be dragged back. If he used every last ounce of his power to cripple the guards, more would come, and then he’d be without even the slimmest hope of surviving the lethal blow, of healing himself.

Theron was going to die.

When they were brought back to their chambers to be dressed and ornamented, he insisted Aurora join him in his room. If he gave himself even a moment alone, he feared he would lose his nerve. He needed the reminder of why he was meant to die—of why his thread would be cut short. Aureum must have its oracle, and her beast must be destroyed.

Aurora donned the insulting attire, covering herself as best she could, shamed and scared. Given only the barest of coverings and ordered to allow himself to be painted, Theron took comfort in the fact that another of his spies was among the attendants. Aurora’s attire pooled around her, and so his spy pulled out a sash of fabric to cinch the dress at her small waist. The attendant caught his eye as she slipped Aurora’s pendant shield into the knot.

It was only once the same attendant stuck his own ancient artefact into the braid of his hair that he felt a surge of resentment. Why should he die? And in the home of his most hated enemy? He ground his teeth. At least he would go down fighting. There was some small measure of comfort in that. As the paint dried on his skin and he was covered in emerald jewellery, Aurora’s face was painted in the thick, gaudy style of a prostitute. Then they were given a small meal. His last, he supposed. A pity it was so paltry.

“We could still flee,” Aurora whispered as they were left alone in their room.

“They’ve strengthened security,” he said, nodding to the scene beyond the terrace. Outside, royal guards patrolled every inch of the grounds. Five stood outside his door alone.

“Just before it happens, we could find some excuse not to be in the room.”

“I won’t be allowed to leave. But you should, just before it happens.”

“We could warn them when the queen arrives, we could warn all the nobles too. There’s still time.”

“Aurora…” he said, placing his hand on her cheek.

She leaned into it as tears filled her eyes. She knew as well as he that no one would listen. There would be no warning them. Her vision had made it clear they’d tried everything and failed, that no one with the power to prevent the massacre had bothered to listen.

“I can’t give up! We’re still alive! We still have time to change the future!”

A guard barged in.

“Princess Epicasta has called you, Your Majesty.”

Aurora grabbed his arm, frozen in fear. He put a hand over hers and squeezed.

“Anyone who touches you will die.”

She shook her head.

“Try to warn her, please.”

“I will.”

As he was taken from the vivarium and paraded through the halls of the palace like a living statue, servants and guards alike gawked and stared. Here was the king of Aureum, humiliated for their amusement. He vowed bloody vengeance, anger a much more palatable substitute for fear. The palace would soon be overrun with monstrosities, and then Batea would paint the walls in blood—vengeance was assured even in the event of his death. When he was finally brought before the princess in a receiving room, she waved the guards off.

“I’ll take it from here.”

Once they were alone, she sighed.

“You should have signed the treaty,” she began.

He shrugged.

“You’re about to have bigger problems.”

“Oh?”

“Monstrosities will soon appear in the vivarium.”

She barked out a laugh.

“Was the paint poisoned? Have you gone mad?”

“If you have any sense left in you, allow the paladins of Justice to enter the palace and negotiate peace with them. Keep them here until the sun fully sets. If I’m mad, you’ll merely solve a headache for the palace. If I’m right, you’ll save your wretched guests from being devoured. Well…some of them.”

She eyed him with complete bewilderment before she wiped the expression from her face.

“As I said, you should have signed the treaty. You might have saved yourself this humiliation. And there is more to come this evening, for you, and for your…paramour.”

“If anyone touches her—”

She held up her hand and rolled her eyes.

“No one will. You, however, will be expected to, intimately, in front of an audience. You should have left her alone. Instead, you brought her to Her Majesty’s attention. What happens now is a result of your poor choices.”

The last little piece of the puzzle in his mind fell into place. No wonder he’d been so keen to accept his fate in her vision—why he was now determined to face the monstrosities rather than risk flight and eventual capture. If he tried to survive, to flee, to resist, Flora would use her magic and force someone else’s soul inside him, using his body to violate Aurora for a crowd, rendering him without honour for all to see. He would rather be dead than do that to Aurora—to allow someone to do so through him. Given the choice between a noble death protecting her and living as his fairy’s nightmare, he would always choose death. A strange sense of calm swept over him. There was no escaping what was to come. In fact, he had no desire to. Better an honourable warrior’s death than a wretch’s life.

Theron tuned out most of the rest of what Epicasta threatened, numb to it all. Soon, her scheming would be someone else’s problem. He didn’t know how long she went on for, only that the sun had begun dipping low.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a party to attend,” he said.

“You…you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.” She raised her brow, her expression acidic.

“No.”

“Serves me right for trying to help you,” she muttered.

“You should call the paladins now.”

She rolled her eyes and rung a bell. The guards entered and took him back to the guest palace, where entertainers were beginning to set up in the exact spot the monstrosities would bubble up from. For some reason, it gave him hope. He would die with his honour intact. Aurora was already waiting for him, doing her best to warn whoever so much as glanced at her. But just as all the times before, no one listened to her.

Guests began arriving, leering at him and Aurora, at all the prisoners of the vivarium. Entertainers began playing music, servants circulated through the growing throngs with food and drink. Theron refused to reply to every jab and insult. What did it matter? Soon they would be dead, the same as he. Aurora continued her fruitless attempts to save them, to convince them to flee, only to be met with mockery and sneers. He did his best to shield her from their views, pulsing his magic into the eyes of any who dared allow their gazes to linger on her, a not-so-subtle warning to find their perverse pleasures elsewhere.

But as the sun dipped lower, and the scene was bathed in the exact same light as her vision, he prepared himself. His blood thrummed through his veins in anticipation.

“You should go somewhere safe now, madam fairy.”

She could still escape, flee to one of her hidden paths out of the vivarium.

“I can’t! They won’t listen! They’re going to—”

“Aurora, you did everything you could.”

She truly had. Aurora had exhausted herself trying to convince them to save their worthless lives. That she’d tried at all made her a better person than any other now standing in the vivarium.

“Please, don’t stay here! Come with me!”

She tugged on his arm. But he would not be moved. If he survived, Flora would force him or his body to hurt her in unspeakable ways. Epicasta had been correct. What he did now had been the result of his choices, and they had been poor. Aurora would be safer once he died. His people would free her, his cousin would protect her.

“I will not run from my fate.”

“It can’t be fate! I can change it!”

And yet, she could not.

As foreseen, screams erupted. The shadows beneath the musicians rose up like a tide. Guests began fleeing. Others were swallowed whole in an instant. Theron enlarged his artefacts, giving himself both shield and spear. As chaos erupted, Theron was the eye of the storm, his body primed for battle as blood and viscera flew in every direction. The green finery of Viridis was soaked in crimson.

He knew what to do as soldiers poured in, more warm bodies for the monstrosities to tear through. He led his own charge, widening the protective space in front of Aurora as they were backed against a wall. Fleeing nobles and entertainers nearly knocked him to his feet. He tried to take the brunt of it for Aurora, but one sent her to her knees, her protective artefact slipping from her grasp. Theron forced himself to turn away, to focus on the battle in front of him. The divine magic infused into his artefacts dispelled the creatures as they bubbled up. But he already knew from experience and her vision that any relief from the onslaught was temporary. Soon, more would come up than he could handle.

Aurora screamed just as a group of paladins joined the fray. He turned to see her being dragged into the open maw of a monstrosity. Leaping back to her side, he thrust his spear into the beast, dispelling it. He looked back at her one last time, taking in her gore-spattered dress, her wide, panicked eyes, her bleeding leg, her manacled wrists.

Theron braced for the end.

A monstrosity drove its talon through his body, its own destroyed by touching the divine magic in his gold paint. The wound was lethal, his magic unable to heal the damage even as shock prevented him from feeling the pain. He stumbled as blood gushed from the enormous wound, and then collapsed on the floor. His magic recoiled from the wound, no truer sign that his thread had been cut.

Death swept over him in Her dark and endless embrace.