SAGE
I turned back too late.
The walls shut behind me with a soft, final click, feeling like a bad verdict. My heart jumped into my throat.
The darkness thickened instantly, swelling outward like a living thing. It wasn’t ordinary shadow. It pressed closer, denser, heavy with a presence that seemed aware of me. It felt like fingers reaching through the air, brushing at my skin, curling around my limbs, grazing my breath.
I shivered. Unease crawled down my spine. Maybe I should have listened to El.
This felt wrong. Not natural darkness. Not absence of light. Black magic. The kind that left residue. The kind that lingered long after the spellcaster had left the room.
My chest tightened as I exhaled slowly. There had to be an incantation. Some mechanism to lift the spell. A trigger. A failsafe. Something.
This had to be a barrier—to keep prying eyes out. Even her children, perhaps. Even her allies. Even those who believed they were close to her. The queen was careful. Paranoid. Always ten steps ahead.
I turned, reaching outward, seeking the wall by instinct. My fingers brushed only emptiness. The air swallowed the movement.
I took a step forward, then another, but the sense of space felt warped, unreliable, as though the chamber itself had folded inward.
The door had opened because I had triggered it somehow. Maybe when I closed the cupboard. Maybe when I touched the bottles. But how could I trigger it back?
Confusion bled into frustration as I tried to reach for El.
Silence answered.
Not her presence. Not her warmth. Not even a whisper. Nothing.
It felt like that night all over again—the night her voice had vanished without warning, leaving me alone inside my own skull.
Of course. Black magic would block her. The realization landed heavy in my gut.
I should have listened to you.
Regret burned, immediate. But regret wouldn’t save me.
I straightened slowly, forcing steadiness into my breathing even as my pulse thundered.
You are not powerless, I reminded myself. You are not helpless.
I was a rare human, blessed with magic and ancient powers. I was dangerous. I could survive this! Surely I could handle this.
I tilted my chin, trying to peer into the darkness. But even with heightened vision, there was nothing.
No shapes. No outlines. No edges. Just void.
My jaw tightened. There was no choice. I dug inward, reaching for the wells of my magic.
The power stirred reluctantly at first, coiled deep within my core like a slumbering beast. I began to draw on it carefully—
Then I felt it.
Movement.
My body went still. A prickle ran across the back of my neck.
Someone is here.
The thought barely formed before another sound brushed my awareness—from the left. A whisper of motion. A disturbance in the air.
I turned instinctively toward it—
—and another presence flared behind me.
Before I could fully pivot, before I could summon a shield, before I could even draw breath—
Pain exploded through my torso.
Something pierced through my clothing. Through my flesh. Through muscle and bone. Right beneath my heart.
My breath tore from my lungs in a broken gasp.
A sharp, foreign weight jutted from my chest. I looked down, hands shaking as they closed around it. Wood. A stake.
Its sharpened edge protruded from my front like the blade of a sword, slick with blood that pulsed warm against my skin.
My vision swam. Fuzz crept into the edges of my sight.
What... what is happening?
My fingers tightened around the stake as if I could anchor myself to reality through it. The pain radiated outward, pulsing with each heartbeat.
My knees trembled, just as rage roared within me. Immediately, I reached inward with a strangled sound that ripped free from my throat—not a full scream, but something raw—I called on the wells inside me.
Magic surged upward, violent and uncontrolled, spilling through my veins like wildfire. Light flared outward from me in a jagged pulse.
The darkness recoiled. Not vanishing, but retreating—hovering at the edges of the chamber like a wounded predator.
For the first time, I could see. The room resolved around me. A circular chamber. A round table at the center, dark wood polished to a dull sheen.
Chairs spaced evenly around it, carved with symbols I didn’t recognize at a glance. Candles burned low along the walls, their flames strangely steady despite the shifting air.
To the far east, a working area spread out—tables cluttered with instruments, parchment, vials, runes etched into stone. Tools of magic. Tools of experimentation.
But none of that stopped me.
Because they were standing there.
Duke. Rachel. The Queen. They watched me. Smiling.
The sight hit like a second blow. They weren’t supposed to be here. They were supposed to be at the meeting.
My breath hitched painfully.
Duke lounged with lazy arrogance, arms folded, gaze sharp and amused. Rachel stood beside him, chin lifted, eyes bright with a cruel, knowing glint.
And the Queen... The Queen lingered behind them, expression smooth, lips curved in a slow, satisfied smile.
They looked pleased. Expectant. As if they had been waiting for this moment.
Cold spread through my chest, heavier than the stake embedded there.
Then I turned. Slowly. Carefully. As though moving too fast might shatter whatever fragile illusion of control I still clung to.
But I already knew the answer. My heart hammered harder, each beat sending fresh pain through my ribs. Yet, I turned anyway.
He stood close. Too close. Raul. He was smiling at me. Triumphantly. Cruelly.
What?
The betrayal landed in full force then. My strength wavered, and my knees finally gave way as the knowledge carved through me, deeper than the stake ever could.
He had done it. He had held the weapon. Driven it in. And was happy doing it...
My mouth opened in shock, but no words came out. Only disbelief. Only the taste of blood and magic and broken trust.
I had walked into their trap.