Chapter 49
Daisy
Everything’s black.
I can hear a distant voice. Korithax. He’s begging me to stay with him. But I am with him, I just can’t see him.
“I’m here,” I try to say. But I can’t seem to speak either.
Something’s wrong, so very wrong. Where am I?
Why is it dark? Am I dead? Am I hearing his voice just before my soul leaves forever?
No. No, I can’t die. But it doesn’t feel like I have a choice as I suddenly begin to feel cold.
I can feel something heavy wrapping around my body.
Something ancient, calling to me like it’s an old friend, beckoning me to come closer, to reach out.
I can faintly feel my body in this dark place. I feel my arm slowly reaching into the unknown—reaching for the source of whatever it is that’s calling to me. Is it death calling, welcoming me with a heavy embrace? If it is… I don’t want to go. I lower my arm, willing myself to ignore its pull.
“I won’t go with you. I’m needed back in Zeriavoss.”
A whisper surrounds me, wrapping around me like a warm, tight hug.
“Dasmyrin,” it whispers against my ear like a welcoming caress.
“No.” I whisper back. “You have the wrong person. I’m Daisy. I need to go back.”
“I know who you are, Queen of Hell. But you do not know yourself,” the ancient voice whispers back.
“Yes, I do. I’m Daisy Sandoval. Sunshine incarnate. Future Queen of Hell.” I respond in a desperate shout.
“Future. Past. Present. All at once.”
“What are you talking about? Who are you? Where am I?” I stutter the questions out one after the other, panic lacing my voice, desperation seeping through me. I need to get back. I need to go home.
“You need to see. You need to remember.”
Before I have a chance to respond, I’m violently thrust forward like two hands pushed on my back as hard as they could.
I’m suddenly falling, wind ripping by me as I screw my eyes shut, screaming as I descend further and further.
I throw my arms out, trying to grip onto something.
But there’s nothing there, just wind rushing through my fingers as I desperately claw at the air.
“Open your eyes, Ashborn.”
I do as the whisper says and gasp as I see hundreds of images fly past me one by one.
I see my entire life flitting by me, scenes of being a child, my mother, my father, my friends.
Tears fill my eyes as I see image after image of my life.
The good, the bad, and the ugly. Images fly past me that I don’t recognise, and I feel the sudden, overhwhelming urge to reach out and try to grab at one.
My soul seems to call to the strange places that flit by, seeing the same strange woman over and over again.
I reach out, subconsciously willing the image to come to me as I try to wrap my fingers around it.
I watch in awe as my hand goes straight through the image, then my wrist, my forearm, my entire body as it slowly sucks me inside.
I’m thrown onto hard ground, landing harshly in a vast space.
Nothing but barren land stretches before me.
Nothing but darkness in the sky, and a large crater sitting just a few feet ahead.
I crawl to the hole on my hands and knees, peering over the edge.
In the centre, right at the bottom, lies a girl around my age.
Her hair lies around her like liquid silver, her skin’s pale, and she’s dressed in a black and red gown.
She’s lying on her side, and I can’t tell if she’s asleep or dead.
Beside her, another girl lies, her hair is bright white, her skin a pale ivory with a slight golden hue.
“Elyistria?” I gasp, recognising her soft face, her ethereal features, and her bright white hair.
She looks so young, so delicate. Both of their eyes crack open as they lie facing each other, recognition flitting over their features as they stare at one another.
Was that Elyistria’s sister? She hadn’t mentioned having a sister when we met.
Her words suddenly echo through my head:
“I apologise for who I was before.”
“I will not fail you again.”
I’m suddenly falling again, another image of Elyistria and the stranger she was lying next to, trying to flit by.
I reach out as before, my body once again sucked into the image before me.
I land in a field, surrounded by the wild blooms I instantly recognise from Zeriavoss.
But this isn’t the kingdom I know. The red lightning streaks the sky, the flowers bloom, but nothing else is here other than the two women standing just before me.
I rise to my feet, watching them as they talk.
I strain my ears, but I can’t hear them.
It feels like I’m trapped in a soundless bubble, destined to watch but not listen.
The woman I don’t recognise raises her palms, and I watch as the familiar obsidian castle forms from nothing, rising from the ground to sit upon the piece of land that juts out of the mountains.
The kingdom forms before my eyes. Then, Cinderspine, The Realm of Children, The Welcome Circle, Gehenna.
Each and every part of Hell is sculpted like clay, brought to life by her hands.
I was watching my home, my kingdom, be formed by the silver-haired woman with eyes as black as Korithax’s.
I continue to watch as Elyistria raises her hands. Creatures rise from her palm, flamebeasts forming from glowing threads of light. They roar and fly, flames crackling across the sky as the other woman laughs beside her, awe filling their eyes. I realise I’m watching the very act of creation.
I take a step forward and fall straight through the flowers, back into the dark abyss, as more and more images fly past me.
I see images of the two girls growing, creating realm after realm with just their hands.
The silver-haired woman seems to create the worlds by hand, whilst Elyistria seems to create magic and life with hers.
Creatures, humans, everything to ever exist, all coming from their very palms. I knew Elyistria was a goddess, and I knew she had magic.
But I didn’t know she had a hand in creating everything in existence. But I thought the Divine Six—
I’m pulled straight into another vision. I land on my feet, stumbling forward into a place I instantly recognise as the Six’s realm. My body shudders in response, remembering how it had felt the last time I was here.
I look around the room, noticing the thrones they sit on aren’t here.
Nothing’s here, apart from Elyistria and the silver-haired girl.
This doesn’t make any sense. I had been told the Six were the original creators.
That everything that existed was due to them.
But I’d just watched these two girls create realm after realm.
Everything that had existed since the dawn of time had come from their hands.
Which meant the Divine Six’s version of history was a lie.
My head starts spinning with too many thoughts.
I stay standing at the far side of the room, watching with utter disbelief as one by one, each member of the Divine Six is formed. Voices suddenly sound around me, letting me finally hear for the first time since falling into these strange visions.
“You are to be known as the Divine Six,” Elyistria says.
“You will help us with the realms and ensure they all run smoothly.” The other woman continues.
“I am Elyistria. Goddess of Magic. Ruler of Luminaria. And this is my sister.” She gestures to the silver-haired girl.
“I am Dasmyrin. Goddess of Creation. Queen of Hell.”
I gasp. It was her. The first Queen of Hell, the one the whispers claim the Divine Six killed.
“We give you each a power, each a responsibility which will help us protect what we have created.” Dasmyrin continues.
Elyistria steps forward, placing her hands on the forehead of the one I recognise as Seraphiel. “You are the voice of judgement. You have the power to pass judgement on any being.”
She moves onto Amarithe, once again placing her hands on her forehead. “You are the bloom of light. A manipulator of perception.”
I frown. Why would they need someone who can manipulate perception?
She places her hands on Velentha next. “The oracle of time. You can see all possible futures.”
Velentha gasps as the magic is transferred into her, and her eyes dart to Dasmyrin, tears swimming in her eyes. But she doesn’t speak.
Elyistria continues on to Calrix. “The spear of order. The master of divine warfare, the protector of realms.”
He growls in response, his sword gleaming with fire.
She places her hands on Elaron, and Velentha lets out a small sob. I frown at her response, but Elyistria ignores her, continuing on.
“The whispering star. The manipulator of thought, memory, and dreams.”
She moves on to the last of the Divine Six. Mal’Thariel. The one who I was told was the creator of everything we know.
“The architect.” She whispers. “The one who will help structure and control the laws of the realms and its fates.”
So, he helped with the laws. He didn’t create shit.
I feel anger rising in me as I stare at the pretentious assholes standing ahead of me.
They lied. They had lied to everyone, erased history, and had it rewritten to make themselves appear as almighty gods.
But why hadn’t Elyistria corrected the lies?
Why had she sat back and let them continue on to rule as they were, knowing her and her sister were the creators? It didn’t make any sense.
I move forward, trying to scream, trying to warn Dasmyrin about their betrayal. But once again, the second I move forward, I fall. This time, the images don’t return, just utter darkness, with the whispers flying all around me, speaking to me in a language I can’t decipher.
“Vireth at’zul… e’kara sulan…
Kae;’vireth a’sul… shetha’zai en’karan…
Thaloriren ez’rem, vae’sharak il’drun.
Na’kaziel vel’tharan… kael’rion et’shara.
Vireth kai’syl… elthea’nur az’shal.
Aelari su’nai vel’zur… il’saerin et’kal.”
“I don’t understand,” I sob. “What is happening?”
I land on my back with a thud, the impact so brutal the breath whooshes out of my lungs. I sit up, coughing while trying to catch my breath.
“I’m getting real tired of falling through shit now,” I mutter.
“Creator of worlds. Queen of Hell. Risen from the ash.”
I snap my head up, watching a man I’ve never seen stand towering over Dasmyrin. She’s on the floor, bleeding, her silver hair coated in crimson.
“You were created from the ash. You will be destroyed in the ash.”
He laughs, a wicked sound that makes the hair on my arms rise. He looks familiar. Those eyes, that smile. He looked like an older version of Korithax.
“How could you, Korran. You were my sword and shield. My brother in arms,” Dasmyrin spits, blood pouring from her mouth.
He sneers at her, kicking her in the chest so hard she lands on her back.
“You are not worthy of the throne,” Korran snarls. “You make a mockery of Hell with your laws. Your codex is bullshit. Your court is bullshit. You do not rule with fear, you rule with a kindness that does not work in a world like this.”
“I built this godsdamn world,” she growls. “It is mine to rule as I please.”
“Well, now it is mine. Nobody will remember you, Ashborn. We will erase you, and if your sister tries to leave her pretty little realm, I will erase her too.” Korran sneers down at her as he places a boot on her chest.
“You fucking touch her and I will burn you all.”
He barks a laugh, the Divine Six following suit. All but Velentha, who just stares on, her expression vacant.
“You will do nothing. You will be nothing.” He spits. “Your crown is gone. Your throne is burned. And now your soul will be erased, your body incinerated.”
“You cannot,” she breathes, trying to stand.
Elaron moves forward, and Dasmyrin raises her hands. Nothing happens, and she stares at her palms in disbelief as a mocking laugh breaks from Seraphiel.
“Disabling elixir,” Amarithe purrs.
“You fucking bitch,” Dasmyrin screams. “Fuck all of you. I created you, I can end you.”
I watch as Elaron places a hand upon Dasmyrin’s forehead, an unseen magic holding her still. “This will hurt.” He smirks.
I watch in horror as a light shines briefly from his palm.
Dasmyrin’s screams tear through the space so loud I have to throw my hands over my ears.
I try to run to her, but I run into an invisible barrier.
I pound my fists against it, begging them to stop.
But what good would it be? This happened over fifty thousand years ago.
I was just watching as history played out right before my eyes.
A pain spears through my head as Elaron works at using his magic on her. It’s so painful it burns. I drop to my knees, holding my head between my hands as my eyes screw shut. A scream tears from me, loud enough to match the goddess being torn apart in front of me.
“Stop. Please. Stop this,” I beg of anybody who will listen. “STOP!”
Everything goes quiet, the pain vanishing instantly.
Slowly, I open my eyes, blinking a few times to clear the stars that blur my vision.
I lift my head, seeing a large mirror standing in front of me.
The thick black frame is covered in runes and a sigil that feels so familiar it makes the skin near my shoulder itch.
Right where my birthmark sits. A flame, carved into a cracked circle, wrapped in vines with tiny thorns. Dasmyrin’s sigil.
I stand slowly and walk over to the mirror on wobbly legs. It’s not me I see in the reflection. Dasmyrin stands there, her movements mimicking my own.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper at the same time she does.
I tilt my head, and she does the same. Taking another step closer to the glass, I watch as she copies my every move. I place my palm against the glass, her palm pressing against mine in the reflection.
“It is time.” A voice whispers. “She will rise as the sun. And burn us all.”
Dasmyrin reaches through the mirror and pushes me backwards with two strong hands, smiling softly at me as I begin falling once more. My golden hair whips around my face as I feel my soul tethering back to where I know my body lies.
I gasp hard, and my eyes fly open. My chest heaves as I breathe in my surroundings.
“Daisy,” Korithax’s voice wraps around me as he stares at me, my face in his palms. “Oh, thank the fucking gods.” He breathes, pulling me into a kiss so fierce it steals my breath away. He pulls back, searching my eyes frantically.
“She has risen again.” A voice sounds from behind me.
I turn to see Elyistria staring at me, tears brimming in her striking silver-blue eyes. She steps forward, her voice barely a breath.
“Hello, sister.”