Chapter 36
ELLIE
Aria’s hand is a shackle on my shoulder, steering me through the throng.
The crowd parts for us like the sea, their masked faces turning to watch me pass.
Their reverence is a physical weight, pressing in on me, stealing the air from my lungs.
The silk of my dress whispers against my skin, a shroud I’m being forced to wear.
She leads me to the front of the ballroom, up three shallow steps onto a dais, and my eyes land on the reason we’re all here.
An altar.
It’s carved from the same pale marble as the floor, but it’s stained.
Dark, rusty-brown streaks mar its surface, trailing into a deep groove that channels the liquid into a basin at the foot of the dais.
Chains, thick and dark with old blood, hang from iron posts at its corners.
My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic bird beating against a cage of bone.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Aria’s voice is a symphony of pride beside me. I notice, almost belatedly, that it’s her voice, not the mechanical drawl of the mask’s interface.
Did she remove the mask? Why?
She releases my shoulder, her fingers trailing down my spine like a spider.
“All this time, you thought I was training you to take my place. To lead.” She laughs, and it’s a soft, chilling sound that causes my pulse to misfire.
“Oh, my sweet, na?ve girl. You were never meant to be The Divine One. You were meant to be the vessel. The final sacrifice.”
The world tilts on its axis. The music, the chatter, the scent of lilies—it all fades into a dull, roaring hum in my ears.
Sacrifice?
The word doesn’t make sense. It’s a stone in my mouth, a concept I can’t swallow, lighting every thought on fire and turning it to ash.
“No,” I breathe, shaking my head. “No, I won’t.”
Aria’s smile is all teeth. “You will.”
As if on cue, the crowd before me parts. Not with respect, but with a synchronized, unnerving precision. And through the gap they create, three figures are dragged forward. They’re thrown to their knees at the base of the dais, and a scream tears from my throat, raw and ragged.
It’s them. Beckett, Zane, Dominic.
They’re a ruin of the men I love. Dominic’s face is a bloody mess, one eye bright red.
It’ll no doubt swell shut in a few hours.
Zane’s shirt is shredded, his torso a canvas of purple and black bruises, angry red cuts weeping sluggishly.
And Beckett… oh, gods, Beckett. He’s slumped, his consciousness clearly fading, a deep gash on his temple matting his hair.
They’re alive, but only just. Their eyes find mine, and the devastation I see there is a physical blow.
“I see you still have hope,” Aria says, her voice dripping with condescension.
She circles me slowly, like a shark. “You think your two lost boys are coming to save the day. Ryker and Landon.” She pauses, savoring the way my body stiffens.
“I have to confess, Ellie, that little charade of yours was…entertaining. But faking a death requires a body. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?
That we wouldn’t discover your uncle’s little hotel? ”
My blood turns to ice. “No…”
“Oh, yes,” she purrs, stopping in front of me.
Her eyes gleam with a manic light. “Ryker was so defiant. He fought so hard. It took three of my men to hold him down while we…convinced him to talk.” She leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“He screamed your name, you know. Right up until the end. We carved it into his chest so he’d never forget. ”
A sob rips through me, hot and violent. I can see it. I can see it in my mind’s eye, his strong body broken, his voice crying out for me. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Aria’s smile widens. “And Landon. Poor, clever Landon. He thought he could outsmart me. We didn’t have to break his body to break his spirit.
We just had to show him what was left of Ryker.
He shattered. We didn’t even have to lay a hand on him after that.
He just…stopped. He was still here, somewhere in the bowels of this house.
A beautiful, mindless thing. We used him for…
entertainment. Until he took his own life, of course. ”
Tears stream down my face, hot and endless. It can’t be true. It can’t. Ryker’s raspy chuckle that isn’t quite a laugh, Landon’s steadfast strength—they can’t be gone.
But the detail in her voice, the cold certainty in her eyes, it’s a poison seeping into my soul, planting seeds of doubt that bloom into pure, unadulterated horror.
“Now,” Aria says, her voice returning to its normal, commanding tone.
“The same thing will happen to these three. Slowly. I’ll make them watch each other be broken piece by piece.
Or”—she gestures to the altar—“you can do your duty. You can be the bridge that reunites our goddess with her people. You can save them.”
Save them. The words are a hook, and I’m a dying fish. I look at Beckett, at Zane, at Dominic. Their pain is my pain. Their potential end is my end. What choice do I have?
I already don't want to live knowing Landon and Ryker are gone. But if I can save the other three I love? I’ll do it in a heartbeat.
Please forgive me.
I love you all so much.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dominic rasps, but the words end in a hiss when one of the guards hits him across the head.
A whimper escapes me.
“If you die, we die,” Zane says, and despite his mottled face, his eyes are crystal clear, boring into me. “Fight, princesa.”
How can I fight when their lives are quite literally on the line? I know if I push against Aria, she’ll kill one of them to teach me a lesson. I can’t allow her to do that. I won’t.
Landon…
Ryker…
Grief pierces me, ink dripped in water, growing and growing until it consumes me completely.
My shoulders slump. The fight drains out of me, leaving a hollow, aching void.
“What do I have to do?” I whisper.
“Ellie, don’t!” Beckett roars.
“Don’t you fucking dare give up,” Dominic bellows.
Zane screams at me, but I zone them out, trying to ignore the pain tearing me apart from the inside out, the grief slicing at my skin repeatedly like a serrated blade.
Aria’s triumphant laugh echoes through the silent ballroom. She positions me in the center of the dais, facing the crowd. “Just repeat after me.”
“Ellie, please…” Tears cascade down Dom’s face as he begs me.
I can’t look at him, at them. I won’t.
“Paragons of Prosperity,” Aria begins, her voice booming. “Children of Cassia.”
I swallow the bile in my throat, my voice a flat, dead echo. “Paragons of Prosperity. Children of Cassia.”
“I am the vessel. I am the key.”
“I am the vessel. I am the key.”
“I am the blood that will bring her home.”
“I am the blood that will bring her home.”
As I speak, I look out at the sea of masked faces, their bodies leaning forward, hanging on my every word. They actually believe it. They believe I’m this reincarnated goddess, this sacrificial lamb. They are not people. They’re a…flock. A mindless, devoted flock waiting for a shepherd.
A new kind of cold settles in my bones. It’s not the cold of fear or grief. It’s the cold of clarity. Of rage. If they want a goddess, I’ll give them one. If they want a savior, I’ll show them what salvation truly costs.
Aria gives me a subtle nod, ready for the final line. “And I offer myself—”
“And I offer you a final command,” I say, my voice suddenly ringing with an authority that isn’t mine but feels more real than anything I’ve ever known. The shift is so abrupt, Aria actually blinks.
The crowd stills, their adoration turning to confusion.
I let the silence hang for a moment, letting my power wash over them. I look at their blank, waiting faces, at the bloody altar, at my broken men on the floor. My grief and my rage forge themselves into a weapon, and I raise my hands.
“As your goddess,” I declare, my voice clear and strong, “as your one true leader, I command you to prove your devotion. I command you to shed your mortal coils, remove your masks, and join me in the eternal. Kill yourselves.”
For a heartbeat, there is only stunned silence.
Then a man in the front row pulls a dagger from his belt and removes his mask.
He looks at me with tears of joy in his eyes, and without a moment’s hesitation, he slits his own throat.
A woman beside him, her mask already discarded on the ground, smiles beatifically as she plunges a letter opener into her heart.
It’s a wave, a horrifying, beautiful tide of self-destruction, all in my name.
All for me.