Chapter 22
101 YEARS AGO
AGAINST HER BETTER judgment, Amelia started sneaking off into the woods to find the raven. The weakened chill of late winter made the night more bearable, so Amelia had dressed in a thin cloak, where the fabric wouldn’t stick to her skin but kept her disguised in the dark. She’d tucked The Book of Samael in the crook of her arm and headed off. Crooked trees and gnarled roots marked the area where Malicine lived. Amelia settled her bow trap and broke off two thick branches, carving large notches into them so that they could be shoveled into the ground.
She’d been practicing this ritual for weeks, improving with each attempt. Her fingers carefully tied the bowstrings to each side, then tied the trigger stick to the rear, where the bowstring would be pulled back and set behind the top. Then she set the trigger by running out the tripwire to a patch of leaves several feet away. Tonight, she’d swiped grapes from dinner and sprinkled them across the wide patch. In the clear sky, moonlight shone on olive berries, hoping to catch the eyes of a hungry raven.
Amelia had attempted and failed several times before, wasting hours and running into dead ends. But she was determined to find the raven , no matter how long her wait would be. His feather, the key to translating King Samael’s book, meant demons were connected to the Otherworld.
The night she discovered his story, she didn’t sleep.
A plague took over my body for months, weakening my bones and tainting my lungs. One night, Oleander informed me that I was to die in my sleep. As I retired to my chambers, he drew a magic circle around the bedposts for protection. He said this was common practice among the Fae when they aid the ill, for these circles act as a reservoir of concentrated power when ignited with fire.
Yet something new plagued me that night: suspicion. How did Oleander know I was to die? Do the Fae have such natural inclinations, given their immortality, or did he possess other secrets? It made little sense why I would meet death so soon. My body is sturdy as a mountain, never shaken by wind or word. The heads of wild beasts hang upon my mantel from my years of conquests. And my mind, sharper than any blades my soldiers possess, recalled weeks of his insistence to prepare my food, his overeagerness to pour liquids into my goblet, his attentive devotion that he claimed to be concern.
It came as no surprise when he completed the magic circle and lunged to set the bed ablaze. Quick-witted as I am, I kept a dagger under my pillow and expertly blocked his attack. His strikes were clumsy and desperate, no match for my sidesteps and precise swipe of my weapon. Flames spread across my chambers and caught onto my robe. Oleander wasn’t above unscrupulous tactics and used the frenzy to knock me to the ground. I pulled him down with me, our blood mixed with dust and fire amidst combat.
Then the carpet gaped open with a blinding light, and as our blood swirled mid-air, the unthinkable happened.
We fell out of existence and into the Otherworld.
Amelia’s pulse hummed as she thought about her golden blood, the same that spilled on the magic circle long ago and created a new world. The anticipation buzzed in her veins. As if on call, the raven finally appeared.
The large bird cut through the moon like an inky trail. His claws landed atop the undergrowth, crackling the coppice. He was much larger than she remembered, a big, sooty bird with a thick neck and a knife of a beak. His red eyes were stark in the night, and they narrowed on the grapes she’d laid out for him. He made a two-footed hop before his claw caught on the string. The arrow shot forward and cast a wide net over his body, capturing the bird and pinning the trap to the ground.
It was exactly as planned. She’d made sure the arrow would never hit him.
Trapped inside the net, the bird scrambled across the twigs and croaked so violently Amelia could have sworn they were expletives if she could understand his language. She rushed over to the net and held the bird down with careful hands, not wanting her fingers to be pecked to bloody pulps.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered frantically. “I’m not trying to hurt you, I promise.”
He shook in her grasp before spitting out a grape. The fruit rolled pathetically over the soil. He might have glared at her, if ravens could make such expressions. She stared into the red pupils of his eyes. They were just as The Book of Samael had described in later passages of the Otherworld. Ravens were supposed to have eyes as black as soot, but this creature possessed pupils that glinted like fresh blood, a sign that they came from a different realm.
“I’m looking for Malicine,” Amelia said. “Will you take me to them?”
With her free hand, she held a grape to his beak as a peace offering. He spat it out again. She frowned. “Why did you try to eat it if you don’t like it?”
“Because he thought you left behind an eyeball.”
Amelia jerked back. A silhouette towered over her, blacker than night, with horns that stretched like the tall, shadowed pines surrounding them. A flick of a wrist emitted a flame from the demon’s palm, a torch that illuminated Malicine’s face. Shadows danced on their grave expression, green skin and cheekbones sharp like daggers. The dark slits of their eyes narrowed.
“You’ve been looking for me for weeks. Are humans incapable of tiring themselves, or does your naivete fuel you?”
Amelia swallowed hard. She thought back to the past nights, her clumsy figure skulking in shadows, haphazardly putting together traps and flimsy arrows. All this time, Malicine had been watching her from the corners of the woods, letting her fumble in the darkness. But if she had worn off the demon’s patience for them to finally emerge, she would take advantage of this.
“My name is Amelia,” she said. “I am the girl you cursed almost eighteen years ago.”
“Your time isn’t up yet, unless you’d like me to quicken it and have you die today.”
It was a threat, but dying was never a fear for her. Even as the wind shook the branches to warn of danger, she stood her ground and let the leaves scatter. “No. I want something better than death.”
Malicine raised a brow. “You are a strange human.”
Amelia revealed the tome hidden in her cloak. Her shaky hands untied the string to release the pages, letting them flap like the wings of a pale butterfly.
“I found a book left behind by my ancestor. The people of Gyldan believe he died, but he says he escaped death by traveling to the Otherworld—”
“Your family lore does not entertain me,” Malicine interrupted. They waved toward the net that covered the raven. Sharp nails sliced open the trap, setting the bird free. “Now leave before I let Talon feed on your eyeballs after all.”
Amelia stepped forward and jutted the open book to Malicine’s face. “It’s true, isn’t it? That there’s an Otherworld beyond physical boundaries. A place we can visit through magic.”
“There have been stories, but no proof. Even if another world with demons existed, the portals that bring you there no longer exist. I have searched for years.”
“That’s because you’re not supposed to find them. Portals don’t exist until the traveler creates one with magic, and they close as quickly as they open. That’s how King Samael discovered the Otherworld.”
The mention of portals made Malicine pause. “All right,” they said, after a moment of thought. “If portals are temporary openings instead of fixed positions, how did the king discover how to create one?”
Amelia set the book on a carpet of moss and spread its yellowed pages. She explained Samael’s mysterious illness, Oleander’s betrayal, and the bloodshed that inadvertently created a portal. By using one of Talon’s feathers, she showed how the words rearranged themselves to legibility in the book. Malicine skimmed the text, each page deepening a new wrinkle in their forehead.
Oleander was not a faerie, but a wicked demon, envious of my power and wanting to claim my life for himself. What we did not realize during our fight was the effects of spilling blood onto his magic circle. My gilded blood, his demon blood, combined to awaken the circle and open a portal.
“Magic circles have always taken power from nature, not ourselves,” Malicine murmured. “If specific ingredients are used to create a barrier from the world, perhaps using something as potent as blood could open one. But why blood, of all things? Not that I’m opposed to blood sacrifice. I suppose that would be expected for my repertoire.”
“I don’t think it’s sacrifice. It’s willingly giving a piece of yourself to birth something that’s always been a part of you,” Amelia said. “Every creature carries their own unique blood, and every creature originates from their own world.”
Malicine stared at Amelia with a degree of skepticism, but she could tell they were considering her words. The demon crossed a wide path in the forest, brows still furrowed in contemplation. They collected twigs and connected each stick in the shape of a circle while their eyes glazed over in thought. Nails scraped across the wood like a match before fire burst to life, spreading across the arrangement in the middle of the forest.
“Fine. Let’s try it, then. And if it doesn’t work, your life will be an early sacrifice for wasting my time.”
Flames gleamed in Malicine’s eyes as they looked at Amelia, a silent challenge. Amelia accepted it as she walked inside the circle.
Malicine stepped forward next. The two stared at each other, flames flickering over their faces. An unspoken knowledge hung between them, that in this hidden space, they would repeat history, even if they had no idea the truth of what was on the other side.
“Why do you want to go there so desperately?” Malicine asked. The contempt in their narrowed eyes fell like a cracked mask, revealing a glint of curiosity in their green irises.
“I want to know if there’s more to live for,” Amelia said.
Malicine considered Amelia’s answer. “I suppose I’m the same.”
She watched Malicine straighten their posture and turn back to the circle of fire. They faced both palms outward, casting a spell. The flames blurred before changing to the color of sea waves. Energy pulsed in the air like electric current. The trees glowed under the light, and pure white washed over the leaves.
Amelia could feel everything beginning to change. The color of the trees, the demon by her side. Malicine slashed their palm and spilled the circle with blood. In their eyes, Amelia recognized determination. While Malicine had cursed her to fall asleep, she’d brought something inside the demon to wake in return.
Amelia extended her palm to Malicine to cut open. The pain was sharp but small, a passing blink. Blood dripped down her hand, laced in gold and glinting under the flames. The forest lit aglow, as if sensing their energy.
The first drop hit the ground. Amelia could no longer feel the weight of herself as they fell below.