39
Amelia attempted to unwind in the car seat, but her mind refused to settle. The car’s interior smelled of leather. Constantine’s hands guided the wheel with smooth strokes, and the car’s headlights pierced through the night, catching the glow of taillights on the highway.
“Can you go faster?” she asked.
Constantine cast a sideways glance at her, and the engine growled. “Are you worried?”
“No.” She exhaled through her nose. If she could fool Constantine, she might be able to convince herself that she had no reason to doubt the plan. “Mikhail told me Presiyan never leaves Prokaliya. Except, apparently, when he came for Mikhail. Do you really think he’ll be at this ceremony?”
“I can’t be sure.”
“You said a trusted source gave you the information, right? If this ceremony is so important, he should be there, shouldn’t he?”
She was rambling. So much for trying to stay calm.
Constantine, on the other hand, seemed in his element while he drove the luxury car at high speed.
“The election of a High Nymph is important only if you’re a nymph stuck in traditions.
I don’t see any damn reason why the rest of the world should care.
Still, you’ll see that plenty of other species’ representatives will come. ”
“What does a High Nymph do?”
“In these present times, nothing. The High Nymph is supposed to be a leader for the species – one to be in charge in case of an interspecies war. Since such conflicts are in the past, no one truly cares about her election apart from the celebration that follows the ritual and gives an excuse for a drunken debauchery.”
Amelia’s eyebrows shot up. “Does that mean Presiyan is there… to get drunk?”
Constantine snorted. “Highly doubtful.”
Annoyance rose within her. “If you think he won’t be there, why did you agree to come?”
“Relax, Amelia.” Constantine glanced at her.
“I agreed because I have to try. For Mikhail. Despite your na?ve plan, which has no chance of swaying a brutal bastard like Presiyan, I’m obliged to indulge you for Mikhail’s sake.
However, he’d likely rip my head off if he knew I was taking the woman he cares about into a den of nymphs. ”
She stiffened in her seat, staring at Constantine’s profile. “I…” She cleared her throat. “Am I the woman he cares about?”
Constantine’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “He hasn’t mentioned anyone else.”
“So he has spoken about me?”
Constantine laughed. “Of course not. We’re talking about Mikhail. He’s not exactly talkative.”
“But you said—” She frowned. “Never mind.”
They passed Burgas and continued south. Amelia rested her head against the seat, her gaze lost in the green crowns of the trees. For a moment, the hands on the wheel didn’t belong to a necromancer, but to her father. The back seat wasn’t a shadowy void but filled with her brother’s childish jokes.
The sign for Sozopol pulled her from the memory. Suddenly, the silence in the car felt suffocating.
“Don’t you ever listen to music?” she asked.
Constantine’s fingers glided over the display, and a melody began to play from the speakers. She read the song title: Carnival of Rust by Poets of the Fall.
She leaned back again, but this time, reality grounded her.
They were deep in the mountains now. The road to Beglik Tash passed through Primorsko.
Amelia had only been to the seaside town in the summer when the streets buzzed with life, the restaurants overflowed with tourists, and the nights were just as lively as the days.
Now, outside the active season, the place seemed eerily empty.
A winding, narrow path led to the ancient sanctuary, guarded by a police patrol at the entrance. The uniformed officers observed them, their eyes glowing in the dark in a way that only an immortal’s eyes did. Constantine exchanged a few words with them before driving the SUV up the hill.
The asphalt tapered off into the forest, turning into a rough woodland trail. A small clearing marked the beginning, where parked cars lined the edges, and other creatures moved around.
“We go on foot from here,” Constantine said, donning a black anorak over his T-shirt and pulling the hood over his head.
Amelia followed his lead, covering most of her face.
They got out of the car and joined the line of creatures climbing the hill towards the sanctuary.
The path led them to a wide, green meadow.
At one end, the unusual stone structures of Beglik Tash loomed.
The ancient sanctuary was an arrangement of massive stone blocks of various shapes and sizes, carved circles, and hollows.
In front of the stones was an open giant tent, glowing with light from within.
Inside, seven women sat around a long table, observing the gathering creatures.
Various objects were laid out on the table.
Thanks to large metal lanterns on either side of the table, the nymphs were well-illuminated, but most of the meadow remained shrouded in darkness.
“Those are the Chief Nymphs. They choose the High Nymph and crown her,” Constantine explained as they mingled with the crowd forming in front of the tent.
Amelia scanned the area. “Do you see Presiyan?”
“No.”
“What if he’s without a mask?”
Constantine tapped her shoulder. “Again – calm down.”
The nymph at the centre of the table rose to her feet.
On most women, such light blonde hair would have looked unnatural against a dark complexion, but on her, it was strikingly harmonious.
She thanked everyone present and announced that after twenty-four hours of deliberation, the conclave had reached a decision.
She then invited the current High Nymph to speak.
The High Nymph turned her back to the crowd and faced the chiefs.
Her hair was a mix of silver, gold, and copper hues, adorned with a shimmering golden wreath.
A flowing emerald-green gown accentuated her delicate figure.
Her voice was warm and melodious as she expressed her gratitude to the Chief Nymphs.
At the end of her speech, she removed the wreath from her head and placed it on the table.
After she stepped aside, it was time to announce the new High Nymph. With each passing moment, Amelia’s throat tightened.
The coronation of the High Nymph was a ritual in which each of the seven chiefs gave their blessing by presenting the chosen one with a symbolic gift that represented a feminine strength.
The first nymph picked up a vase from the table before her and gifted it to the chosen High Nymph.
“Just as this vase can provide a home for any flower, so can your womb create a home for…”
She trailed off, her features frozen. Gradually, all the nymphs under the tent adopted the same stunned, almost stone-carved faces. It was surreal. Amelia side-glanced at Constantine, but he was staring to the right.
The lantern lights illuminated three figures.
The golden- masked demon in the middle was even more terrifying than Amelia remembered.
To his right stood a tall figure with a dark red mask depicting a ghost caught mid-scream.
The mask to Presiyan’s left resembled a white cat’s muzzle with bulging yellow eyes and black spots on its forehead.
All three figures were cloaked in black robes.
The golden demon broke the silence. “We are here as observers, Chief Nymphs.”
His deep voice, distorted by the mask’s opening, sent an unpleasant shiver down Amelia’s legs.
Long, strained moments later, the Chief Nymph with dark skin and light hair spoke. “Presiyan…We are honoured that you are present at this important event for our kind.”
The golden demon nodded in response. The nymphs resumed the ceremony of giving gifts, but tension was evident in their expressions, and their eyes kept darting towards the masked figures.
Amelia couldn’t take her eyes off Presiyan, either.
It wasn’t hard to keep track of him since the entire crowd had parted from the three Tribunal representatives.
She hoped Constantine would give her a sign to indicate the right moment to make her move.
They would likely have to wait until the conclave concluded.
However, before the last nymph could present her gift, Presiyan spun around, followed by his companions, and the three of them left in a swift stride.
“He’s leaving!” Amelia whispered.
Constantine tracked the black figures with his gaze. “Let’s go.”
By the time they managed to push through the crowd of spectators, the Tribunal representatives were already disappearing down the dark path. Amelia quickened her pace, and Constantine followed. When they caught up, one of the men – the one with the red ghost mask – glanced back over his shoulder.
“Wait!” Amelia called out.
The red ghost halted in his tracks, but the other two continued moving away.
“I want to speak with Presiyan,” Amelia said.
The red ghost stretched out his hand in front of her. “Keep your distance, girl!” His voice was like a whip in the darkness.
He gave her his back, but Amelia didn’t plan to surrender until she’d done everything in her power. “I’m not a ‘girl.’ I’m the Oracle.”
The ghost’s heels dug into the ground, and he wasn’t the only one.
Presiyan whirled around, walking towards her.
Amelia clenched her fists, ready to face his terrifying mask.
It wasn’t until he stood before her that she realised how enormous he was.
His broad black figure blocked out everything around him.
Amelia couldn’t see anything but the golden mask – couldn’t feel anything but his overwhelming presence.
She recalled the tattoo on her back. The mark that proved her affiliation. The brand that declared this world claimed her as its own and acknowledged her power. It was enough to ground her.
She searched his gaze behind the mask, knowing her eyes were white. And even through them, she could see the golden demon.
“What a surprise…” Presiyan said. “Do you have a prophecy for me, Oracle?”
The hint of sarcasm in his voice made her brow crease. She had assumed that behind the mask was nothing more than a talking statue, incapable of anything but absolute indifference – or cruelty.
Yes, she had a prophecy for him, but it did not come from the Beyond. Since she couldn’t get knowledge from the heavens, Amelia would rely on a basic skill: lying. After all, if a task could be done the easy way, why wait for enlightenment from the skies?
She addressed Presiyan by the name she knew he was also called in the immortal world. “Master of the Earthly Demons, you tread on thin ice, and a being can only take so many wrong steps before it freezes forever. Step back and release Mikhail Korovin.”
A lie. She’d concocted the words and rehearsed until she could deliver them as if she believed in them more than in her very existence. She had made sure to sound vague and general, giving away no concrete information – except the Mikhail part.
The golden mask remained motionless for several tense seconds. Then Presiyan spoke. “Tell me, Oracle… When all masks fall, does the world stop, or does it spin?”
She pursed her lips, the words echoing in her head. Was that a riddle? Suddenly, an idea occurred.
“One world stops, another spins,” Amelia said. The answer was hazy enough to sound like an Oracle’s response.
“Thank you, but what you ask of me cannot be done.” He turned his back on her, and his masked companions took their places on either side of him.
Before Amelia could process his refusal, Presiyan was already moving away.
She opened her mouth to call after him, but Constantine’s voice stopped her.
“Don’t.”
***
After Constantine drove her back to the Hospital, Amelia locked herself in her room, undressed, and stepped into the shower. Emptiness engulfed her.
At last, her greatest fear – how she would flee from Mikhail once she had stolen his ring – was quelled. Because now it seemed she wouldn’t find the ring, and Mikhail wouldn’t return. Ana would carry out her threats.
But what could Amelia do? Would Constantine believe her if she warned him?
Would he take the necessary precautions to protect the Hospital?
What measures could even be taken, to protect against a semi-goddess’ wrath?
Evacuate the building? Search for the ring together?
Maybe Mikhail had mentioned its location to one of his friends.
Her skin heated, and Amelia reached out to turn down the hot water. A cold stream ran over her, yet she still felt like she was on fire. She stopped the water, but the sensation wouldn’t go away. Her eyes welled up with tears while she scanned her untouched body.
In a blink, she found herself in the middle of a cobblestone street. She grasped her surroundings. A grey sky loomed overhead. Nearby, a staircase rose into the clouds, disappearing in the murky greyness. In the distance, another set of stairs led nowhere…
At least her skin was no longer burning. She gazed down, and she was… naked! Her own body. It was hers… She wasn’t seeing through someone else’s eyes as in a vision, but she really was here.
Amelia took a step back, and her body erupted in pain. She pivoted on her heels, but a wall of flames rose, blocking her path.
“Are you scared, sinner?” A deep male voice boomed.
She searched for the source. It was a hideous creature with dark red skin, hooves instead of feet, and two horns. The monster moved towards her, dragging a leather whip across the ground like an extension of its right hand. “Come here!”
Amelia refused to obey. Suddenly, a child appeared, and he reminded her so much of Dave – the boy she had befriended at the Hospital, the one who had been hurt because of her. The child had dark brown hair, thick dark eyebrows, expressive eyes…
Dear God, it was Dave! But what was he doing here?
“Come, little friend,” the monster beckoned, tightening its grip on the whip’s handle.
Dave started towards him, wearing that same broad smile he always gave Amelia.
“Dave!” she screamed.
The monster’s whip lashed across her thigh, stealing her breath. Amelia cried out, an excruciating pain piercing through her.
“Consider this a warning, Amelia.” What? This time, it wasn’t the monster speaking, but a familiar voice. “There is one rule you must obey. Unconditionally.”
The Creator?
“Never lie when while looking through the Oracle’s eyes. Next time, your punishment will be real. Someone you care about will suffer. And you will watch.”
Amelia found herself back underneath the shower. Water, tears, and blood mingled into streams that ran down her body and disappeared into the drain.
Helplessness and shame weighed heavy in her chest.