Chapter 58
Carnage consumed the world.
Anniliese stood alone in the clearing, the once-white bark of the Ivory Forest birch trees stained black with soot. Her nose burned with the aggressive tang of scorched flesh.
She’d had to bite back her gags at first. She was used to it now.
There were so many bodies. So much death.
The few people who’d remained in Andburgh had surprised her—surprised them all—with their loyalty to the queen who’d come from the small house at the edge of the wood.
Perhaps it was a loyalty also owed to the mother who’d healed so many of them, who’d brought so many of their children into the world.
The mother who had died to set Kol free.
Whatever it was, it had been stupidity on their part.
Of those who hadn’t fled before the army’s arrival, every resident who refused to bend the knee to Kol was guided to this place in the forest and slaughtered.
Their bodies were now piled, Anniliese’s flames still licking at what remained of their skin.
Her gaze landed on the corpse of a young woman, no older than herself. Her blonde hair half-burned and matted, blue eyes glassy and unseeing. The grass beneath Anniliese’s feet was still sticky with blood.
As was the piece of foul, twisted black stone squatting amidst the ashen ruins of the Salis house.
It was the same substance she’d seen the Royals use that day in Khento when the mudae had first poured forth.
And it was the same substance that had split open beneath Lisabel Salis’s lifeblood, releasing the fallen sun god from his prison.
Anniliese tipped up her chin. The dawn was rising, blood red rays of that same sun gilding the world in his violence.
The Solstice was supposed to be a night of energy and life.
It had always been a bit ceremonial for her taste, too stuck up and pious.
Yet even then, her soul had always felt uplifted.
When she’d turned 18 and had been allowed to shed her blood into the earth, to contribute to the collection of allume so they could have light and heat for another half-year, she’d finally started to understand the power and importance of the night.
But this…it turned her stomach. She bit her tongue to hold back her retching, even as the dark memories from just a few hours ago drained her soul of all hope.
Kol had used the thin barriers between the planes to his advantage.
With the blood of innocents, he’d forced open a portal to Enfara.
Not for him to leave, but for his army of mudae to flood the skies.
Legions upon legions of the twisted winged demons had streamed into their world, blotting out the light of the two moons.
The magic it had left behind was the kind that tainted the very earth. Anniliese had no doubts that whatever allume still ran through Onita was now polluted, too.
“Your lack of gratitude is shameful, Anniliese Hareth.”
Ksee glided out from the smoke. Anniliese kept herself still, head held high, refusing to so much as flinch. The High Priestess’s white robes were pristine, her feet stepping gingerly over the piled corpses.
“What should I be grateful for, High Priestess?”
Ksee sneered. “You stupid, blubbering girl. If it were up to me, you would have been made an offering tonight, just as the others were. I do not question the decisions of His Eminence, but I must admit, I do struggle to understand what he sees in you.”
Anniliese flinched. Her gaze strayed unbidden to the five female bodies piled together near the blood-covered gateway.
They’d gone through so much these past few weeks—her fellow priestesses.
A life in commitment to the goddess was supposed to be safe, if not a bit boring.
When their magic manifested and they’d left their families, they should’ve taken solace in the fact that the true foulness of the world would be shielded from them.
But when vengeful darkness is set free and men are allowed to act without consequence, there is no place where women are truly safe.
Ksee stepped closer, dull eyes narrowing. “What does he see in you, Anniliese Hareth?”
Despite the summer warmth, Anniliese felt so cold. “I don’t know.”
Ksee sniffed. “Shameful,” she repeated, glancing at the smoldering bodies with a curl of her lip. “If you must be kept with us,” the priestess said, “then be more productive. Rid us of this mess quickly. The smell is drifting into camp and bothering the lords.”
“Yes, High Priestess. We wouldn’t want the lords being confronted with the consequences of their actions.”
Ksee’s glare was piercing. “No matter what promises Kol has made you, girl, you are not invincible. Mind your tongue, lest you want to lose it. Or worse.” The priestess spun on her heel, storming away with an imperious set to her shoulders, disappearing into the smoke-shrouded trees back toward the camp.
Anniliese wanted to lash out. She wanted to pull out that tiny dagger still tucked against her rips, run after Ksee, and sink it deep into the priestess’s back.
But what would that get her? She had nowhere else to go; nowhere else to hide.
She couldn’t survive in the woods alone no more than she could survive here amongst the monsters.
It was either the nightmare she knew, or the danger she didn’t.
One day, perhaps she would make a different choice. A better choice. Today was not that day.
Anniliese braced herself, reaching for her flames.
She struggled to grab onto that ember in her chest, to pull it free and into her hands.
It was as if her flames fought against this purpose, as if they wanted nothing to do with all this death and destruction.
Just like how’d they’d burned her hands when she’d destroyed the Salis house.
It made sense, in a way. The fire was a gift from the Goddess of Life. And despite flame’s destruction, this carnage wasn’t what it wanted.
A small golden flame flickered to life in Anniliese’s palm. Her stomach curdled.
“I hate you,” she whispered, barely more than a breath in the wind. “I hate you so much. You ruined my life. I lived in a prison, but it was better than this torment.” A tear spilled down her cheek, tracking through the soot coating her skin. “I hate you.”
She threw the flame into the pile of corpses, the inferno in her chest blossoming as the fire burst back to life. Heat flared across her face, fire devouring hair and skin and clothes.
And not for the first time, Anniliese found herself wishing she were better and smarter than what she was.
She was a fool to ever think Kol capable of kindness or redemption. That first conversation with him had been nothing more than a trick, a way for him to understand her fears, a way for him to worm his way in.
But five thousand years was a long time for hate to fester. It had twisted him into madness. And whatever Mariah had taken from him, it was enough to push him beyond the point of saving.
Anniliese’s thoughts snagged on the young queen.
She should’ve gone with her all those months ago; Mariah had offered Anniliese an escape, even when she had every reason in the world to hate her.
And even more recently, when the oldest Laurent had fled Khento.
Anniliese should have gone with him then, too.
Even if she knew it would have only delayed the inevitable.
Instead, she’d given him Lisabel Salis’s ring and stupid words about wanting to understand the god of darkness and shadows. About how she hoped the queen would prove Kol wrong in the end.
Anniliese had always known her pride would be her downfall. She just never realized how true that would end up being.
Her fire crackled and popped, melting the residents of Andburgh to ash.
She hated that magic. Hated what it had done to her. Hated how it was being used in this world.
She hated the choices she’d made that had put her here, doing the bidding of evil beings and the weak men who followed them blindly.
Most of all, Anniliese Hareth hated herself.