The Endless One (The Gravesinger #3)

Chapter 1

The end of the world was nigh, but Jessamine Harmsworth was going to stop it.

Breath sawing through her lungs, heart pounding in her chest, she ran through the streets of this vaguely familiar city, knowing that she was going to make it.

Her coven had spies everywhere. They knew where Leon Bishop was, they knew how he was going to cast a spell to put a god in himself, and they knew when it was going to happen.

Which was right now.

This instant. Leon planned to turn himself into a god, and then all would be lost.

Already a smile spread across her face as she imagined what it would be like to interrupt his spell. He’d stare at her in shock, then horror as he realized who it was that had bested him. Her revenge was so close she could almost taste it.

Bolting past a crowd of people near a stall brimming with pomegranates, she shoved through another grouping of people in bright florals.

Leon’s kingdom was full of primping rich folks who had been shipped in from countless other cities.

After all, he wanted Orenda to be the only haven for them.

He wanted them indebted to him, trapped, so they were forced to remain in his kingdom while the rest of the world burned.

This kingdom was so different from her own.

Whereas Jessamine’s homeland was built with gray bricks and sturdy structures, this place had been inspired by the sea itself.

White buildings turned blinding as the sun came out in bright streaks of light.

The vivid lavender roofs were beautiful when anyone was high enough to see them.

This place was full of colors. It always had been.

As a young woman agreeing to marriage, she’d been so in love with Orenda. She adored every bit of the colors and how delicate everything appeared in comparison to her home. Even the Pleasure District wasn’t as beautiful as Leon’s kingdom.

But now she was going to destroy all of it by tearing him down. He would not become a god. He would sink to his knees and beg her for his life, and she would not be so kind as to gift it to him. The man would receive no pity from her, no matter how much he pleaded.

The crowds of people had no idea what he was preparing.

They were all going about their regular days, wondering why a young woman was sprinting among them.

No one rushed in Orenda. Even the vendors were wealthy, as they only sold the best of the best. Food was shipped in from other countries and provided at no cost, considering the high taxes they all paid.

Her feet pounded on the ground as she raced toward the city center. That’s where he was going to do it. Of course, the city center could be a private affair. It was barricaded by massive ornate gates inlaid with mother-of-pearl and white gold.

She’d seen them the last time she was here, visiting with her mother to make sure that the transfer of power between their kingdoms was perfect.

From the corner of her eye, she saw another person running on an opposite street. Just glimpses of dark skin, even darker hair, and a wild grin that spoke of magic and wildness that came only from witchcraft.

Sybil had come with her. Along with a few newer members of the coven. The witches were going to be the first to confront Leon, before they revealed that Elric was also working with them.

They had a plan. And it was a damn good one.

Weeks on end had been spent making sure that this moment was smooth and that not a single foot stepped out of place. For the first time in many months, Jessamine felt confident that what she had chosen to do, what she had set in motion, would work out exactly as she expected it to.

Grabbing onto a cart to help spin her momentum, she rounded the corner of a street and met Sybil. Together, they ran right for the gates that were just starting to close.

Three men stood guard outside, one of them watching the street and the other two working on closing the gates. Their navy suits were pressed into perfectly ironed lines, starched so much she wondered if the fabric could cut their skin, and each of them wore thunderous expressions.

Their anger wouldn’t matter in a few seconds. The moment they caught sight of Jessamine and Sybil, it was already too late. Her coven had reached the doors with them. Two other witches who joined them let spells lash out from their tongues.

One cast a spell that ripped roots right out of the ground. Those fibrous ropes grabbed onto one of the guards, tangling up his legs and reaching to pin his arms. Though he swore and struggled, there was no escaping his prison.

The other guard grabbed his face, trying to figure out why his eyesight was gone.

But then another spell flew from the witch who could control flesh, and his tongue folded and went straight down his throat.

Jessamine could see the instant his airway was blocked.

The man froze where he stood, reaching for his throat as his eyes bulged.

“Don’t kill him,” Jessamine snapped as she headed over to the third man trembling by the gate he held shut.

The young flesh witch was one of the newest to join the coven. She seemed to vibrate with rage as she stared at the man now on his knees while he desperately pried his jaws open and tried to yank his tongue back to where it should be.

What was her name again?

“Miriam,” Jessamine snapped. “Just make him pass out.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” the young woman said. Her blonde hair billowed around her face, which was turning just as red as the man on his knees before her. But Jessamine knew it was anger staining her cheeks. “I just want him to feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“Fear,” Miriam said, the word deep and resonating with emotion. “So many men just like him spread fear around like they’re sprinkling seeds. They think it helps make everyone around them grow big and strong, but all it does is drip poison into their roots.”

“Enough.” Jessamine reached for Miriam’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Enough, Miriam. This is not what we are here for.”

The young witch released her spell, but not before the man fell over onto his side and passed out. Jessamine could see his tongue struggling to free itself from his throat before flopping out of his open mouth.

Good enough. At least he wasn’t dead. These new witches had a lot of anger in them still, and she didn’t blame them for it. But she had to be able to trust them.

Frowning, she made eye contact with Sybil. Her friend sighed. “I’ll watch her. Want to take care of the last one yourself?”

Not really, but she’d do it. Jessamine turned toward the guard, who was quite literally hanging on to the gate like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

His breathing was heavy as he stared at her, clearly not sure what would be done to him.

His gaze kept flicking to the other two men, and then back to her.

If only she had more time to show him just what witches were really capable of.

Whispering, she coiled Elric’s dark magic with her own. She needed no spell, only intention. “Bind him.”

Shadows tangled around his arms and legs. He didn’t fight her as she brought him onto his knees and gently deposited him in a bush next to the gates. That should keep him for a little while, at least.

Long enough for them to kill the man he was supposed to be protecting.

“Good enough,” she said as she strode through the gates and into the garden beyond.

The first time Jessamine had been here, she was struck by the beauty of it.

But now she only saw the warning signs that filled the entire area to the brim.

Flowers bloomed in any season and filled the air with a cloying sweetness.

The ground was too squishy beneath her feet from months of overwatering that kept people walking slowly so they didn’t trip.

But at the very center was what she hated most.

The gardens spiraled down into a deeper hollow.

That way, during festivals, the king could be in the center, with everyone’s path leading to him and worshipping as they were supposed to do.

Neither Leon nor his late father had ever had to be concerned that someone would kill them.

They were overly confident like that. Of course, they hadn’t given anyone reason to try to kill them either.

Not until now. Now, as Leon stood in the center of that depression, etching out markings that looked like familiar runes.

She stood there, waiting in silence as she surveyed the massive web of magic he had woven around himself. Protection spells. Barriers that would be difficult to get through. Runes that were calling to the spirits of gods who were supposed to be dead and gone.

Sybil stood next to her, silently taking in all that they had to get through. “Want me to start unraveling it?”

“Can you?”

Her dearest friend shrugged. “I’m not all that sure. It looks like he aimed a musket and scattered shot everywhere he could with runes. It’s a minefield of spells that are meant to harm.”

“I only see protection and barriers.”

Sybil lifted an ancient, gnarled hand and pointed out a few runes in front of them.

“That’s an entangling spell. That one is a frost spell.

There’s another that’s just fire. I don’t know what he thought that would do, because it’s not like he can make something burn with that spell.

It makes a fire burn hotter. But I suppose if someone walked in with a torch… ”

Jessamine lifted a hand. “You’re giving him too much credit.”

“Look,” Sybil said. “He’s got a book of spells with him, the brat. He’s just taking every single spell in that and sprinkling it around the area. This must have taken him hours on end.”

“How is he even casting magic?”

“They aren’t really magic. They feed off the ground where they are, blighting the land. Nasty works that only the priestesses knew about.” Sybil sucked her teeth before shaking her head. “He’s a right asshole, isn’t he?”

“You’re just realizing that?”