Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
KATELL
Dorias steered Katell down a shadowy corridor, his pace brisk, an iron grip on her arm. The Emperor’s imposing figure strode ahead, flanked by a cortege of guards whose purple cloaks looked like shrouds in the faint light.
Katell’s left eye throbbed, yet she tilted her head, trying to glance over her shoulder. The guard—Velthur—hauled Leywani along, his grip unyielding around her wrist.
Shadows clung to his face, obscuring his features, but Katell needed to see him. The guard who’d taken her down with ruthless precision—not a single blow wasted, not a single strike fatal. Just enough to incapacitate her.
They stepped into a vast hall where rows of torches blazed against the stone. The air was thick with incense, and flames flickered over carved statues of Laran—colossal figures looming like silent sentinels.
They were in his temple.
The Great Temple of Kisra.
And then the firelight caught Velthur’s face, revealing his features. Katell’s breath stilled in her throat.
Golden skin, dark, penetrating eyes, hair black as a starless night. He walked as though every inch of him were carved from stone, yet moved with a grace that betrayed honed lethality.
By the Moon…
Velthur caught her staring. His expression was blank, face an unreadable mask as carefully forged as the one Leukos had worn in Tiryns.
Katell’s heart faltered.
Accusing words tore out before she could stop them: “Why do you look like him?”
Her mind raced, piecing together connections she didn’t want to make. Had Alena been deceived as well? Had Leukos been working with the Rasennans all along?
For the first time, Velthur’s mask shifted. His dark brows drew together, the faintest crease of tension marring his expression.
Dorias tugged her arm, urging her forward, but Katell planted her feet, refusing to move. She needed answers.
Velthur’s cold voice cut through the silence. “I suppose you mean my charming little brother?”
Brother?
Katell reeled, trying to twist back towards him, but Dorias’ grip held firm.
“Brother?” she echoed.
Velthur didn’t break stride. “Once upon a time, I was a Megarian prince,” he said, his words almost mocking. “But that kingdom is dead, as is its royal family. I made sure of it when I joined the Emperor.”
Katell froze mid-step, nearly pulling Dorias to a halt. “You’re the one behind the massacre?”
“The Achaean League was doomed. I simply chose the winning side.”
“But the Achaeans blame someone else for betraying them.” Her fists curled, pain flaring with the motion. “You ruined another man’s life!”
Velthur’s smile turned razor-sharp. Not a flicker of remorse crossed his face. “Oh yes, Nikander. His father was a useful pawn.”
The casual dismissal made Katell’s blood boil. “You sacrificed your own family to save your life?” she spat. “You’re nothing but a coward.”
Velthur’s dark gaze locked onto hers, unflinching, like a blade against her throat.
“Sacrifices are the foundation of empires, girl. Only children cling to sentimental notions like honour. A coward I may be”—his voice dropped, cold and biting—“but cowards live to see another day. While the brave rot in unmarked graves, forgotten by the world.”
Katell’s nails bit into her palms, and she turned her glare on Dorias. “And these are the kind of men you chose to follow?”
Dorias pulled her closer, the proximity almost intimate, a reminder of what they’d once been.
The flickering torchlight carved harsh shadows across his face.
“I follow Emperor Caius,” he said, the low words meant for her ears alone.
“Velthur is nothing but a leech with no Gifts. Any morsel of power he clings to, he owes entirely to the Emperor.”
Katell shook her head. The Dorias she thought she knew—the man she’d trusted—would never have tolerated such dishonour. “I thought you were better than this.”
For a brief moment, his expression cracked.
Hurt flashed in his eyes before he masked it with steely resolve.
“Whatever you think of me doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice hardening.
“I swore an oath before the gods over my wife and child’s corpses the day of the Westerners’ attack that I would do anything for revenge. ”
“Right,” Katell snarled. “Anything, indeed.”
Dorias’ shoulders stiffened, his composure fraying at the edges. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this.”
She scoffed. “How did you think it would end when you betrayed my secrets to the Emperor?”
“Katell—”
“Save it,” she snapped, her anger flaring before it gave way to something colder. “If you feel even a shred of remorse, Dorias—if your feelings for me were ever true, however briefly—then grant me this one favour.”
Dorias’ gaze shifted, softening just enough to show he was listening.
“Keep Leywani safe,” she whispered.
Silence followed, broken only by the steady echo of their boots against the stone floor. At last, Dorias inclined his head in a subtle, almost reluctant nod. It wasn’t much, but it was more than she had dared hope for.
The corridor narrowed, and up ahead loomed a set of heavy wooden doors, their surfaces carved with intricate, faded symbols. The designs seemed to shift in the torchlight, strange and foreboding.
Her pulse quickened. “Where are you taking me?”
The guards moved in unison, pushing open the doors with a slow, grating groan. The Emperor turned, casting a disdainful glance over his shoulder, his expression one of absolute control. Without a word, he swept inside.
Katell hesitated, dread coiling tighter in her gut.
“I’m not sure.” Dorias sounded unusually quiet, almost unnerved. “I’ve never been here before.”
Her stomach dropped. If even Dorias didn’t know what lay beyond these doors, it could only mean one thing: whatever waited for her would remain hidden. Secrets no one walked away from.
He pulled her forward into a cavernous chamber hewn from the bedrock.
The ceiling soared into shadow, the walls glistening with veins of moisture that caught the torchlight.
At its heart stretched a vast pool of black water, the surface so still it looked like glass.
Damp air clung to her skin, while somewhere in the dark a single drop fell, the sound echoing like a heartbeat.
A priest in deep red robes, a wreath of olive leaves crowning his greying hair, approached to greet the Emperor with a bow. Behind him, a procession of priestesses glided into view, their faces obscured by flowing veils of dark red fabric, dresses trailing like shadows across the stone floor.
Before she could process further, Velthur stepped past them, dragging Leywani by the arm. He shoved her to her knees before the Emperor. Leywani didn’t move, didn’t even try to rise. She stayed there trembling, her eyes locked on Katell.
The Emperor spread his arms, his voice reverent yet chilling. “Behold, the source of Laran’s Tears.”
Katell’s stomach churned.
“It is said,” the Emperor continued, “that Laran himself demanded my ancestor, King Tarquinius, sacrifice every soldier taken prisoner after his conquest of the neighbouring kingdom of Rome. Thousands died upon his command, their blood spilled in offering to the god of war. In return, Laran rewarded him by transforming the blood of his enemies into a source of unparalleled power—Laran’s Tears.
” He gestured towards the pool, his eyes gleaming.
“This is where they are made. Very few are granted the privilege of entering this deep into Laran’s Great Temple.
Fewer still even know of its existence.”
A shiver crept down Katell’s spine at the sight of the unnatural black pool.
It didn’t reflect light as water should.
Instead, it seemed to drink it in, absorbing the torchlight with an unsettling sheen.
There was no warmth to it, no life—just an oppressive, inky blackness that seemed to pulse with quiet malice.
Katell’s pulse quickened. The elder priest advanced, two veiled priestesses drifting at his sides with eerie grace. His eyes gleamed with twisted glee, gaze sweeping over her like a prized offering. His expression sent icy dread coursing through her veins.
“Take off the manacles,” he ordered, his voice rasping with authority.
Dorias hesitated, his jaw tightening. Then he obeyed, unlocking the golden bands around her wrists.
The moment they slipped free, Katell’s magic rushed back, surging through her body like wildfire. Her breath hitched, fingers twitching, the familiar intoxication strength flooding her once more.
The priest’s thin lips curved into a sly smile. “Careful now,” he murmured. “If you care for your friend’s life, you’ll behave.”
Velthur loomed over Leywani, deftly spinning a blade between his fingers. The sharp glint of the metal caught the torchlight, a deadly reminder of the stakes.
Katell clenched her fists, magic bubbling just beneath the surface. She wanted to act, to lash out, to rip them apart—
The blade pressed suddenly to Leywani’s neck. “Go on,” Velthur sneered, drawing a thin line of blood. “Try something. See how quickly this ends for her.”
Leywani whimpered, her trembling hands clutching the hem of her tattered tunic. Katell’s throat tightened, and the oppressive weight of helplessness settled over her, choking her anger.
The priest chuckled, revelling in her restraint. “Good,” he said, nodding in approval. “Now, let us proceed.” He turned to the veiled priestesses with a flick of his hand. “Undress her.”
Katell’s blood ran cold. “What?” she rasped, taking a step back.
The priestesses moved towards her without hesitation. Katell recoiled, but Dorias stood firm at her back, his hand clamped around her arm. His presence was immovable, his body a barrier against escape.
“Don’t—” she started, her voice breaking, but it was no use.
The priestesses worked swiftly, unclasping her tunic and undoing her braid.
The fabric slipped from her shoulders and fell in a crumpled heap at her feet.
The chill of the damp air hit her bare skin, and she felt more vulnerable than when she’d been sold to Bruna’s arena.
Her heart hammered. She glanced at Leywani, still kneeling, her face stricken with terror. Velthur loomed over her, blade in hand, the threat carved into every line of his stance. Katell clenched her jaw, humiliation burning hot in her chest while the priestesses seized her arms.
The Emperor stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with twisted anticipation. “You claimed you could barely summon a Makhai,” he taunted, “let alone control one. Well, now you will.”
He gestured to the pool, and the priestesses dragged her to the edge. Its surface rippled despite the still air, making her skin crawl. Whatever they were about to do, Katell knew it wouldn’t be good—for her, for Leywani, or for anyone.
Her thoughts spun. Laran’s Tears had stripped her control, driven her into violence, made her hunger for power until she barely recognised herself. She’d never survive a full immersion. Did they mean to drown her in it?
“Bathing in the Tears will make you whole,” the priest intoned, as if answering her question. “You will emerge from this pool reborn—a true weapon of the Empire.”
Her pulse thundered in her ears when her bare feet met the cold stone at the pool’s edge. The priestesses didn’t pause—they tugged her forward, pulling her closer to the water.
Her body trembled with the deep, primal fear twisting in her gut. Her foot touched the liquid, and the warm, inky blackness lapped at her ankles, tendrils coiling around her legs like living things. Panic clawed at her chest, threatening to overwhelm every thought.
She forced herself to take another step. Then another. Each movement defied instinct, every nerve screaming to flee or strike. But she pressed on, her gaze locked on Leywani. She tried to keep her expression calm, to put on a brave face for her friend, even as terror gnawed at her mind.
When the black water reached her waist, the stillness shattered. The liquid writhed, swirling unnaturally around her. It climbed higher, tendrils creeping up her stomach like grasping fingers. She gasped, recoiling on instinct, but the priestesses held her firm.
The pool seemed alive, its darkness hungry, and Katell baulked, her courage faltering. She dug her heels into the slick stone beneath her feet, shaking her head. “No—”
“Kat!” Leywani’s cry pierced the oppressive stillness.
Katell’s head snapped towards her friend just in time to see Velthur seize her by the hair. He drove the blade deeper into her skin, and Leywani’s scream shattered the chamber.
“Keep going,” he commanded.
Katell forced another step. The pool tightened around her, drawing her deeper, as if it sensed her fear and relished it.
She tore her gaze from Leywani and fixed it on the Emperor, her eyes burning. The smug triumph curling his lips sent fire licking through her veins.
“You can drown me in this pool,” she declared. “You can turn me into your weapon, your monster. But one day—” She stepped forward, her voice rising like a battle cry. “You will pay for everything you’ve done.”
The chamber seemed to hold its breath. The Emperor’s smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing.
Katell lifted her chin, defiance blazing in every inch of her. “Mark my words, Tarquinius,” she vowed, her words ringing through the chamber. “One day I will return—and I will finish what my mother, the Rebel Queen, started all those years ago.”
Tarquinius blanched, his mask of control slipping while Dorias stared at Katell as if seeing her for the first time. Around them, murmurs rippled through the priestesses and guards, shock turning to unease.
Katell smiled at the chaos she’d unleashed, satisfaction curling in her chest—until the high priest barked an order, snapping them from their stupor. In an instant, hands were on her, pushing her forward.
She barely had a moment to react before the ground beneath her vanished and she plunged into the pool, the warm liquid swallowing her whole. She kicked and struggled, but before she could find purchase, something snared her ankles and yanked her down.
No. No.
Katell thrashed, lungs burning, clawing against the pull, but the water held her fast, dragging her deeper into its suffocating depths.
The pressure built, crushing her chest, her skull. The surface was lost to her now—leaving only blackness stretching in every direction. Her arms flailed, searching for something, anything to hold on to.
Her body betrayed her. A desperate gasp wrenched from her lips, and the thick, inky liquid rushed in. It filled her lungs, her veins, burning through her like fire and ice all at once.
If she could’ve screamed, she would have.
But there was nothing left.
Nothing but darkness.