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Sana had done what Fey had asked. Immediately when Fey had left the Water Temple earlier that evening, she had called the other High Priestesses to the Water Temple, explaining the situation to them. She gave each of them a portion of the antidotes Alice had left for her.
The antidotes Fey had delivered.
As expected, the temples had been full that night, as hundreds of Witches had flocked to them to celebrate the blood moon. But rather than their usual services, the High Priestesses had instead delivered what Alice had called the most powerful weapon of all.
The truth.
They were the ones to break the news of the Queen’s betrayal, and they would be remembered as the city’s saviors. Tearfully, after drinking the antidote herself, Sana had explained what Queen Edelin had done to them, what she had made her Temple Priestesses do. She asked her congregation if any of them had been given an elixir during their Awakening, if any had ingested the poison to steal their powers.
They had. More of them than even Alice had expected. Hundreds of them.
It is one thing to hear the truth, to hear of your monarch’s betrayal. It is another thing entirely to see it. To know the victims of it.
When the first Witch had drunk the antidote, when she had felt her new powers flooding her and burst from her in a raging whirlwind of Air, the temple had erupted in shock. And then in rage.
It had taken everything Sana had to prevent a riot in her Temple. The other Temples were not so lucky.
The Fire temple had reacted the worst, and the rage from the congregation had burned much of their own Temple to the ground. The High Priestess Leandra herself had been given Allium at her Awakening and had taken the antidote in front of her entire congregation. She had dedicated her entire life to her Power over Fire, only to find she could wield Water and Air as well. Her rage had caught amongst her temple members. They shared her fury, her anger, and their power had been too much for them all to hold back.
They reacted with violence, taking to the streets to vent their rage, as their Temple burned.
The news spread like wildfire through the city, through the Witches. And with it, came the anger. They had been betrayed; they had been hobbled in power by the very system in place to protect them.
Had the other Factions not been told to keep inside, not been warned about the violence that might sweep the city, it is safe to say there would have been far more casualties. But the Shifters had listened to their Faction elders and had barricaded themselves in their homes. The Demons had gone to ground, none willing to risk their own lives by getting between the Witches and the object of their rage.
Even the Vampires, receiving word from their King, had stayed hidden that night. Rumor had it his own son had brought him the news of what was to come, setting aside their renowned dislike of one another to ensure the safety of their Faction, together.
And so it was that when the Witches took to the streets, there were few civilians from the other Factions caught in the path of their destruction.
The Goddess Temple in the Eternal City fell at the same time the eclipse apexed. Enraged, Witches had stormed the Temple looking for vengeance, looking for answers. Their fury erupted at what they found there. Allium, just as they’d been told. Shelves and shelves of it.
Some of the White Priestesses fled. Some of them died, casualties of the rage that flowed through the city. A few were apprehended. And of those, enough talked. Enough shared their secrets and crimes, to fuel that rage even more.
Cassandra, the Queen’s sister, slit her own throat rather than answer for her crimes. Fey could only hope the Goddess was waiting for her in the afterlife, ready to dole out her own sort of justice.
Sana and the other High Priestesses fought to regain order in the city after the initial violence began to die out. They held open forums that lasted hours, listening to the rage and fear of the people of the Eternal City. They talked until their voices broke, strained from overuse. The rage of the city quelled to a simmer, but it wasn’t appeased. And everyone was ready to erupt.
But Fey no longer cared.
Let the city burn, she thought. Let it all burn down.
She helped Joy carry Alice back to a safe house in the city, her body bruised and battered from her battle with the Queen. All three of them were exhausted and filthy. After a quick shower, and after Joy had stitched and bandaged her side, they crawled into bed together and slept.
The realm might fall apart. The Factions might destroy themselves and each other. The Witches might lose the power they held for the last three hundred years.
But Fey found she no longer cared. Two of her sisters had survived the night. And for her that was enough. Let someone else hold the city, let someone else keep the peace.
Fey was tired, and all she wanted to do was rest.
Chapter 63
When historians look back on what happened following Queen Edelin’s death at the hands of her own Blades, they write about the anger and the riots. They write about the days of violence, how it eventually did bleed over to the other Factions despite everything Alice had done to prevent it, how several innocent people died in the aftermath.
But they forget the uncertainty. They forget that much of that violence came not because of anger at the Queen’s actions, but from the fear of what would come. Fear of the unknown, of the collapse of some vital safety net that had once existed and had been taken away forever.
The High Priestesses presented a united front, but there was too much fear, too much uncertainty for them to hold it for long. They held the peace in the city by a single thread, and it was quickly starting to fray.
In the end, the city’s savior came from a truly unexpected source.
