Page 111 of Season Warriors & Wolves

“Then permit me to enter your lands and I’ll search for her myself.”

There was a moment of silence before he said, “You speak so bravely for someone who does not know what lies beyond. If you can survive it or not.”

“I’ll survive.”

“You seem sure.”

“My husband will tear you apart if you don’t ensure that I do.”

His brow twitched. “Your husband.” The God of Demons stood and descended the stairs of his human throne. “Presents no threat to me.”

“Then why do you look threatened?” If one could recognise fear and caution, it would be me.

There was barely a foot between us when he raised a hand to the side and cracked open a crooked portal that framed an ashen land with no skies, no light, no wind and no life. Ruins upon ruins piled for tall miles toward the empty space that should have been lined by the colours of Nubil and light of Henah or Cyra.

Nothing. If nothingness looked like something, it would look like what I was seeing. So empty.

And that was just a small taste of what Numen would turn if Aurora was to be raised.

“Not threatened,” he almost growled. “Because I am sure the need for his retribution will not come, Guardian of Lightning.” The way his dark eyes flashed tied a knot in my stomach. “You may enter.”

My pulse was pounding in my ears when I took a step forward and then another until I stood right in front of the door to another realm. Not an in-between. A whole other realm.

I reached a hand forward, letting my fingers graze the reality beyond the portal. Then, holding a breath, I jumped in it.

My lungs seized like they often did in panic. Dizziness washed over me from the sudden weight to my bones and the pressure that wanted me to fold flat to the ground.

I shook my head, warding the flashing spots of black from my vision and calmed my breath until I was sure not to grow faint from inhaling what too little air remained in the burnt atmosphere of Dissiri.

Silence stretched wide over the grey graveyard of crumpled rock soiling the ground and floating about in the air. Whatever faint brightness illuminated the realm was not natural—a murky glow without source.

I stood in the middle of the absence of nothing. No life. No death. Until a faint familiar sensation trickled electricity down my neck and I spun round, trying to grasp where the call of the sceptre was coming from.

“Go’ya,” a ghostly whisper brushed close, and I jerked forward, heart pounding against my rib cage that was starting to hurt. The words resounded far in the distance. Until they disappeared. Unfamiliar yet familiar. A language I’d not heard but could understand.

Something warm and light as wind touched my face and I stumbled back a few feet when it murmured in my ear, “Bah.” Run.

“What?”

“Go’ya.” Guardian. The same whisper repeated in the distance again and I followed after it—until the mumbles began growing into more unfamiliar words. Unfamiliar words I could somehow understand. Leave. Run. Go.

The deeper into the ruins I entered, the fainter I grew, struggling to keep my eyes open. My whole body felt weak—as if every ounce of my energy was being drained off, sucked right out of me.

A flash of red in the distance had me force my lids open again. The Grand Maiden kneeled in the middle of a massive craft halo and before the silver sceptre pieces laid on the ground.

“Urinthia.” I tried to call but I wasn’t sure if even murmurs were leaving my lips. At my will, magic left its bounds and crawled over me, feeding more than electricity—feeding me strength. “Urinthia!”

The witch’s head snapped to me, sage eyes wide, landing on me. She stood and the glow of the craft halo dimmed, chains bearing Melanthe’s scent dangling from her limbs. “Snowlin.” She shook her head and drummed a hand over the thin crimson veil surrounding her. “No, no, no. You have to get back, child. Now!”

Pure rage held me to my feet. I pulled my dagger out again and walked toward her. “Not until I have your heart in my hand.”

“You should not be here!” she bellowed just as something crashed in the distance. “You will die.”

“Lies,” I mumbled, shaking my head again to ward off the spells of dizziness. “But you’re good at telling lies, aren’t you?”

“If I could spare my child a fate written with the purpose to ruin her, I would have told every lie it took.”

“Selfish bitch.”