Empress of the Gods

Atarah

The fae soldiers with black armor had a golden symbol of a wyvern on the right arm like the one in the dark blue banner they carried. They had a few golden details on their armor as they had on their golden bows with which they pointed at them. Every soldier was wearing a helmet as if they were prepared for battle. That made her think they were aware of her powers.

In a synchronized movement, they stepped aside, so the male authority that was wearing Khrysaor’s uniform walked toward them.

Atarah would recognize the sword he had on his belt anywhere in the world because she had seen it too many times.

Her fire was getting to the surface, making her feel needles on her fingertips, and begging to be used. She fixed her gaze on the warlock, who walked towards her with his chest out and his helmet under his arm. The warlock seemed to be in his mid-thirties, but she knew he might have more years thanks to the spell that prolonged his lifespan. The wrinkles around his clear eyes were marked when he smiled, realizing she’d seen the sword. It belonged to the former Silverclaw leader. Atarah had not forgotten the bastard who betrayed his people due to his hatred of Rhiannon.

The warlock barely glanced at Myrah and Robbie, but he did look at William and her. “We finally meet again,” he greeted them with a grim smile. “I knew the coven wouldn’t survive, but they could have. Only they chose to stay with the old ways,” he added, focusing solely on her. “You know, Khrysaor seems to be just fine without them. It looks like we took care of the problem.”

Atarah felt her fire ready to attack the warlock at any moment.

“Do it,” he challenged her as if he had foreseen what she was about to do. He approached her with excitement in his eyes, as if he wanted to fight with her. “Do it, and you won’t have a chance to say goodbye to them as you did with your coven,” he continued as he pointed to where Myrah, Robbie, and William were, only she didn’t turn around, feeling her power slowly fading away.

“They thought no one would find out you two were part of the great Rhiannon Silverclaw coven,” he taunted them, opening his arms and turning around as he increased his tone of voice with the last four words. “But we did. I did.” He gritted his teeth.

“Don’t you dare say her name!” Myrah shouted, still with Robbie in her arms, and Atarah turned to see her, trying to silence her with her gaze, but she ignored her. And the warlock noticed it.

“Your sister seems to have more guts than you,” the warlock replied, amused. “Or maybe it runs in your veins,” he added, recalling the time in Khrysaor when she and William were tied to a tree. She felt her fire again in her hands. “If I were you, I wouldn’t do what I have in mind because as soon as they see even a single spark, they won’t hesitate to kill them, and I would hate to waste resources,” he whispered, looking with displeasure at the fae soldiers. “And I don’t want to explain to Melione why I came back with less than I went out. Although now that I think about it, you can burn them all, including them.” He pointed at Myrah, Robbie, and William. “In the end, the only one we need alive is you.”

Atarah couldn’t understand how that warlock commanded them.

Despite her desire to wipe the smirk off his face, she still didn’t know how to properly use her gifts. Plus, they were outnumbered, and Atarah sensed a mind reader among them. One of the fae soldiers was trying to get into her head, making it ache.

Atarah was at a disadvantage, and the warlock knew it. She didn’t have much choice but to obey, and the only reasons to do it were the man she loved, her sister, and her friend, who still needed time to heal.

The moment the warlock heard her sigh in surrender, he continued, “Now that we are on the same page.” He looked at a soldier, giving him a silent order when he raised his hand to signal him to tie her up.

William remained silent.

Atarah could feel the eyes of the fae soldier on her as he tied her up with a rope while she kept staring at William.

Another fae soldier made Myrah get up from the ground, separating her from Robbie. Myrah tried not to move, but the fae grabbed her tightly from the arm. Her sister was fighting for Robbie, who had to put his hand on the wound, trying to replace Myrah’s.

“Don’t you see that he is injured?” Atarah shouted.

She tried to escape that fae soldier who was holding her, and when she stared into his eyes, she saw something familiar in them.

Her sister’s voice made her turn in her direction. “I’m not going to run away,” Myrah explained, trying to get away from the soldier. Atarah watched how the fae who was holding her looked at the other who was holding Myrah, and he only nodded with his head to let her help Robbie.

“I’m fine,” Robbie said, tightly closing his eyes when he tried to get up, almost falling to the ground. “Maybe I do need some help,” he added, accepting Myrah’s help.

After the warlock climbed into his horse, he rode toward them when he realized no one was moving. He didn’t witness what had happened. “Time to go. We don’t want to make her wait, do we?”

Atarah didn’t like the idea of having to go all the way with her face covered with a cloth bag, though fortunately she could breathe with it. But she almost couldn’t hear anything around her because the sound of her own breathing overlapped the rest, which was leading her to madness. She could hear the clash of the sole of her shoes with the grass, feeling an unstable floor when she walked. If it weren’t for that fae soldier who was firmly holding her, she would have already stumbled a couple of times when she didn’t see where she was walking.

She could not feel any emotion from others thanks to the strange magic of those ropes that blocked her empath gifts. She felt desperate to not see or hear a sound from others, so she called Robbie out loud to see if he was still alive. She did not know if anyone was helping him or if they were letting him slowly bleed. When Robbie replied, she felt relief. Although, the tone of his voice sounded faint, as if he was making too much effort to walk and talk. She also called her sister, who replied that she was there while she didn’t hear any sound from William. She called him again, starting to feel anxious for not hearing a sound from him and not knowing if something had happened to him. She flipped over a couple of times, knowing that she couldn’t see anything, but she needed to know he was there.

“He is there,” the soldier whispered to her.

When they removed the cloth bags from their heads, she saw the entrance of a small castle in front of them with no gate to protect it, only a small arch they went through. It was the same type of construction she had seen in Zehava which confirmed her they were in a fae realm.

Myrah kept fighting to free herself, forgetting that they were stronger than her. Robbie stopped covering his wound and had a huge bloodstain on his clothes and his hands, while William kept looking straight ahead. He hadn’t turned to see her once since they had been caught.

A strange smell similar to Sabine’s cabin came from that place, only it intensified as they approached. Her skin bristled when they crossed the huge wooden doors.

She could hear the neighs of the horse the warlock left behind, refusing to enter the stables of that place.

The corridors in the castle were empty, and the only sound that could be heard was the echo of footsteps on the marble floor.

A witch could immediately detect the scent, but the other creatures could not describe it because it tried to deceive their senses. Although, if you stopped carefully to sniff it, you could perceive the smell of rotten food.

Big wooden doors opened, revealing a room where there was a big arch window behind a throne and only two long arch windows on the sides. The few lights in there lightened the throne that was placed in the center of the room. A huge snake carved in stone seemed like it crawled down the stairs while part of its body curled the stone chair that had thick stone stakes that form the back of the throne chair. It was the throne Rhiannon had once rejected. Elysia described it to her when they first met. Only the one in front of her was a replica.

Atarah knew she could not be in Lhrastsha because they exiled those who practiced dark magic. It was forbidden. Only the witch council knew who practiced that kind of magic that they only used to protect their people. And if they had been on the northern island, they would have imprisoned them using the old tongue or with the language of spells, but there was only one warlock there, and she didn’t believe that the amount of dark magic in that place came from him. She suspected that the woman in the chair with snow-colored hair loosely draped on one side and fingernails that were long was a witch.

Although it was strange that the woman did not look like Sabine. She looked young, as if she were in her early thirties. She had one leg on top of the other, on which she could see a driadae mark that appeared to be roses with thorns coiled into her leg. She had a pair of golden rings on both golden-brown hands that rested on the armrest of the throne chair and golden necklaces adorning her neck that matched her wine dress with a V-neck that had a long slit from one of her legs.

The half-witch and half-driadae moved with the grace of a nymph when she walked barefoot down the stairs. Nodded her head to one of the guards who took Atarah’s bag, which made her wonder how she knew what was inside. Melione opened the leather wallet, leaving the dagger exposed.

Atarah heard the strange whispers that increased when Melione passed one of her fingers along the edge of the dagger until she reached the handle, leaving a smile on her face from side to side.

“William,” Melione said as she indicated a soldier with her finger to untie him. The soldier guarding him removed the rope from his hands before he walked to Melione. “What took you so long?” she asked, as if she was incredibly bored without his presence.

Atarah could not believe what she was hearing. William knew Melione.

“Melione,” William replied, placing a knee on the ground. “My queen,” he added, lifting his head to see her.

He knelt before her.

“What did he just say?” whispered Robbie.

Atarah wasn’t the only one surprised, and she couldn’t believe what was happening.

It didn’t make sense, none of it made sense, yet he was in front of Melione, claiming her as his queen. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t stop looking at what was going on in front of her eyes, nor could she articulate any words. If it were not for that soldier who was holding her, she swore she would have fallen to her knees. Someone seemed to be ripping out her heart.

“I must admit, it was a smart move to link your life to hers. I’m sorry you had to go through that unfortunate situation,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek. “Demir, why didn’t you tell me that she had the Dimneas dagger with her?” she asked in a sweet tone to the warlock who seemed to have a hard time swallowing. Melione didn’t seem to be bloodthirsty, but if it weren’t for the strange scent in the air, she wouldn’t have realized that something wasn’t right. “Apparently, my hunter is more effective than you, Demir.”

“My apologies, Your Highness,” Demir said, as if those words were a curse. “But we were not aware of the situation.”

“No wonder.” It was clear Melione distrusted Demir. “I would dare to think you still have a certain attachment to Lhrastsha.” Demir did not reply. He just lifted his chin and gazed at something in front of him while Melione walked around him.

“I thought you could take the bond,” William interrupted with a strange familiarity. If she was his queen, how come he spoke to Melione with such familiarity if he was only his subject?

Atarah’s body didn’t respond to her. She refused to believe it was real. She wanted to believe that was a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from, but the pain was so real that she could barely breathe.

“Of course I can,” she said with a confident smile. “I wouldn’t bear to lose my best soldier.”

She didn’t need to lower her shield to know Melione didn’t care about William, but the way he looked at Melione made her believe he cared for her. It was how he looked at her. Then why? Why had he asked her to stay on that flower field?

Melione placed her hands on William’s chest and the others seemed to understand faster than she did.

“Damn traitor!” Myrah angrily shouted, drawing Melione’s attention.

“Silence,” Atarah said as soon as she heard her voice, but Myrah kept screaming. Ignoring her.

“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done,” Myrah threatened.

“Enough,” she said in a higher tone than it was intended, and Myrah just angrily looked at her and became more enraged, but if she didn’t shut up, they would most likely be killed faster than they thought.

Melione laughed, staring at Myrah. “Atarah, I presume,” she said to Myrah, waiting for William to confirm it.

“No,” William and Atarah replied in unison, instantly looking at each other.

“Atarah,” Melione said, fixing her gaze on her as if she was trying to get inside her head when she approached. Only Melione didn’t know she wouldn’t be able to do it because she had her mental shields up. She wanted to read her emotions, but Rhiannon taught her well. Not only to take care of her from creatures with different gifts but from the same driadaes, which did not help her much because her emotions were reflected in her face. “What are you hiding?” she said like a snake that was playing with its prey when she realized she could not read her. “You must be too valuable for Queen Audra, that keeps bothering the witch leaders, making such a fuss about you. I wonder what she will be willing to give when she finds out that we have her prize in our lands. Will she turn her back to the other driadae realms? Will she join us?” she asked as she evaluated her. “He will be so pleased when he sees you,” she continued. Then she sighed as if she were in a predicament. “But I can’t let that happen, because it could alter everything I have planned.” She looked at the dagger that rested in the hands of one of the soldiers. “What should I do with you?” she asked herself, placing a hand under Atarah’s chin to move her face from one side to another.

Atarah tried to get away from Melione’s claws, but she squeezed her and buried her nails in her face. When she made her look at her something changed as if she could see something in her.

Atarah had seen that look before. It was as if she found a gold mine.

“Then it’s true,” she said.

“What?” Atarah dared to ask.

“What I suspect is hidden within you,” she replied before telling her guards, “I’m done with them.”

The guards escorted Myrah, Robbie, and her elsewhere as she listened in the distance when Melione said to William, “You and I have unfinished business to discuss.”