Empress of the Gods

Atarah

The door of her cell made a loud noise when it was closed behind her. Atarah had no strength to protest, as everyone was put in a different cell. She hadn’t moved after the guards left her thinking about all those times she could realize what William was planning and didn’t. Not to mention those warnings she received about him. Maybe all that time, she knew it and just never wanted to see it. She wished Elysia was wrong, but she had been right to say she wasn’t seeing things clearly.

Them being in there was her fault. It was all her fault.

Robbie’s head rested on the cell bars without saying a word, while Myrah was saying something that she hadn’t managed to pay attention to. She just couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened, feeling her heart breaking into pieces.

The only lights in there were the torches outside her cell. Three walls and cell bars surrounded her.

The guards returned and opened their cells, taking them back to another room where Melione was. She lifted her hand to stop the guards that approached Atarah as if she could control her. “She’s not going to escape,” she assured them, pointing her gaze to where Robbie and Myrah were on their knees, watching them without being scared. Behind them, Demir had a hand on her sister’s shoulder and the other on Robbie’s. After they made sure she looked at them, they took the rope off her hands and kept watching her.

When Atarah moved one step, Demir moved his lips, and out of nowhere, Robbie started screaming, trying to reach his head with both hands. She wanted to go to where he was, but Melione was observing her as if she was waiting for her to do the wrong move. “I know you are smart, Atarah, but I also know you can’t help your nature. You will do everything I want if you don’t wish to see those two begging for their lives. Or am I mistaken?” she asked before she told Demir to stop.

“No,” she replied in a low tone as she clenched her fist, burying her nails in her skin to control the fury inside. She might not know how to control her gifts, but her powers seemed to wait for the perfect moment to come to the surface.

Melione turned her back to her and began to walk towards the firepit, with white rocks, that was placed in the center of the room. She ordered one of the guards to take Myrah to where they were, but Myrah was reluctant to move. Melione smiled wickedly before looking at her.

“Myrah,” Atarah said with an authoritative tone while she stared at Melione, trying to hide the storm of emotions inside her. She felt her sister’s gaze, but she didn’t completely turn to look at her when she didn’t hear her footsteps. Myrah ended up walking without any resistance to where they were, and William stood behind her, placing one of his daggers close to her neck. She tried not to look at William, but it seemed impossible not to; at least for her because he evaded her gaze.

Melione recited a few words in the language of spells and placed something in the firepit to increase the flame. She recited the words again, and Atarah couldn’t help but laugh. She could at least light a fire.

The half witch and half-driadae smiled upon hearing her laughter. “Not all of us are born with the same gift, but don’t worry. Laugh. When I cut you open to get all the power you have inside, I will do the same,” she promised without looking at her and then concentrated on the firepit again. Melione opened the palm of her hand to her, and Atarah stretched out her hand. The dagger was so sharp that Melione didn’t need to push the blade to get the blood out of her palm, and she flipped it over so those drops of blood would fall into the fire. She repeated the same thing with William when a guard replaced him to keep an eye on Myrah. Then Melione looked at her sister.

“He’s only linked to me,” she grunted, trying to move towards her sister, but Melione glanced at Robbie, so she stopped moving.

“He is, but if everything I heard about the Silverclaw legend is true,” she said as she glanced at Demir. “In order to break a spell that did not fulfill its objective, it is necessary a drop of blood from someone closer to her,” she explained when she looked at Myrah that was trying to walk away, but William and the guard held her so she would not escape. William opened the palm of Myrah’s hand, and Melione made a quick cut in which Myrah’s blood fell into the fire. Her sister moved away from the hunter, closing her palm while her blood slipped on her hand.

“Touch my sister again,” Atarah threatened, looking directly into William’s eyes.

“Or what will you do?” he interrupted her. “Kill me? You’d better sit tight because there’s a long line of people waiting their turn.”

Atarah futilely tried to give him a smile to pretend she didn’t care. “For someone who claimed to love me, now I see what your love is worth,” she said, as if it didn’t matter, and William only stared at her. “This time, no one is going to save you because I’m going to be the one who will put an end to your existence,” she threatened in a calm voice, trying to look strong on the outside, even when everything inside was collapsing, but she had to do it for Myrah because she was her responsibility. They were there thanks to her, and she had to fix it.

“She won’t,” Melione replied. “She’s so in love with you that she won’t,” she added, looking at her.

“Try me,” she said without fear when she faced her.

“And that’s it? We’re not linked anymore?” William asked, ignoring her comment. To which Melione replied in the old tongue. When she stared at her, everything began to blur. She felt pain on one of her sides and she fell to her knees just like William, but the one screaming and writhing in pain was Myrah.

Atarah felt she was burning alive from the inside, but it wasn’t the warmth of her gifts. She felt her cold tears running down her cheeks and felt wet under her nose. When she looked at the marble floor, she realized it was blood and not tears. She heard another scream from her sister and tried to crawl up to her, feeling her body hurt with each movement she made. Suddenly, Myrah wasn’t moving and stopped screaming. When Atarah got to where her sister was, she tried to wake her up, but she wasn’t moving. “Come on, Myr. Don’t do this to me,” she begged, placing her ear in her chest to make sure her heart kept beating. “Come on Myr, you can’t leave me.” Her voice trembled. Myrah’s heartbeats were slow but steady. She had fainted from the pain, and her nose and ears were also bleeding.

When she touched her sister’s cheek, she saw the marks on her hands that ran down towards her arm as if they were cracks from which her fire wanted to sneak out. It looked like a volcano that was about to explode. Her hands were shaking as she walked away from Myrah because she felt that the fire inside her was about to come out and she wouldn’t be able to control it.

Melione looked at her with interest. “I knew you were hiding something,” she told her with a smile on her face. “I felt your power, but I wasn’t sure how much you had. I thought you were a myth, but here before me is the night flame.”

She felt everyone’s gaze on her. Even one of the fae soldiers looked at her too intently. Demir glanced at her like Ragedion and Melione, but somehow skeptical.

Atarah just took her sister in her arms, caressing her hair, waiting for her to wake up.

“That’s not possible,” Demir complained.

“What? That the council were so blind not to see what they had hidden in Khrysaor? That the night flame was under their noses all those years? I wonder if that was the reason the Silverclaw leader took care of her with such jealousy that she even made her part of her coven,” Melione added. “Demir,” she purred. “Always underestimating others,” she said before sitting on her throne, putting her hand at the edge of the arm. “Now, what should I do with you?” she said, looking directly at Atarah.

“You already have the Dimneas dagger. What else could you possibly want?” Atarah dared to speak.

“What else do I want?” Melione asked as she slowly stood up and got down the stairs. “Tell me something, Atarah, do you know how much pain someone can endure before they break? How pain can shape a broken soul? You must know it. After all, the gods made you return and make you live in a place where they only saw you as the plague they couldn’t escape. How much pain can a soul endure before corrupting it?” She stopped in front of her. Then, she squatted down to be almost at her eye level. “You and I are so much alike. What else do I want? I want to see the gods bleed by my hand with the same dagger they created while they see how everyone kneels before me. Especially the witches’ realms. I want them to beg for mercy when I burn their cities to the ground, even if I have to remove everyone who tries to stop me.” She approached her to whisper into her ear, “And if I must cut you in half to get all the power you have inside, I’m going to do it.” She removed a strand of hair behind her ear, but Atarah moved from her touch. “I will become the goddess in this world.”

“You are insane.”

“No, I’m only returning the favor to everything this world did to me. But I can’t complain. I’m much better now.” A layer of ice appeared on the marble floor under her feet.

Atarah only looked at Melione, who turned her back as she sauntered back to her throne, leaving a trail of ice on the floor, and with a single wave of her hand, her guards began to move towards Atarah. She did not let them approach, showing her power, which made them retreat.

Myrah was beginning to wake up, and she helped her to stand up before they were escorted back to their respective cells.