The last Daughter’s voice echoed around the mountain, sending chills down my spine and filling my soul with grief. The future had changed already, but not in the way we’d hoped. The tragedy was still unfurling.
When none of the Daughters spoke, the Daughter scoffed.
“Of course. Silence. That’s what you’re good at. You’re worried about us, but you still fail to consider the fact that Phoenix is exposed. That Draven has become far more dangerous and deadlier than Azazel. What makes you think he’ll keep Phoenix alive? And in what state? Whatever happens to him, I experience as well, and you know it! And yet you’re silent and—”
She stilled, her eyes widening, her lips parting. Her body was stiff, her arms out in a gesture of exasperation, when a deep red stain bloomed on the silk over her chest, spreading outward with an alarming speed.
She looked down and gasped, and the Daughters froze with horror.
“He… He killed Phoenix,” the Daughter managed to say before falling to her knees.
The Daughters screamed and rushed to her, their hands moving frantically over her chest, glowing pink as they desperately tried to heal her. But it didn’t work.
My stomach churned and my heart broke as I watched the Daughter give her last breath, her violet gaze fixated on the pink waters, blood trickling from her mouth. The Daughters cried and wailed around her, helpless before her. I cried as well, realizing that Phoenix had been killed. I couldn’t bear it. I could only imagine what Serena would go through if this version of the future came to pass.
I wanted to curse at them. I wanted to slap each of them and talk sense into them. Whatever was happening, they had the power to stop it.
But my vision faded, rushing me off to another scene. My eyes burned as the darkness swallowed me once more.
I was taken to a red desert, reminding me of Phoenix’s descriptions of Marton. The sky was a faint orange, and a sandstorm was brewing somewhere in the west, troubling the dunes as it traveled east across the horizon.
A clear river flowed at my feet, with a bank naturally made of black stone and lush palm trees arching over it. The water brought life to these parts of Marton; I could almost feel the soft grass and wildflowers, and could even smell the citrus fruit hanging from trees in the oasis on either side of the river. It looked like a little paradise, so beautiful and peaceful and untainted.
Movement caught my attention somewhere to my right. I saw someone kneeling in front of the water. I walked forward and noticed more people moving around, picking fruit, sharpening their swords, or drinking straight from the river. I recognized Bijarki as he washed his face, my turquoise pendant dangling on its slim silver chain around his neck.
I stilled, my heart fluttering in my chest at the sight of him. The years had been kind to him, his deep-set, silvery eyes still vivaciously scanning every movement around him like a predator, even in moments of peace. His head was shaved and heavily scarred on one side, the result of what must have been a serious injury.
He sat down, then put his feet in the water. They’d been severely burned, the skin crackled in a shimmering black. A pang in my stomach made me get closer, and I noticed the burns on his arms—symbols seared into his skin with hot metal, from what I could tell. He’d been tortured and branded.
My breath hitched as I reached out, desperately in need of his touch. I hadn’t seen him in only a couple of days, yet it felt like forever, especially since I was looking at an older version of him. I was somewhere far in the future, from what I could tell. Some fine lines had settled at the corners of his eyes, and his gaze was heavy with grief and unpleasant experiences.
My hand went through him, immaterial and not really there. I sighed, then looked up as I saw Anjani move toward him. She’d matured into an even more beautiful succubus, the spitting image of Hansa, but with a sharper nose and wider eyes. She bore the same burned symbols on her arms, along with several battle scars on her neck and chest.
She sat next to him, sinking her feet into the cool water as well.
They both said nothing for a while, looking out into the distance, where the sandstorm was wreaking havoc many miles away. I gazed around to get a better idea of who was with them—incubi and succubi, dozens of them, coexisting in what looked like peace. Some returned from the desert carrying dead animals on their shoulders, which the others pitched in to prepare for dinner as the sun set in deeper pinks and oranges, darkening the sky.
I didn’t see Hansa or any of the young succubi I’d met at the mansion. The only familiar faces were those of Anjani and Bijarki. I sat down next to them, watching my incubus with a full and painful heart.
“We’ll be together again soon. You promised,” I said to him, gently.
He couldn’t hear me, of course. But it felt good to speak to him, even in that form. They both looked so sad and lost. I had a feeling this version of the future hadn’t been good to them.
“How are you feeling?” Anjani finally asked him, her voice weak.
“It’s the same every day,” Bijarki replied slowly, his fingers touching the turquoise stone he’d given me. I felt tears burning my eyes as I understood what had happened. “It’s been years now, and it still hurts deeply. I miss her so much. If only she hadn’t sacrificed herself to save me… She’d still be alive.”
His voice broke.
“I know. I feel it too. Jovi died for me. They died for us, and Draven has lost his way.” Anjani let a heavy sigh roll from her chest.
“He can’t come back from that. He’s gone.” Bijarki nearly broke down in tears, but took a few deep breaths to keep his composure, as several incubi were looking at them from across the water.
“We need to move on, Bijarki,” Anjani replied gently. “Our marriage will unite the incubi and succubi for good. We must protect our people, the handful we have left. We’ve been exiled to Marton for now, but we need to regain our strength, increase our numbers, and either find a way out of Eritopia or finally kill Draven and finish what Serena couldn’t… and cannot do…”
Their words hit me like a massive stone hammer. I could almost feel my ribs cracking. I felt tears rushing up to my eyes again, but this time I couldn’t stop them, and they streamed down my cheeks. The future was cruel, indeed. I would die. Jovi would die. Phoenix would die. And the world would burn as my Bijarki entered an arranged marriage with Anjani to keep their people united. The cruelty of the universe suddenly felt limitless and unfathomable.
“I know, Anjani,” Bijarki muttered. “I’m doing this with a heavy heart.”
“So am I, Bijarki. My soul belongs to Jovi, and he took it with him when Draven killed him. I believe the same can be said about you and Vita. But they’re both gone, and we are still here,” she said. “For now, we must keep our people united. Antara has burned. It’s a barren wasteland. Our only hope to survive is here on Marton, by the river. But they won’t stay together unless we prove we can first.”
Anjani pointed at the incubi and succubi scattered across the oasis, some occasionally glancing at them with hopeful eyes.
“You and I will lead our people further, but first we must show them that we can unite, that we can be together and coexist in peace and harmony. It is our only shot at survival,” she added with a trembling voice.
I got up, no longer able to listen. My head hurt and my whole body ached as I sobbed and walked away. I couldn’t be there anymore.
“Serena should have killed Draven when she had the chance. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess,” I heard Anjani say before the world faded back into darkness around me.
I was still struggling to cope with everything I’d seen and heard up to that point, taking deep breaths and reminding myself that what I was experiencing was merely the most probable version of the future. Nothing was set in stone.
But then the darkness dissolved again and left me on Luceria’s platform, where Oracles had once been trapped in glass spheres by Azazel.
The wind howled around me, and the skies were pu
rple and black, blocking the sun entirely. The land was indeed barren, reduced to ashes and lifeless dirt. Broken glass was scattered everywhere across the abandoned platform.
I rushed down the stairs, my feet barely touching the stone. I ran down a wide corridor, which I remembered leading to Azazel’s throne room. Curiosity moved me in that direction, as did the voices emerging from beyond the massive, closed double doors.
I passed through them like the ghost I was, and stilled at the horrific sight before me.
Azazel’s throne was still there, but with a new occupant. Draven now rested in it, but I could barely recognize him. Were it not for his sand-colored hair and his facial structure, he could have been a stranger. His eyes were yellow, and the lower half of his body had turned into a massive, black snake tail. Black scales covered parts of his scarred bare chest and arms, while Azazel’s snake pendant hung from his neck, ever-moving with its beady ruby eyes.
Draven had become a Destroyer.
I gasped and brought my hands up to cover my mouth, taking a few deep breaths through my nose as I tried to process this dark and twisted version of him. Whatever he had done to destroy Azazel, he’d inherited the darkness, the poison, and I had a feeling the snake medallion had something to do with it all.
“Draven, please…”
Serena’s voice broke me out of my shocked state. I saw her close to the throne, trapped in a large black iron cage, obsidian cuffs locked around her wrists. She was weakened and weary, her black hair a tangled mess, while dirt and dried blood covered her face. Her bluish eyes were wide and sparkling with fresh tears, and she sat with her back leaning against the bars.
My heart was nearly torn from my chest as I took a few steps toward her.
Draven moved his head, and I froze, watching as he looked at her, his eyes flaring green for a brief moment as he bared his fangs.
“What is it, darling?” he asked, his voice sweet but deliberately fake.
“Just kill me already,” she cried out.
“What? Why?” he feigned surprise, like a little boy who had to go home too soon. “I thought your love for me would never die! Is it the tail? Is it, maybe, a little off-putting? That’s very superficial of you, Serena. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her lower lip trembling. “Aren’t you tired of doing this? Aren’t you tired of it all? Just, please, kill me. End it…”
“Aw, darling! You don’t love me anymore, then?”
“My love for you died the moment you chose Azazel’s darkness over me!” Serena screamed, and sprang to her feet, gripping the cage bars with newfound rage. “The Draven I loved is gone…”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at him. Draven watched her for a while, his expression firm and unreadable.
“The Draven you loved is gone,” he repeated slowly. “Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart, but I’m still very much here. Just far more… potent.”
His grin sent rivers of ice coursing through my blood as I balled my hands into fists, eager to beat him back to his old self. I cursed under my breath, remembering my inability to do anything in this instance. I was only a helpless viewer.
“Besides,” he added, picking imaginary specks of lint from his shoulder, “I did what I had to do to destroy Azazel.”
“At what cost?” she replied, gritting her teeth. “Calliope is basically a dead land. You’ve burned it all down. Killed millions of innocent creatures. Killed those who trusted you with their lives and offered you their allegiance. And those you spared you exiled to Marton, so they can die on their own in the friggin’ desert! Is this what you wanted?!”
“Don’t go there again,” Draven hissed, rolling his eyes.
They’d had this conversation before, clearly. She’d probably been in there for years, begging him to kill her, and he’d been sneering at her in return. My blood boiled.
“You killed innocent people!” Serena shouted.
“It’s what those traitors deserved! They turned on me after I rescued them all from Azazel!” Draven spat furiously, slithering from his throne and moving toward the cage. “I released them from his grip, and they pointed their swords at me, like I was some loose, mindless animal. Like I didn’t know what I was doing!”
A second of silence passed before Serena started crying again.
“Please, Draven, please… Just kill me… You have no use for me anymore. Just end it!”
“No!” His eyes flared green again as he snarled at her. “No. You will not join your friends and your brother in death. You will not die until I allow you to die. And I’m not giving you that luxury!”
“Why?” she managed to ask between sobs.
He reached her and banged his hands against the iron bars, which resounded with a low clang. He then started rattling the cage, as if he were a child tormenting a small animal. Serena grabbed the upper bars and held on as he shook the heavy structure, laughing maniacally.
He froze, his yellow eyes regaining their original gray color as he gave her a glimpse of his old self. His pained expression was truly heartbreaking, his lips trembling as he looked at Serena with love—a complete contradiction to everything he’d displayed until that moment.
“You are the only reason I have left to live, Serena,” he said, his voice low and husky. “My very being is wired to keep you alive, whether you want to be or not. I will do whatever it takes to keep this darkness inside me from spilling out and infecting the rest of the In-Between. I carry Azazel’s curse in my blood, and until I find a cure to fix all this, you will stay here with me. You will suffer with me.”
Serena was speechless, her mouth slightly open as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
“Draven…”
“Enough!” His eyes burst into green flames as he resumed his full Destroyer form and slithered back to his throne. “Sit back and be quiet, darling, unless you have sweet words of love for me. Those I’m interested to hear. I get lonely in here.”
Serena’s shoulders slumped as she exhaled sharply and sat back at the other end of her cage. She’d been through this before. He’d probably said these words before. I didn’t even want to know what it all felt like, as I was already queasy, physically sick from everything I’d seen.
The future wasn’t getting any better. If the Daughter didn’t blow us all up, Draven was going to go all dark side and burn it all down. Jovi would still die. Phoenix would die. I would die.
It all hurt so much, but I still couldn’t allow myself to cave in. There was no way I was going to let all of this happen.
I stepped back, shaking my head as I rebuilt my resolve around this new and horrifying scenario.
“No, no, no,” I muttered. “No way you’re going to put yourselves through this!”
I took a deep breath and let it all out with a roar.
“No one is dying, you hear me?!” I shouted, looking around at whatever invisible force was animating this world and letting the pieces fall into such a foul play. “No one is dying on my watch!”
I groaned and turned around, as if waiting for some kind of response from the cruel universe that had brought me to this point.
But all I got in return was darkness as my vision faded away, and I could feel the soft bed under me again.
Aida
An hour after I spoke to Serena, we reached a meadow farther to the east. A stream crossed it, its crystalline water murmuring and inviting. I was so thirsty that the first thing I did was run toward it, skid down on my knees, and gulp down handfuls of the cool, refreshing liquid.
My senses reignited as soon as the water hit my empty stomach, as if I could already see and hear and smell everything better. The others joined in, while I looked around and noticed an abandoned farmhouse on the edge of an orchard spreading to the south. The colorful fruit hanging low in the trees caught my eye.
“Are those good to eat, you think?” I asked Wren.
“Absolutely,” she replied, rubbi
ng the cold water on her face. “We come here once in a while when there’s nothing to pick in the forest. It used to be run by a couple of incubus brothers who didn’t like the citadel life. They left it behind years ago, but the orchard went on.”
I looked at Aura, who gave me a quick nod and moved toward the orchard. She found an old copper bucket lying on its side in the grass by one of the trees, and took it, starting to pick the ripe fruit.
The Green Tribe succubi settled by the stream, filling their flasks and rinsing the dirt from their faces and arms as the sun rose bright above us, making their silvery skin shimmer again.
Field came next to me, his hand resting on the small of my back for a second as we both stood by the stream and gazed at the farmhouse. I looked over my shoulder to check on Phoenix—he was crouching by the water, quietly washing his face. The muscle in his jaw never stopped twitching, and grief glimmered in his dark eyes.
“Should we talk to him?” I asked Field quietly.
He glanced at Phoenix, then slowly shook his head.
“He’s still processing everything. I’d leave him alone for now,” he replied. “We’re still in survival mode, and he’s doing the best he can, given all that has happened since last night. Let’s get to Stonewall first.”
I nodded. Field made a fair point. We were in the middle of a run for our lives, with barely any supplies besides the weapons we’d snatched on our way out of the mansion, and from the Destroyers we’d taken down. We still had a lot to survive in the remaining full day’s trek to Stonewall.
I froze then, remembering the single most precious item in the mansion. I’d completely overlooked it when the shield came down.
“The swamp witches’ book,” I gasped.
Field mirrored my horrified expression, then groaned with frustration as he rolled his eyes.
“Oh no,” he replied. “The Destroyers probably have it. Azazel’s probably learning new tricks as we speak…”