Tiffany stepped through the portal into a massive underground space, sensing the twist of space to expand it beyond its actual dimensions. Marble-like walls pulsed with shifting hues of unknown energy—possibly a form of mana.

  She took a moment to follow the crimson fade to violet, then azure before changing to amber. Her fingertips tingled with the residual old magic, something the hag had no doubt tapped into. The air around her was thick and heavy with arcane remnants.

  However, it was the echoing whisper of the ritual that pressed upon her bones, far more powerful than she’d anticipated.

  It was as if a new witch attempted to support me in a grand ritual… Well, Esmeralda managed it. Still, considering the orchestrator, I’m shocked it took so much preparation.

  Her gaze drifted to the hag’s duplicate—Evelyn’s false illusion—who stood a few paces away. Her lips curled in that infuriating, knowing smirk, as if she found the entire situation amusing rather than exhausting.

  “Where do we proceed first, Witch Queen?”

  “Nowhere until I regain my bearings,” she smoothly replied, showing her own slight smile. “Not all of us can be eternal monsters of the swamp.”

  “Oh?” The woman’s deep brown eyes creased with secretive delight. “And why not? Is it really that hard to bridge the endless divide? I would say…this proves otherwise,” she mused, sliding a long finger down the edge of the swirling portal back to the valley. “Not only was it possible, but it is also portable… I wonder who will eventually steal it.”

  Tiffany partially ignored her cryptic messages and giggles, scanning the chamber until her gaze fell upon a small crumpled form. Arshol Autumn, the 14-year-old noble girl, lay collapsed on the stone floor, her chest barely rising with shallow breaths.

  “Did you give me an utterly broken House and girl?” she sighed, glancing back at the hag. “What were your plans for the House of Autumn once escaping?”

  The hag hummed thoughtfully, turning her gaze toward the portal as her duplicate on the opposite side went to her wagon of goodies. Her next goal would be to prepare her ritual to return Elinor’s mother… Something that deep down, she was terrified of.

  “Plans? Well, I had no plans further within this dying universe once I’d escaped. Now that I have my escape, anything more here is just…pleasure. A memorial walk down memory’s road of agony and future woe. I look forward to seeing your dark hand touch it.”

  Tiffany disengaged to check on the girl, shooting a natural look the hag’s way. The creature had proven to be impossible to lie to, and one of her powers was only constrained by providence’s will—Nungal.

  However, her last comments before they split ways and she left her with this double was that something about their new planet or universe was unique. Something about it gave them far more leverage than even the all-seeing hag had anticipated.

  “I think we both know that deals made with me are not authorized by the Empress. I’d always appreciate a little witchy advice, though,” she cooed. “Now, let’s get a look at this girl.”

  Her normally pristine noble attire was disheveled, dark brown hair fanned out across the cold stone like a mourning veil.

  “I love side projects,” the hag chuckled, her revealing dress swaying with her movements as she hovered behind her, examining her nail with feigned disinterest. “My, how fragile these mortals are after such minor work. Though I suppose that’s the charm of youth—so much potential energy to harness, yet so little stamina to contain it… Something your Empress is frighteningly apt at overcoming.”

  Despite her bone-deep exhaustion—even being dead—Tiffany forced herself to move. Her bones protested as she knelt beside the girl, her soul aching from channeling so much power.

  “Minor work… Boasting to gain my interest?”

  She conjuried her signature orange Witchfire, taking more effort than it should have. The flame sputtered before steadying above her palm. The warm glow illuminated Arshol’s unnaturally pale face in the dim area, casting dancing shadows across her delicate features.

  Her flames surrounded her, feeding back information. The girl’s pulse fluttered beneath her examination—weak but steady. Strangely, relief coursed through her. The sensation made her shoot a glance at the hag, who maintained her easy posture.

  “She’ll need more than your little diagnostic light, My Queen,” the hag drawled. “Perhaps a strong stimulant and minor restorative tonic? Oh, already ahead of me. Lilya’s addition truly is wonderful. This is why you should stay at my house… It would be worth it to your Empress.”

  Always with the commentary, Tiffany thought bitterly. Take it up with my Empress.

  She reached into the side pouch at her waist, fingers searching until they closed around a small alchemical stick Lilya gave her. She could feel the Nexus getting closer to their Queen of Alchemy as the room they were in moved beneath the city, time and space warping in unnatural ways. Soon, they’d be in proximity to communicate, which was quite the thought considering the distance Elinor’s Nexus operated now.

  Tiffany snapped the stick in half, the crack echoing through the chamber. A sharp, acrid fume immediately escaped, carrying a scent like burnt citrus and crushed herbs. She waved it under Arshol’s nose, watching carefully for a reaction.

  The girl’s nose wrinkled first, then her entire face contorted. A weak groan escaped her lips as her eyelids fluttered, revealing disoriented muddy brown eyes that struggled to focus.

  “That’s it,” Tiffany murmured, supporting the girl’s shoulders as she tried to rise. “Easy now. Don’t try to move too quickly. You are not only experiencing physical strain, but also spiritual fatigue… Do you recall what happened?”

  Behind her, the hag’s laughter rang out, light and melodious—a beautiful sound that only made it more disturbing in context. “You can quit acting as if you care. I’ve trained them very well,” she remarked, amusement dancing in her eyes as the yellow underneath flashed. “More than I can say for her brother… Not that she particularly minds. He was always meant to be a sacrifice.”

  A shiver of respect ran down Tiffany’s spine as she saw the girl’s eyes brighten at the sight of the hag. “M-Mother… Did I succeed in not failing you?”

  Not did ‘we’ but if she succeeded since the hag, naturally, would accomplish whatever she set out to do… What a dangerous creature you are.

  The regal countess tilted her head with a monstrous twinkle in her gaze. “You did beautiful, my daughter. As did your brother. He will forever be a witness between the infinity that lies between our worlds… A watchful guardian,” she chuckled.

  By a guardian, you mean he’ll know if anyone tries to steal it… Him? I suppose he is the portal itself now. Hmm. That’s a ritual I should look into next since you keep harping on about it.

  “Sweet child, I still want my fun in this world now that it is open for…meddling. I require some form of entertainment as I cautiously probe this new world I’ve found myself in.”

  Haha. Of course… So long as it doesn’t interfere with the Empress.

  Tiffany shot the hag a warning glare before turning back to Arshol, whose eyes were now wide with tears at being praised by her ‘mother.’

  “Rest now,” Tiffany urged, sending a subtle calming influence through her fire, fluctuating her system to draw her into slumber. “We have much to discuss when you’re stronger. I’m sure of it.”

  The girl’s eyes fluttered closed again, this time in a more natural sleep rather than unconsciousness. Her breathing steadied, the color gradually returning to her cheeks.

  Standing slowly, Tiffany faced the countess’ duplicate, placing a hand on her hip. “I am curious about the method of bypassing the chants and direction. Did it strengthen the process or weaken it?”

  The hag’s smile didn’t waver. “Ah, probing for information? You should be a bit more clever about it instead of asking me directly,” she hummed, turning away to study the pulses of light along the walls. “On another note, the ritual did require a pure Tempest soul to also draw power from this place, and siblings to resonate with the blood I brought as the linking force. The boy was simply…more expendable than his sister. It was, in fact, his purpose.”

  “You’ll see no objections from me,” Tiffany absently replied, following the directions of the undead units within this world. One was already in range, the others just about to come within range. “I would refrain from mentioning the process to Edmon or the Empress. Though, she is more practical and understands necessity.”

  “My dear Queen of Witchery,” Autumn replied with mock surprise, “are you actually arguing for me to keep things from your precious Empress? You naughty woman! It appears my influence on you is growing.”

  “There are things the Empress need not know, else it distract her,” Tiffany clipped, taking a discarded cloak nearby and gently laying Arshol’s head onto it before rising to her feet. “Although, talking with you does spark inspiration by the second…with every twist and turn your probing magical fingers take.”

  The chamber’s energy currents had stabilized somewhat as she shifted to look at the relaxed copy—not even the real thing but like a magical AI. The air no longer crackled with uncontrolled power but instead flowed in more predictable patterns through the veined marble walls.

  However, before they could continue their riveting conversation, a welcomed voice broke into her thoughts. “Queen Tiffany, you return sooner than anticipated. I hope your mission in the valley was fruitful.”

  Queen Lilya, Tiffany cooed, elegant and poised as always. Naturally, the Empress is on the offensive. It shouldn’t take more than the night, and with how time operates here, I will have completed my visit and returned by the time she finishes up.

  She kept the details about the boy’s sacrifice out of the conversation.

  “Excellent. I look forward to when the Empress visits us again. I take it the portal is completed and you require a carriage to deliver you to the House of Ravens?”

  A carriage would be appreciated, Tiffany replied, glancing at the sleeping noble girl. The House of Autumn’s child that Evelyn brought will need proper care. I’m still deciding what to do with her since the whole of her House was given into my care. I’ll need your advice.

  “Is that so?” The former queen of Kaspir paused for a moment, potentially mapping that out with a wealth of cultural and historical understanding Tiffany did not have. “Consider the carriage arranged. I am coordinating with Charlie now. It says your nearest exit will be in the Southern Noble District.”

  Tiffany’s mind flashed to the thélméthra drone Elinor had named and left here for Lilya’s use. It was drawing closer to them at a rapid pace, seemingly navigating the maze-like inner city.

  Always on point. She shot a curious look at the hag, yet she seemed more engrossed in specific lines and shifting walls than their conversation. What do you think about Arshol?

  “Mmm. That is a challenging inquiry. The Autumn county has always been more…private, not engaging in open House proceedings and choosing to educate within their lands. A shift in that will cause quite a stir, especially if aligning with the Empress. The balance of power has been in a whirlwind.”

  Tiffany shifted her stance to smile down at the teen as an idea itched at the back of her brain; a certain timid, green-haired mother bubbled up to the surface. What if she took High Lady Trisha Proltis’ side as some sort of…lady-in-training of sorts?

  Evelyn gave her a devilish smirk out of the corner of her eyes. “How devious of you. A perfect way to keep track of your little mole in the Proltis Great House. You really should come and live with me. The things I could teach you.”

  If Lilya heard, she ignored the creature. “That…could actually help stabilize things and provide my rival with just enough leverage to not sink further into paranoia. The Autumn family is known to be…eccentric, as we know why, and also wield unusual political power. At least, that is how the other nobility view her, and their connection to the Everborne Marshlands.”

  It’s a path we could take, Tiffany mused.

  A younger, more energetic voice suddenly burst through the connection. “Wait, Queen Tiffany, I can fly you both to the House of Ravens instead! I just finished my last class, and I’m practically bursting with excess energy.”

  Tiffany couldn’t help but smile at Castria’s enthusiasm. That’s kind of you, Princess, but we have a weakened noble girl. Perhaps less dramatic transportation would be wiser. And I’m not here to cause a stir since…well, I haven’t entered through the main gate.

  The hag’s duplicate returned to her stroll around the chamber, trailing her fingers along the pulsing walls, seemingly uninterested in their silent communication now.

  “I am in love with this mayhem I sense within this fracturing kingdom,” she remarked. “Do tell them I send my warmest regards.”

  Ignoring her, Tiffany maintained her concentration.

  I take it that things are not going well after our departure. In the best of ways, of course. I do hope you’ve been able to speak to your king in all sorts of…duplicitous ways, she giggled, knowing the alchemist was no doubt longing for the warmth of her former husband. How fares the kingdom in our absence?

  However, Lilya’s mental presence darkened slightly. Not exactly in our favor but not entirely against us. It is Precarious, to be honest. Queen Alivau stands on the verge of political collapse and is threatening to return to her home kingdom.”

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  Tiffany rubbed her chin, watching a wall soundlessly slide away to reveal a twisting corridor. If that happens, I take it her war-loving kingdom is just looking to engage in another war. And, with the Delva Empire already knocking on Kaspir’s doorstep, it can’t be a comforting thought that the Jesena Kingdom might get wrapped up in this debacle.

  Lilya’s voice softened, yet there was steel behind her words. “When my husband learned of Queen Alivau’s abuse of their daughter… When my son heard of it… It has been very tense, as far as I am aware. There has been a constant storm over the palace and they have been sleeping in separate wings.”

  I’m sure that is on more of a brighter note for you, Tiffany snickered, finding her elbow behind her back and imagining the shouting matches that must be happening behind those doors. Considering how Tempest abilities are so connected to emotion, I’m surprised the whole building hasn’t been leveled… Yes, Arshol’s introduction might be well placed with High Lady Trisha. Trisha can get close to Queen Alivau and be your way into her ear.

  “That…certainly does seem like a good direction to take that could ease tensions with the proper words whispered…”

  Castria flew around outside, nervous energy transferring through the Nexus as she listened, no doubt also flying with friends at the same time. She was good enough not to interrupt, though.

  And your husband? Tiffany tentatively asked.

  The alchemist let out a long sigh that Tiffany felt far too sharply—her former husband’s fault. He’d practically already drafted divorce papers the moment he learned her ‘good side’ could be returned.

  “He’s withdrawn… Despite his heart, which I know, he has not come to see me. And with this happening with his current wife—the abuse to Heather is… My King may be a man of strength, but his heart is soft for his children. That it happened under his watch must be consuming him, yet he knows he cannot throw his wife out. After all…discipline isn’t technically against the law, only looked down upon, and it is a part of her culture.”

  The hag chuckled, though Tiffany hadn’t spoken aloud. “Fascinating how quickly royalty can fall over children, isn’t it? I have collapsed powerful nations over a single child in the past. One moment a man is at the pinnacle of power, the next…one taken child, and he melts like butter.”

  “Is there anything I can do with Heather? We’re waiting outside… Oh, I’ll keep her busy so she doesn’t see you coming out of the wall.”

  “No, Princess,” Lilya soothed. “You are not meant to carry this burden. It is my task to see to my kingdom and my husband… Please, converse with Heather and don’t let this spoil your fun…”

  The alchemist gently removed the world’s hero, at least according to Roman, from the call before continuing in a darker tone.

  “Rumor suggests my husband is considering granting Grand Duke Logan temporary regency powers while he attends to personal matters… It doesn’t help that the other Great Houses are also in their own dramas, leaving the many lower courts to run rampant. The Grand Duke has already left to attend to the Delva’s invasion personally, taking Julian with him, since he obtained his father’s title as marquess.”

  Tiffany felt the drone closing in. It wouldn’t be long until they would be on the move, and this double likely left. She was sure the hag was doing something extra while she was gone, besides preparing the ritual for her creeping bane—her good side’s return.

  If it is that bad, then it might be better for you to make formal declarations and talk to the queen yourself… Perhaps inviting her through Trisha.

  “That does seem to be the best option,” Lilya whispered, sounding more emotional than Tiffany had heard the queenly woman. “I have sent word to my many family members within the desert of my return… I am sure it will cause a stir among some with superstition, but it is the best way I can regain some of my former political leverage, outside the Empress’ influence in the broader world landscape.”

  The note in her voice made Tiffany tap her thumb against her wrist. Lilya, there may be other options we can pursue to grant you…private conversations with your lover, even if you promise not to visit him and make concessions to your rival. A rival your husband now abhors… Perhaps I can create something with some rituals and Earth technology… I will get crafty.

  She could feel the relief and released tension through the Nexus, prompting her to pivot to a new conversation. Now, what of the House of Ravens? How do our students and new curriculum fare? This one, Castria can rejoin in, she added, drawing the girl back.

  “Y-Yes?”

  Tiffany repeated the question, allowing Lilya the time to compose her thoughts.

  Castria seemed eager to report on this subject. “Heather’s been staying in my quarters—well, Anala has too—since we have the same dorm room. But she’s terrified to return home. We’ve become quite good friends, actually. She’s brilliant when she’s not being smothered by her mother’s expectations or brother… Eesh.”

  She paused, wincing a little. “She loves her brother sooo much, but he really has this ‘let me fix it’ mentality that is kind of putting a lot of pressure and anxiety on her. Julian can be like that sometimes…but he’s off with the Grand Duke. I, umm, bet you know that already. As for Anala. Mmm. Yeah… That’s a total disaster!”

  Lilya’s more measured tone resumed. “Political tensions have eased against the House of Ravens since Drake joined House Tempest. Yet, that has now caused sparks to fly between the two Great Houses. The Tarkov family—especially Idalia, Anala’s older sister, and their mother—has taken his actions as…distasteful.

  “However, their father, High Lord Debro, loved the bold action Drake took in kissing his daughter. It was a brazen action that shocked him from the Tarnash family. It is…in his personality and he actually did the same to his wife, High Lady Karia. He has been soothing things among the women of his Great House.”

  And the Tarnash Family? Tiffany pressed, reflecting on the discovery they’d made that the Great House actually used to be the rulers of this kingdom. At least, before the hag stepped in. How is the Great House of Ice?

  Castria jumped back in. “Oh, things are spicy! I mean, not the Great House, they’re playing it cool and behind closed doors as always, unlike the Tarkov. But, oooh boy! Drake and Anala’s older brother and sister are… Yeah, it’s pretty tense in the halls! Those two are like fire and ice.”

  Love is in the air, Tiffany snickered. That is the kind of drama we like to see. It keeps things interesting… It seems our ride is here—

  Tiffany paused on her path toward Arshol when a shadow fell across them both.

  Autumn’s duplicate approached with measured steps, her silk dress whispering against the stone floor. Honestly, Tiffany wasn’t sure if this was the real hag or not. There was no way for her to tell if it was a simple double or illusion.

  Yet, between her pale fingers, the creature held an ornate scroll, sealed with deep crimson wax, bearing the imprint of an autumn leaf. “It seems my time here is complete. I have achieved what I wanted. But before I depart, a final gift,” she announced, extending the scroll with a twisted grin. “This is your inheritance, deary.”

  Tiffany stared at the offering, making no move to accept it. Give me a moment, ladies…

  “I wasn’t aware I was in line for any inheritance from you, seeing as I am not your disciple and cannot make that decision upon myself since I am a slave to my Empress.”

  “Oh, I believe that is less true than you’d like to admit,” the brown-eyed woman corrected with a lilting laugh. “But that is for another time. And this? This is not from me…but from them.”

  Tiffany’s gaze followed her pointed finger to the resting girl.

  “The Autumn House?” she asked, brow furrowing.

  “Indeed! Their legacy, even their power…” Her voice dropped to a silky whisper, making Tiffany swallow and take a step back as she said, “Their soul.”

  “As I said, I cannot accept a deal—”

  “Oh, sweetie. It is practically worthless to me now and far less intriguing than what this brings me… It is not a deal, but a gift. A challenge… If you can handle it.”

  Her eyebrow twitched. “A challenge? What kind of challenge?”

  Reluctantly, intrigued, Tiffany reached for the scroll, her fingers hovering just above it as the hag continued.

  “This document binds the Autumn House’s collective magic to your will—their very essence and family line. Centuries of carefully cultivated Tempest bloodlines, now answering to you alone. Their name. Their loyalty.”

  Autumn’s smile widened. “You would become the absolute ruler of their legacy—every ritual, every drop of power, every future child born to their line. Even the rights to the power of the Evenborne Marchlands…and all that that entails.”

  Tiffany’s hand froze. “The Marchlands… You want me to become its keeper. Its stewart? Why would you give me that…unless you found something stronger to bind yourself to in our world,” she whispered, eyes growing big.

  “Clever girl and perceptive as I expected from a Queen of Witchery,” the hag purred. “Consider this a free lesson. To wield a House’s soul is to carry its chains, also. Their burdens become yours. Their contracts… Their enemies target you. Their curses flow through your veins. I could handle them.”

  She tilted her head at an unnatural angle, yellow eyes glittering. “Can you?”

  Tiffany felt the dagger at her breast.

  The implication.

  Can she handle it…even with her goodness returning?

  “For someone who has already sacrificed her humanity…what’s one more burden to bear that isn’t a burden at all?”

  A soft noise from the floor interrupted them. Arshol had stirred awake, sooner than Tiffany anticipated. Lilya’s tonic had done more than she first anticipated. It was its first trial run, after all. She’d likely heard everything. Yet, her eyes didn’t show fear or anger at being discarded like trash. The only thing in them was…welcoming acceptance.

  Tiffany studied the girl, recognition dawning. “This child had been raised to be a pawn—her entire existence defined by service to greater powers… Her brother’s sacrifice, her own participation in the ritual… You broke her.”

  “Did I?” Autumn hummed, neck righting itself as she smiled down at the girl. “Now where is the fun in that?”

  Her response hit Tiffany in the gut.

  She was right.

  To a hag, given agency was everything…

  Willing agency.

  This girl may have been groomed, but she still had her free will.

  Her mind had just been twisted so much that she’d be willing to sacrifice her very brother to the fate of eternity between two realms.

  The weight of the decision settled heavily on her shoulders. The power. If she accepted the scroll, she would gain more than she could dream—the hag’s whole leftover empire.

  Yet…that was the price.

  She would also take one step closer to becoming like the hag, which was exactly what she wanted.

  If she refused, the Autumn House might collapse without leadership, especially after losing their heir in the ritual. The power vacuum would only worsen the kingdom’s instability. And this girl might not even follow orders if she wasn’t their ‘mother’ with how she’d been raised.

  “You’re hesitating,” the woman cooed, amusement dancing in her eyes. “How deliciously human of you… Perhaps Edmon is wrong. Are you his wife…or are you playing the part?”

  “You planned this when you gave me her…”

  Tiffany met her gaze steadily, a tug-of-war pulling her between two paths. The small moments they’d shared together dancing before her heart—the flirting, the questions, the deepening of memories they both shared.

  “Oh, you rotten apple, I’ve had my eyes on you since the moment you first entered this city,” the woman chuckled, slitted yellow eyes flashing through the brown. “Even monsters were human once. Some of us remember that better than others… It’s how we’re so good at playing with our food.”

  She flicked a long black nail against the scroll’s wax seal and held it forward. Tiffany glanced at the girl, watching with anticipation rather than fear.

  Is this what I have become? If Edmon believes it and wants me untainted…then maybe this is the right decision. He won’t have to guess any longer.

  The parchment’s rough surface closed around her fingers and she held it up, a dark smile lifting her lips. “I serve my Empress. If you are offering something that can allow me to serve her better, with such a small thing as my ‘humanity,’ then I am obligated to take it. After all, it is already gone.”

  Autumn’s bright white teeth gleamed as she stepped away. “What would your Empress think, debating the fate of children’s souls and delving into the swamp of a hag. Knowledge will come with its use… I hope it is helpful.”

  With that, the hag swayed like smoke and vanished.

  Tiffany looked down at the paper in her hand, feeling an unusual weight from it that wasn’t physical. The battle ended long before tonight… If I became this for my daughter, then isn’t this the right decision? If she can get her mother back…she doesn’t need a reminder of what I could have been.

  “Mother.”

  She stiffened as the fourteen year old girl’s arms closed around her, head resting against her chest. That word hit her harder than she anticipated.

  “W-What?”

  Looking down, Tiffany’s throat constricted as she realized what the hag had offered…

  What she’d truly offered.

  On the ground where the creature had stood lay a pile of skin.

  Skin made immortal through dark methods.

  The flesh of the original Countess—

  Evelyn Autumn.

  This won’t just give me her power and part of her knowledge…

  With this… I become the Hag of the Everborne Marchlands.

  A flicker of movement from the side passage drew Tiffany’s attention. Something large and distinctly alien emerged from the shadows—Charlie.

  The thelmét'hra’s eight limbs moved with unsettling precision across the marble floor. The spider-like creature’s gem-like, ruby eyes gleamed in the witchfire light as it approached.

  Arshol hugged her tighter, closing her eyes and trembling.

  “It’s not real. It’s not real…”

  What have I accepted….

  The hag’s voice echoed in her mind like a serpent. “Don’t bother returning quickly… Think about what you have to gain. Digest it… Savor what power your Empress will obtain. It will take a few days for me to…acclimate to this world to perform this little gift.”

  Tiffany could feel her too-wide smile through her bones. “After all, we don’t want to leave your lovely uncorrupted half reawakening without her charming Death Knight. Wouldn’t you want him to be there, like a princess, opening her eyes to her prince.”

  The nail in her heart sank in harder than she anticipated but she refused to let a tear fall. Her arm closed around the manipulated teen in front of her. Comforting. Warm. At least, she hoped it was, considering she was already dead.

  For a moment, the chamber fell silent save for the gentle hum of magical energy coursing through the walls, the spider observing, waiting.

  “My Queen?” it chittered, voice resonating oddly in the chamber. “I have completed analysis of the tunnels as per your orders.”

  “Is everything alright?” Lilya interjected, no doubt feeling the quiver in her chest through the Nexus. “The carriage will likely be there soon.”

  Taking a deep breath, she let it go with a short chuckle. Perfectly alright. Give me your report.

  “Yes, Queen! The outer layers of the underground network shift in predictable patterns,” it explained, mandibles soundless like the gentle puffs of steam it let off. “Rotation occurs every four hours and seventeen minutes. However, deeper corridors become chaotic—influenced by magical currents, I’m told, by Queen Lilya, and the remnants of older spells that are linked to Tempests.”

  Tiffany nodded absently, more focused on Arshol, the ritual scroll in her grip, and the skin lying on the ground than the tunnel’s patterns. The girl had somehow slipped back into unconsciousness shortly after the spider’s appearance, her breathing shallow but stable.

  The hag’s laughter echoed in her mind as Tiffany carefully lifted Arshol in her arms.

  I am perfectly comfortable playing the part I was born to play…

  I am my Empress’ Witch Queen.

  Isn’t that right, Empress? I’m not your mother but something…else, wearing her skin.

  Bending down, her fingers slid over the smooth, living skin… Skin that would be hers soon enough. Skin Edmon could twist his nose at and see on the outside what she was to the core… Corrupted humanity.

  No one will miss me as Tiffany with the good one back.

  I will shield you from the darkness, when the walls around us quake.

  I will hold back all the monsters, until my bones begin to break.

  We were taken by the shadows…

  And I will sacrifice a part of my soul again to spare you from the pain.

  I am now…

  She handed the girl off to the arachnid, placing her on a silk pouch on its back.

  “Create a bag for me to store that… I’ll need it later.”

  Tucking the scroll at the top of her mostly full ingredients bag, Evelyn accepted the silk shoulder pack and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s go… I have an appointment to keep.”

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