Too weak to hold herself up, Isadora slumped over against the grass, her connection to the earth growing stronger with more vines sprouting from her skin to mend the damage done. In turn, she gazed up at the vampire to find him staring down at her in shock, horrified by what he'd just done.
But none of this was his fault—she simply didn't get to say so before the true culprit arrived.
The moment Isadora uttered Sylva's name, the witch's spell was broken, her control fading like a clearing fog.
And Mathias was enraged by what she'd forced him to do.
But he was also stunned. A resurgence of memories from earlier in the day flooded his mind, revealing Sylva's summoning to some unknown location. There, she'd revealed answers to nearly every question he'd ever asked, then demanded help retrieving her pendant.
You will help me, Mathias, and the best part is that you won't even know you're doing it. He clearly recalled her promise now, as well as what followed. While helpless under her influence, the witch hypnotized him to kill the one he loved the moment he confessed his love to her, all to force him into retrieving her pendant for a resurrection.
Afterward, Sylva commanded him to forget their encounter ever occurred, then returned him to the same spot underground from which he was summoned. This left him none the wiser when telling Isadora of his feelings—and his confession triggered the witch's spell.
Rage suffused him at the mere thought, and the sight of Isadora's weakened condition only amplified the sensation.
Now laying on the grass before him, vines wrapped around her body as blood streamed down across her chest much the way it had when he'd first encountered her. But this time, she was bleeding because of him, and the shame scalded like never before.
Still, his fae didn't seem to care, weakly reaching out in the desire to have her mate close while she recovered—and it wasn't surprising. Their blood bond would've provided her with enough insight to realize he'd unwillingly caused her harm, and the only question left was to wonder how she'd guessed Sylva was behind it all.
Then again, Isadora had been under Sylva's control before, so it probably wasn't difficult to connect the dots once she'd noticed his reluctance. That being the case, it was fortunate he'd fed her blood, otherwise things would've ended much, much worse.
Sadly, it seemed they weren't getting any better when he tried to reach for his lover only to find himself unable to move.
“I suppose the old adage is true, and if you want something done, you should do it yourself.”
Sylva's voice had Mathias' fangs sharpening instantly—not that it mattered. She'd obviously placed him under some hold, and the only question was whether she'd used magic, or something stronger to keep him from moving.
But he didn't care to ask. Instead, the moment she appeared by stepping into his line of sight, he growled accusingly, “You hypnotized me to murder Isadora so I'd retrieve your fucking pendant from Ardilon for a resurrection!”
“Of course,” she replied with a shrug, waving at Isadora in adding, “I detest using her as a pawn again, but you'd have never agreed to assist me without having a personal stake in the matter.”
She was absolutely right—and Mathias loathed her for using his lover in such a manner. Still, it was impossible to process the situation in those few moments when his focus was on freeing himself of the witch's hold if only for the chance to slaughter her.
More importantly, he also needed to protect Isadora. Sylva clearly wasn't giving up her effort of recovering the pendant, and was likely to attempt murdering his lover again just to make certain he did whatever it took to get the bauble back.
Yet he couldn't move a muscle, even to struggle, left to helplessly watch as she knelt next to the fae and stated, “I hope you realize my sincerity in that, Isadora. I've never desired to harm you, or any of your sisters. Sadly, circumstance forced my hand.”
Still weakened from blood loss, Isadora rasped, “Wipe your mouth.”
“Excuse me?” Sylva inquired, confused. “Why should I wipe my mouth?”
With a deep breath, the fae retorted in fine style, “For all that shit you're talking.”
Under normal circumstances, Mathias would've laughed at his lover's saucy response. But desperation didn't allow for humor, and Sylva's reaction wasn't a comfort.
Chuckling, the witch stood and turned in his direction, remarking, “You've a clever lover, Mathias, and it's not surprising she guessed who bewitched you before you could finish the job. But no matter. There are other ways to handle the issue.”
Growling, Mathias remarked, “Good, then you can leave us the fuck alone.”
“Hardly,” Sylva returned with a smile. “You allowed Ardilon to take my pendant, and he'd be much too suspicious of anyone other than you or Isadora requesting its use for a resurrection. So my plan will commence, simply with a minor adjustment.”
Casually, the witch raised her right hand toward him with a white light forming in her palm. As it grew brighter, a weight built on his chest, the pressure amplifying until Sylva snatched her fingers into a fist.
With the gesture, the building pressure turned into a crushing pain as Mathias’ heart exploded.
An agonized snarl escaped his throat, the skin of his chest fading to a purplish blue as his eyes glowed crimson. The lethal injury instantly triggered blood lust, and Isadora must've sensed the damage because she cried out.
“No! What are you doing?”
“I'm sorry, Isadora, but this is necessary,” Sylva started. “I summoned your lover to my abode during the day and revealed things I'd hoped would convince him to help me. But his skepticism was clear, and there's no time to earn approval.”
At the last, Sylva drew back the left side of her cloak to reveal a sword strapped to her belt. Unsheathing it with a quick swish through the air, she stepped toward him and added, “But, since I vowed never to harm Isadora, she'll have to retrieve my pendant for your resurrection, and perhaps then, after I've kept my word and returned your life, you'll have a little more faith.”
As she lifted her blade to press the tip to his neck, Mathias glared up at the woman in contempt with only one response to offer her threat—and he growled the words with the utmost sincerity.
“Don't fucking count on it, witch.”
— THIRTY-NINE —
Once Sylva crushed Mathias' heart, Isadora felt as if her own no longer worked.
The witch's intentions for her mate chilled her blood, the notion of losing him as frightening as her helplessness was enraging. But though the earth had already restored some of her strength, she was still too weak to protect the man she loved.
Yet protection seemed to be the last thing on the vampire's mind.
Instead, after denying the witch, his gaze met Isadora's, a grim expression proving he wanted her to refrain from retrieving the pendant no matter the cost—unsurprisingly. Gods only knew what Sylva might do with a pendant possessing divine power, and Isadora wasn't sure she ever wanted to find out.
But could she sacrifice Mathias to keep such power out of the witch's hands? Every facet of her being answered the question with a shrill no, though she had no time to consider the options before Sylva responded to Mathias' denial.
“So be it,” the witch began simply enough, adding as she drew her blade from his neck in preparation to strike, “but your lack of faith changes nothing about what must be done.”
At that, her blade sliced around at a swift arc to sever the vampire's head, and Isadora could hardly scream at her to stop, let alone offer any physical interference. Even if she'd possessed the strength to do so, Sylva moved too quickly, her blade meeting Mathias' throat with immaculate precision.
But the vampire's head never left his body.
Instead, the moment her sword struck, a flash of white light erupted between them in a blinding wave, as if the sun had risen overhead for several moments, turning night into day. Initially, Isadora thought Sylva's weapon was the culprit, and perhaps magic
was the cause, but the witch's sharp cry of pain punctuated the flash, her body flying away at top speed.
Hitting the ground with a thud, she slid to a stop, and Isadora's gaze turned from the downed witch and back to Mathias. Thankfully, he remained in one piece, though an unexpected sight eclipsed his image—a row of ten divinians clad in gleaming armor of white and gold now stood between them and Sylva.
Their armor alone seemed to radiate power as each of the holy warriors stood at the ready. Yet only one had a weapon drawn, being the tallest at the center of the row. Held aloft at his side was a double-bladed ax, and his armor was more ornate in design, as if to signify a role of leadership.
But though the warrior’s identity remained a mystery due to the visor covering his face, Sylva seemed to recognize him.
“You,” she hissed the moment her gaze met the warrior.
Stepping forward, the divinian responded on a deep, unbending tone reverberating with energy—and somehow, his voice was familiar.
“Stand down, Kalara. This no longer concerns Isadora and Mathias, and you will not harm them to further your own ends.”
Kalara? Isadora stared between them, unsure why this divinian was referring to Sylva by the name of the goddess Mathias mentioned before—unless the power she'd taken from the temple ruin belonged to Kalara from the start.
Whatever the case, once Sylva worked her way back to her feet and inspected her outfit for dirt, she dusted some grass from her arm with a sneer, asking, “Is that a divine decree, Ardilon, or are you exerting your own authority?”
Isadora blinked, stunned to learn the divinian addressing Sylva was the same as the one who'd taken her pendant from Mathias. Yet the bigger sensation was relief—perhaps now that Ardilon had intervened, she'd leave them the hell alone.
Still, it'd be interesting to see how the divinian handled the matter, and as Mathias used his returned mobility to lift her upper body from the grass and cradle against his chest, Isadora paid close attention to the unfolding scene.
“Both,” the divinian answered, explaining, “The Crucible is the ultimate power in Terra, and I've also convened with the pantheon concerning your resurgence through Sylva Abbott.”
The statement proved the power Sylva accessed at the temple was related to the goddess Mathias told her about. How was another question, but perhaps their conversation would provide an answer.
“Oh?” Sylva started, adding contemptibly, “And what did the gods have to say about me? Did they send you to finish me off?”
“No. They've merely instructed me to banish you from Terra for good, though not before making an offer.”
“What offer?”
The witch sounded curious, but also wary, her full focus on the divinian when he answered, “The pantheon has demanded that you renounce all ties to vampires, and make a divine decree to never step foot in Terra or Sutrelle again. In exchange, I'm to return your pendant.”
Isadora stared at Ardilon's back, jaw agape while Mathias demanded, “You can't just—”
“Silence the vampire,” Ardilon directed his companions on a hard tone, and the divinian standing closest to Mathias complied by crossing his neck with the glowing blade of her sword.
It was a harsh response, coldly efficient, proving The Crucible was taking full responsibility for this exchange. Yet Isadora wasn't certain she agreed with their deal. Sylva was already powerful—no normal witch could’ve done what she had with so little effort, and considering her track record, fueling those abilities was a horrible idea.
Still, Isadora didn't interject, getting the distinct feeling Ardilon was playing an angle they weren't privy to, and remained calm, hoping Mathias would sense her serene demeanor and draw from it.
Thankfully, it must've worked because though he looked unhappy, he remained silent and tightened his hold around her.
The entire while, Sylva ignored them, her gaze fixated on Ardilon with a great deal of both interest and skepticism. Yet she must've decided his offer was fair because she finally agreed—albeit unhappily.
“Very well. That pendant is rightfully mine, and should be offered freely. But if a divine decree is what it takes, then I'll renounce my ties to my own children and gladly leave this realm.”
With those words spoken, Isadora expected Sylva would make her decree and be done with it—though it was questionable whether she'd actually follow through. Even if The Crucible was acting on divine guidance, they had no reason to believe Sylva would keep her word.
But what followed was unexpected, and as the witch commenced, Isadora knew beyond all doubt this woman was no longer a mere witch.
No, she was a goddess—and her vows were unbreakable.
— FORTY —
Mathias clutched Isadora tight during Sylva's exchange with Ardilon, finding his lover was the only thing keeping him calm in a situation that promised nothing but misery.
Regardless of The Crucible's reasoning, their decision to provide Sylva more power than she already possessed was baffling. Whether banished from Terra and Sutrelle or not, she was resourceful, and gods only knew what harm she'd cause with her pendant returned.
Still, it was the gods themselves who'd made this decision—saying Ardilon hadn't lied about his divine communion with the intentions of tricking Sylva from the start. Otherwise, it was a matter of hoping the gods knew what they were doing, and Mathias's faith was already stretched thin.
But once Sylva began her decree, he knew at least some of their worries were unfounded.
As the witch parted her lips to speak, her eyes flooded green just as they had during their encounter earlier that day. But this time, the very air shifted as something akin to static ignited in the earth, radiating through the area in waves.
Mathias had never felt anything like it, and couldn't articulate the sensation. He only knew it felt as if they were in the presence of something … greater, a word that seemed strange being used regarding Sylva, who'd only caused them grief. Yet the energy surging around them reverberated in the witch's voice, and though her decree was concise, each word echoed out as if traveling the world over for all to hear.
“As Divine Goddess of Envy, I hereby vow never to return to Terra or Sutrelle, nor involve myself in the affairs of vampires again. I renounce all ties to my children and free them of obligation to venerate me in any capacity.”
Howling winds and rumbling thunder punctuated her vows, the power of her statements blanketing Mathias' mind as she concluded with a purpose he knew could never be altered.
“Until the pantheon release me, let my decree ring true forevermore.”
With her promise echoing out into the night and fading with the calming winds, Ardilon inclined his head as if satisfied, and wasted no time fulfilling his end of their bargain.
Lifting his left hand, a light flashed in his palm where Kalara's pendant appeared—and Sylva's gaze fixated on the item with obvious yearning.
Tossing the bauble over, Ardilon stated, “As promised, the pendant is now yours.”
Easily snatching the item from the air, Sylva's glowing green eyes returned to normal and locked on the divinian with a smirk curving her red lips that almost seemed cruel.
“Thank you, Ardilon,” she stated less than sincerely, her voice taking on a gloating edge with the words, “and I must say, for as annoyed as I am over the circumstances, seeing you here gives me great delight. So pass my compliments to … ”
Trailing as she lifted the pendant for examination, her smile faded and brows drew together just moments before she glared in Ardilon's direction.
“What have you done!” she demanded, surprising Mathias in adding, “Why is my pendant depleted of power?”
A magical din punctuated the question, her palms glowing with energy as if having trouble containing her rage long enough to get an answer. Yet Ardilon remained unaffected by her ire, offering as casual a reply as Mathias had ever heard.
“It's depleted because the pantheon directed me to restore Su
trelle using what you so graciously placed within it. The reason is that after Peros stripped you of power, he left you to atone as you are, and not with a portion of divine power you cleverly hid away.”
Mathias and Isadora both stared at Ardilon in surprise, realizing he did indeed have the situation under control—and Sylva's reaction to his trickery was truly enjoyable.
Sneering at the divinian, she gripped her now useless pendant in a tight, glowing fist just moments before the bauble exploded, shattering into a million flecks of glittering dust.
Simultaneously, her body gleamed radiantly as she passed on a message to Ardilon which was spoken calmly despite her potent display of rage.
“Well played, Dead God. Perhaps one day I'll have the chance to show my gratitude for all you've done.”
With those words looming in the air, Sylva vanished from sight—and Ardilon didn't seem particularly bothered by her threat. Instead, he turned to his companions and casually motioned a silent hand in dismissal as if she'd said nothing at all.
As the holy warriors departed, his armor and weapon gleamed before fading away, leaving the divinian in a finely tailored suit and tie as he crouched before Mathias and Isadora with an apology.
“I'm sorry for threatening you, Mathias, and for keeping my use of the pendant secret. I would've come to you and explained my plans to stabilize Sutrelle from the start, but your reaction to our deal had to be believable if Sylva was to take the bait and make her decrees.”
“I understand, and I'm grateful for your intervention,” Mathias started, glancing to the spot where Sylva once stood before adding, “Still, she's obviously planning to retaliate, which makes me wonder how effective her vows will be at keeping her from causing problems.”
As if speaking from experience, Ardilon explained, “Her vows are unbreakable, Mathias. A divine decree isn't a verbal bond, but a tool that shapes reality, and once a deity has given their word, they can never reverse it without something greater opening the way.”
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