Melaine wasn’t used to these streets, but she could see the palace’s tall pinnacles against the pink and lavender sky. When people or buildings or the fine estate walls of Crossing’s Square got in the way, she would jump over them, using magic she barely knew she had. Somehow, she was also strong enough to bring Salma with her at every leap and turn.
Wisps of black smoke clustered in sporadic masses as Melaine avoided meeting the red eyes and wide, toothy smiles of countless reanimated and possessed bodies. They were all running toward the palace at nearly as fast a pace as Melaine. She didn’t know what the creature’s aim was—did having a physical body make it easier to feed? Could it get its own monstrous body back with enough magic consumed? Could it make multiple bodies? Or was its only motivation to feed, as Actaeon had said? Was taking others’ bodies merely an instinctual compulsion? Did it care what form it took so long as it had magic in its belly?
Melaine turned a final street corner. The palace’s wood and wrought-iron gates loomed ahead.
“Shite,” Salma said over the wind of their race. Melaine felt her sentiment.
The gate was a reflection of the Stakeside wall but larger and more dangerous. A huge amount of the city’s population railed at the gates, trying to get inside. Melaine slowed and ducked behind a baker’s vending stall. People were crying and shouting—begging for the Overlord’s protection, blaming the Overlord for the crisis. It was clear that no one understood what was happening, and no one cared, so long as they could get someplace safe.
Melaine scanned the crowd, looking for Serj and Karina. She didn’t know if the wretches at the gate were part of Serj’s rebellion or not. If they were, they weren’t doing anywhere near as well as Melaine had hoped. But she saw no sign of either Serj or Karina in the chaos.
“How do we get through?” Salma asked.
Melaine racked her brain. The limestone walls were far higher than those around Stakeside. She doubted that she could jump over them or dig under them, magic or no magic. She eyed the wrought-iron gate and the elegant spires and stained glass windows of the palace. She had never been this close to the palace before, and yet she felt she knew it.
“Wait,” she said. “I think I know a way.”
Actaeon’s boyhood memories swept into her mind. He had used a drainpipe behind the stables to escape from his father, King Vasos. It had been over twenty years, and Actaeon’s modern renovations following the destruction of the war had altered the palace façade considerably, but perhaps the drain was still there.
“Over here,” she told Salma as she tugged her hand. They skirted the wall, hiding in what shadows they could find as she looked for the drain. She finally heard a trickle of water, and the edge of a drainpipe came into sight. The tall pipe was blocked by iron bars. But Melaine could handle that.
She summoned the deraphant spell into her wand and shoved the bars open. They splintered like logs and collapsed around the round perimeter of the pipe.
“I’ve gotta get me one of those,” Salma said, eyeing Melaine’s wand. Melaine smiled and ducked inside. Salma followed. They walked with slapping, wet steps. Soon, they reached the other side of the thick palace wall.
There was just as much chaos within the protective palace walls as there was outside. Actaeon’s ploy must have worked. Servants darted around the courtyard, trying to get away from the violence around them. Black smoke of the divided Sateless rushed through bodies, devouring everyone in sight. The monster was as fearsome as Melaine had seen in the ancient vision of Highstrong, but this time it was worse because in the vision it had been contained in a single body. Now, at least three pieces of the incorporeal Sateless billowed through the courtyard, and more pieces inhabited corpses that latched their mouths onto those of screaming victims.
The Sateless wasn’t terrorizing unchecked. Silver-armored Shields were useless, falling under the Sateless like tossed coins, but several men and women wearing blazing red cloaks with black hoods fought back.
The Overlord’s Followers.
The Followers leapt and darted among the chaotic bodies of living and dead alike. Their cloaks flew like cardinals’ wings as they shot spells from their wands with deadly aim and force, knocking back corpses and in many cases, blowing them to pieces.
Every walking corpse they destroyed issued a whirl of black smoke that formed an exoskeleton visage of the Sateless’s physical, bestial form. One mass tried to leap at a Follower near the front doors of the palace, but he cast a translucent blue shield spell around himself to repel its attack. It kept up its onslaught, sucking the magic from the shield to weaken it. The man held his shield fast, but his true concentration wasn’t on the monster but on the doors. He held his palm against one, trying to break a powerful warding spell that coated them.
Melaine recognized him as Yoson, the bulky, auburn-haired man she’d seen at Actaeon’s side in Highstrong right before the war. He had fought as a Follower twenty years ago. Now, he was much older, his hair graying and his muscles weaker, but his power was still immense. He kept up the shield while his wand shot dangerous spells at any threats around him, all while still trying to break the doors’ ward. Melaine flinched as he hit someone who appeared to be an innocent, caught in the crossfire between himself and a Sateless-possessed corpse.
The vaporous piece of Sateless attacking his shield must have decided it was wasting its efforts on such a difficult target. It jumped into the victim and made the corpse twitch and rise from the blood-soaked ground.
Melaine pulled on Salma’s hand and ran full speed to Yoson, wand raised against any attackers, but she and Salma managed to slip through the chaos unharmed.
“Where’s Actaeon?” she asked Yoson.
“What?” he said. He shot another spell at a corpse across the grounds.
“He needs me,” Melaine said. She grabbed Yoson’s arm. He shook her off.
“Get out of here, woman,” he said in a gruff, rankled voice.
“I have to see Actaeon,” Melaine said. “Is he in there?”
The Follower analyzed her with swift, sharp eyes, finally registering what she was saying. “Who are you?”
“My name is Melaine. I’ve been apprenticing under Actaeon at Highstrong. I know what this is”—she gestured to the chaos—“and I need to help him, Yoson. Where is he?”
Yoson hesitated a fraction but then seemed to accept her statement. Her use of both his and Actaeon’s first names clearly made an impression.
“He’s inside,” Yoson said. “He tasked all of us with directing people to safety while sending any possessed corpse or smoke creature into the palace after him. But then they came—the fucking Luxians. They’re in the palace, barred the doors. Dunno what’s happening.”
“Luxians?” Melaine said. “Fuck. Serj. I have to get in there.”
“Don’t we all?” Yoson said. Then he spun, his red cloak spiraling as he shot a spell at another corpse barreling toward them. The corpse flew backward and smacked into a horseless carriage that shook upon impact.
“Wait,” Melaine said. She caught sight of another corpse looking their way. The Follower saw it too. He raised his wand.
“No, wait!” She grabbed Yoson’s arm. “Let it come. It fed on your shield. Maybe it will feed on the warding spell on the doors.”
Yoson frowned, but he gave a terse nod. “All right. It’s worth a try.”
Melaine nodded and pulled the petrified Salma to the side of the doors.
The corpse was facing them now, the man’s body wearing the finery of an aristocrat. His smile widened to a painful degree as he took a step back, preparing to charge.
Yoson cast shield spells around all three of them, but Melaine’s hopes worked. Now that there was no one blocking a path to the doors, the Sateless’s focus changed. The Overlord was within the palace, and according to Actaeon, he and the creature were still attached by some aspect of Talem’s spell. Despite Melaine’s potent presence and the delectable meals running wild in the courtyard, the cre
ature was desperate to finish him off, especially now that his magic had been restored.
The corpse ran straight for the doors and plowed into them, making them shudder. The corpse inhaled an enormous breath of the magical ward before rearing back again for another punch. The Sateless slammed the corpse into the door again, and Melaine stumbled as a mighty reverberation of magic rang in her bones. The corpse’s body was torn and oozing coagulated blood, but it kept battering itself against the doors between deep breaths of magic. The doors shook again, and then their wood and iron buckled.
The Sateless seemed to be getting stronger with every new inhale of magic it claimed from the powerful warding spell. Much stronger. The corpse hit the doors again, and they burst open.
“Yes,” Melaine said. The corpse rushed inside. Melaine released Salma’s hand and tore after it.
“The throne room!” Yoson called after her from the threshold. “Straight past the antechamber.”
Melaine followed his directions, but he needn’t have given them. The Sateless-possessed corpse would lead her right to Actaeon. It was already far ahead, and Melaine’s speed spell had long run dry. She followed as fast as she could, running away from the screams and loud hissing from the courtyard behind. She thought she heard some from ahead of her as well.
She could hear Yoson blasting more threatening intruders in the courtyard. She glanced back once to see Salma standing at his side. She was as protected as she could be.
Melaine raced through a wide, extravagant hall that she had seen before, even if she hadn’t known the fancy name for it. In Actaeon’s memory of the battle for the White City, soldiers had littered the floor, coated in blood. Fine silver and gold trinkets and candelabras had been knocked over. She shuddered at the scene’s echo that greeted her eyes now, but she couldn’t stop to dwell.
She cried out when a man fell through a side doorway and into the hall right in front of her. He stumbled across the hall and twitched and convulsed against the opposite wall. He wore an overseer’s uniform.
He crumpled against the wall, but then his spine rolled back up mid-fall. He stood on wavering legs and then turned around.
Melaine gasped. It was Overseer Scroupe, but his taunting face was no longer the decrepit, greed-filled visage Melaine had last seen. Now, his face was stretched too wide in a smile, and his eyes glowed red.
Melaine summoned her rathmor battle spell and blasted Scroupe in the chest. Scroupe’s possessed corpse shot backward and slammed to the floor. His chest sizzled with embers that clung to his now visible heart and lungs. She watched his heart’s last beat as he took his final breath. Then she lifted her wand again and thrust him out of the way.
The black smoke of the Sateless seeped from his pores and through the massive hole in his chest. Melaine took off before it extricated itself, though she doubted she would find any refuge in the throne room ahead.
Four men stood guard outside a pair of dark oak and silver-gilded doors at the end of the antechamber, different from the gold and white doors from Actaeon’s memory, one of many renovations more suited to his style than King Malik’s. The men wore white and blue robes with the Luxian symbol embroidered across their chests. Their wands were raised against the corpse that had first burst through the palace’s front doors.
“Now!” shouted one of the men. All four Luxians hurtled spells at the corpse, but it dodged two of them. One scraped the corpse’s arm, and the fourth struck it in the face, smiting its wicked smile. It fell to the floor, but black smoke was already leaking from its pores.
Melaine yelled and summoned a slew of propulsion spells. She sent all four men flying and darted past the black mass of Sateless with more power and speed than she had ever thought possible of herself.
She sent a final burst of magic toward the throne room doors as she shoved her entire body weight against them. They opened, and she slammed them shut behind her.
In Actaeon’s memory, the throne room’s floor had been carpeted purple and the ceiling painted with lofty images of royalty. Now, Melaine stood upon pale marble, and the blank, vaulted ceiling reflected the simplicity and practicality of a secular reign.
In Actaeon’s memory, the blood of his mother had flowed down the dais near the throne. Now, there was no blood, and no one sat upon the throne. Actaeon stood in front of it, a shining black wand in his hand. He faced a room filled with a host of people, all wearing blue and white Luxian robes. Two of the Luxians held Karina in their grasps with wands aimed at her throat. Serj stood freely nearby, though he wore a tense grimace. His arms were folded, and his shoulders hunched.
“What?” said an aged man who stood at the front of the Luxian force as he looked over his shoulder at Melaine. His robes were of finer quality with greater embellishments than the others of his Order, but they were old and faded like the rest, just like Talem’s robes had been, and this man looked remarkably like Talem.
He was King Malik’s Luxian advisor from Actaeon’s memories, who had urged Malik to murder Queen Adelasia right before her son’s eyes. Serj and Talem’s father, Nazir.
“Melaine, leave!” said Actaeon, not taking his wand’s aim from Nazir’s chest.
Melaine raised her wand and summoned another propulsion spell, but the closest Luxian clapped a captivity spell around her wrists, one forceful enough to knock her wand out of her hand. A second Luxian picked her wand up off the floor with an evil grin and pointed it straight at her while two more grabbed her arms and held her with such strength she couldn’t break free.
“I always knew your rule would come to chaos and ruin,” said Nazir, his attention back on Actaeon.
“I should have known you couldn’t be eradicated so easily, Nazir,” Actaeon said grimly. “Now is not the time for a rebellion. Can’t you see that?”
“You said your father was dead!” Melaine yelled at Serj across the room. He had betrayed her, and just when she’d started to trust him.
“Couldn’t play all my cards, Melaine,” Serj said, though he winced when he eyed his father.
“My son did his duty by leading us here,” Nazir said. “A mere shadow compared with what Talem did. My eldest paved the way for this. This moment, Actaeon, bastard ruler, where I get to watch you die.”
“Why only watch?” Actaeon said. “Right, that’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Standing aside, watching others perform the evil deeds you can’t stomach yourself. That’s why you sent Talem and Serj. You were too afraid to confront me.”
“I’m not afraid, Actaeon,” Nazir said. “I have no reason to be. The Sateless has devoured you. What was it you said, Serj?” He eyed his son. “Actaeon and that Stakeside bitch weakened your brother so much that all it took was one spell to knock him down and murder him?” He looked back at Actaeon with an evil grin. “Well, it’s my turn to knock you down and seal my reign.”
Melaine frowned deeper and flicked her eyes to Serj and Karina. Serj’s mouth curved in a small, wry smile, and when Karina sent him a look, her sharp eyes sparked with conspiratorial approval.
“We have bigger things to worry about, Nazir,” Actaeon said.
“Nothing is greater than your death,” Nazir retorted. He raised his wand, magic glowing from its base to tip.
“No!” Melaine cried.
A shot of bright, white magic flew from Nazir’s wand and raced to Actaeon. Actaeon watched it with calm stillness until the last second and then swept his arm out to block it. The magic deflected to the vaulted ceiling and burned a hole into the sculpted stone.
“What?” Nazir said. “But—” He flung a glare at Serj. “You said he was near death. That the Sateless weakened him! You lied to me!”
Serj laughed.
“No one in this room is spotless, Father,” he said. “But I’ve realized the Overlord is the lesser of two evils.”
Nazir growled. “Foolish boy!” He shot another spell at Actaeon.
The Luxians around Nazir fired more battle spells, but Actaeon deflected them all with a sin
gle sweep of his arm. He thrust out his other arm and flung no less than five men into the air. His magic pinned them against a wall and held them there, unharmed.
The remaining Luxians started casting spells in a frenzy. Nazir roared and shot powerful spell after spell. Melaine took advantage of her captors’ distraction and shouldered the guards aside. Though her wrists were still bound, she managed to stretch out her fingers far enough to snag her wand from one’s grasp before he could react. She tried to run to Actaeon to help, but he raised his wand and sent her flying out of the way. She hit the ground hard, right near Karina and her guards. Serj was struggling to fight one guard off with nothing but his fists.
Actaeon’s spell knocked away the captivity spell that bound Melaine’s wrists. She glared at him but took his hint. She rolled over and fired two propulsion spells at each of the guards confronting Serj and Karina. They screamed as they flew backward.
“Thank you,” Karina said, prim as always. Melaine found her feet.
“You told them Actaeon was still weak,” she said to Serj. “You tricked them.”
He nodded. “They wouldn’t listen. My father and Talem never could see reason. They were too obsessed with Lux to see the reality of the people in need around them. Now Talem’s dead, and my father is too power-hungry to do Centara any good. He abandoned the rest of the rebellion and came straight here. I had to stop him.”
“Glad to hear it,” Melaine said, but she froze when she heard a rush of pounding footsteps coming from outside the throne room doors. Several Luxians standing by the door backed up with wide eyes. The doors banged inward. The Luxians screamed as a mob of people overwhelmed them. They fell and were crushed beneath the heavy weight of Sateless-possessed corpses flooding into the room.
“Shit,” Serj cursed, backing up.
“Actaeon!” Karina said. Actaeon looked her way as he tried to hold off an attacking spell from Nazir. His eyes blazed as he saw the Sateless’s barrage.
Melaine started flinging corpses left and right, smacking them with propulsion spells without thought. A woman with a ghastly grin and glowing red eyes ran toward her. Melaine summoned the rathmor battle spell anew. She blasted the woman back, and the corpse fell to the floor in a smoldering heap. Smoke sizzled from her skin and hair, but thick, black smoke surged out as well. The essence of the Sateless rose into the air.
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