Page 173 of The False Serpent King
“Make no mistake, great progress was made tonight, Your Highness. But Thera will return to Hell and more witches and Cursed will be made. There is no telling what other creatures she will create. This will not end, not as long as she is still allowed to exist.”
A chill spreads through me, harsh and all-consuming. She’s right, whatever it means. The dream didn’t say anything about Cora. Just the Sister.Fuck. Why did I assume defeating Cora would be the end of this?
She takes a deep breath and looks at me. “Do you trust everyone here?”
I falter as I think of Asmo, but I say, “Yes.”
She nods. “You and your mates,” she says as she looks to Elle, “are the keys to defeating Thera. I’ve been alive a long time, long enough to have known your mother. I have been aware of the prophecy for as long as it has been around. The only way this ends is with you four uniting and vanquishing her.”
Truth.
“But Marik…” Elle says.
“His soul is in Hell,” Asmo says.
I straighten in my chair. I wasn’t expecting this information to be shared, but okay then.
“I thought that might be the case,” Levana says gravely. “There is a way to get him back, but it will require someone going to get him. He cannot make the journey back alone.”
“Then we will bring him back,” I say with finality.
What other choice is there? Even if Marik went to Hell voluntarily, I would pull him out of there kicking and screaming. This must end. And I have the power to end it.
If what the osseris said is true, I’m the High Queen of Hell now.
Epilogue
MARIK
The first breathI take is pointless. Dirt fills my mouth and nose, and panic flares. I swallow it and force myself to stop breathing. I was trained for this. Mother and Father made sure of it.
Father’s words come back in a rush.This body isn’t real. They can’t kill you here.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel the pain of it. Of my lungs suffocating but never asphyxiating.
I punch upward, feeling the kiss of scorching air against my fists. I grab whatever I can and pull, fingernails cracking as I haul myself from the shallow grave.
My face hits the air next. I gasp, inhaling air roiling with heat. The only kind of heat one place can provide.
The one place I swore I’d never come back to.
I bellow. The ground shakes. The sky alights—in welcome or in protest.
I push myself to my feet and begin the trek back to a throne I abandoned long ago.
The End
