Page 99 of Remnants: Disruption
“There are thousands of supernatural creatures in this place. And that does not consider the sanctuaries across Nye Verden. We are unified under our God Queen’s banner and her ultimate purpose. The title is not simply honorific. If she were to fall, we would dissolve into chaos.”
I shudder at the thought of Mary dying. At the idea that someone could even manage the feat. At the idea of dull orange eyes and full lips that would never quirk again.
“So, she keeps the peace through power?” I ask weakly.
“No,” Azazel says, masked face never wavering from the path ahead of us. People stare this time—where Bast’s presence had been normal, Azazel’s is a warning.
Before Azazel can continue, we slow to a stop as a crowd gathers near the base of the large mountain. All heads turn towards the peak. I follow their stares and take in a sharp breath.
Just past the elevators, a small cadre of people move as if the fate of the world rests on their shoulders.
Bloody Mary’s exceptional body is hard to miss. Behind her, flaming red hair marks Morgana. A few others follow in their wake, each looking like a deranged superhero.
“The God Queen earned our loyalty through fire and brimstone, Hiraeth,” Azazel sounds reverent as they watch the group. “If it were up to me, I would remove the heads of those who dare to question her sovereignty.”
“Who?” I ask, glancing back at the mage.
Azazel’s head tilts for a moment before they let out what might be a laugh.
“How about you tell me after this meeting, yes?”
Without warning, Azazel begins to move again. The crowd parts without prompting and I hurry to catch up.
The Cradle comes into view after a moment and Azazel gestures down into its depths once again.
“What about a disguise?” I ask, giving the precipitous darkness a glare like that might make it behave.
“I have a theory, but we cannot test it now. Now is the time to learn the importance of silence.”
“Was that your way of telling me to shut up?” I ask, but Azazel strolls into the Cradle’s depths like I hadn’t said anything at all.
Shadows swirl around my ankles to feel for the stone stairs as I follow in their wake.
It feels like half an hour passes before voices and footsteps echo down the pitch-dark stairway.
Azazel had sat themselves at their place in the council hall and gone into an eerie silence. That left me to stand awkwardly at their shoulder fiddling with the hem of the borrowed shirt.
“Do not speak unless spoken to,” Azazel says quietly.
I don’t respond, but watch as Bloody Mary enters the room, quickly followed by Morgana. Beowulf and the one I think is Loki are behind them, the latter two speaking in hushed tones.
Since I’m clearly a delusional masochist, I wonder for a moment if Mary tries to catch my eye. Really, she was probably looking to see if Azazel was already in their seat.
I tuck myself further back into the corner beside the mage, but the small movement catches Loki’s attention as he climbs the stairs to his spot.
“What is she doing here?” he asks, enunciatingsheas if I’m a venereal disease.
“She is my mentee and therefore authorized to be here,” Azazel answers without hesitation, as if they expected the question.
“Surely you jest,” Loki scoffs, seating himself in his chair in the most annoying way possible. “She’s a liability. I say we just put her down and be done with it.”
I look quickly to Azazel, but the back of their head doesn’t really give me any indication of what to do. I don’t really love the idea of being “put down.”
Then I glance to my left to where Mary’s council spot intersects with Azazel’s.
She seems lost in her own head, orange eyes looking off into the distance. Morgana is glaring daggers at Loki and Bast, who I hadn’t even seen enter, is gripping her staff with more force that normal.
“I concur,” Beowulf’s rumbly voice answers.
