“Really?” the oldest and wisest-looking one says, a man with a white glowing staff, and hair like white cotton candy. “And where exactly would you be going if you were out?”
“He is right, Lord Iridion,” Lysander tells the old man in a kind voice. “He only voiced what many will think. The Winter Realm and the Fire Realm go way back with each other, a lot of things have happened, including a war that almost destroyed all the worlds. But there is one way to know whether Xerxes really changed, whether we can trust him, now that he knows what love is.” He turns to me. “There is a test that will tell us exactly whether Xerxes crossed to the side of the good, or whether he’s faking it. The only problem is...” He licks his lips, hands behind his back. He’s wary to say it, but he must. “There are only two possible outcomes. He either passes the test, or he dies.”
CHAPTER VI
Cerys
MY HEART BEATS LIKE crazy in my chest as we wait for Xerxes to be brought into the Hall of Truth. Lysander, Sandros and I are standing on a round, perfectly polished stage perched on top of a set of sumptuous stairs. The surface is so smooth I can see a blurry version of myself reflected in it, the patterns on the polish like a spiral, centering on the statue of what seems to be a wraith. A hooded figure, hunchbacked, its bones protruding through the sculpted cloak, its claws and knotty fingers curling over the edge of a mirror.
It’s a special mirror, I could tell from a distance. Oval and tall enough to fit Lysander in it, with frames made of what looks like intertwining tree branches, the pane is as smooth and luscious as the floor. It’s also impossible to see a perfect reflection of myself in it, as if the glass has a special kind of frosting.
Behind the sculpted hooded figure, the courts are waiting with their silver hoods pulled over their faces. I can still feel their hostility. Every cell of their bodies wishes that Xerxes will fail this test, while I go dizzy with angst.
The muscles in my back contract the moment the grand doors open, and the guards bring in Xerxes, his hands bound behind his back. My heart sinks, and my chin trembles.
“What in the cursed realms have you done with him?” I howl like a hurt animal as they drop him on his knees at the top of the stairs. I fall in front of him, tears streaming down my face. They’d kept him in magic ice chains that burned his skin, leaving wounds covered with an icy crust. His lips are cracked, and livid, and he’s so cold it seems that ice has crept into his very veins, freezing the lava in them. That’s why he could barely walk. He’s so exhausted he can hardly lift his head to look at me, his skin and his muscles making cracking sounds like the bones of an old man, but when he meets my eyes, there’s no denying what I see.
“You,” he manages. “You never betrayed me. It was Kareim. Lysander told me everything.”
“You did what?” I snap back at the King of Frost, but he looks down at me unapologetically.
“This is Xerxes’ final test,” he says. “If he makes it out of it alive, he will have my support all through his war with Samael, and not even the Council of the Arcane will be able to dissolve the alliance. I will take a blood oath to fight against Hell at Xerxes’ side if he passes this test, because then I will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will never betray us. That he will never try to take over the worlds again. That’s why you need not fear what Kareim Velduros might try. Also, the only payment I require for my help, is that Xerxes gets to keep you. As for the other possibility, where he doesn’t pass the test, well.” He shrugs as if that’s nothing. “There will be no one out there to tell Kareim that you betrayed your agreement.”
“But if he dies, she will have to fulfill her promise to Samael, and give herself over to him,” one of the courts adds, but he is met with a fierce glare from Lysander.
“That won’t happen under any circumstances.” He looks down at Xerxes with a compassion in his ice blue eyes that tells me everything—he understands what Xerxes feels. “Even if the King of Fire fails this test and loses his life, I will protect his Queen to the death. I promise that.”
“Forgive me,” Xerxes manages, making me turn my tearful eyes to him. I can barely see him through the blur, tears flowing uncontrollably down my face. There’s fire in his irises, but it’s low, dying.
“His life force is leaving him,” I plead to Lysander. “How is he supposed to make it through this test in this condition?”
“Oh, he will be fighting a special kind of enemy,” Lysander explains calmly. “One that will have the same amount of strength at every given time. The balance of power between the two of them is bound to be on par at all times. The only way one of them can defeat the other is through a different kind of power.”
With that, he moves out of the way, and two guards grab Xerxes by his arms. They drop him again in front of the mirror. Panic fills me, and I want to throw myself at him, place myself in front of the mirror, but Sandros intercepts me.
“Let it happen,” he says in my ear. “There’s nothing you can do to help him anyway.”
When Xerxes raises his eyes to the mirror’s surface it starts to defrost, turning into a whirling mist. When the mist clears, it reveals a set of stairs, and down those stairs a figure comes, dark and emitting rays of shadow and smoke. The closer it gets, the harder it is to tell where the smoke ends and the shadow begins. The mirror goes dark with it, and a humming fills the hall, the finest hairs standing all over me in dread.
The creature steps out of the shimmering darkness, and my fingers curl into Sandros’ studded leather arm guard. The creature’s eyes are flames, staring down at Xerxes like death. It seems entirely made of shadow and smoke, and it smells of Samael. Of Hell.
The guards uncuff Xerxes and take distance, watching him come up to his feet heavily. My heart beats hard enough to break my chest. My first impulse is to try and drain the creature of whatever power supplies it, but when I feel my way into it, I stop breathing.
His energy. It’s the same energy signature as Xerxes’. This is a creature of the underworld, and yet if I drain its power, or even try to kill it, I would be killing my husband at the same time.
“There’s nothing you can do but wait,” Sandros says, quietly, just for me. I cling to his voice like to a rock in the middle of a raging ocean. “Only Xerxes can deal with it. The dice have been cast now. All we can do is stand aside and let it happen.”
Xerxes
I BURST INTO LAUGHTER, the sound filling the hall. Indeed, I should have seen this coming. There was talk of a magic mirror kept secret in the Winter Realm, one that could generate a creature that had the ability to defeat anyone. Absolutely anyone, no matter how strong or ancient. Even the devil himself. It could defeat even Samael. All except the cosmic behemoths.
I know exactly who this is, and I’m not even surprised. It is indeed the best way to find out if my intentions are true.
The creature in front of me, eyes blazing, and body emitting shadow and smoke, is known as the Dark Side of the Moon. The other face each of us sees in the magic mirror. He is that part of us that never sees the light of day. Even the darkest supernaturals, like me, like Samael, even Lucifer, we all have a Dark Side of the Moon that never turns to face the sun. Only that, in Lucifer’s case, it would be, for example, an archangel, a creature of the good. In the case of Hades, the Lord of the Underworld, Cerys’ father, he would probably be facing a god of life, one that would shed rays of generosity on the souls trapped in Tartarus. Now I’m facing a creature blazing out darkness, which can only mean that on the inside I’m not that dark after all. Not anymore, and I don’t even know if that’s good or bad.