Sofie
The ring felt heavier on her finger than usual. It had to be because each day that stretched on with no sign of progress grew longer. Nearly three centuries had come and gone, and now there was a second body lying next to the first, two souls trapped in a scheme of Malachi’s making.
And Sofie was still waiting.
Waiting, and aching, and agonizing, praying that one day she would feel Elijah’s arms again. Not as they were now, idle by his side, frozen in time, but wrapped around her in an affectionate embrace as they had been that last fateful night.
She stole a glance to where the Fate of Fire loomed. He was here almost daily now upon summoning. Sometimes she could forget what a foreboding, cruel power he was. Other times, with his horns twisting toward the crumbling ceiling, and the formidable male body he assumed while he stood within the sanctum, his gaze burning into her, it was all she could do not to tremble.
To think such a force was bound to exist in this world only within the confines of these pillars, this corporeal form evaporating into air the moment he attempted to venture beyond, seemed unfathomable. But she’d seen it happen with her own eyes.
It was a prison.
No wonder Malachi wanted free of it.
And in this other world—where Romeria survived, and these nymphs waited to be unleashed—he would be free.
And then so would Sofie and Elijah.
“Are we any closer?” She faltered over the question, always cautious of probing too much in case his frustration was high that day. If it was, she would usually bear the brunt of his anger.
Today, though, an optimistic aura swirled around him. “She is beginning to see the truth of her situation.” His deep voice rumbled in the cavernous space. “How long before she follows through with the commitment she made to us, I cannot say.”
Sofie scowled at the body beside her husband, though she supposed it wasn’t charitable of her to hold such animosity toward the girl. She wasn’t given a choice in any of this.
Then again, neither was Sofie.
“Can we not remove her?” Romeria’s form was now an empty shell, preserved by whatever power remained within the jagged horn still protruding from her chest. What Sofie had done could not be undone. She would never wake in this body again.
“Pull the token from her body and watch her shrivel and rot?” Malachi’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “I could, though I think seeing her—seeing them both—is a good reminder of what we have accomplished together. Do you not agree?” He gestured toward the stone coffin.
Sofie followed his direction.
And buckled with a gasp, pawing at the empty space where Elijah lay only seconds ago. “Where is he? What did you do with him?” she cried out. She had often wondered if this form she had protected and dressed and doted over for the past three centuries was an illusion, a mighty trick of the mind that had her believing the flesh beneath her fingers was real. If that was the case, it was one she welcomed, for if she could not look upon Elijah’s face every day, she would go mad. “Please.”
“As you wish, my love.”
In the next instant, Elijah was back as if he had never left, Sofie’s hand resting on his shoulder.
Her relief shook her knees. Another ploy by the cruel fate.
Malachi’s beady eyes scoured the details of the four totems surrounding the sanctum altar. “Being here within the realm, my power flowing freely in whichever way I wish, always invigorates me.”
Within these pillars was the only place he could channel his power in this world without using her as a conduit. Did he spend his time in other realms too? Answering summons from other desperate creatures such as herself? She never dared ask, nor did she consider not summoning him daily. The risk of earning his wrath was too great.
Sofie swallowed. “Once Romeria opens the nymphaeum, you will send me to the Nulling so Elijah and I can pass through, yes?” That was still the plan? From what Malachi had described in sparing detail, the Nulling served as a thruway of sorts between worlds. A space where creatures could be easily banished but not as easily released.
The stone floor of the vault shook beneath Malachi’s footsteps as he rounded the coffin. He never concealed his earthly form with trivial fabrics and had come to expect the same of her. Which is why she always shed her clothes at the door to the vault and why now, upon seeing how his body was reacting in anticipation of hers, she climbed onto the altar without question.
“Do not worry. You two will be reunited.” Malachi’s hands were like vise grips as they settled onto her knees, prying them apart. “And you will be a queen.”