𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Act 3 Chapter 45 JAYLAH
It was a blessing to be above ground, and one I would not take for granted again after seeing those ancient atrocities with my own eyes. With the box still tucked tightly under my arm, I landed in a narrow alleyway where the overhanging roofs blocked out all direct sunlight. I shivered. Knowing remaining in one place could be a death sentence, I hurried away, trying to head in the direction I guessed the museum was in. The underground labyrinth certainly ran for many kilometers in each direction, but I twisted and turned so often the exact distance was impossible to guess. All I knew was that my legs ached, I needed to find Alexander, and the box under my arm now was a beacon to those who knew of the robbery in that temple of Draven's. Perhaps His worshippers also existed aboveground, committing their dark acts in secret. The thought drive me to quicken my step.
I turned onto a busy street, reading overhanging signs for guidance. The longer I dwelled on Alexander's location, the more I realized this greatly lengthened his leash. If he wished, he could be halfway out of the city already.
I began to recognize the scenery. This was the street we argued on before arriving at Le Tempellé du L'exalt. I shifted the box nearer to my armpit, my fingers splayed protectively over it. Since I knew what it was on sight, I had the irrational fear everyone else did too.
My gaze connected with a rosy-cheeked man's holding the hand of his son as they passed next to me. The box felt unmistakably heavier. I held a magical bomb in my hands with no knowledge of what was truly inside or how to control it.
What happened when it went off?
"Hey, Princess," a familiar voice called from behind me. Alexander was holding back a smile when I fixed a glare on him. He knew exactly what he was doing. I prayed everyone listening did not look too hard and simply thought it was a nickname, although that idea simultaneously made me want to be physically sick.
"I have it," I said in a hushed tone, subtly moving my hand to reveal more of the box. "We must leave now. I do not know who follows. Did you encounter any more trouble?"
"No." He fell into pace with me as we changed directions on the street. "I finished off those men with ease, then looked around, saw some art pieces, took in some culture. It was lovely, you should try it."
"I would have loved to, if not for the fact that I was busy carrying this entire endeavor on my back. I nearly died about eight times and all you did was look at art? Since when did you become refined?"
"I've always been refined," he informed me. "And you only nearly died? What a shame."
"Speaking of near death experiences, where is the blade you so terribly stole from me? I will not have another conflict alike the one in my quarters."
"Sore loser," he said. "I don't have your knife. One of the men stole it from me during the fight and I didn't feel like prying it from his clammy corpse. Besides, I thought its loss would humble you."
