The third and final book in the AAD series by Sibylline.
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The Cyevan Assassins are gone, destroyed by the traitorous Leto. The Mentore Amalia Hera Morretti, or her common name Sophie Foster, took her men and took off into the horizon. No one knew...
The world lurched toward Sophie. Her screams flickered within her; lightning and raindrop forms of sharpened ice catapulted from her body in a last-ditch survival effort. A panic response her body has favored whenever she is so frightened to the point of screaming.
But the black soul of Mephala cut through them as a sail glides through the wind.
Sophie, pointlessly and stupidly, put her hands up to cover her face. As if it would help her. The black abyss lunged for her.
Light peeked through her hands, coming from atop her head. Her hands shakily dropped from her face.
Mephala's soul writhed against the holy artifact atop her head, the ancient crown of Inalia. From the pocket deep in her armored robes was a shallow rumble. Kassandra's glass stress ball glowed through the fabric beneath Sophie, and she clumsily grabbed it. Almost dropping it, Sophie held the glass ball up high above her head.
The purple and black ocean inside hissed against the glass, reacting the closer to the black soul of Mephala it was.
So, the new queen of Inalia shoved the sphere into the cloud of darkness in front of her. She watched as the soul screeched, almost as if in pain. It funneled into the sphere, the small ocean inside raising a bit. And with stunning silence, Sophie was alone atop that mountain with her new glittery crown and Kassandra's portion of Mephala's soul trapped in a little orb at her feet.
Sophie stared at it, not moving an inch. Alexios wavered over, his feet not holding him properly.
"Amalia?"
Sophie didn't respond. She scooped up the small ball and got onto her feet with shaky hands. Her mind began to unravel as it slowly came to terms with what had just happened.
Sophie meekly turned her head to the white-haired corpse only a few feet from her. Kassandra's skin was sunken in, like wet fabric clinging to the bones of the ancient queen. White locks turned brown from the mud she landed in. Sophie swore white stained her own golden hair too.
"She's dead. And her last words were making me queen." The words were sour to say. And the next realization even more so.
"And you helped her." She finally met her brother's eyes.
They were still lined with tears.
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Sophie's head hung as she sat on the edge of her bed. She stared through the mop of gold to the white strands of the right side of her head. Marie Antionette's syndrome is what the healers on board called it. The shock of an event makes part of the hair white or grey. It was only a few strands for her. They said she was lucky it wasn't her whole head. They called her lucky.
So she is scarred down her face, has whitened hair, and the eye bags that only the most seasoned veterans have.No one predicted this future for Allesandro's sweet daughter.
