To overthrow the cruel King who brutally slaughtered her foremothers, the last surviving water witch Elara Consuli must team up with novice warrior Juda Vikaris from the Serpent Order and realise an ancient prophecy, before the blood-thirsty ruler d...
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Juda, who had spent most of his life, moulding himself around a heart that held nothing but hatred and malice, who had forced himself to become numb to it all—a cold, empty thing—felt the crack split him down the middle. A hairline fracture that separated the man he was now, from the boy he had been when Aleina had lived. Screams echoed in his ears as if he was standing portside again, watching her being dragged onto that ship, only this time, it was not her screams he heard, but Elara's.
With a cry of such violent rage that he thought it might tear his body apart, Juda grasped the grip of his sabre, sliding it free of its scabbard and, as he moved upon the king, the shadows finally came alive around him.
The Druvari warriors expertly concealed within the antechamber were quick, encircling him until he was surrounded. Juda held his stance, blade ready, his astute gaze picking out the ones who would attack first, the ones who would hold back, the ones who eyed him with fear.
And yet, despite the many opponents who wished to cut him down, it was the king he inevitably sought out—the king who stood watching, seemingly unruffled by Juda's treasonous attack, a strange mixture of rapture and awe in his expression. Appearing by his side, the ever-present Lord Dageor too looked at Juda, not with ire nor malice, but with a beatific smile.
"A rarity it is to hear the High Priest of Druvari speak so highly of a mere novice, particularly one who hails from Grimefell," Ban-Keren said. "Even The Grim, who speaks highly of no one, not even himself, considered you to be something of a marvel."
He stepped between two Druvari, and Juda shifted his balance slightly, the tip of his sabre pointing directly at the king's throat. Ban-Keren merely acknowledged this with a smile of his own.
"Indeed, it was quite something to hear him talk of you. This supposed rat, saved from a life scavenging the gutters by my old Special Commander himself and trained to fit his own image. I was right, Juda. I see no trace of Vi-Garran in your face, but I see what he did. Never have I seen a Highguard with the ability to spot the strengths and weakness of his enemies quite like Rothario Vi-Garran, but I see it in you."
He stepped closer, not close enough for Juda to reach him with the blade, but close enough for Juda to know that he did not fear him. Not that Juda had expected him to.
Madness only fears what it cannot conquer, Juda. The king could not conquer the Naiad, so he destroyed them. Just as he destroys anything and everyone he cannot have, he heard Vi-Garran say.
"But much like your guardian, you have failed to identify your own weakness."
The king gestured towards the glass tank.
Juda couldn't look. Not again. Not without the sight of her bringing him to his knees.
"I cannot blame you. I, too, was once captivated by such beauty. I still am. The Naiad sorcery is strong, some say, unrivalled. Even in death, it refuses to loosen its grip." His intense gaze captured Juda almost as much as the sight of the tank deterred him. "But you should look. Look upon my treasure and see the truth of it."
