The instant Val, released the subtle pressure of Elemental Fire around her waist, Ezra felt the cold air rush back into her lungs. She stood rigid on the black marble floor, watching the space where he had been only a second ago. He had vanished, presumably departing through another rapid elemental shift, leaving her alone in the vast, intimidating chamber.
He had won the skirmish, but the battle was far from over.
He knows everything, she thought, her mind racing. Not only that I am a Vampire, but that I carry the Elixir. He knows the limits of my power, yet he insists I am the Creatrix Regium.
Ezra forced herself to ignore the chilling, pervasive cold of the room and focus on the immediate. She was a prisoner in Veridia, the secret, elemental city ruled by an Abomination. Panic would only confirm his low opinion of her.
She took a slow, deep breath, activating the keen Vampire senses—the only reliable tools she possessed. The chamber was silent, yet she could hear the infinitesimal shift of stone in the walls, the drip of water deep below the floor, and the thin, rapid heartbeat of someone approaching.
A door, almost invisible in the curving black wall, slid silently open. Two figures entered. One was Kaelen, the scarred Demon Valerian's second-in-command, whom Ezra recognized from her father's fearful whispers. The second was a woman—tall, elegantly clad in robes of deep violet, with eyes that held the glittering, detached stare of the Fae.
"Miss Finch," the Fae woman spoke, her voice musical but cold, holding the weight of centuries. "Welcome to the home of the Prime Nexus."
Kaelen remained silent, his arms crossed, his stance one of bored vigilance. Ezra knew that any physical defiance would be met with swift, lethal force. Her strength was inferior. She would use her mind.
"If this is a welcome," Ezra stated, her voice steady and clear despite the dryness in her throat, "I should hate to attend your executions. Where is Valerian? I surrendered to him. I will only deal with my captor."
The Fae woman smiled thinly, her eyes assessing Ezra's defiant posture. "The Prime Nexus is now engaged in a far more important matter: warning the King of Atheria of the change in global management. I am Lady Lyra, and I will be responsible for your preparation."
"Preparation?" Ezra echoed, her brow knitting.
"For the Binding," Lady Lyra clarified, stepping closer. "The ceremony that will fulfill the prophecy and join the Creatrix Regium to the Nexus. Your duty, Miss Finch, is to ensure you arrive compliant and healthy. Now, you will accompany me to your quarters."
Ezra took a measured step back, deliberately asserting her agency. "I will need privacy to inspect my belongings and refresh myself. I am a respectable woman, despite my unfortunate Vampire lineage. I will require a lock on the door."
Lady Lyra let out a short, sharp laugh, a sound devoid of humour. "A lock? In Veridia? Everything here belongs to the Nexus, including the air you breathe and the blood in your veins, Miss Finch. You are a possession, not a guest."
Ezra met her gaze, refusing to flinch. He will not break me with cold stone or Fae scorn, she vowed. Her plan was simple: survival meant gathering information.
"Then if I am a possession," Ezra countered, her voice dropping to a low, intense tone that only a predator could truly appreciate, "I suggest you take better care of your master's valuable property. A cold chamber, no sustenance, and a lack of clear information are detrimental to my health. If the Creatrix Regium should falter before the Binding, the failure will be yours, Lady Lyra."
Lady Lyra's expression wavered. The Fae were meticulous about duty and order. Ezra had struck a chord: Valerian required a strong vessel, not a damaged one.
"Very well," Lady Lyra conceded, a flicker of irritation in her eyes. "Kaelen will escort you. You will be provided with adequate sustenance and a proper, warm chamber. But know this: every wall, every shadow, and every stone in this city reports directly to the Nexus. Your thoughts are not your own here."
As Lady Lyra turned to lead the way, she waved her hand toward the nearest wall. The rough-hewn black stone instantly smoothed and became translucent, revealing the interior of the city—a dizzying, complex landscape of ancient towers, elemental waterfalls, and dark, flying shapes. But it was not the architecture that seized Ezra's attention. On a stone platform visible across the vast distance, Valerian stood, already addressing a crowd of shadowy, powerful beings. He raised his hand, displaying the heavy, jeweled signet ring he wore. He was not talking about politics or power. He was holding up a small, familiar object—a tattered piece of parchment—and the chant that echoed faintly across the distance was the beginning of the binding spell for the Creatrix Regium.