Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Nod if you accept initiation,” Marmareus commanded, his tone severe.
I lifted my gaze to Sven’s face, searching desperately for some clue, some guidance. His expression remained utterly unreadable, a perfect mask of stern authority. For a heartbeat, I wondered if Sven knew how Leo Marmareus had affected me, how deeply the enemy agent’s dominance had penetrated not just my body, but my psyche. Did he sense my shame, my fear that in moments of weakness—pinned beneath Marmareus’ powerful body, strapped to that diabolical saddle—I might have betrayed him? Could he see the conflicted tangle of emotions that threatened to choke me: loyalty to him warring with the undeniable responses Marmareus had wrung from my trembling flesh?
Silently, almost imperceptibly, I nodded my acceptance. Beside me, Camille did the same, her dark eyes wide with fear yet resolute. Whatever awaited us as Nuptae, we would face it together, two völur bound by circumstance and shared suffering.
“Excellent,” Marmareus said, satisfaction evident in his voice. “Nuptae, lead these Columbae to the Hall of Mithras.”
Cassandra rose and tugged gently on my leash, while Viola did the same to Camille’s. We rose from our kneeling positions, our naked bodies gleaming with sweat in the firelight, the leather restraints creaking softly with each movement. I felt Sven’s gaze on me, heavy and intense, as I stood. The welts from his punishment made my eyes water, reminding me, in a way I welcomed despite the wince, of his reclamation of my flesh.
The Nuptae turned us away from the men and began leading us forward, deeper into the Hall of Fire. I realized with growing apprehension that they were guiding us directly toward the abyssal pit at the center of the chamber, toward the dancing flames that rose from its unfathomable depths. My steps faltered as we drew closer, fear clutching at my throat with icy fingers.
“Keep moving,” Cassandra murmured, her voice barely audible above the soft crackling of the flames. “Trust the ritual.”
Trust the ritual. The words echoed in my mind, resonating with my völva training. Ritual was the backbone of all magical practice, the structure that allowed raw power to be channeled and directed—even if the magic came not from some supernatural plane but from our own human consciousness. But whose ritual was this? To what purpose would it bend my power, my very being?
As we approached the edge of the pit, the flames suddenly surged upward, a great wall of fire that towered above us, throwing a wave of heat so intense I instinctively raised my hands to shield my face. The roar was deafening, drowning out all other sounds, filling the chamber with its primal voice. Sweat poured down my body, my skin flushing scarlet in the intense heat.
“Stay where you are,” Cassandra commanded as I tried to step back from the inferno.
I froze, trembling, certain that at any moment the flames would engulf us, would consume our naked flesh and reduce us to ash. The heat felt nearly unbearable, making each breath a struggle.
From behind us, I heard Leo Marmareus’ voice rise above the noise of the flames in the pit.
“As you can see, my new friends, energy, and power in every sense, has lain at the heart of our project from the beginning.”
CHAPTER 45
Mary
I stood at the edge of the fiery abyss, my heart hammering against my ribs, terror freezing my blood even as the heat of the flames scorched my naked skin. Were they going to throw us in? Was this how the Pretorian Guard disposed of those who had outlived their usefulness? I glanced desperately at Camille beside me, saw my own fear reflected in her wide eyes. The leashes attached to our collars hung taut in the hands of the Nuptae, the only things preventing us from backing away from the inferno that roared before us.
Then, without warning, the flames died down, receding into the depths of the pit until they were merely flickering tongues lapping at the darkness. The sudden absence of their roar left an eerie silence in the vast chamber, broken only by the sound of our labored breathing.
I blinked in confusion, my eyes struggling to adjust to the relative dimness. As my vision cleared, I gasped at what I saw. Rising from the darkness of the pit, a bridge had materialized—a narrow walkway of what appeared to be solid stone, spanning the chasm. It gleamed faintly in the low light, its surface smooth and unmarked, as if it had existed for millennia rather than materializing from nowhere.
“Walk,” Cassandra commanded, tugging gently on my leash.
My legs trembled as I took the first step onto the bridge. Even with its seemingly substantial appearance, I half-expected it to give way beneath me, to send me plummeting into whatever lay below. But it held firm, solid as bedrock beneath my bare feet. The stone felt warm, almost alive, carrying a subtle vibration that traveled up through my soles and into my body.