-Alexia-
The black dress was silk—heavy, cold, and quiet. It was Gideon's idea of a uniform, meant to strip away the color of my light and cloak me in his shadow. I ran a hand over the material, feeling the subtle tension of my magic coiled tight beneath it. I hadn't dressed for him; I'd dressed for war.
I'd used my precious few minutes to focus on the connection. The spike of dread I'd felt earlier—the moment I was released from the chains—was the chilling confirmation that my prison had changed. I reached deeper into the bond, sending a silent, desperate pulse: Moving. Watch for a change in position.
A knock—two sharp raps—broke the silence. The door didn't wait for my answer.
Gideon stepped in, his expression one of proprietary satisfaction. "Perfect," he murmured. "A beautiful acquisition should be displayed beautifully."
"Save your compliments," I said, walking toward him, my stride deliberately slow. "Where are we going?"
"To the heart of my fortress," he replied, leading us toward a hidden exit. "You are about to meet the people who will be executing the new world order. My Scions."
The tapestry dissolved into shimmering black smoke, revealing a corridor of polished obsidian. The air grew heavy, thick with layered shadow magic and something ancient and hungry.
"They are leaders, not followers, Alexia," Gideon continued. "But they all understand the necessity of what's coming. You are the symbol of that change."
We stopped at massive double doors forged of dark metal. Gideon paused, squeezing my hand with a crushing, possessive force.
"Remember your mates, Alexia," he whispered, his voice dangerously soft. "They are alive because you walked in here willingly. Do not jeopardize their lives with a pointless display of defiance."
The doors swung inward with a low, hydraulic sigh, revealing a vast, sunken chamber. It was filled with shadows, but the air was charged with enough power that I felt my skin prickle. A dozen figures were arranged in a semicircle facing a massive stone throne.
Gideon led me toward the center of the room. As we approached, the figures stepped forward, emerging from the gloom.
My breath hitched. They were a diverse mix of immense, focused malice—each one a monument to dark ambition. The room's collective power was a force field of dark intent, threatening to snuff out my light entirely.
Gideon stopped at the foot of the throne and pulled me slightly ahead of him, positioning me so I faced the Scions.
"My friends," Gideon announced, his voice booming. "May I present the future. Alexia is no longer the Council's champion. She is now the centerpiece of our new design."
The figures stared, their gazes dissecting and calculating my value. I stood tall, channeling every ounce of defiance and light I had left into my posture. I met the gaze of the figure closest to me and refused to break eye contact.
Let them look. Let them think they have me.
A woman of mist parted her lips, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face. "The light is dim, Gideon," she drawled, her voice a whispery echo. "Are you certain she is worth the price?"
Gideon's hand landed on my shoulder, a claim as cold and heavy as a crown. "She is the payment, Cassia. And she will be magnificent."