“What are you waiting for, then?” she asked with a big smile. “Your new world awaits you.” I smiled excitedly and mounted Argas, who whinnied and reared before galloping to the end of the terrace, where he plunged off the edge and swooped through the air.

  Sophìa’s voice filled my head. “Spread your wings, my butterfly, and soar.”

  QUEEN OF THE SKIES

  “Yahooo!” The wind swallowed up my shout as we rose into the sky, exploring my new world. I felt strong and full of life. This place was my home; I could feel it in every fiber of my being. Argas kicked out his hind legs and whinnied to catch my attention. He was also happy to be there with me. I laughed, filling the air with the wonderful sound, and leaned down to stroke him as he carried me higher. Spreading my arms, I closed my eyes, the air whipping at my face. I held the world in my hands and power flowed through me like an electric charge as I inhaled the scent of the twilight—the scent of home.

  Suddenly my eyes stung. They were transforming. I opened them, an evil grin on my lips. My Dakor was inside me—I could feel him. His poison was powerful, intoxicating. “Yah!” I spurred Argas and he responded at once by plunging downward. The sight below us was breathtaking. The river twisted and turned between the valleys; the volcano erupted, celebrating my presence; Mount Nhubii, with its waterfalls, watched me in silent reverence. And then, the Castle: a majestic, menacing needle pointed at the sky. Sensing my need to return there, Argas beat his mighty black wings and headed toward the tall tower so swiftly I feared we would crash into it, but at the last moment he pulled up, his claws brushing the black wall. I could hear and see everything, even the smallest creature running to hide from me. I spotted the torches at the celebration and circled the courtyard. The crowd saw me and cheered, raising their cups in my honor. I swooped down to be closer to my Sisters, who let out war cries. Flying past them, I joined my voice with theirs. Suddenly, whistles filled the air and huge shadows clouded the sky. I looked up in time to see a magnificent flock of Sauruses beating their wings and racing toward us.

  “The Kryadon!” Anya shouted, jumping onto her own. All our Sisters echoed her, their shouts filling my head. Even Sophìa joined them. Hers was the only Saurus with shades of gray. All the others were black.

  “What’s the Kryadon?” I asked of no one in particular. Their Sauruses all rose into the sky to join Argas.

  “Get ready for the Games, princess,” Devina replied.

  I spurred my Saurus on and flew alongside her. “What games? I don’t know the rules.”

  A grin spread across her face before she angled her Saurus downward. “There’s only one rule that counts: kill.” I smiled and plunged after her.

  A group of Souls raced across the ground as fast as their legs could carry them, seeking shelter. Devina’s Saurus rushed at them and captured one. The Soul tried to kick free, but her whip was wrapped around his neck. She charged back into the sky, tearing his head off.

  “What a cruel game,” I murmured to myself, feeling a smile emerge. “I like it.”

  “Gemma, this one’s all yours,” Zhora shouted. She rushed at an escaping Soul and grabbed him, hurling him head-first into a tree. I instinctively whipped out my crossbow and nocked an arrow, shooting him in the throat. The Soul disintegrated on the spot and my Sisters cheered. I smiled as a powerful energy grew inside me. The arrow dislodged itself from the tree and returned to me on its own. I caught it and let out a whoop, brandishing it like a trophy.

  “So this is the Kryadon?” I asked.

  “No, we’re just warming up.” Nausyka smiled. “Hone your weapons! It’s time to have fun!”

  I leaned low over Argas’s back as he flew into a narrow tunnel. Seconds later he burst out the other side, a swarm of black butterflies following us and a magnificent cascade tumbling down beneath us. Argas followed it straight down, continuing along the river.

  “Gemma, come here. We’ve found a village.” The voice was Anya’s.

  I spurred my Saurus and joined the other Sisters circling a village carved into the rock. From the looks of the square it seemed deserted, but Sheeva shot a flaming arrow into one of the grottos and a Soul rushed out, screaming and consumed by flames. He was soon followed by many others. Panic ensued as they began to turn to ash. I did as my Sisters did, spreading chaos and death. In Sophìa’s thoughts I could sense her pride that I’d learned so quickly. She was proud of me. And I would have done anything to please her.

  I plunged down toward a little house hidden among the rocks and summoned the power of darkness. I felt it grow inside me, pervading me with its incredible energy. Focusing on my target, I sent a burst of light crashing into it, destroying everything. The other Witches cheered, struck by my boldness. I felt as though I’d been reborn. Anya’s Saurus flew up alongside mine. “Is this how you have fun here?” I asked.

  She smiled at me. “Do you like it?”

  “I don’t think I can do without it any more!” I exclaimed, the poison setting my veins on fire.

  “I told you you’d be happy here with us,” she said with a smile before challenging the wind.

  “Catch me!” shouted another Sister. I turned to the right. It was Camelia. She’d stood up on her Saurus’s back and spread her arms. Before I could even wonder what she was doing, she let herself fall backwards into the void. I spurred Argas and swooped down beneath her. Everyone’s laughter filled my mind. Grinning, Camelia did a backflip and landed on my Saurus.

  “You guys are all insane!” I exclaimed in my mind.

  “Then welcome to the madhouse.” Camelia winked at me and jumped into the void again. A moment later she was back on her Saurus, which passed me as it ascended. “Thanks for the ride!” she shouted to me, smiling. I shook my head.

  “There aren’t any here,” Devina told the group.

  “What are we looking for?” I asked.

  “Recruits,” Anya said.

  “Recruits for what?”

  “For the Opalion, naturally. This is the Kryadon. We call it the Hunt. It’s the preparation for the Games.”

  “Look, over there!” Nerea shouted. Suddenly something gripped my shoulders and head while my skin felt like it had been stroked with a paintbrush dipped in ink. I touched my body, surprised. Armor had appeared on me, but I wasn’t the only one. All the Sisters were now clad in strange armored helmets with antennas like a butterfly’s, and tattoos had appeared on their faces. While earlier my Sisters had looked like Amazons, now they were fierce knights.

  “Hold on tight!” Anya told me.

  A second later my Saurus did a nosedive, following his companions. He hit the ground at a gallop and entered a cave. I could hear the cries of Souls running away, as well as their thoughts, a confused jumble of fear. It was too dark for the Damned to see, whereas our eyesight was perfect. I could even make out the color of their eyes as we rushed alongside them. “Gotcha!” Nausyka exclaimed, and emitted a strange cry. We emerged from the tunnel and I saw a Soul hanging from her Saurus, his feet bound.

  “There are two more!” Sophìa alerted us, scanning the crowd, but I didn’t understand which Souls in particular she was talking about. Sheeva charged one of the Damned but Devina unsaddled her with her Saurus. With a snap of Devina’s whip, the Soul fell to the ground, screaming in pain. She flew up, dragging him into the air until he disintegrated.

  I heard another strange shout, and another still. I flew over to Anya, who’d just caught another Soul. “Who are they?”

  “First-Echelon Sane Souls,” she explained. “They’re prized fighters for the Opalion because they’re particularly aggressive. They’ve survived years of trials and tribulations without joining the ranks of the Insane, that is, without losing their minds. It’s a perfect combination in a combatant: strong but also controllable. They hide among the Lucid—the ones we killed in the cave. The Lucid have no hope of serving evil, though we occasionally toss a few of them into the Arena to amuse the crowds. But Kreeshna’s outdone us. She caught a Subterranean. He’ll be useful, and he’s worth twice as much.”

  I looked at Kreeshna’s prisoner. When she’d captured him, her victory cry had been different from the others. It must have been a signal. The prisoner was a young black man with a strange tattoo that branched out on his right arm. His silvery gray eyes shone through the darkness like those of all the other men I’d seen at the celebration. Like those of the young man in the forest.

  “Subterraneans are better at hiding from us because they’re not afraid,” Anya went on.

  “How do you find the Sane?”

  “By attacking villages and killing everyone we come across,” Nausyka replied, flying alongside us with a satisfied smile on her lips.

  “I mean, how do you distinguish them from the rest of the Damned?”

  “You probe their minds. It takes practice, though. You need to learn to understand Souls in order to discover their fears. It’ll get easier for you after your first Reaping.”

  “Look, there’s one down there,” Anya said, pointing. “Each Soul is worth one point. Whoever returns to the Castle with three wins.” She plunged downward.

  “I didn’t know it was a contest!”

  “Everything’s a contest!” she called back.

  Two Sisters were already contending for the prey, but Anya swooped down between them, clearing the way for me. I turned to look at her and she winked. “Go ahead! Don’t aim at the throat!” she called out in my mind.

  Beside me, Nerea and Safria also rushed at the Sane Soul, so I clung to Argas and spurred him on. When I was close to the Soul, I grabbed the two curved daggers strapped to my thighs and threw them, pinning him to a tree by the shoulders.

  Argas landed at a gallop and reared in front of our prey. I leapt off his back and summoned the knives with magic. I liked their threatening shape. The sharp blades flew back to me as obediently as boomerangs. The Soul fell to his knees. I licked one of the blades, cleaning the black blood off it, and spat it in his face. He glared at me defiantly, the affront sending a powerful anger surging through me. I raised my foot and smashed it into his face, sending him sprawling. The Soul gurgled . . . and burst into a cloud of ashes. I looked around, confused, as my Sisters galloped over to me.

  “What a shame,” Nerea said. “He could at least have been mine.”

  “I only kicked him. I didn’t think it would reduce him to ashes,” I protested, defending my actions.

  Sophìa smiled, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “The Hunt is in your blood. I am not surprised. Yet you must use the proper amount of force.”

  “I couldn’t control myself,” I said in my defense. It hadn’t been my fault.

  “You will learn.”

  “Where’s Devina?” I asked, noticing she wasn’t with us.

  “She went hunting for ferocious beasts. Those are worth three points.” Sophìa grinned, seeing me burn with curiosity.

  “So one of them is enough . . . What’s the reward for the winner of the Hunt?”

  “She becomes the prize of the Opalion and initiates the Games.” Sophìa mounted her majestic Saurus and took flight. Fascinated, I watched her ascend into the sky. My Sisters followed her like bees behind their queen.

  “Sheathe your weapons because the Opalion has its queen,” Devina said in our minds. She’d caught one. A moment later she emerged from behind a mountain with a big, odd-looking creature dangling from her Saurus. A single catch and she’d won the competition.

  “When can I take part in the Reaping?” I asked, anxious to win. I had to learn to recognize Souls’ fears as quickly as possible.

  “You must first prepare for it, but do not fear. Your training will begin today,” Sophìa promised. Her laughter tickled my mind. She knew my most intimate thoughts, and there was only one thing I could think about: at the next Opalion, I would be the queen.

  PROMISES

  “That way, Simon!” The motorcycle slid beneath me as the flaming arrow intended for my brother lodged in the asphalt. I drove around it and set off again, rising onto my back wheel while Simon and Ginevra dodged the attacks of the bastard who’d been chasing us for weeks. I’d had enough of him. I prepared a fireball as the roar of our engines filled the night. “Simon, get ready!” I shouted to him in my mind.

  He positioned himself behind me, waiting for our target to reappear, while Ginevra, who knew what I was about to do, conjured a vacuum sphere around her. When our adversary materialized on the road in front of us, I threw my fireball and Simon manipulated the air so its flames branched out, surrounding us in a protective bubble that moved at the same speed as the bikes.

  I stared into the Hunter’s dark eyes as we approached. He didn’t move—only his dark-brown ponytail stirred in the wind. In his brown leather clothes, he looked like a warrior who’d escaped from another era.

  The Executioner ran toward us, breaching the barrier. “What the fuck?” Simon muttered. In a flash Absolon was in front of me. He grabbed my handlebars, swung himself up from the ground and landed behind me on the seat, putting me in a stranglehold with his bow.

  I lost control of the bike, which leaned to the side and slid across the asphalt, sparks flying, dragging me with it. I struggled against the Subterranean, but he was strong—stronger than anyone I’d ever encountered. Simon reared up and zoomed toward us, but Absolon was prepared: setting an arrow against his mighty bow, he released it. It lodged in the bike’s gas tank, which exploded. The arrows were dipped in poison, like the one that had killed Gemma, and the fire spread instantly. I searched for Simon among the flames while fighting off the Hunter. Fortunately, he’d already materialized on Ginevra’s motorcycle.

  “He’s mine!” she shouted. Her wheels squealed against the asphalt and the bike skidded to a halt scant yards from us. Ginevra moved swiftly, her green Witch eyes slicing through the night.

  “No!” Simon shouted, but it was too late. Ginevra’s serpent emerged from her flesh and lunged at the Subterranean. In a split second Absolon turned and, to our astonishment, grabbed the serpent by the head.

  “Shit, no!” I exclaimed in shock.

  Ginevra’s eyes bulged as the creature wriggled in his grip. All the Hunter had to do was crush its skull . . . and Ginevra would die. Terrified, Simon didn’t hesitate. With a barbaric shriek he reared up on his bike and shot toward the Hunter, but before he could reach him Absolon vanished, letting the serpent fall to the ground. Simon hit the brakes, confused.

  I stared at the Dakor. It was battling the same enemy as I was, but did that mean there was a truce between us? The serpent hissed and approached me threateningly. “Guess not,” I muttered. Ginevra summoned her Dakor. It went back to her and disappeared under her skin.

  “What the hell just happened?” Simon snapped before letting out a string of curses. He kicked the bike, making it slide across the ground, and turned to face Ginevra. “Damn it, he was this close to killing you! Do you realize that?” he screamed in her face.

  “Did you expect me to stand around and watch him kill Evan? His arrows are poisoned!”

  “I told you to stay out of it!”

  “Gin, he wouldn’t have killed me and you know it. It’s you he wants. He’s a Witch Hunter. You have to let me protect you,” I reminded her, backing Simon up.

  “You were really risking it,” he added.

  “How could I know he’d catch my Dakor in midair?”

  “That’s true,” I agreed. “I’ve never met anyone who could do that. He’s really strong and he could have killed you in the blink of an eye. So why didn’t he?” I picked up my bike. It was falling apart. A surge of rage overtook me and I slammed it to the ground again.

  “The bikes are totaled,” Simon remarked.

  “I’ll take care of them,” Ginevra said. “They’ll be as good as new.”

  “I don’t give a shit about the bikes!” I growled. My tension was mounting. The Subterranean who’d killed Gemma had been hunting us down relentlessly for weeks, stalking us like mice. I grabbed my hair in my fists and howled at the night, overwhelmed with exasperation.

  It had been three months since the Witches had taken Gemma and there hadn’t been a sign of her since. I was losing my mind. Beyond all logic, I’d even started dreaming. I dreamed of touching her, of brushing my lips across hers . . . but every night those images turned into terrifying nightmares.

  Ginevra took my hands in hers. “Evan, calm down. You can’t lose it now, of all times. Liam needs you.” I forced myself to look at her and filled my lungs with air. The thought of my son was the only thing that could make me think clearly again. “Let’s go home,” she murmured, “before that bastard Hunter comes back.”

  I nodded. Ginevra was right. Her life was in danger. I couldn’t let anger cloud my judgment. She needed me and I had to protect her. I owed it to Simon—he’d protected Gemma while I was gone, and now they both needed my help . . . and my focus. I had to stay lucid and fight, though what consumed me more than the fire of a thousand Hunters was the terrible awareness that I had lost Gemma.

  “And so the princess saved her prince from the castle in which he was imprisoned and—” Anya stopped when she sensed our thoughts. She raised her eyes and gave me a sad smile.

  “Thanks, Anya,” Ginevra told her. “I knew I could count on you.”

  She gently rested Liam in his crib. “He just fell asleep. Don’t make any noise.”

  I went over to look at him and every shadow disappeared from my mind. His big, almond-shaped eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed from sleep, and his hair curled on his forehead. Whenever I got lost, he had the power to bring me back.

  “Why has that Subterranean got it in for us?” Simon hissed. “Wasn’t Gemma enough for him?”

  “He’s not a Subterranean like the others—he’s a Witch Hunter, and Ginevra’s the only Witch dwelling on Earth now. It’s her he wants,” said Anya, who knew him well.