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‘You’ll see necklaces like it on every second witch dabbling in forbidden magic,’he’d said.

Her mind conjured an image of a beautiful woman with dark brown hair and piercing eyes, adorned with a necklace. Moments later, the vision shifted – her imagination cloaked the woman in black, her head and most of her face hidden beneath a burqa. Heavy fabrics obscured not only her beauty but the necklace as well.

Is this how the true bearer of the necklace will look?Amelia wondered. She visualised her gaze piercing through the woman’s clothes, revealing the hidden necklace, exactly as the witcher had described:‘A two-headed serpent… When your eyes see the true necklace, the heads come alive, locked in a battle of light and dark, good and evil.’

Amelia imagined the heads entwining as if alive.What would it feel like to wear such a powerful artefact so close to the heart? Would it fill me with courage or paralyse me with the fear of losing it?

In her vision, she became the one wearing the necklace, its weight resting against her chest.‘You’ll feel love and strength – immense strength. Picture holding the necklace and grasping the threads of life, of birth itself. Imagine guiding a soul into a body, pushing it towards physical birth, pulling it back…’

A surge of energy flowed through her, not jarring but revitalising, both creative and destructive.Her fingers reached for her bare neck, as if the necklace might be there.

Her vision shifted. Where her bed had been, a green expanse appeared. On a small hill stood an old house with a modest, well-kept yard. Amelia found herself walking along a rural path. Before her, a sign marked the end of the village.

When she strained to read it, a force gripped her neck, diverting her gaze from the sign. Her resolve stiffened. Something primal stirred within her – an aggressive longing for possession, angered that someone else had what she now considered hers.

With renewed determination, Amelia delved into the consciousness of the woman wearing the necklace. She tore through memories and thoughts with ferocity, refusing to retreat without her prize. She didn’t persuade – she stole.

The other person resisted, struggling to banish Amelia from her consciousness, not yet grasping that the fight was over. There was no way out.

Amelia withdrew only when she was truly satisfied. The shadowy depths of her room in Antambazi welcomed her once more. Amidst the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind, one became crystal clear – a sharp desire, a painful longing that thrummed through her spine and settled in herchest. It was intoxicating, that dizzying pull of temptation, the pleasurable ache in her core when confronted with something she craved.

She’d felt this way once before, towards Mikhail.

Now, the same sensation overtook her, and she fell in love at first sight with the necklace.

***

Constantine

Constantine rested his hand against the wall by the window, indifferent to the creature behind him. The view of the sea stirred him as little as the reptilian woman’s attempts to strike up a conversation.

Her foot tapped against the wooden floor, as though her small show of frustration might influence him. What a naïve thought! Didn’t she realise his sole aim was to test how much pain they were willing to inflict on him?

So far, they hadn’t impressed him. He was certain they were capable of worse. Suchinactionon their part only confirmed their dire need for him. Maybe necromancers were even rarer than the rumours suggested?

What a pity they had nothing to tempt him with. His lost necromancer senses? Not long ago, he’d believed he was incomplete without them. Now, he was grateful for being insensible to the gaping voids in his life.

If he still had the power to steal souls, he might have ventured to the Beyond and grabbed one particular soul. He would have blocked her passage, consumed her.Shecould have made him whole again.

Yet, no matter his anger, he had no right to do that to her.

The memory of Diana’s death poked the ravenous, vengeful demon in Constantine’s chest. He faced her killer. “Those glovesmust be exceptionally important to your Queen if she’s keeping me alive. Importantto you, too. All that grovelling for my cooperation. Or are you just looking for approval from Mummy dearest?”

The violet sheen in her eyes flickered. “You mistake patience for weakness?”

He leaned against the window frame, arms crossed over his chest. “I think you’re weak. Selling yourself out to please a lunatic. What’s the grand plan, anyway? Let me guess: weaken the other immortal species, team up with humans, and – like countless other deluded egomaniacs throughout history – take over the world?” Kathrine didn’t answer, but he hadn’t expected her to. Constantine wasn’t seeking answers. “Really, who wants to rule the world? There are far more enjoyable ways to waste your time. If you weren’t such a coward, you could be living your life right now with a man worshipping you and making you feel as if you own not just the world, but the whole damn Hell.”

Her chest rose and fell as if it took every ounce of her self-control not to snap his neck then and there.

Constantine pressed, “Tell me what you need those gloves for, and I’ll consider getting them for you.”

Kathrine’s expression remained unmoved. “Listen carefully, necromancer. The Queen has been exceedingly generous with you. She’s provided you with a room, clean clothes, and tolerated your absurd behaviour. But don’t be mistaken. That won’t last. She’ll find another necromancer – one much more cooperative than you – and when she does, she’ll kill you.”

Constantine chuckled. “I’m shaking with fear.”

For years, he’d been sinking deeper and deeper. He’d seen everything, hadpossessedeverything – until he’d lost his senses. Then Diana had come along, and he’d discovered there were things he still longed to have; things in this world worth witnessing.

The woman standing before him had killed Diana in the Al-Hatib Tournament. Not through an honest duel, but through deception. How many times had he warned Diana that a tournament filled with monsters was not a suitable place for her? How often had he hoped she wouldn’t participate in it?