Page 211 of When Sisters Collide
Her stomach dropped. If even Dorias didn’t know what lay beyond these doors, it could only mean one thing: whatever waited for her would remain hidden. Secrets no one walked away from.
He pulled her forward into a cavernous chamber hewn from the bedrock. The ceiling soared into shadow, the walls glistening with veins of moisture that caught the torchlight. At its heart stretched a vast pool of black water, the surface so still it looked like glass. Damp air clung to her skin, while somewhere in the dark a single drop fell, the sound echoing like a heartbeat.
A priest in deep red robes, a wreath of olive leaves crowning his greying hair, approached to greet the Emperor with a bow. Behind him, a procession of priestesses glided into view, their faces obscured by flowing veils of dark red fabric, dresses trailing like shadows across the stone floor.
Before she could process further, Velthur stepped past them, dragging Leywani by the arm. He shoved her to her knees before the Emperor. Leywani didn’t move, didn’t even try to rise. She stayed there trembling, her eyes locked on Katell.
The Emperor spread his arms, his voice reverent yet chilling. “Behold, the source of Laran’s Tears.”
Katell’s stomach churned.
“It is said,” the Emperor continued, “that Laran himself demanded my ancestor, King Tarquinius, sacrifice every soldier taken prisoner after his conquest of the neighbouring kingdom of Rome. Thousands died upon his command, their blood spilled in offering to the god of war. In return, Laran rewarded him by transforming the blood of his enemies into a source of unparalleled power—Laran’s Tears.” He gestured towards the pool, his eyes gleaming. “This is where they are made. Very few are granted the privilege of entering this deep into Laran’s Great Temple. Fewer still even know of its existence.”
A shiver crept down Katell’s spine at the sight of the unnatural black pool. It didn’t reflect light as water should. Instead, it seemed to drink it in, absorbing the torchlight with an unsettling sheen. There was no warmth to it, no life—justan oppressive, inky blackness that seemed to pulse with quiet malice.
Katell’s pulse quickened. The elder priest advanced, two veiled priestesses drifting at his sides with eerie grace. His eyes gleamed with twisted glee, gaze sweeping over her like a prized offering. His expression sent icy dread coursing through her veins.
“Take off the manacles,” he ordered, his voice rasping with authority.
Dorias hesitated, his jaw tightening. Then he obeyed, unlocking the golden bands around her wrists.
The moment they slipped free, Katell’s magic rushed back, surging through her body like wildfire. Her breath hitched, fingers twitching, the familiar intoxication strength flooding her once more.
The priest’s thin lips curved into a sly smile. “Careful now,” he murmured. “If you care for your friend’s life, you’ll behave.”
Velthur loomed over Leywani, deftly spinning a blade between his fingers. The sharp glint of the metal caught the torchlight, a deadly reminder of the stakes.
Katell clenched her fists, magic bubbling just beneath the surface. She wanted to act, to lash out, to rip them apart?—
The blade pressed suddenly to Leywani’s neck. “Go on,” Velthur sneered, drawing a thin line of blood. “Try something. See how quickly this ends for her.”
Leywani whimpered, her trembling hands clutching the hem of her tattered tunic. Katell’s throat tightened, and the oppressive weight of helplessness settled over her, choking her anger.
The priest chuckled, revelling in her restraint. “Good,” he said, nodding in approval. “Now, let us proceed.” He turned to the veiled priestesses with a flick of his hand. “Undress her.”
Katell’s blood ran cold. “What?” she rasped, taking a step back.
The priestesses moved towards her without hesitation. Katell recoiled, but Dorias stood firm at her back, his hand clamped around her arm. His presence was immovable, his body a barrier against escape.
“Don’t—” she started, her voice breaking, but it was no use. The priestesses worked swiftly, unclasping her tunic and undoing her braid. The fabric slipped from her shoulders and fell in a crumpled heap at her feet. The chill of the damp air hit her bare skin, and she felt more vulnerable than when she’d been sold to Bruna’s arena.
Her heart hammered. She glanced at Leywani, still kneeling, her face stricken with terror. Velthur loomed over her, blade in hand, the threat carved into every line of his stance. Katell clenched her jaw, humiliation burning hot in her chest while the priestesses seized her arms.
The Emperor stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with twisted anticipation. “You claimed you could barely summon a Makhai,” he taunted, “let alone control one. Well, now you will.”
He gestured to the pool, and the priestesses dragged her to the edge. Its surface rippled despite the still air, making her skin crawl. Whatever they were about to do, Katell knew it wouldn’t be good—for her, for Leywani, or for anyone.
Her thoughts spun. Laran’s Tears had stripped her control, driven her into violence, made her hunger for power until she barely recognised herself. She’d never survive a full immersion. Did they mean to drown her in it?
“Bathing in the Tears will make you whole,” the priest intoned, as if answering her question. “You will emerge from this pool reborn—a true weapon of the Empire.”
Her pulse thundered in her ears when her bare feet met the cold stone at the pool’s edge. The priestesses didn’t pause—they tugged her forward, pulling her closer to the water.
Her body trembled with the deep, primal fear twisting in her gut. Her foot touched the liquid, and the warm, inky blackness lapped at her ankles, tendrils coiling around her legs like living things. Panic clawed at her chest, threatening to overwhelm every thought.
She forced herself to take another step. Then another. Each movement defied instinct, every nerve screaming to flee or strike. But she pressed on, her gaze locked on Leywani. She tried to keep her expression calm, to put on a brave face for her friend, even as terror gnawed at her mind.
When the black water reached her waist, the stillness shattered. The liquid writhed, swirling unnaturally around her. It climbed higher, tendrils creeping up her stomach like grasping fingers. She gasped, recoiling on instinct, but the priestesses held her firm.
