Chapter 149 Separate Fates
I snapped my eyes open, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
The massive obsidian doors groaned outward. A wave of dry, dusty air washed into the hall, disturbing the stagnant stench of the orchids. The Emperor glided into the room, flanked by four elite Imperial guards in blackened steel armor.
The Emperor wore heavy robes of dark, midnight blue today. He walked with that slow, eerie grace, his blind, milky eyes staring straight ahead. In his skeletal right hand, he held a delicate crystal goblet. The dark, rich crimson liquid inside sloshed gently with his steps.
He was drinking fresh blood.
My stomach contracted so violently I nearly gagged. The scent of the blood hit my starved senses like a physical blow. My dry mouth flooded with saliva, a desperate, animal instinct taking over for a split second before I clamped my jaw shut and forced it down.
The Emperor stopped three feet from the gold bars of my cage. He gestured with his free hand, and the guards stepped back into the shadows of the ivory dais, leaving us alone in the jaundiced light.
"Good morning, Arch-Duchess," the Emperor murmured, his papery voice echoing off the high, domed ceiling. He took a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal goblet.
I didn't speak. I simply stared at him, my turquoise eyes flat and dead.
"You look dreadful," the Emperor observed, a cruel smile stretching his grey skin over his yellowed fangs. "Your skin is the color of old ash. Your mortal frailty is catching up to you. You need water. You need food."
He tilted the goblet, swirling the thick blood.
"The Admiral needs this," the Emperor whispered, his voice dropping to a sadistic, intimate hum. "I went down to the Abyssal Dungeon before I came here. Silas’s replacement was very thorough. Klaus is hanging from the wall, completely hollowed out. His fangs are fully descended. He snapped at the air when I walked past his cell. The beast is taking over."
A cold spike of pure, unadulterated hatred drove itself into my chest. I felt Klaus’s feral hunger flare through the tether, a chaotic, thrashing panic that perfectly mirrored the Emperor's words.
"It is a tragedy," the Emperor sighed, shaking his head. "A mind as sharp as his, dissolving into mindless instinct. But it is necessary. I had to prove to you that the board belongs to me. You cannot outmaneuver the crown, Nerissa. The cage is locked. The chains are set."
He took another sip of the blood, letting the silence stretch.
"I am giving you your final option," the Emperor stated, his tone shifting into cold, absolute authority. "The commercial fleets are entirely stalled. The eastern vents are backing up with black sludge because you refuse to act as the filter. My Empire is losing money."
He stepped closer, his velvet robes brushing the base of the cage.
"Sing the song of submission," the Emperor demanded. "Anchor your magic to my throne. Promise your loyalty to the Empire, and I will have a guard carry this goblet down to the dungeon right now. I will let the Admiral drink. I will give you a suite in the upper tower, and I will let him live as your personal guard. Refuse, and I will let the feral rot consume his brain until his heart stops, and then I will chain you to the execution block and cut your throat to save my sea."
I sat perfectly still on the dark red velvet cushion.
The offer was clear. Surrender my soul, surrender my kingdom, and become a weapon for the tyrant, all for the price of Klaus’s life. If I sang a song of submission, the magic would travel through the tether. It would fill Klaus’s lungs with the dark, toxic sludge of Ligeia's curse, binding him as a permanent, suffering battery for the Emperor's trade routes.
I looked at the Emperor’s smug, skeletal face. I looked at the crystal goblet of blood.
I closed my eyes. I reached down the tether, bypassing the feral hunger, bypassing the agony of the silver whip burns, until I found the quiet, heavily shielded core of Klaus’s human mind.
Klaus, I whispered through the bond. Brace yourself.
Nerissa, no, his thought shot back, frantic and terrified. Do not submit to him. Do not sing for him. Let me die.
I am not submitting, I promised, a cold, bloody smile touching my cracked lips. I am showing him the ocean.
I opened my eyes. I didn't stand up. I didn't grab the gold bars. I remained seated on the floor of the cage, staring directly into the Emperor’s blind, milky eyes.
I opened my mouth.
I didn't pull air into my vocal cords. I reached down into the base of my lungs, grabbing the cold, stagnant, massive pool of abyssal magic resting there. I hauled it upward with brutal, unforgiving force, forcing the raw power of the ocean trenches through my throat.