Page 2 of City of Snakes
At dawn, Origin Asterie fell from the night sky as a star that struck the ground. Her brother, Astros, followed, ascending as a ray of morning sunshine.
Next, in an open field, Siro entered the world in a destructive swirl of wind that uprooted neighboring trees. From the torn roots of those trees, Origin Atla bloomed like a flower in the wild meadow.
Lightning struck that same meadow, and Lira rose from the ashes of the wildfire.
As the moon set that night, Origin Elara dropped from the crescent into the glistening sea, and the ocean’s tides carried her and Origin Aquas ashore.
The Origins were born into a world of mortals who welcomed them, worshiped them. They gave thanks for the new gifts the Sources bestowed upon them: immortality, magic, prosperity.
On that same night, I was born, too, of flesh and blood.
The mortals in my village knew I was different from a young age.
All things were clear to me: the thoughts and emotions of those around me, the past and future. But what struck fear in the mortals, Origins and immortals alike was my power to completely control the whims and actions of others—the power of compulsion.
They called me the First Reverist.
Something new, something coveted.
Men bowed at my feet. The Origins put a crown of thorns on my head and made me share their fates and prophecies. And when my children were born, they, too, held some of my gifts and lived peacefully among the mortals, Origins, and immortals.
Until two sinister powers joined us...
Chapter 1
Sybilla
My city lay in ruins. Through the dining hall window, nothing more than a ramshackle mess of fire-torn buildings and ash-coated streets greeted me. I wanted to scream, cry or throw something across the silver-gilt room.
What good would my sulking do for the people of my city?
Unlike the other four Corridors of Henosis, which had many provinces and cities, mine had only a single sprawling metropolis—Luz. Without it, the Central Corridor was nothing but vast countryside and wetlands. While I was grateful that the farming industry had not been impacted by the attack, it still pained me that our landmarks, our history, now lay in rubble.
When fucking Firose Van Gran marched into my city with Death-wielding defectors from the Sahlms in tow, the heart of my kingdom had been torn out and shredded in a single night.
The Phynnic people had once built a city like this one. It had fallen centuries ago in much the same way. The relics andremnants of Phynx, which had never been rebuilt, were a day’s travel from Luz and a reminder of what could have been.
How much pain could one woman cause?
Instead of lingering on that thought, I sipped my bluebell vine tea and then took three deep breaths while rattling off the things I was lucky for...
No civilians had been harmed.We’d evacuated the city quickly.
Cities could be rebuilt.My Source-wielding new advisors, Fen and Asterie, would see to it.
My people were resilient.I would be resilient with them—even with the constant aches in my body and my general exhaustion.
I’d won powerful allies before—King Sheffield, the Nadiars.More could be won.
Silence rung heavily in the dining hall. I took in the final moments of uninterrupted quiet, looking around the blue-curtained space with its ornate silver sconces and chandeliers. It was hard to imagine this palace had been under attack not even seventy-two hours ago.
Now where was King Darvanda?
I’d come up here to meet with the man that I was oath bound to ally with. Last night the other threewillingrulers of the Corridors had met with me, insisting on speaking to me alone before they would allow King Darvanda’s participation.
An alliance with Darvanda was an alliance with Source magic.
I had to remind myself of that; otherwise, the thought of aligning myself with such an insufferable warlock would have completely revolted me.
