The four skeletal ghouls make their way to the back doors of the hall, their long red robes dragging behind them. A sickly sense of unease crawls up my throat. Yesterday, we were in a different chamber, on a different aisle, and with a different set of doors, but the event ended in Maxon’s abduction. I straighten my shoulders and try to stay positive. With any luck, today’s ceremony will close with a solid plan for his rescue.
The Oligarchy reach the back wall, where they stand in pairs, one set on either side of the aisle.
That’s the signal. Time to start.
I raise my arms, and the crowd quiets to a hush. My voice carries loud and strong through the hall. “The King and Queen of Antrum greet you. The Houses of Antrum are bound by vows of loyalty to our throne.” I lower my arms and turn to Lincoln.
“Tonight, we call upon those vows to help our son, Maxon,” he says. “Come forward and show your fealty.”
The concrete doors swing open, and a parade of faces march down the center aisle. One by one, the Earls and Duchesses of each house approach the stage, offering us soldiers and weaponry. As the leaders make their pledges, some have tears in their eyes over Maxon. A handful recall the terrors of the last war with Hell that was started by King Aethelwulf. Many share some story of how Armageddon murdered a loved one. Most want one thing: revenge.
More dignitaries march up to address us. Mom, Dad and Cissy arrive next, pledging Purgatory’s army to our cause. After that, the Furor Emperor approaches us in his handsome human form. He offers the unlimited use of his entire dragon horde. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Dad smiling his face off. In the Battle of the Gates, the Furor fought against Heaven and that sucked with a capital S. To say the Furor are badass in battle is a crazy understatement.
After that, seven archangels step through the opened doors. I outright gasp. This represents the entire archangel population in the after-realms, if you don’t count Lucifer. And since he’s been imprisoned for eternity, no one’s counted Lucifer for a very long time.
They step forward, different faces and skin tones, but all of them serene and beautiful. They pledge their armies and power to us. Dad steps up to join them. He announced that he’ll lead them all in the greatest army in the history of the after-realms. Together, they’ll finally destroy Armageddon.
The crowd goes nuts, but a sense of unease seeps into my bones. I turn to Lincoln, and I see the same questioning look in his eyes.
Once the archangels process out, another angel takes appears at the back of the hall; one with exotic, almond-shaped eyes and long straight black hair.
It’s Verus, the oracle. She steps silently down the main aisle, her white robes and wings glowing with their own light. She pauses before our stage.
“I am here today to tell you of my prophecy,” she says simply.
Prophecy updates? Fuuuuuuuuuuck.
I know Verus’s system. Her prophecies are almost always bad news, especially for me. I lean back on my heel and eye Verus carefully. I’ve been standing onstage for hours, my son is missing, and this crown weighs a ton. I do not want to deal with her manipulative crap right now.
I lower my voice to a hush. “If I tell you to take your prophecy and vamoose, will that make any difference?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Sometimes, I hate you, Verus.”
“Just sometimes?” A smile dances in her almond-shaped eyes. “I must be growing on you.”
Verus turns to address the packed audience. “I come with news of my vision. Years ago, I had a prophecy concerning Myla and Lincoln.”
My tail arcs over my shoulder, the arrowhead end pointing directly at Verus. With everything going on right now, she’s finally coming clean about the old Myla and Lincoln prophecy? I’ve asked her a million times to explain what made her manipulate our lives and bring us together. No matter how I pleaded, she wouldn’t tell me dick. Now, my kid is missing, and she decides it’s time to blab.
“My prophecy is this,” declares Verus. “The offspring of Myla and Lincoln will be the ultimate warrior in the after-realms. This child, and this child only, will thwart our greatest threat. Though Armageddon is pure evil, he is not the worst terror I see in our future. We need Maxon alive. He is the key to our survival. He must return home as quickly as possible.” She surveys the rapt crowd for effect. “I believe that means war.”
The crowd loses their freaking minds. A chant of ‘war-war-war’ fills the air. Lincoln raises his arms, signaling that sharing-time with the oracle is over. A muscle flickers along his jawline. “Thank you, Verus. You may leave, now.”
She kneels before us, which is an extraordinary move from her. “I hope you can forgive me when you have Maxon safely back in your arms. Whatever I do, it’s for his ultimate benefit.” She rises to her feet again, her eyes glowing a preternatural shade of blue. “Your Maxon must live.”
“We couldn’t agree more,” says Lincoln.
“You must declare war,” demands Verus. “Now.”
“Thank you for your advice.” I gesture toward the back door, the universal royal move for ‘shut up and get out.’