A Shade of Vampire 90: A Ruler of Clones - Bella Forrest Page 0,50

physical too, and the combined force left me spinning.

She was the guiding light I’d follow through to the end. She’d come to us in this deadly darkness, and she would help us return to the brightness of our normal lives. “Will you go with us and Brandon to see for ourselves if Hrista is, in fact, responsible?” I asked, determined to find the truth as quickly as possible.

“I will. And so will Regine,” Myst said.

In that moment, I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that our turn had come. We would take the fight to HQ this time, whether we were ready for it or not. It had to be done. The truth could no longer be left in the dangerous hands of shadows.

Unending

As soon as we set foot inside the Temple of Roses, I knew we were in the right place. Obviously, that had already been confirmed, but every fiber in my undead form vibrated with confirmation. Tension trickled through my veins, thick as blood but cold as ice. The World Crusher was here, and she was furious. She had been furious for so long, time itself had lost track of the years and the ages.

The white walls of the temple were covered in black and gold images of the past—but not Biriane’s past, I realized upon a closer inspection. The Ghoul Reapers scampered across the smooth floor, spreading out before they gathered around a massive black marble lectern that hovered a few inches aboveground. I took a moment to study the walls, as Tristan did the same.

We recognized the death magic spells inscribed on the painted stone plaques. Charms to provide protection and preservation to the temple and everything inside it. Spells to stop the darkness from getting out. These were powerful inscriptions, but none strong enough to stop the rage from infecting the world beyond these beautifully painted walls.

“Look at this,” Tristan whispered, nodding at a large scene depicting Death and her true first Reaper like they were mother and daughter. It made my stomach hard as a rock, knowing the lie I’d been told from the moment I’d been made.

The World Crusher looked pretty in this painting. Not at all like Death, though. Her skin was white, made with mother of pearl inlays, and black enamel for her eyes and lips. But her hair was light and long, waves of amber mounted against a lapis-lazuli background that served as the sky. Death’s hair was sparkling obsidian, her lips a pair of finely crafted rubies. Both wore ivory folds of white and held each other close beneath a glittering gold sun.

A bitter taste persisted in my mouth as I beheld the truth depicted there. The beautiful and gut-wrenching truth. I had allowed my first place in this world to define me on so many levels. I’d considered myself precious enough to set an example for others, to establish new trends among the Reapers, and to prove that I was on another level altogether—at least in my earlier years. It stung to see it had all been a lie. There had been another before me, and I wasn’t sure I would ever forgive Death for this slight.

It wasn’t something she would’ve removed from her memories, like she’d done with Thezin. She couldn’t use that excuse twice. No, Death had known all along…

Next to the scene of the embrace, there was another. It showed the World Crusher wandering through the stars. The cosmos was black enamel with tiny pearls representing the many stars. Clusters of rubies and sapphires and emeralds were mounted together to play the roles of various planets. In the middle, the World Crusher’s amber hair poured down, her bare feet stepping over entire galaxies.

Everything in this place was an ode to this Reaper, I realized. These weren’t real stories being told here. These were homages crafted from gemstones and delicate artistry devoted to the World Crusher. “Who made all this?” I asked, as the Ghoul Reapers waited for us by the hovering lectern.

“We did,” Eneas said. “We’ve had a lot of time on our hands.”

“They’re beautiful,” Tristan replied.

Hadras had been left outside in the fading light of dusk to begin his recovery. We didn’t know how long it would take for him to be fused back together, but it wasn’t happening quickly. I had more questions for Death regarding Tristan’s uncanny scythe abilities, but given we’d decided to lie low and pretend we were somewhere else, I saved them for later. I wanted my mental