Scarlet gazed out her window. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, but the first morning’s light did little to bring warmth to the swamplands that stretched out below. The violet sky of the Crossworld had become familiar by now, yet it was still a reminder of how far she was from Saridian.

Scarlet had risen early, dressed and did her best to tame her wild curls, and tried to center herself in preparation for her return to training. She’d had a full day off after being released from her cell and she couldn’t imagine that she would get a second. Though it would be good to eat and replenish the strength she had lost while imprisoned, her stomach churned, so she paced her room instead. Her emissary mark prickled as it neared time for her to meet with Death.

Then, the prickle grew into an uncomfortable pulse. Scarlet braced herself for a compulsion to arise, but no urges came. She ran her fingers over the emissary mark, pondering. If not a compulsion, then what? Something wasn’t right; she didn’t know what it was, but it was urgent. As she focused on her mark, she could feel the trail of her emissary bond acutely.

Time to investigate. Scarlet threw open her door a moment before Dante did the same with his, emerging from the opposite side of the hall. They stared at each other blankly.

Dante released a deep breath. “I thought that I… I don’t know. Felt something. Is that weird?”

“No.”

“Something’s happening?”

The pulsing from Scarlet’s mark became more intense by the second, her discomfort turning to pain. “Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“Not sure.”

Dante wasn’t an emissary, and somehow he was sensing whatever was going on. She needed to figure out what was happening. She traced the origin of the tug on her bond, quickly realizing that it came from the throne room. Dante’s footsteps pattered behind her as she took off towards it. She couldn’t worry about him right now. She had to figure this out before she was incapacitated by the pain, which grew stronger with each step, seeping deeper into her body.

Scarlet was shaking by the time she got to the throne room. The obsidian door was already wide open. Scarlet peered inside the room and froze. Dante stopped close behind her. Death was stiffly seated on the throne, grimacing. Bronwen stood next to her on the dais, his eyebrows furrowed. But what made Scarlet pause was the man in front of the throne.

The man turned to Scarlet and Dante, smiling. It was the toothy grin of an animal who had cornered his prey. “Good, I see we’ve all arrived.”

For the briefest of moments, Scarlet was relieved that it wasn’t Riordan. She knew it wasn’t Riordan for two reasons. Firstly, he didn’t have the god-like aura. The second reason was also why her relief was so short-lived: she recognized him.

“Calder.” The name slipped from her lips. He was Riordan’s unrevealed second-in-command, his only emissary, and the one who had been in charge of hunting down Scarlet and her mother, up until Riordan apparently took the task into his own hands.

Calder and his team of mage hunters had circled close to them, but Scarlet’s mother had always managed to spirit them away to safety using her obfuscation magic, or in rarer cases, fought with them. She had nearly killed Calder once. He ripped open a portal to the Crossworld just in time to avoid the fatal blow of magic. Scarlet had advocated for her mother to follow and finish him off, which, frustratingly, she had refused to do. She worried there was an ambush waiting in the Crossworld.

In retrospect, Scarlet really, really wished her mother had killed him. Then he wouldn’t be standing here now, staring at her from across the throne room with his piercing blue eyes. His shoulder length hair was, as always, opposite of hers: so blond that it was nearly white, and dead-straight. The air around him wobbled and distorted from the waves of energy radiating from him—or maybe into him? She didn’t know what this magical effect was, exactly, but she was sure it was the source of the discomfort that was affecting Death and leaking into her through the emissary bond. From the strained look on Bronwen’s face, he was experiencing the same.

“Good to see you again, Scarlet.” Calder’s voice was even and emotionless. “Please, let’s all gather closer. I know not who the boy is, but all of Deianira’s residents should be present.”

It may as well have been a compulsion, as Scarlet found her feet moving without her conscious control. Her throat tightened with each step. Calder directed her to take a place next to Bronwen on the dais, and Dante followed suit, the color sucked out of his face.

Death hissed. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”

Scarlet was puzzled at this. My name, or the castle’s?

Calder’s only response was a continued smirk, depriving her of any further context.

Death shifted in her throne. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“We’ll get there. But first, I’ve been curious to see this one up close.” With that, Calder closed the distance between himself and Scarlet. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Everything in Scarlet screamed at her to flinch away, but her body was unresponsive. She felt her strength draining into his fingertips, leaving her face cold. Was this what he was doing to Death—draining her energy?

“She’s strong. Maybe even worth her keep.” Calder released his insidious hold on her. His eyes flicked over to Dante. “That one’s not even an emissary. What, are you rescuing orphans these days? I know you’re desperate, but if you’re lining up children to defend you then maybe we’re even closer to victory than we think.”

Scarlet started to breathe again. She’d been unaware that she had even stopped. While Calder was no longer holding her in place, terror was.

“Are you done with the needless banter?” asked Death. “Get to the point.”

“I’m here because I can be. Your defenses are so specifically tuned to Riordan that I could slip by them. And he wanted me to deliver a message. He wants you to know that you are a fruit almost ripe enough to pluck, and there’s no way to stop him.”

Death’s pointed nails were digging into the throne’s wooden arm. “You’re wrong.”

“Oh, but I’m not.” Calder’s monotone voice grew more serious now. “Your bulwarks are failing, one by one. The Ravens and rebels are falling. Your last emissaries are spread thin. Your magical defenses are good—but not good enough. Or else, Riordan wouldn’t be able to drain your power from afar. And I wouldn’t be here to ensure your energy has run dry.”

Calder loomed over Death’s throne now. He reached toward Death; Scarlet thought that he would take Death’s chin the way he had hers.

Instead, Death spat in his face.

Calder recoiled and his grin reversed into a snarl. He wiped the spittle from his cheek. “You—” Calder grabbed Death by the collar of her shirt and ripped her off her throne, heaving her off the dais. He towered over her from above. “You’re done. And soon, Riordan and I will have everything we want.”

Scarlet was shocked back into control of her body. Dante was visibly shaking next to her, and on her other side, Bronwen’s face dripped with sweat.

Three of us, and one of him, thought Scarlet. She didn’t count Dante; she didn’t know what he was capable of. Maybe we can take him.

“Leave, you bastard,” Bronwen growled. He began to lunge toward Calder, but froze mid-movement. Calder had held up a hand and Bronwen stopped in his tracks. With a forceful downwards gesture, Calder made Bronwen crumple to the ground.

Scarlet shuddered. She’d never seen manipulation magic, the specialty of those attuned to Riordan, used before. Her mother’s magic could be used to shroud them from such effects.

“You may have the upperhand,” Death said as she stood back up. “But I will fight you to the bitter end.”

“Fight us with what? You can’t even trust your own. What ever happened to Angelise, anyway? She and Kiera were the only ones that ever had a chance of stopping Riordan. And of course, I’m sure you’ve noticed Kiera is gone.”

Death stared at him, expression empty.

“Gone?” Scarlet asked. It took every nerve she had to force the word out, but she needed to know what he meant. Calder turned back to her, his gaze making her skin crawl.

“Gone,” he repeated. “She got a good strike in against Riordan. After the audacity of that, killing her was off the table. It would be like giving her back to Death, after all. Sure, she wouldn’t be useful anymore, but it’s the principle of the matter.”

Scarlet’s rising anger made the next words come easier. “Where is she?”

“You’ll never know. Your god can’t even find her through the emissary bond—”

Flushed with fury, Scarlet raised a hand to summon a blast of fire. Before she could strike, Calder bound her in place. She strained against the magic with everything she had, but his power was ironclad. Neither her physical strength nor her own magic could break through.

She wanted to scream. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing nice.”

Bronwen’s hoarse voice cut in. “Stop goading the child.”

“If she wants to be coddled she’ll have to go elsewhere.” Calder’s toothy grin returned. “Or maybe we’d spare Kiera in exchange for Scarlet turning her coat. A mage with her power and inside knowledge would be valuable.”

If she hadn’t been bound, Scarlet might have followed Death’s example and spat on him. “I would never help Riordan.”

“How could he work with mages?” Dante said, barely above a whisper. Scarlet had nearly forgotten his presence. He seemed shocked that his own words had escaped his lips. “He kills them. But they work for him?”

“Riordan needs Calder, because if we kill his current mortal form, he needs a new incarnate. Any other mages he keeps… well, Riordan will do whatever gives him the most power, ultimately,” Death told him. “Scarlet, do not play into his games.”

Calder huffed. “Most mortals don’t even know what to do with their powers. And to think, some would turn their divine powers against the gods their magic comes from? Horrendous. Pathetic. You, Scarlet… you have potential. But, alas, such passion burning within. You need breaking before you are of use. I’m surprised Death kept you at all; she isn’t a fan of wildcards.” Calder turned to address Death once more. “Or is it that you see her more like a daughter?”

Death’s voice was flat, “It’s time for you to go.” She raised an arm. A streak of energy flashed from her hand and crackled through the air toward Calder.

With near-impossible reflexes, he caught the energy bolt midair. Somehow, it didn’t hurt him. Calder observed the sphere of condensed magic floating in his grasp for a moment before he absorbed it into his hand, his grin widening. “You make this too easy.”

Energy crackled and gathered around Death as she focused her strength. The majority of Death’s power was being siphoned into Calder. He was draining her magic from her, just as he had absorbed her energy bolt.

Anything Death threw at him would only feed him, make him more powerful. Calder gathered a dense ball of energy in his hand, while Death struggled to scrape together any amount of magic.

Abruptly, all of the warmth in Scarlet’s body was drawn into her emissary mark. The tattoo burned hot as her energy reserves were sucked dry. She collapsed to the floor. Calder must have drained her energy, too.

A sudden blast of light filled the throne room, with an accompanying crack. Scarlet’s head spun. With tremendous effort, she pulled herself up enough to take account of the room. Bronwen had dropped down next to her. Dante was still on his feet, eyes wide. Death had her index finger pointed directly at Calder. A single wisp of smoke dispersed from her fingertip.

Calder had been brought down to his knees, his hand held over a smoldering spot on his chest. In Scarlet’s estimation, just above his heart. He growled. “Damn you. Soon you won’t have anyone left to draw on. And then it will be the end of this.”

Suddenly, Scarlet understood. Calder hadn’t drained her. Death had been gathering her own magic as a decoy, then instead drew power through the emissary bonds to direct a blast of energy at Calder while he thought he had the advantage.

Calder rose. “Because you don’t have enough power left to kill me now, do you?”

Death barred her teeth, but said nothing.

“That’s what I thought.” Calder’s hand pressed over his wound. His grin had melted into a grimace. “And one day soon, you won’t have enough power to keep Riordan out.”

With that, he turned and left the throne room.

Bronwen scrambled to his feet. Dante reached down to offer a hand up to Scarlet. She ignored him and stood up without aid. All three turned to the god, who was standing still as stone as she stared at the door Calder just exited through.

“This is not over,” Death said quietly. “Not yet.”