Chapter 19
Seraphina
I reached his territory faster than expected. Imelda had already warned me—if I wanted what he had, I'd have to pass his test and earn it.
I'd never met him before. The last time I needed this poison, Imelda delivered it personally. This time, I was going to get it myself.
The door hung slightly ajar, the silence inside unsettling. My grip tightened on the dagger strapped to my dress and hanging by my side as I stepped in. The stench hit me immediately—a sickly, rotting odor that clung to the air like a threat. If I wasn't confident in myself, I would have turned back and left, because this place screamed bad news, but unfortunately... I'd forgot what fear felt like.
Then, out of nowhere, a snake shot toward my face, fast as lightning.
I reacted on instinct.With a swift move of my hand, my dagger slashed through the air, slicing the creature into pieces before it could strike. Blood splattered across the floor, and as the snake's remains hit the ground, I heard it—a sharp, startled gasp from deeper inside.
I spun toward the sound just in time to see a shadow lunging at me, a gleaming needle aimed straight for my throat.
I ducked low, twisting out of reach. My dagger came up to meet the needle, snapping it clean in two. The attacker staggered back, and I straightened, my heart pounding. Was that supposed to be a test? Or just some lunatic with a death wish? If I didn't know who he was, I would have slit his throat with my dagger as soon as he attacked.
Standing before me was a man—young, with jet-black hair, a trimmed beard, and a muscular build. His clothes were polished and well-tailored, a stark contrast to the chaos of this place.
He wasn't what I expected. At all.
Imelda was well over sixty, and this was supposed to be her father. He should've been a frail old man, but instead, he looked like he hadn't aged a day over thirty.
"You're quick," he said, his voice flat and unimpressed. "Assassin, I assume?" He turned his back on me and began walking further inside, as if I wasn't even worth looking at.
I followed, my grip tightening on the dagger. "That was nothing," I shot back. Of course I was an assassin, why else would I need poison. "I've got a letter from your daughter." I added.
"Oh, you mean Imelda? She must think highly of your skills to send you here," he said, his tone dry as he stepped into a dimly lit room.
I followed close behind, my hand still resting on the hilt of my dagger, ready for anything. As I stepped inside, my eyes darted around, widening at the sight before me.
The room was a nightmare come to life. Rows of cages lined the walls, each holding writhing, hissing snakes. Jars filled with spiders and scorpions sat on shelves, their spindly legs scratching against the glass. The air was thick with the scent of decay and something earthy, primal.
It was like stepping into the lair of a man who had spent decades mastering the art of fear. This was more than creepy—it was unnerving.
He turned to me, stretching out his palm. I looked lost for a moment, but quickly understood what he was asking for. Reaching into the purse strapped to my side, I pulled out the sealed envelope. I double-checked it to be sure, then handed it over.
He took it without a word, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the seal. With a small nod of confirmation, he broke it open and began reading.
I held my breath, my heartbeat steady but tense as I waited. I had no idea what Imelda had written in that letter, but one thing was certain—I wasn't ready for whatever "test" he had planned. I could only hope it wasn't something impossible to get through.
After he finished reading, his gaze shifted back to me, his eyes cold and piercing. "So, you're after Widow's Kiss? Do you even understand the kind of death you're dealing with?"
My fist clenched at my sides as I nodded, my resolve firm. "I won't die as long as I take the antidote before applying it. I've used it once before." I replied, but he gave me a nod of disapproval instead.
"I've made significant changes. It's far more lethal now—nothing like the version you've used before."
"Does that mean the antidote won't work?" I asked, my voice sharp, my expression hardening.
I had told myself I was willing to sacrifice anything for this mission—but my life wasn't part of the deal. If Widow's Kiss was out of the question, then brute force would have to do.
I couldn't remain by Rhydian's side any longer, I hated to admit it but... my emotions were starting to waver, I needed to end this mission as soon as possible and return to my clan.
"It would," he said, his tone sharp and deliberate, "but the process is excruciating. That's where my trial comes in. If you don't have the resolve to endure it, I won't entrust you with Widow's Kiss."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared deeper into the dimly lit room. I stayed rooted in place, tension coiling in my chest as I waited for him to return with whatever he had planned.
My palms grew clammy despite the cool air. Pain... I had a notoriously low tolerance for it. Could I really endure whatever trial he had in store?
Doubt began to creep in, clawing at the edges of my mind. Was this mission truly worth risking everything—my sanity, my body, my life? And if I failed, what would I have left?
Moments later, he reappeared, holding a jar with a spider inside—its legs twitching ominously. I swallowed hard, sweat beginning to bead on my forehead as a wave of heat washed over me. My heart pounded, the sound deafening in my ears.
I hadn't felt this in a long time... fear. True, gut-wrenching fear.