My eyes fly open, a sharp breath leaving my lungs. A dark ceiling greets me, and my blood runs cold. Inside my chest, pounding loud enough into my ears and coursing through my entire body, my heartbeat is restored to its former glory.

To test out whether my life hangs in the balance, I try to move my legs. They slide along the cold sheets of the feather mattress my body is spread upon, the lace pillow covers propping up my head from behind. My hair tangles in their complicated weaves. Where am I? My head aches when I turn to the side in search of a semblance of recognition but find nothing. The room is near black; I can hardly see my hand in front of my face.

My hand. I'm not chained. My body moves about freely on the bed, without chains or restraint. Except for the iron band around my wrist. Somewhere deep, my power waits to be restored. It'll come rushing through, demanding answers I won't have the strength to give. Only Wyetta Terravale can provide a reasoning now. Wherever she is.

I'm surprised she's not squatting over my sleeping body, grinning like a serpent while waiting for me to wake. I won't count that out yet, not until my eyes adjust to the dark. I prop myself onto my elbows, squinting at the room. Black silhouettes of furniture line the walls, similar to my chambers at the Raven Queen's palace, just...darker. The ceilings are lower, the room smaller, air tighter.

My arms ache as I pull the duvet aside—also dark. Fingers curling around the fur edge, I push the weight off my body and tuck my legs tight against my chest. I'm still adorned in the same clothes I had when she slowed my heart, but my boots are missing. I find them easily when my feet hit the floor, bending awkwardly against the leather in the way. One falls to the side with a clunk.

Everything happened so fast. Mutes leading me away, Wyetta appearing so close to him it couldn't be a coincidence. I shoot the floor a sour look as if imagining his face there. I should've known the truth all along. He was too kind, too gentle. Too...Mutes. Everyone in the palace should've known he works with the Void Queen, but for what? What is their goal?

I wiggle a finger underneath the iron fetter around my wrist and tug. Slowly, my eyes are adjusting to the dark and they make out the indention of iron coming together in a lock. Someone has the key. I tug once more, noticing bandages on my free wrist from the roots drawing blood. Where's my cuff? I look behind me on the bed, searching for the wolf cuff given to me by the witch at the market. It's gone.

My blood chills in my veins. Upon closer inspection, I don't have my raven pendant either. Vomit rises in my throat, pooling in my gut. Threatening to make a disastrous appearance if I don't calm myself down. Everything is all right. I'm still alive. My heart still beats. Blood is still flowing. I can go without my sacred jewelry for a little while as long as she gives it back.

I took to wearing the wolf cuff after it conformed to my skin. Something about it felt right—protective. In the same sense as the raven pendant Cloak gave me, I didn't feel comfortable taking it off. It shielded against something, and now I don't have it.

A sharp whistle sounds from the other side of the room, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on instinct. That sounds faintly like wind breaking through an open window. Sure enough, the corner of a shadowy curtain flutters against the cold air crawling into the room through what small spaces it can find.

I rub at my arms, trying to shake the chill that has dropped over me. Something on the edge of the bed catches my eye. I run my frozen fingers over it, finding a fur-lined coat spread out amongst the untouched section of duvet. They knew I would wake and feel the cold. Without thinking too much into it, I tug my arms into the sleeves and wrap the coat tightly around my body, shuffling across the room.

The cold floorboards seep through my socks. I throw back the curtain to the window and fold over the latch to stop the whistling wind from breaking in. And I'm met by white. Snow flurries pound against the other side of the glass, building higher and higher like a second wall. That raw form of light cascades into the room and scatters to the furniture—the very dark furniture. Everything, down to the armoire, is black.

Even the ceilings. The floors. The pillows. I'm the only thing in this room that has a shred of color on me, and that of the complete opposite. The callous hair stuck to my sweat-stricken neck is still white, like a beacon.

Something isn't right here. Panic shoots through me in the same manner as a lightning bolt, and I realize I need to spend more time protecting myself with something rather than exploring the utilitarian pits of these chambers. I stride past the bed and yank open the nightstand drawer. Nothing. Not even a knife strapped to the top. The armoire is empty, as is the closet off to the side of the room. The bathing room blinds me; everything in there is whiter than my hair.

I tear through everything, unable to come to terms that they threw me in a completely empty room. Hands on my hips, my chest rises and falls rapidly in search of what I can use. The duvet is on the floor, sheets torn away, the mattress lopsided. I had to search under the bed in case something hid underneath there. One of the most obvious, yet easiest hiding places, lies underneath the mattress.

Not much thought goes into hiding something there. Alas, that was empty too.

If Cloak was left without a weapon...I turn my head slowly to the nightstand. A black, three-tiered candelabra sits unlit. I chew on my lip. That will have to do. I wrap my hand around the cold metal base and ease towards the door, raising my weapon of choice high above my head. If an army of the soulless stands on the other side, I'll wallop them on the head and make a run for it. But if they can't feel pain, my destiny will be much worse than their nonexistent headache.

My fingers wrap around the knob. It jerks. I leap back and raise the candelabra higher over my head and prepare to bludgeon the next person that comes through the door. I wait, holding my breath. But nothing comes.

The door flies open. Despite myself, I let out a shriek which, in turn, makes the woman carrying the basket of clothes into this room emit a similar sound. Her arms seem to go into shock, rigid around the wicker basket, and she tosses it into the air in front of her. Towels and clothes scatter, rising above their resting place, and land in a heap between our feet.

I clench tighter onto the candelabra but I can't bring myself to do it. She's just an innocent servant tending to this room—bringing me clothes. I bite back a strangled cough. As if I'll need them. My plan doesn't involve staying here long enough to need another pair of clothes.

"Please don't hurt me!" she blurts, holding out her grey hands. Pitch elf. "I'm only the servant assigned to these chambers!" The young-looking woman presses her back against the door, a hand to her chest, breathing rapidly. I scared the life out of her, practically.

I lower the candelabra but keep it tight in my hands. She watches the direction of my movements with a careful eye. "What is going on?" I ask, skipping introductions. "What happened? Why am I here?"

One question after the other spills from my mouth like molasses, and it's all too much for this frightened servant to take in. I have the iron fetter around my wrist to halt my powers. I can't hurt her unless with brute force. Someone in this place had to give her some direction that I won't hurt a single soul.

She sinks to the floor, resting on her heels to gather the towels and spare pants. "You are in the Void Palace, home of the Void Queen and all her forces. Nestled away in the north."

The north? Shit. I'm in the Void. I drag a hand through my knotted hair. My fingers catch onto the whorls of white strands clinching together in clumps. Though I desperately want to rip out my hair for the sake of relieving my built-up anxiety, I thread my fingers back out and clutch onto the one bit of reality I have left. The empty candelabra.

I rush to the windows, once more throwing back the curtain. I can't believe it. This can't be true. Through the swirls of fast-moving snow, I squint harder than I did before. Pay more attention to the distance. Shadowed peaks stare back at me, only for a second before they disappear again beyond sheets of white flakes.

I practically stumble away. Bringing a hand to my forehead, my skin is ice cold. "Why am I here?" I ask without turning around.

Her feet shuffle across the black rug next to the bed, and she stops, placing the basket atop it. "I don't know." An honest answer. "It must have something to do with the Void Queen and your purpose in aiding her forces."

I spin on her quickly, studying her with steeled focus I didn't possess before this moment. She's too busy folding the towels into a neat pile to notice the change in my behavior. Spending enough time around Cloak gives me the advantage here—I know what I need to look for. This woman is an enemy, an ally of the Void Queen, and a reject to her kingdom.

No, she's not that. My mind has been brainwashed into believing that the first sign of difference means opposition. She could've come across this position by force, like me.

She's young, but slow exhaustion weighs on her shoulder like age hasn't treated her kindly. Well, it has, but something takes time that should normally be reserved for freedom and exploration. Her square face is soft. Clean. Except for the scar cutting clean through her uneven lips, a darker shade of grey than her charcoal skin.

The tight braids on top of her head, starting at the base of her scalp and transcending all the way down in clean, perfectly straight rows, are the shade of flint. What should hang down her back is tightened into a bun resting in a loose coil on the back of her head. She's taller. Plump. Strong. Not how I expected a servant to look.

She can't be young. No, the maturity weighing down her round eyes isn't the fault of hard years. Her age is recent. And present.

This woman—this complicated, hard to understand woman—finally looks up from where she folds the towels and smiles sheepishly at me. I can't quite place her beauty, the precise symmetry in it, but it's unique in the sense that no one else I have ever come across carries themselves as confidently and proud. With weight on their shoulders, of course.

Cloak would know what to do with her, what to make of her presence. I have a jumbled list of notes in my head that don't have a place other than their original landing. How does he come to terms with what Luminaries to kill, and who to save? Who can make these brave decisions without stuttering over the verdict at the first sign of trouble?

"Did...did Mutes come along?" The last question I expected to ask, but the first that comes out of my mouth.

"I don't know who you speak of." She flashes me an apologetic look. "Would you like some time alone to gather your thoughts?"

"No, I—"

A blazing stream barely off the ground tears into the room on two fast legs. Fear leaps into my throat at the sight of it before I realize it's only a small child running at the speed of light and leaping onto my lopsided bed. The servant didn't mention a single word about the conditions of this room. Why not? Even this...child doesn't seem to notice it.

The servant whirls, hands grabbing for the child at lightning speed, but the young girl is quicker. She dodges curling fingers and fast swipes to roll onto the bed, clutching a wooden carved doll between murky palms.

The resemblance is uncanny.

"Edire!" she hisses. "I apologize. She's...I can't ever keep an eye on her." Despite her dark skin, red heat crawls up her neck and settles in her cheek, pooling towards her temples.

Like her mother, the child has a similar hairstyle of taut braids, only hers are blue-black instead of resembling her mother's deep grey.

Their eyes are too similar to be anything other than relatives. Their upturned, round shape—the deep purple iris. Her toothless smile, one fang missing, clashes as her mother attempts to wrangle her from the bed. No matter what direction she chooses, the young girl is always faster. She rolls like a pig in mud.

"It's fine," I squeak out, watching their wrestling match. The servant is clearly losing.

Suddenly, she calculates Edire's movements and launches an arm outward, ensnaring her in a grip that tugs against her chest. Both of them yank off the bed in one fluid motion. Edire continues to squirm, and the servant places an arm underneath her butt to keep her from easing her way to the ground to scramble away again.

"I don't have anyone to watch her while I'm working," the servant goes on, depositing her daughter outside the door. She tries to close it, but the child squeezes through. "I must take her everywhere with me, and as you see, she is not fond of cooperating when I tell her to sit down and wait for me to come back out." She hisses the final words closer to her daughter's ears and Edire giggles, pinching her concave nose.

I watch them with admiration. "What's your name?" I ask.

"I'm Fidibi. Fidibi Perndove. And this is my daughter. Edire Perndove." She rests her hands proudly on her daughter's shoulders, and the child remains still long enough to take me in. For me to memorize her features. A child...in the Void Palace. I never thought such a thing was possible, then I remember all the Luminary children Cloak had to slaughter. All could have grown up to kill him or take the throne for themselves.

Edire breaks away. Fidibi isn't fast enough to catch her. The child leaps on my bed again to bounce relentlessly. The neat piles of towels lean into the sinking mattress. I swear I see Fidibi's eye twitch.

I shake myself back to reality, squeezing my eyes shut. I need a bath. Perhaps a glass of wine. Maybe I'll find both in the same place. "Did I receive any order to go anywhere once I woke?" I throw my thumb towards the door.

Fidibi's face brightens with recognition. "Yes! I nearly forgot. You must head for her chambers. The Void Queen. She has invited you to tea."

Something tells me this won't be an ordinary excursion. Not like the many nights I sat at Cloak's empty dining table with him in the next seat, our knees pressed together like he couldn't stand to sit a few inches farther away. I long for that touch now, any shred of warmth in this empty northern palace. I'm in the Void Palace. I had nightmares about these hallways. Monsters chased me. The army of the soulless locked me away in pitch-black rooms and laughed as I screamed.

This seems like a far cry from my nightly terrors.

"Would you mind escorting me?" I ask, wringing my hands together and balling them in the fabric of my skirt.

Fidibi doesn't waste a second. "Of course!"

I hate to think of using Fidibi as a physical shield, but I haven't come face to face with the Void Queen—truthfully—since she transformed me into what I am. This time, I won't lose consciousness and she won't slow my heart rate. Not that I know of, at least. This is the first time we'll have an actual conversation surrounded by poisonous tea and tasteless pastries. I can ask her about Castiel, about what I can do for the wounds impossible to fix.

On the way out of the room, trailing Fidibi and a bouncing Edire, my hands coat in a layer of sweat. What is Castiel thinking now? I'm gone, yet again, from his life. This time, for good. No one escapes the Void Queen's clutches without at least a few scratches on them, and she doesn't weigh the disadvantages of taking a life.

Castiel must die. It is his fate.

Her voice makes me flinch. Because of that, I hardly notice the army of the soulless standing post outside my chambers. I scurry past them and hug closer to Fidibi as she wrangles her daughter away from the frozen cathedral windows. Their diamond arches collect snow flurries, flakes sprinkling across the glass.

Like the Raven Queen's palace, the halls are long and empty, interrupted by closed doors in the shape of perfect arches. The black stone is painted with stars—literal paint—and decorated with the occasional moon fashioned from feather-thin parchment. I dodge out of the way of the lowest hanging orbs cresting the middle of each hallway, slinking underneath and around to study their designs.

A creepy, gap-toothed smile watches me from the shadows of a yellow sun hanging in the corner of one hallway, and a woman similar to the Void Queen threatens us all from the front of a split tapestry at the end of a staircase. Fidibi pushes it aside without care; I cringe at the black spools of magic dripping from her fingers like fog.

Fidibi hikes her daughter into her arms at the top of a staircase. I peer over the railing. Stairs disappear into black, not a flickering torch in sight. "Is this where we're going?" I squeak.

She nods. "The Void Queen resides in the palace shadows. Come now, it won't be long."

I glance back down the hallway, considering running for it. But the army of the soulless stationed at the other end, watching me through black armor, makes me reconsider. I scurry after Fidibi into the dark and allow the cold air to wash over me. My hands guide the way down the metal railing bordering the staircase spiraling down what I believe to be a tower. The thin, crumbling stairs hug against the outer wall and a large rod of what appears to be bone anchors the middle.

A dragon's spine. A strangled whimper escapes my throat and I move quickly to get away, realizing I'm holding onto bone—not metal.

I must clear my head. "The Void Queen takes these stairs every time she arrives to her chambers?" I question. Or leaves them.

Up ahead, Fidibi looks back at me. Her laugh ricochets off the bone. "No, she uses her ability to transport from top to bottom. If she climbed these stairs every time she left, her muscles would tie into knots. How do you think you got here so quickly?"

"I didn't know how long it had been. Days, maybe."

Fidibi laughs again. "You've only been here for a few hours. The Void Queen returned this afternoon and placed you in your chambers. She untied your boots and pulled you under the duvet, kissing you on the forehead before she departed. I received one simple order to—"

"She what?" I interrupt.

"I was in the process of saying that she gave me an order to—"

"No, before that." Fidibi flashes me a hurt expression. "She kissed me on the forehead, you said?"

Edire stares at me from over her mother's shoulder, purple eyes blinking in wonder. I can't bring myself to look at her when all I see are lifeless children that died in their sleep. Cloak's guilt withered away from him and drifted to me, splitting in half for me to carry an equal burden. It could have been her—Edire. She could have been another Luminary child that died at the Raven Queen's hand.

"Yes," Fidibi confirms. Bile rises into my cheeks. "Believe it or not, the Void Queen wishes you to have a decent time here. She said as such."

Now I realize why every royal hated when they referred to Wyetta as the Void Queen. The title of queen doesn't belong to her any longer, the woman on the throne in Exole is the only one that deserves that recognition. My teeth clench hard enough that I'm afraid they'll turn to brittle dust.

"That doesn't mean she has to kiss my forehead." I shiver at the thought. "She slowed my heart rate to get me here. My visitation isn't of willing origin."

Fidibi says nothing to that, but hurt drags down her smile with a forceful tug. I shouldn't want to apologize to her so soon after meeting, but Edire's young, innocent eyes are about to do me in. Like every curious child, she studies me hard enough that I'm afraid she'll burn holes into my forehead. She knows what we're talking about—the spot the Void Queen kissed. Not knowing what spot, I rub the inside of my forearm against my skin to remove any residue left behind.

The spiraling staircase travels deep enough into the body of a dead dragon that the ribcage closes together at the bottom. Fidibi stops in front of a normal-looking wooden door with no accents except for an elf knocker. Of course.

"Here we are," Fidibi says. She adjusts Edire in her grasp. The child is near asleep against her mother's shoulder, mouth agape with exhaustion. "I will organize your chambers and prepare a bath for when you return. You've had a long day."

Without waiting for my response, she turns on her heel and pushes past, making the long ascent up the staircase she just climbed down. She shouldn't have come all the way down here, but she did. Out of the kindness of her heart so I wouldn't be afraid to go alone. When her figure is close to disappearing into the dark, I shout, "Thank you!" My voice echoes up towards her and she leans over the bone railing, waving a hand at me.

Edire's small palm reaches over to mimic her mother's movements. I can't stop the smile creeping onto my face at her clumsy wave. "Time for your nap, little peanut," Fidibi's voice echoes through the staircase.

Edire groans, but makes no further objections.

I want to race after them, to cling to Fidibi in the way I would Gustus or Chaska, but I have made it this far. This isn't the time to turn back, especially since she'll just drag me back here when I disobey her order. The Raven Queen threatens with death; I wonder if her sister chooses a similar pleasantry.

For once, I must indulge my nerves. I raise my fist to the ordinary wooden door and knock. It falls open against the gentle rasp of my knuckles, creaking like a poisonous snake. The bold Luminary hiding within me nudges forward, taking one step to peer into the room. Ordinary furniture, black as night and just as simple. Exactly like the chambers I woke up in. I press my palm against the door, meaning to step in further when something pops around the door.

"Boo!" Wyetta shouts in my face, raising her hands at the sides of her head.

I lurch back, an embarrassing scream rippling through the staircase. The cruel woman laughs at my fear, tipping her head back. "Come in, young elf. Come in," she says around another insufferable mocking of my racing heart.

She waves me in as she walks away, disappearing past the door only to remerge through the thin cracks. How can she be so...casual about this? The door sits open in front of me, waiting. Listening. Hoping I'll walk in. I tip my head back and look back into the dark of the higher levels of this palace, then the thick spine of a large, old dragon. All questions to be saved for another time.

This is the Void Queen. A woman that has evaded capture, has remained hidden for years, has converted many lives and sent them to die. Cloak has searched for her so she can pay for her wrongdoings. Here she is, past the threshold.

I take a deep breath, and pass through it.