Out in the rolling green hills of the western province, Deborah was having an ordinary day selling fruits, blissfully unaware of the challenges her queen was facing. It was a hot summer day with the sun shining beautifully, and the village market was filled with people. She’d just gotten done receiving a fresh delivery of apricots from the local orchard farmer Tanya, and had just handed off a basket of prickly pears from the northern province to her good friend Katarina, who was planning to make a stew out of them for her wife and kids that night. It was just the sort of day she liked to have for herself.

Deborah had recovered well from her allergies thanks to Queen Melody’s healing touch, and the local village healer, a kind-hearted woman named Maggie, had prescribed her an herbal remedy retrieved from the vicinity of a local healing spring, which had worked well to provide her lasting relief for the past week.

It was terribly unexpected, then, when a small team of three knights rode into the village on horseback with a certain suspicious look in their eyes. And even stranger when, only sparing the townsfolk brief greetings, they seemed to be marching directly toward the village graveyard.

Events that intriguing didn’t happen much in Deborah’s home village of Summerbridge. Most of Deborah’s excitement came from her monthly visits to the palace on opening day, when she would get a chance to speak with the queen, if only for a few minutes at a time. Life on the countryside was by all means good as it was everywhere in Valora, but it was not always exciting, and Deborah was eager to pursue excitement when an opportunity presented itself, so she tiptoed out from behind her fruit stand and followed the knights from a distance of ten meters or so, far enough that no one would think twice, a peeled orange in her hand.

Deborah recognized one of the knights from her most recent visit to the palace, the fair-skinned, red-haired maiden who’d been standing by the queen’s side. She seemed to be leading her companions into the village today. The merchant didn’t know it, but her name was Dame Genevieve, and she’d come to the village on the orders of her Mistress Illuria.

No knights had visited the village for four years, when Dame Ruby had helped rout an invasive pack of giant poisonous spiders. That had been a hectic and frightening week for Deborah, who’d always been frightened of even the smallest and most harmless of creepy-crawlies, but the silver lining had been when Ruby herself had sliced a spiderweb with her blade, allowing Deborah to get back to her house. The knight had shown her such kindness, and hadn’t treated her as a lesser for even a moment, clearly caring for the well-being of all the townsfolk.

Today, the knights marched with what seemed like grim purpose, and they barely spared the townsfolk a single glance. It was actually rather frightening.

She trailed them for a time, and they indeed entered the graveyard, well-kept on the church grounds by the local priestesses. Sister Abby was always a comforting presence when Deborah was feeling down, and listening from around the corner of the local woodcarver’s, she watched as the priestess rushed out of the building to speak to Genevieve.

“Dame knight!” Sister Abby called. “What brings you to these hallowed grounds today?”

“We have need to enter the mausoleum,” Dame Genevieve said, looking toward the large building looming over the rest of the graveyard. It was small next to the church itself, but held the corpses of several unhallowed individuals — the sorcerous advisors of the foul Empress Eileen of old.

Deborah had been taught about them since she was a young girl in school, as the people of Valora were to never forget the darkness of their past. The townsfolk tended to steer considerably clear of the mausoleum for fear of being affected by the residual dark magics that were often imagined to remain. The merchant herself preferred to cross to the other side of the main road if she were walking up toward the north end of town past the churchyard. Treading near it was simply a bad omen.

The knights, of course, had no fear of it. That was to be expected — their armor and their training would protect them from any threats contained therein, Deborah had to imagine. But Sister Abby didn’t seem thrilled by the prospect, to say the least.

“You were sent from the palace? To our little village?” the priestess asked. “What errand would you ever have within such an awful building?”

At that, Genevieve stepped down from her horse and knelt down before the priestess, demonstrating the humility that she’d been taught by Dame Tabitha.

“Historical research. It’s a secret mission,” the knight said, dropping her voice to a low whisper — but Deborah spent so much time in the village square that she’d become quite adept as reading lips, always wanting to pick up on the gossip being spread two merchant stalls over.

“Now I’m not the type to doubt a knight’s word,” Sister Abby said, “but do you have proof of that claim? No one has entered this mausoleum in decades, not even any of our sisters. I find it surprising that our queen would suddenly find herself interested.”

“The fact that it’s understudied is exactly the trouble,” Dame Genevieve said. “Her Majesty Queen Melody wants to understand the Imperial Age better so that she might strive to avoid it. She still finds herself new upon the throne, with many decades ahead of her. And I do have proof of my claims.”

She produced a signed document from her horse’s saddlebag, detailing Queen Melody’s approval for Genevieve and her fellows to access the interior of the mausoleum and inspect it thoroughly for any historical artifacts contained therein. Genevieve knew well that the queen’s handwriting and the royal seal had been forged by her Mistress’ foul magics, of course. Illuria had been confident that word would travel too slowly, if at all, to reach the actual queen before the dark sorcerer’s plans were already well underway.

Deborah, too, found it odd that Queen Melody would approve of such a thing. Having met her regularly since she first began sitting upon the throne, Deborah had always found the queen to be an exceptionally down-to-earth, unassuming, and compassionate woman. Knowing the history of the Valoran Empire was of course important if she was not to repeat it, but why, then, the secrecy? Why remain so vague even with the priestesses who were sworn to the very same Goddess as Queen Melody? It seemed strange, but there the paperwork was…

“Very well,” Sister Abby replied, looking over the fine print. “I won’t argue with the queen. But I do question her wisdom in this matter. I truly believe that those graves are best left unturned by anyone, even the bravest of us all. You must be careful, dame knight.”

“Of course,” Dame Genevieve promised, offering the priestess a sympathetic smile before turning back to those accompanying her.

“Alright, ladies,” she said, returning her paperwork to the saddlebag. “Let’s proceed.”

The two other knights stepped off of their horses as well, joining their leader, and the three women proceeded toward the mausoleum entrance, an old decaying building at the far edge of the graveyard, partially overgrown with ivy.

Deborah could barely hide her own fear for the knights, the fear that they would simply walk into that mausoleum and never return. Though only a layperson, she too questioned the wisdom of the queen for the first time in her life. Queen Melody was a very pretty woman and she’d been chosen by the Goddess of Light, it was true — and Deborah could not deny her own attraction to the woman. But though the knights had signed up for dangerous affairs when they joined the order, Deborah would not approve of the queen sending those she was responsible for on a march to their deaths.

Of course, that was just an unfounded fear on her part. Though they’d practiced dark sorcery in life, the people within that mausoleum were most likely just bones now. And wanting to calm and reassure herself, she went to talk to Sister Abby, now standing on the front steps of the church welcoming other concerned townsfolk. Deborah knew as well as any that the Goddess could heal any sickness, dispel any woe, and she’d long known the priestess personally.

What she did not know is that Genevieve and her companions had come to retrieve something very specific that their Mistress had discovered the existence of during her extensive research on the kingdom’s history — a special something hidden via illusion on the corpse of Empress Eileen’s chief advisor, Lady Martina. Illuria had explained to her knights at length the significance of this item to her plans, as it would apparently be the key to taking the power of the throne for herself, and Genevieve was eager to fulfill her Mistress’ wicked desires.

“Debbie!” Sister Abby said, spreading her arms for a hug as the fruit merchant walked up to her. The two women were both in their mid-thirties, and they’d been close ever since they’d been young children. While they had ultimately taken very different paths in life, they remained a sight for each others’ sore eyes.

Abby was a tall, slightly chubby woman with tan skin, dirty blonde hair, and hazel eyes, dressed in the gold-lined white robes shared by all priestesses of the Goddess of Light. Though she’d been stern with the knights, who were now creaking open the heavy stone door of the mausoleum, filling the churchyard with a faint but pervasive musty smell, she cared deeply for her congregation.

“I overheard what that knight was saying to you, Abby,” Deborah admitted as she hugged the larger woman, speaking in a low voice. “Do you truly think the queen would send them into that horrible place?” She did truly harbor doubts.

Abby sighed. “You know Her Majesty better than I do, visiting the palace so often. But I have to believe that she has her reasons. She was appointed by the Goddess, after all.”

Deborah thought of the queen’s smile, her wonderful warm healing touch, soft hands pressed upon her skin, so sensual and close, and she felt deeply assured.

“I don’t think she’d do anything that would bring her subjects to harm,” the merchant replied. “But I do worry that she’s being manipulated or something like it. She’s such a kind-hearted woman, and I don’t know if she’d be able to see the knife in someone’s hand if they were about to stab her.”

In truth, Queen Melody did not need to be manipulated directly by Illuria, not yet — which was convenient, since the object she was having her knights retrieve would prove very useful for the process of manipulating her. The dark sorcerer had sent Genevieve out on her own orders alone using a flimsy excuse, but one that would not matter in the end.

“Thankfully, then, she doesn’t have to face such threats alone. She has Sister Alia, greatest priestess in all the land, and Dame Tabitha besides. That Tabitha’s a strong leader who was protecting Queen Heather since today's queen was a young girl. She had the palace under lock and key.”

Deborah thought of Dame Tabitha, who was often seen leading palace security forces on opening day. The merchant had initially found the knight to be a bit frightening, but when she’d found herself lost in the corridors on her way back from the courtyard on her second visit to the palace, Dame Tabitha had caught her. Deborah had feared that she’d be thrown in prison and accused of treason, but the knight had offered her a warm smile and spoken about the palace’s architecture while escorting her back to the proper exit. She’d never been so frightened of her again after that.

“I do trust that woman,” Deborah agreed. “And I’m sure Sister Alia is as good a leader to her congregation as you are to yours.”

“She’s in very good hands,” Sister Abby said, perhaps reassuring herself. “So are those three young knights.”

Unfortunately, she did not know the truth. But it mattered little since, after the passing of only five minutes or so, Dame Genevieve stepped back out from the old stone door of the mausoleum, both of her companions following close behind. And as they did, the whole village seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

Deborah suddenly worried that Genevieve had been possessed by some kind of dark spirit as the knight incidentally turned her head toward the church building. She hadn’t seen the woman’s face head-on all this time, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something must have been wrong with her, some kind of glint of darkness in her expression, some sign of malevolence.

And though the townsfolk were relieved, Deborah could not bring herself to be, especially as the redheaded knight drew closer, climbing back onto her horse and approaching Sister Abby once more, the frightened fruit merchant still by her side.

“We saw everything we needed to see, Sister,” Dame Genevieve said, addressing the priestess with a smile from atop her horse. “Thank you for welcoming us into your fine village.”

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, dame knight,” Sister Abby replied. “What was it that you saw, exactly? You were in and out much more quickly than expected, frankly.”

“Long-abandoned tombs, mainly,” the knight said, lowering her voice. “Very little of interest to the public. But it’s like I said earlier — I can’t speak about it in detail. It was a secret mission.”

Sister Abby looked greatly displeased, but she nodded slowly. It reminded Deborah of when she’d failed to admit her old drinking problem to the priestess a decade ago, even though everyone in town was practically aware of it. Abby didn’t like having things kept from her.

“Very well. Stay safe on your journey home then, dame knight,” she finally said, letting out a deep sigh.

“I will,” Genevieve said, surprisingly dismissively in Deborah’s eyes. “Shall we be on our way, ladies?” She looked to her companions, and the three knights began to ride back down main street to the east, in the general direction of the palace, still with that grim determination in their eyes.

Sister Abby looked lost in thought for a moment as the knights went almost out of sight, but then she went off running after them, with Deborah close behind her.

“Wait a moment, dame knight!” she shouted. “Might I have one more word with you?”

Dame Genevieve stopped her horse, turned around. “What is it, Sister?”

“I thought I should ask you to return to the church for just a brief moment,” the priestess said. “After the excursion you and your compatriots made, it might be warranted to perform a warding ritual. There are dark things concealed within those walls. I wouldn’t want them following you all the way back to the palace.

Oh, thank the Goddess this wasn’t Deborah’s worry alone! Everything about the way that Dame Genevieve and her compatriots had behaved put her on edge — frankly, even before she entered the mausoleum. She wanted to trust the knight, to trust that the lovely queen had a good head on her shoulders to send her here, but Genevieve just didn’t seem quite the same person she had seen standing by the throne last week. She couldn’t place what was different exactly, but clearly Abby saw it too…

Genevieve looked at her compatriots with worry, then turned back to the priestess.

“That’s a very generous offer, Sister, but I’m afraid that we must be getting back to the palace. Dame Tabitha expects us by nightfall, and I’m sure you’ve come to know that she’s not one to disappoint.”

Abby gritted her teeth. She didn’t like taking no for an answer, but at the same time, there didn’t seem to be any outward signs of possession. Such things tended to be quite dramatic.

“Then promise me you’ll ask Sister Alia for a checkup, won’t you, dame knight? Best to treat these matters with extra care.”

“Will do, Sister. Take care now,” Dame Genevieve said, turning her horse around, and leaving Deborah and Sister Abby to worry.

“I want to send Sister Alia a letter about this matter,” Abby whispered to Deborah after Genevieve walked fully out of earshot. “We’ve exchanged correspondence about matters of faith before. I want to be sure she’s fully apprised of the situation, and that she takes this matter seriously. Frankly, I would have liked to see a priestess accompanying them into such a dangerous place. Someone to keep the dark sorcery at bay.”

Deborah meant to offer a reply, truly, but she was watching the knights walk down the street at that moment, wondering about how Queen Melody was doing. And as she did, Genevieve’s hand slipped, and an object fell from it, hung on a bronze chain.

The fruit merchant didn’t see the object for what it was in full — she couldn’t. It was such an evil thing that the knight held, so full of corruptive power that she felt a sudden urge to swear herself to a single dark sorcerer who had perished centuries ago. But so uncontrolled was the magic contained therein, so overflowing to an untrained mind such as Deborah’s, that she couldn’t help but swoon.

And with no queen’s arms in reach to catch her, she fell to the ground in the town square, undone by a simple slip of the hand.

Queen Melody missed Deborah too. Though she only saw her among the company of hundreds of other people, the fruit merchant was probably the prettiest of all her subjects, and she longed to see her again, to run off with her away from the palace and put all of this horrible nonsense behind her. But ultimately, she had responsibilities to uphold, a kingdom to govern, and a palace to root out evil from.

Dame Tabitha had become incredibly paranoid over the last week, and for the last two days she’d insisted that Queen Melody sleep within the priestesses’ quarters in the chapel annex, a place she regarded as the safest in the entire palace, with Sister Alia close by to ensure that evil would not take root. The palace was in disarray, Dame Tabitha was sure of it, and she was expecting a knife in her back any day now. But she wouldn’t let the queen be stabbed in the same way as her — she hadn’t served the kingdom for the last thirty-five years just to fail like that.

What had happened to those guards on the outer walls had been no coincidence, it had been determined. They had fallen victim to the unknown dark sorcerer who was no doubt prowling the palace halls day and night, searching for their next victim. Mel wanted to meet them face-to-face, to know who had betrayed her people so that she could banish them from the palace grounds herself. But instead, she was required to stay in this small bed in a room shared with a number of other women, doted over every minute of the day. Mel so preferred tidying her own room and making her own meals, at least some of the time, but that wasn’t an option here.

Sister Alia had been apprised of Dame Tabitha’s investigation. Of all Valora’s people, the head knight believed that she was likely the least corruptible, given her strong connection to the Goddess of Light. And she was walking into Mel’s quarters now, a room she was sharing with five other women, none of whom were present at the moment.

The dark-haired priestess had a grim look on her face as she sat down on the bed opposite Mel’s, which belonged to the junior priestess Sister Janice, a loud snorer as Mel had recently learned.

“Dame Genevieve, Dame Meredith, and Dame Beatrice have gone missing,” she said. “Along with their horses. Dame Tabitha has been investigating since dawn, but it wasn’t certain that they weren’t somewhere on the grounds until now.”

Mel stood up, not content to lie on her bed while her own servants were in danger.

“And I wasn’t informed? Are they safe?” the brunette queen asked, gathering up the skirt of her red dress and heading for the door to the common area already.

“Dame Tabitha didn’t get the chance to speak to me about it until ten minutes ago,” Alia reassured her. “She’s been busy with investigative matters all day. You know how she is. Preparing her knights for the worst.”

“If three knights are missing, then it would seem the worst has already come!” Mel cried. “I won’t stand idle while my knights are kidnapped within this very palace!”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Sister Alia said, reaching for the queen’s arm. “We have no reason to believe they’re hurt. These things can easily derive from confusion over assignments, you know. Do you recall when Sister Rebecca seemed to have gone missing last spring? But in the end, she’d just been left in the capital city chapel during the theological summit. It was irresponsible of the rest of us, but not catastrophic in the end. For now we must assume they’ll be found by nightfall.”

“How can we assume that they’re alright when a…” Mel shifted her register to a whisper. “When a servant of Her Below is running rampant within these hallowed halls?”

“Have faith, Your Majesty,” Alia reassured her, hands clasped around Mel’s left hand sweetly. “The Goddess will lead us to them, I have confidence.”

“I hope you’re right,” Mel said, embracing the priestess in a tight hug, something she needed badly. Just a week ago everything had seemed to be in order, and the palace was a warm and welcoming place, full of people who looked out for one another. With knights going missing now and Dame Tabitha’s investigation ongoing, it had all become cold and unfriendly, and it felt more like a prison to the young queen.

Later that day, Dame Genevieve and her companions finally returned, walking through the main archway of the palace walls just an hour before sundown. And over Sister Alia’s objections, Queen Melody ran out to the courtyard to greet them.

When she arrived, Dame Tabitha was there already, and she was not at all pleased.

“It’s a dereliction of duty!” she shouted. “What if the palace was under attack? What if Her Majesty had needed you?

“I have half a mind to banish you all from the palace effective immediately. But… that’s not up to me. Not alone, anyway.” She looked at Mel with a weary smile as the tan-skinned brunette ran across the neatly-trimmed grass.

The three knights were standing at the threshold atop their horses, looking weary and battle-worn, bruises and bandages covering Dame Genevieve’s face and arms that hadn’t been there when Mel had last seen her yesterday.

“What was the reason for your departure?” Mel asked. “Dame Tabitha is quite right that you three have a lot to answer for.”

“An emergency,” Dame Genevieve replied, huffing and puffing. She’d clearly been through an ordeal. “Valoran flytrap outbreak in the western forest. They needed to be cut down before they came anywhere near Summerbridge.”

Summerbridge! That’s where Deborah lived, if Mel’s memory served her. Valoran flytraps, enormous, gnashing, thorny weeds that sustained themselves on the flesh of humans and animals alike, had been known to overtake entire villages when their growth was unchecked, and they could grow with terrifying speed. Their populations had to be carefully controlled, albeit not wiped out entirely, when one was discovered, or things could get ugly fast. Mel was glad that the lovely fruit merchant’s way of life wouldn’t be threatened any time soon.

“How’d you hear of this?” Dame Tabitha asked, still furious. “And how did I not know? Nor anyone else within these walls?”

“Message by carrier pigeon, received this morning by Sister Iris,” Dame Genevieve said confidently. “Sent by a Summerbridge area apricot farmer. The sister handed it to us and we rushed out first thing in the morning, wasting no time.”

Oh! An apricot farmer, Mel thought. Very possibly one of Deborah’s suppliers, meaning she could be in danger too…

“Sister Iris? Didn’t we talk to her?” Dame Tabitha said, utterly dumbfounded. The gate guards and Mel shrugged, unaware of the details of the search for Genevieve and her companions.

The head knight put her hand over her face. “I need to look into this. Would you handle the rest with these three deserters, Your Majesty?” She turned to walk backward as Mel gave a slow nod, not much accustomed to doling out discipline herself.

As Tabitha ran off, Mel gave the three knights a forlorn look. Her thoughts were mostly about Deborah now, so she was thankful for what the knights had supposedly done, but…

“You three really should have let Dame Tabitha know personally before you left,” she said. “It’s irresponsible to leave so suddenly in the middle of an active investigation.”

Dame Genevieve didn’t fret, because her Mistress had prepared her for a situation like this.

“I’m very sorry, Your Majesty”, she said, stepping off of her horse and bowing before her queen. Her compatriots joined her, showing similar deference. “We should have been more communicative. It was my presumption that Sister Iris would let you know what we were doing. Time was of the essence. But I won’t neglect my due diligence to Dame Tabitha next time there’s a crisis.”

“Good!” Mel said. “We don’t want your unexpected absence to lead to further crises, after all. But don’t let me slow you down. I’m sure your fellow knights will be relieved when they see you’ve returned.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Dame Genevieve said, already pulling her horse toward the courtyard stables by the bridle. But she would not first be making a stop within the knight’s barracks or training ground, not right away — first of all, she had something to deliver to her Mistress.

The queen was just glad to see her knights safe, and to know that Deborah was presumably safe too, having an utterly ordinary day in her perfectly idyllic village. Seeing her made Mel miss her own home life on the countryside sometimes too, the simple life of a carrot farmer and lay healer, far from all of these awful politics. She had never regarded dark sorcery as much more than a fairy tale until it seemed to have worked its way to her doorstep.

But Mel was not supposed to be out of her room for even this long, so she rushed back to the chapel annex and sequestered herself away as was necessary in these dark times, blissfully unaware that the instrument of her undoing had already been safely delivered through the main gate.

In her warm and cozy quarters, Illuria was scribing a new spell into the parchment of her spellbook using a sample of her own blood — the most traditional way to practice dark sorcery, followed by all of the most infamous figures in Valora’s history, Lady Martina very much included. Sister Iris, under Illuria’s subtle influence for the past month, had made a very unfortunate mistake and left a prayer scroll laying under a bed in a guest room down the hall from Illuria’s own. Illuria couldn’t risk putting the priestess completely under her control the way she had with Dame Genevieve and her compatriots since the priestesses were always under the prying eyes of both Sister Alia and Her Above, so she settled for subtly, subliminally influencing her toward specific acts.

Illuria had had to improve her operational security since Dame Tabitha was onto her now, after all, having had that near miss in a different guest bedroom already. She wasn’t going to let anyone catch her in the act of scribing spells again, nor to even see her spellbook.

The scroll Illuria had taken for herself today was for a long-distance communication spell, used to send information from one temple to another when a carrier pigeon wouldn’t be sufficiently fast. It tended to only be cast in emergencies, since it required large quantities of rare herbs from the herb garden, herbs that were conveniently tended to by Sister Iris most days.

With those herbs at her disposal, Illuria believed that she could twist this spell into one of spying and scrying, a power that would be greatly helpful in establishing full control over the palace. Scribing was a tedious and time-consuming process, and a painful one too when the cost was one’s own blood, but the results were well-worth it in the end. The priestesses of Her Above, of course, preferred communal access to scrolls and they worked together to scribe them on the regular, but Illuria and her Goddess knew the value of secrets that had been long forgotten in this kingdom. When the kingdom was hers, she’d let a good deal of her vast knowledge become public to the masses, but the best — and most dangerous — spells she’d keep for herself. She couldn’t exactly run a society where anyone could brainwash anyone else at any time, after all.

The dark sorcerer heard a knock at her door, and she closed her spellbook and hid it in a secret compartment of her desk drawer quickly, then assumed the illusions she required to appear as anything other than a sorcerer of shadow before answering.

It turned out to be unnecessary, though, since the person knocking was only Dame Genevieve, her first and most loyal knight. Illuria wordlessly motioned and the redhead entered her room, the door shut behind the two of them as quickly as it was opened.

“We were able to enter Lady Martina’s tomb successfully, Mistress,” Genevieve reported, falling to her knees immediately. “And Dame Meredith personally found the item you requested upon her person. Right where you said it’d be.”

“Well, well, well,” Illuria said, a grin spreading across her face, eyes glowing bright violet as she allowed her illusory appearance to fade. “You have it with you?”

“Of course, Mistress,” Dame Genevieve said. “I covered it in a cloth as you commanded. And both Meredith and I glimpsed it for only a brief moment, but… Goddess, it’s beautiful. I… couldn’t take my eyes away.”

The knight reached into her pack and retrieved the item wrapped in cloth, and turning it over, she saw that she hadn’t wrapped it quite properly. There was a seam through which a small sliver of amethyst could be seen, glowing, shining with an evil and seductive power…

Even Illuria reeled at the sight of it, enamored as she was. Though she had admired Lady Martina all her life, she couldn’t deny the corrupting darkness emanating from the amulet the knight had retrieved, a darkness that seemed to suck all the warmth out of the room. For the first time, she was being forced to contend with the evils that the former advisor to the Empress had helped wreak. She began thinking of what could come if she took the amulet in her hands and worked her magic to make it her own.

And Goddess Below, it frightened her.

But on the other hand, she had no doubt left in her mind that this was the one and only Amulet of a Thousand Souls, so named for being infused with the life energy of a thousand enemy soldiers of the Valoran Empire. It was rumored, in the few detailed historical accounts that existed, that it could enable feats of dark sorcery that were normally impossible for any one mortal. And as Illuria was clearly observing, its corruptive powers were unmatched by any other work of Goddess or woman.

Not intending to fall prey to its power herself, Illuria quickly slid the cloth back over the exposed bit of the amulet, and she smiled at Dame Genevieve.

“You’ve done well, my knight,” the dark sorcerer said. “This is the key to the gates of the palace. All the knights and priestesses of this pathetic kingdom don’t stand a chance against me when I wield the power within this amulet.”

The truth of her own words sunk in, and her heart began beating faster than it normally did — whether from excitement or fear, she couldn’t discern.

“Power above all else, Mistress,” the brainwashed knight replied, holding the amulet tight before her Mistress snatched it away, eager to gain mastery over it.

“Power above all else,” Illuria agreed, reciting the creed of those who worshiped the Goddess of Darkness. It had once been the motto of the Valoran Empire, displayed proudly on its banner, but now was spoken only in hushed tones in opposition to the creed of Her Above, “Compassion for all living things”. But Illuria had long ago realized that the followers of Her Above didn’t truly believe in that creed. They were willing to let people like her fall by the wayside and cede all of their power to a beautiful woman who didn’t know how to use it. She loved Melody, truly, but she was far too naive for her own good, and soon, she would belong to Illuria.

And meditating on that creed, the dark sorcerer reminded herself that though they’d need to be chosen carefully, she would need additional souls for herself beyond what the amulet could provide. Even if it truly increased the potency of her sorcery one thousandfold, that wouldn’t be enough — there was always more power to be gained in this world.

She’d already made Dame Meredith and Dame Beatrice swear their loyalties to her with Genevieve’s help. With Genevieve on her side, it was much simpler to get a knight alone, simply by pulling them aside during routine guard duties, and so her followers were slowly growing in number. But with the Amulet of a Thousand Souls, her work no longer needed to be so slow — she’d have much more than three knights and one priestess under her command any day now.

“May I… may I call you Queen?” Genevieve asked, pushing her own head to the red-carpeted floor pathetically, pleasing her Mistress. “Surely all Valora will be yours very soon.”

Illuria chuckled, feeling the cloth around the amulet between her fingers. “That would be very nice, but your Mistress I shall remain. Her Majesty is our rightful queen and she shall remain so for as long as the Goddesses see fit. I’ll remain her advisor, leading her on the correct path… but we’ll become closer than we’ve ever been. Pure-hearted as she is, she can’t even begin to resist the power of Lady Martina and the Goddess of Darkness.”

“Hehe… yes, Mistress,” Dame Genevieve replied, not fully understanding the scope of her Mistress’ plans. But she didn’t need to any more — power was what the true Goddess valued most, not diligence or compassion, and Illuria was much more powerful than the young knight could ever hope to be, so follow orders she would.

“Now leave me,” Illuria demanded, cloaking the amulet in her shadows as she began to unwrap the cloth surrounding it. “I have a great deal of studying to do, and a spell to finish scribing.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Genevieve replied, dusting herself off as she climbed to her feet and headed for the door.

The corrupted knight opened the door to find a quite familiar tan-skinned woman on the other side, with a worried look on her face. Noticing her knight’s reaction, Illuria recast her illusions, appearing as the quite unremarkable royal advisor whom she liked to portray herself as.

“Lady Sophie!” Genevieve said, greeting the panting advisor to the queen with a start. The knight was very wet after handing off that dark amulet to her Mistress and wasn’t in quite the right state to interact with ordinary people, flushed and a bit sweaty.

“Dame Genevieve,” Sophie said. “I didn’t know you and Isabelle were close. Good to see she’s finally making some friends around here.”

The dark sorcerer Illuria, better known to the unwitting fools she surrounded herself with as the timid and bookish Lady Isabelle, stepped forward, straightening her white blouse and black skirt, trying to look professional and distract from the once-again wrapped up amulet on the desk behind her. Thankfully, she’d covered her tracks well, and her fellow advisor had no reason to suspect anything.

“Yeah,” Genevieve said, looking back at her Mistress forlorn. “We’ve been getting to know each other over the last week or so.”

“It’s difficult to speak about these things, you understand,” Illuria said with a quick nod.

“Well, it’s not important at this exact moment,” the adventurous advisor said, brushing the matter aside to both other women’s relief. “You remember this girl Deborah? The fruit merchant from Summerbridge who always wants Her Majesty to heal her?”

Dame Genevieve nodded, her stomach dropping as she recalled where she’d been earlier today, Illuria soon following. She did not need any further questions about what had happened in that little village at the moment.

“She’s here, unconscious,” Sophie explained. “Apparently even the presiding Sister Abby of Summerbridge couldn’t wake her up with her strongest spells and tonics. They want Sister Alia to take a look at her, and I guarantee you that our Queen is going to be terribly concerned with this. That means we need to be as well, Lady Isabelle.”

Illuria nodded gravely, but behind the quiet and unapproachable mask she liked to put on, she was grinning, for Deborah’s coming could turn out to be quite fortuitous. Illuria was better at reading people than she liked to let on, and she always knew that Melody loved that woman, at least a part of her.

And true love was a terrible, terrible, weakness, especially in the face of the Goddess of Darkness and a thousand sacrificed souls.