Overthrow- The Demon | Queen 1

“Move,” the hooded figure said, and broke into a run.

The corridor beyond was vast, lined with statues of the queen in her various forms—beautiful, terrible, serene, enraged. Each statue had eyes that seemed to follow the intruders. Sera avoided looking at them directly. Kaelen counted his steps. The hooded figure kept one hand on the God-Killer. Overthrow- The Demon Queen 1

The third member of their conspiracy said nothing. He sat apart from them, in the darkest corner of the cellar, his hood pulled low. His name was not important, Kaelen had decided. What mattered was what he carried—a shard of obsidian no larger than a child’s palm, humming with a cold, angry light. The God-Killer. The only thing in existence that could cut through Malachar’s immortality. “Move,” the hooded figure said, and broke into a run

And everywhere, the queen’s mark: a spiral of thorns carved into every surface, pulsing with a faint, sickly light. Sera avoided looking at them directly

The sky over Valdris had been red for forty-seven days.

Marble colonnades, soaring stained-glass windows depicting the old gods, fountains that sang with enchanted water. Now the marble was cracked and weeping a black residue. The windows had been shattered and replaced with iron grates. The fountains were dry, their basins filled with ash.

The hooded figure hesitated, the God-Killer trembling in their grip.