The guard keeps his crossbow pointed at us. “Raise your hands. Now. "I will not hesitate to shoot." More guards gather behind him, the gallery behind him gets crowded.

I reach into my pocket and palm the eversmoking bottle. The guard reacts to the movement by releasing the crossbow bolt. It sinks into my lower arm, just beneath the wrist.

I scream. Pain surges through my lower arm, seemingly spreading to my shoulder, and then into my hand, passing through the tips of my fingers. Electricity appears to rush through my joints in strong, pulsating waves.

I force myself to ignore the pain and concentrate on holding onto the bottle. The guard reloads his crossbow in a single swift movement. The crossbow must be magical; there is no way anyone could reload that quickly using normal methods.

"Drop your weapon." The guard yells as he aims his crossbow at me again. "Or the next bolt will strike your heart."

I narrow my eyes. “Let’s see about that.” I grab Mom’s hand with my uninjured hand. With the other hand, I insert my thumb under the cork of the bottle. The movement intensifies the pain in my tendons, and I feel the bolt shift slightly, the rough wooden outside scraping against the wound. I ignore the pain and pop the bottle's cork.

In a fraction of a second, the room fills with thick, white smoke. It is impossible to see anything in front of me. I tighten my grip on my mother's hand and pull her out of the crossbow's crosshairs.

I can hear the crowd stumbling. Weapons made of wood and metal fall to the floor, rattling loudly. “Where are you?” One of the guards yells. “Stop pushing,” another exclaims.

I hold my mother's hand tightly and push through the crowd. The crossbowman don’t even seem to notice. The crowd is so busy walking and bumping into each other that they do not realize two of the bodies pushing are the very targets they are attempting to contain.

The fog thins out slightly, and I can see the hall's overall shape as well as some silhouettes. I rush down the gallery, pushing people out of the way. Most soldiers don’t even seem to react. The entire hallway is jam-packed with soldiers screaming, cursing, pushing, and colliding with one another.

I carefully walk down the stairs, holding my mother's hand, making sure not to trip. I can hear her breathing quickly, as if she is exhausted. Her footsteps sound uneven, which is unlike her. The prison really did a number on her.

I stumble towards the door, dragging my mother behind me. When I try to open it, I find that it is already open. I stagger outside.

I am met with the blinding light of the rising sun, which fills the sky with a beautiful red palette above a view of empty rooftops.

The outside air is mostly clear, and I take a deep breath, relieved to have left the smoky interior of the citadel. I look back. Think white smoke is still rising from the door.

Mom hunches over and releases a deep, rumbling cough. She shakes her head, appearing to regain her composure.

“Mom, are you okay?” I ask.

Mom ignores me and scans the surroundings with her deep blue eyes.

"Mom, what is going on?" I say. I look back at the citadel gate, which is still heavily smoking. It is only a matter of time before the guards realize we have escaped and rush out that door. Or before any guard or citizen outside notices the massive plumes of smoke.

"Mom, we need to leave."

“Sapphire, hush, I am concentrating.” She snaps back.

Okay. It is nice to know Mom is back to normal, I suppose. She is standing straight, projecting control and force as she always does. She does not seem to understand our predicament. Or perhaps she does not care.

She then quickly whispers an incantation, and glowing lights appear all around. The rooftops are illuminated by thousands of fireflies that shine brighter than the Sun.

She takes a confident step forward and walks past me at a fast pace. She must be cold because she is wearing only her hooded tunic and is barefoot. Her toes even appear frostbitten. But she disregard it.

And then I notice it. She is walking towards the purple outline of a silhouette standing a few meters in front of us on a large staircase.

With a graceful swing of her arms, she summons a gaint sword. She strikes and Eztli appears, perfectly filling in the purple silhouette. He has shed his elf form and is a snake person once more.

The strike of the giant ice sword has not startled him. He only smiles at Mom and licks his lips. He slowly draws out his sword and swings it at Mom. She confidently steps back, avoiding it.

I attempt to help my mother by throwing a lightning bolt at him, but my casting is painfully interrupted by the massive wound in my arm. I look at my wrist. The bolt is still sticking out, and blood is slowly trickling out. I have tracked it everywhere, and my lower arm and dress are soaked. I grab my arm with my other hand, hoping to stop the bleeding.

Mom tilts her head, as if unaware of or unconcerned about my suffering. "Did you always intend to betray my daughter, or did you decide it in the moment?" She yells at Eztli.

He shrugs. “I needed a fall guy. The plan was perfect. And you two ruined it by avoiding capture." He shakes his head, disapprovingly. “Ah well, nothing we can’t fix.”

He strikes again with his sword, which Mom easily parries with her own.

Mom whispers a spell while making an unusual arm movement. I have never seen this particular spell before, but whatever it is, it scares me. I can hear echoing voices whispering, chatting, and screaming in the background. It is as if I can hear the spirits of a thousand ghosts screaming out. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I shiver, feeling a strange pressure on my throat.

But my reaction to the spell is nothing compared to Eztli’s.

He collapses to his knees in front of Mom. He is shivering, and his eyes are wide with terror. Mom simply crosses her arms, holding her head high.

She speaks with a strange, echoing voice. "Take your sword and slit your own throat."

He slowly complies, shivering violently. As his sword shakes back and forth, it appears that part of him is resisting the spell. But the sword eventually reaches its target, slowly cutting into the scaly skin.

“Mom, please stop.” I yell.

Mom ignores me and smiles at Eztli. “Ignore her. Continue.”

Deep red blood flows from the throat and seeps into his silver dress. He flops forward and falls on the pavement, creating a growing pool of blood.

I stare at the body in disbelief. And then I hear loud clapping from behind me. I turn toward the source of the sound, still clutching my bleeding arm.

Behind me, a woman stands. I realize the vision I had before was not a hallucination. Here she stands, the woman who looks exactly like my mother, but with red eyes, a large scar, and at least a hundred years older. Her purple robe is embellished with gold enscryptions, and her golden crown is set with rubies and diamonds.

She keeps clapping, while strolling towards Mom and me. "I must say, I am impressed."

Mom rolls her eyes, while aiming her sword at the woman. "Wow, the Elven Queen is impressed. That is not something one sees very often. Her usual baseline of emotion is disappointment. Where should we write this down. Such an unlikely event must be documented for future historians."

She scoffs. “Just put down the sword, darling. We both know you cannot best me in battle.”

The woman extends her hand towards me. “I haven’t properly introduced myself. How impolite of me. My name is Queen Galena. You must be Sapphire.”

She grabs my hand and whispers something, and to my surprise, the bolt falls out, and the wound magically heals. The pain is immediately relieved, and no scar is left.

Mom sighs and crosses her arms. “What do you want, Mom?”

“Wait,” I blurt out. “Mom? Is she my grandmother?”

The queen smiles. “I am. Has your mother never told you this? How she was in line for the throne until she defied me and was banished. She threw everything away. For nothing.”

Mom sighs. "I will return to prison without resistance. Just please let my daughter go.”

The queen shakes her head. "Actually, I was considering a new agreement. I will let you go freely. I will even unban you and find you and your husband a nice place to live in the city."

Mom crosses her arms. "And what do you expect in return?"

The queen turns towards me. "Your daughter becomes the next in line to the throne and comes to live with me at the castle, where I prepare her for the role."

Mom frowns and steps backwards. “You want Sapphire to become queen? What happened? Did Jade finally get sick of you too?"

The queen shakes her head, and tears fill her eyes. She swallows, and then looks back at Mom.

“Your sister is dead.”

Mom blinks twice. “Oh.”

"So you see, there is no other candidate for the throne."

Mom scoffs. "That is too bad. But my daughter is not going to become queen. So find someone else.”

“Mom!" I yell. I cross my arms. “I am an adult. I can speak for myself.”

I turn towards the queen. “I am willing to become your apprentice and train to become queen.”

"Sapphire, no!" Mom yells.

“Mom!” I snap at her, my heart racing: "I am sick and tired of you thinking I can not do anything; just give me this."

Mom shakes her head. “It’s not about that. The queen is not a good person, she is a tyrant, ruling with an iron fist. I left for a reason.”

“You didn’t leave, you were banished. And besides, she might be evil, but at least she believes in me.”

I turn towards the queen. “When can I start?”

I. 9. The escape

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