Primeval Fire (Scarlet Odyssey, #3)

by C.T. Rwizi

AmaSibere looks around the Circle like a hunted woman, her face contorting with hatred. “Curse you, Irediti.” She snatches the Chalice from the director and takes a big gulp, then extends it back, eyes wild with triumph. “There. Are you happy? I’m in—” She drops the Chalice, her words dying on her tongue, and the crowds gasp as AmaSibere’s skin blackens to the color of soot. Burns and blisters erupt all over her face. She scratches frantically at her throat, sinking to her knees, her head tilting up to the sky, nails clawing skin off her neck in strips, and when she tries to scream, she gurgles out a thick, inky fluid. A fetid stench fills the air as her flesh putrefies, rotting off until bone and tendon are visible. No one moves to help her as she collapses to the ground, where she continues to convulse and wither away. Only once she is little more than bones does she fall still, like the rest of the Circle. Niko averts his eyes, nauseated. “The Chalice has found AmaSibere a liar and rendered judgment,” says the solemn director. “May her soul find redemption on the Infinite Path.”