“It will all be over soon,” the Hollow Empress- Illyenka- said softly.

A knife-edged smile slit her face.

“But then I imagine you already know, Logan Silver-Arm, that you are going to die- So I had better get you ready for the ceremony.”

And she stroked her knife calmly across Logan’s skin, cutting it. Watching in fascination as the thin thread of scarlet healed before her eyes, the wound closing so quickly you would swear it had never been there at all. Logan snarled, letting out a hiss of pain and making as if to pull himself loose from the bars- But before he could Illyenka’s knife was at Stray’s throat, the blade carving a fine tracery of scarlet against the girl’s skin. That strange gown Belasco had forced her to put on turning bright and translucent, the fabric burning brightly in the darkness of Illyenka’s cloister. Stray let out a gasp of pain, tears springing up in her eyes as the fabric of the dress burned against her-

Instantly Logan stilled, his head dropping down towards his chest.

He shot the horned woman a look of pure rage but the plague-bitch merely laughed.

“There now,” she said coquettishly, moving the blade to rest more squarely against his throat. “Now that we understand one another we can continue-”

“No,” Logan growled, “We can’t.” And with sudden, insulting viciousness he forced himself forward, nearly toppling the cage over. His teeth found Illyenka’s cheek and he bit- hard- drawing blood and flesh enough to spit back in her face. In anyone else Stray would have been frightened but all she felt was an shaming, strangely-relieved horror that he still had such strength to fight back. If she was surprised at his action the horned woman did not show it. Instead she reached through the bars to grasp his hair, yanking his face down to hers. Kissing him, her blood on his lips, her hands clawing against him as his inner beast howled and fought. Stray let out a low growl, the thing-which-had-no-words snarling within her. She felt something, heat and light and fire-that-was-also-passion move beneath her skin and despite everything she moved to launch herself at Illyenka, by now too angry to be frightened. As it had that night with Ororo in the Wolf Mother Cave her feelings seemed to give her purpose- Strength. The will to keep what was hers from harm. She forced herself forwards, body acting with a will of its own. Muscles coiling, ready to drive this interloper off and bring her mate back to her-

Before she could do it though Illyenka pulled away from Logan, wiping blood from her lips. Eyes blazing golden, sigils and sulphur dancing across her flesh as she smeared her own blood and his together across her blade to mix, sickeningly, with Stray’s. As she did so Logan let out another hiss of pain though this had no visible cause: Instantly Stray moved to comfort him, stroking his face, his hands, trying to dull the pain. To her horror however she realised that the skin of his mouth and face was burnt where Illyenka had touched him, and unlike the cuts she had inflicted moments earlier these were not healing. In fact, the skin looked scarred and misshapen- Dead. Before she could really ponder that though the horned woman made a careless, desultory movement with her hand: Suddenly the bars holding Logan twisted again, stringing Stray up. Pinning her. Forcing her arms and legs outwards in a mirror-image of what had been done to her mate. Logan tried to free her but that bars’ grip on him tightened, contorting both of their bodies painfully until they were spread-eagled, cruciform, across from one another. Illyenka smiling as they struggled, their apparent freedom of movement within the cage now good for naught. Stray let out a low, angry growl, and once again she could have sworn her shadow seemed momentarily wolf-like-

Unfortunately however that didn’t matter any.

“Do you know what your weakness is, Logan?” Illyenka asked conversationally then. She was smiling coquettishly, her knife gouging into one particular spot at his left clavicle over and over again. Blood spattered on his nearly-transformed flesh and she dipped her fingers in it, threading it across Stray’s shoulders and arms. Painting his hurt on her skin in the same alphabet Stray had seen scorched into Belasco, Azazel and Mephisto’s flesh.“Your weakness comes from believing that I have anything to fear from you,” the horned woman was saying. “It comes from believing that I would cling onto life as fiercely as you do, and would be as hurt to be parted from it. This simply is not so.” And her smile turned leering, her gaze flickering to Stray. She gestured with her hands and the bars pulled the girl tighter, crushing her wrists and ankles. Forcing her to watch as the Empress licked a slow, lazy path through the blood at Logan’s throat, laughing openly when the young woman hissed in pain. “If this scheme as you call it fails then you are welcome to kill me,” she whispered, her lips at his ear. “You’re welcome to finish the job you started with that whoreschild Gold all those years ago. Because Death would be a blessing compared to an eternity of this…”

And she gestured to her realm, her voice mocking. The walls shook, shimmering with those flame-made pictures, the image of the little girl Illyenka had once been flickering all over them. The triad of child, wolf and firebird- Illyenka, Logan and Gold- shivering across the walls like a wraith. It was as if, just for a moment, this poisonous realm were composed of nothing but fire-wrought reflections and for the first time Stray found herself wondering if Belasco’s Empress had perhaps gone mad that day she chose the apple. If she hadn’t always wanted to be the little one- Spark, Logan had called her- who ran away instead. “There is nothing you could take from me that has not already been taken,” Illyenka said quietly. “There is nothing I can lose that has not already been lost. I am death made manifest and naught but my own ashes can resurrect me: No matter how much I conquer, no matter what power I usurp from Belasco, I will never be that girl again-”

Her eyes came to rest on Stray.

“But if I thought it would make me whole I’d burn a thousand spring maids and their wolves with ne’er a thought for either of you. Do not doubt that.”

And with that she pulled herself abruptly back, expression turning sullen. Angry. Her bone armour changing, shifting shape so that for a moment it looked monstrous, sharp as dragon scales, wings erupting from her back as they had from Mistress Gold’s in that memory she had shown Stray. But the glow from this metamorphosis was dull, sickly. The pall that of tainted copper rather than the lustre of pure gold. Illyenka turned to her, the armour moulding itself to her woman-child form once more. With an angry hiss she raised her blade, aiming it straight for Stray: “Do not stare at me,” she hissed. “I am not a curiosity, I am not a thing for your amusement-” The girl closed her eyes helplessly and waited for the blow to fall but it was not to be; With the same hissing, unnatural pop which always proceeded his entrance Belasco chose that exact moment to reappear, Azazel and Mephisto beside him. At seeing her raising her weapon to Stray Belasco gave a little snarl of pleasure: As if recollecting herself Illyenka brought the blade down, throwing the conjuror a vicious, knowing grin. The two other Erlkind exchanged fleeting, disappointed looks that their Empress had not murdered the spring maid; Stray couldn’t help but wonder why. But before she could conjure a reason Azazel turned his attention back to Gold, whom he was carrying in his arms. She held goblet of wine held in one hand, the remains of her dress in the other. She was laughing, proud in her loveliness and naked as the day she was born. Azazel was arm and arm with Emmalaine Frost, the pair laughing as if they were old friends. The man Stray recognised as Sebastian Shaw was standing behind them, his eyes fixed lovingly on his diamond-skinned wife. At seeing Illyenka though he immediately dropped to his knees, his eyes turning floor-wards.

All of their guests- with the exception of Gold- did the same.

“Mistress Gold,” Illyenka said, “It is, as always, an honour to see you. My Lord and Lady Hellfyre-” she nodded to Frost and Shaw- “You have my permission to rise.” And she smiled her most charming smile, inclining her head politely. She gestured to Logan and Stray and the redhead’s smile widened, eyes glinting with malice. The werewolf made as if to speak and another of the cage’s bars snaked around his throat, cutting off his words. “As you can see,” she was saying, “I have done as you bid me: I have delivered these two to you in a place where the protection their bond guarantees is completely null and void.” Her expression was almost mischievous and just for a second she looked sickeningly like that little girl she had once been. Stray couldn’t understand why Gold didn’t recognise her. “I leave it to you to decide how to punish them, my Lady,” Illyenka continued, “Since their disgraceful behaviour towards you puts them beyond the scope of my understanding.”

And to Stray’s astonishment the Empress bowed deeply to Gold, unhooking her blade and holding it out the woman in offering.

“Take this of your own free will, my lady,” she whispered.

The metal glowed wickedly in the light.

“Thank you, my pet,” Gold said haughtily then, retrieving the blade from Illyenka’s hands. From the corner of her eye Stray saw Mephisto and Azazel exchange slyly amused looks but the redheaded woman seemed oblivious to their scorn. “You can imagine how grateful I am to you for giving me the opportunity to punish this little pest-” And she nodded her head towards Stray, gaze filled with venom. The girl felt absolutely certain that whatever she wished to do with Logan she would not accept anything less than death from her. “I tried the night I fled but the magic of the cave prevented me,” Gold was pouting. “It is the first time I had ever encountered an enchantment which I simply could not break.” And she shook her head in disgust, the memory of her defeat still clearly irking her. Once again Azazel and Mephisto exchanged amused looks but this time Stray couldn’t shake the feeling that Illyenka was in on the joke. But the woman wasn’t listening. “You stole something that was mine, poppy-child,” she was hissing, that lustrous, fire-bird aura starting to bloom around her as she eyed Stray. “You thought to take something that did not belong to you, something that was meant just for me-”

“He doesn’t belong to you,” Stray forced out through bloodied lips. She couldn’t bear to hear this woman speak of her wolf as if he were a thing. “He is not a possession, he’s not an animal to be kept as a pet. He’s a man, Mistress Gold, a man who chose to leave you-”

Within seconds the red-head was at the side of the cage, her face in Stray’s. The blade was less than an inch from her throat and Illyenka gave a visible gasp of anticipation. “He didn’t choose,” Gold snapped. “He was led astray. Tempted-”

“He left you long before he met me,” Stray countered. “No amount of torture will change that fact.” It was difficult to shrug in her position but she managed it: She could see her words angered the woman but she could not find it in herself to care. “Let him go his way, Mistress Gold,” she said quietly. “You have gone through all this trouble, sold your soul to one of the Erlkind in order to punish a heart which was never yours, but you may still be saved-”

The red-haired woman actually laughed. “You think I sold my soul, do you?” she snapped. “You stupid little maid. I conjured that creature right there-” She pointed smugly at Illyenka. “I bound her with my hex-craft and made her perform my will. She and Emmalaine and Shaw have been following my orders ever since I left you: There is only one mistress here, little drab, and no masters. Only one who can control our Hollow Empress and her kin.” And she brought the horned woman’s blade high, making to cut at Stray. Again Illyenka gave that gleeful, anticipatory little hiss. “By the time every drop of your blood has drained from your plain, worthless body,” Gold was snarling, “You will know who has the power here, Strayling-”

“That’s it, my Lady,” Illyenka murmured, “Spill her blood, force her tears. Salt, quicksilver and brimstone. I need salt, quicksilver and brimstone, the heavenly substances three-”

And with that Gold slashed the blade jaggedly, its edge singing towards Stray’s neck with a vicious swish. The metal of the sword burning bright as hex-fire, bright as the eyes of the horned Empress it served. For a moment time seemed to stand still for Stray, everything becoming unbearably bright and clear as she waited for her head to be parted from her shoulders: She swore she could feel every measure of her blood passing within her, could smell and taste every flavour on the air and hear every whisper that came to pass. From the corner of her eye she saw Logan transform fully, saw the beast within him spring into being in a final, panicked effort. The sudden change in shape seemed to be too much for the enchanted cage which was holding them; The bars dropped him suddenly and he fell into a crouch, launching himself viciously at Gold in a blur of rage and pain and fear. He knocked the blade out of her hands and quick as lightning Illyenka reached down to pick it up. Swinging it towards the redhead, her expression more terrifying than ever Azazel or Mephisto’s had been. With a frightened cry Gold watched as it sliced clean through her rose-gold tresses and split the skin of her shoulder open. Her blood spattering to mix with Logan’s, Illyenka’s and Stray’s on the dagger’s edge, tears now skittering down her face as they had skittered down Stray’s. The metal flashed bright as the new blood was added to it and with sudden, blinding clarity to room lit up like a miniature sun, music too lovely to be human swelling. There was light, grace, beauty in the Empress’ made-of-dust realm if only for a moment, a sense of wonders come to pass in the air-

And then, as suddenly as it had come there was darkness. Azazel, Belasco and Mephisto staring at their Empress in horror, their sickly yellow eyes wide. Gold was lying bleeding at her feet, her eyes almost empty with panic. Golden feathers fluttering around her, that fire-bird aura of hers slowly fading, moving inexorably towards the gloom. “She is here,” Illyenka was whispering. “She is come. My chance is risen-”

The Hollow Empress sank to her knees, tar-dark tears streaming down her cheeks as she held her blade out before her in offering.

“The phoenix is here,” she murmured, “I have proven myself worthy of life.”