Above is the gorgeous artwork of Myra by Kishyie, one of the best artists on Wattpad (in my opinion).

Every moment as she walked out of Dorgon and into the light was agony. She had imagined this scene a thousand times before: emerging, hands red with the blood of the guardsmen, howling triumphantly and emerging, bathed in the glory of bright light.

Now, though, she emerged wearing the crown of a slave, her hands raw with the memory of chains, Medea leading her ahead and Layla walking behind.

Sometimes she had imagined bringing the Elfin Queen with her. After all, Layla was a terrifying ally, capable of uniting the elves. Other times, she had imagined giving the Singer the mercy she had so wished for after she was done with the guards.

Either way, it no longer mattered.

When Myra had entered Dorgon, a place free of the goddesses and of the sea, she had thought it her personal idea of hell. Now, she knew she had been wrong. This half-life, this traitor's life, was far worse. How had Jasper managed to survive this so long? If that part of his story was true.

In Dorgon, she had sworn vengeance. But the moment she left it, Myra realised vengeance was no longer her goal. If she ever got the opportunity, she needed to end her own life. Layla's too, if she could manage it. That was the only way left for her to serve her people.

At first, the light was blinding. But when she saw the blue of the sky, the perfect white of the clouds above...she could almost forget that she was still in chains. She could almost hear the crash of the waves, almost see the mountains of her homeland.

Was this the last gift of the goddesses to their general? A chance to see the skies again? No. This was no gift, and it was not the doing of Lyra, but of Medea. As beautiful and tempting as this land of light was, it was not worth the price.

Layla clutched her hand, and Myra took a deep breath. For a moment, it wasn't an elfin queen but a valkyrie one that stood before her. And for all her eighteen summers, Layla Elenith looked the twelve years that Kestra had had on this earth. The valkyrie general squeezed the hand of the elf as they took in the sight before them:

A palace of red marble stood high amongst the city before them. The castle's towers pierced through the desert sky, a great god's blade, tearing through the world. Around the palace, vultures gave out screeches that tore the air to bloody ribbons. Just gazing upon the great structure sent dread into her heart.

Layla gripped tighter onto her hand.

Again, Myra struggled against the power of the crown. It lay heavily on her head. The will of it was unfaltering as the walls around the continent. She struggled with everything she had; it did not so much as flinch. The hold of the sliver was unbreaking and unyielding.

There was no way to freedom. It was just as powerful as the grip of a skilled MindWeaver. Myra's mother had not escaped that decades ago; her daughter, it seemed, would suffer the same fate.

"Tut, tut," Medea smiled. "I expected a little better from the fearless leader of the valkyrie legions."

"I was never fearless," she told the Empress. "The fearless ones die. Everyone, be it god or ant, can be defeated."

"The real tragedy here," Medea sighed. "Is that you think I am the villain. I am great; general. So, are you? The valkyries worshipped you, did they not?"

"Yes," she said hoarsely.

"And the humans and elves? They fear you, do they not?"

"They would be fools not to."

"To them you were a monster. To your people, a goddess. The line between the two is very fine, valkyrie. Quirks of history can sculpt the great among us either way. The ancient ancestors of my people worshipped non-existent gods of great power. Yet the elves were deemed cursed for their magic. Are you beginning to see what I mean?"

"It is funny, the things we say, to excuse murder." Layla said, with surprising vehemence. "But you can never erase the truth, Medea."

"I know that better than most," the empress said bitterly. "Take them to their rooms, Lysandra. We depart tomorrow morn."

"For what?" Layla asked.

"To see your people, oh great queen."