Kings and Queens | Spencer Reid - Multifandom ✔

Ezekiel - Chapter Nineteen

"Everybody is equally weak on the inside, just that some present their ruins as new castles and become kings." -Simona Panova

'~-Amelia-~'

September 14th, 2020

Spencer and I chatted about tomorrow's events. JJ was turning eight years old. After that, we had to plan both Derek and Crystal's birthdays, as we had decided that they were both on the eighth of October. Though I thought solemnly of Derek's departure- he was leaving for Berry College on the twenty-fourth. Though it was in Georgia, I was not looking forward to the day he left. Crystal had decided to stay home, to my delight.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed, indicating that someone was calling me. Excitement and dread pulled at my stomach as I recognized Nova's Caller ID.

"Amelia, we are going to need your help. I suggest-"

"I understand. You're on speaker, by the way." Nerves worked their way up my throat. It would be better if Spencer didn't know.

"Hello, Spencer." Nova greeted.

"Hey."

"See you there." A click sounded from the phone as they hung up.

"Duty calls!" I chirped, kissing my husband's nose. He laughed, waving goodbye to me.

I appeared next to Nova, who was on the outskirts of the battlefield. No one was fighting, but tension rippled through the crowd like the red arms of fire.

There, in the clearing, stood a man who was about my age. His eyes were an odd tan color, and his hair was the color of snow. He was bouncing on his heels, a sick grin replacing his stoic face the second his sandy eyes fell on me.

Chills traveled up my spine at his gaze, but my face showed no sign of that fear.

"Amelia Divine, what a pleasure!" He stepped towards me. 

"Who are you?" I asked, ready to summon what I needed.

"Ezekiel Hastings. I want to battle you for the right to the throne." I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes.

"Alright. Whoever shall concede first loses." Ezekiel nodded, summoning his weapon.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the light breeze caress my face as I concentrated. The familiar feeling of the relic ran through my soul as my father's god-like powers were summoned. I hated to use it, but it often came in handy when someone challenged my leadership. A dark, demonic sword with the same golden hilt from years ago appeared in my hand.

The crowd spread out as our weapons clashed in an aggressive dance- death in my father's scarlet power. Our skill was evenly matched- that was evident as we countered each other's moves with ease. I would have to either out-power him or out-smart him.

Suddenly, we knocked each other's swords out of our hands. Only a moment and a glance later, we swung our fists at each other. Ezekiel had the upper-hand since I was so tiny compared to him. I took a punch to my stomach before anger boiled beneath my pale skin.

I swung with power as my fist connected with his left eye, a black wound spreading from the impact. That was my father's power: to destroy everything and anyone who stood against him. Ezekiel fell to the ground, clutching his left eye, which bled profusely from the wound's unique pattern.