by M. Dalto
“Come here,” Jared summoned, and Lexan from more than happy to oblige.
Lexan and Jared were not at the library.
Sarayna searched each floor, each aisle and bookshelf-lined row, but there was no sign of them. Either they came and immediately found what they were looking for and had returned to Jared’s apartment, or for some reason hadn’t left the apartment yet. She tried to dull the panic that seeped through her—could they have been followed by someone from the Empire without them knowing? After listening to Alara’s tale about the work they had done since she and Seyth had been in the Otherrealm, was it possible that they were being watched?
Dread threaded through her as she resigned herself to walk all the way back to Jared’s apartment and hope that nothing was wrong. She hurried through the streets, the chilled wind whipping at her face until tears trailed from her eyes.
She was stalled when she arrived at the apartment building. Pulling the key Jared gave her out of her pocket, she let herself into the building’s main doors and made her way up to the apartment. It was quiet, and there didn’t seem to be any signs from the outside to cause concern, but that didn’t mean something hadn’t happened to them inside. She tried the handle, and it was unlocked. Slowly she opened the door and stepped inside, but the apartment was quiet.
She remembered the last time she arrived at that apartment unannounced, and the silence that had welcomed her then…
And why.
Slowly and quietly, she closed the door behind her, slowing her breathing to listen.
At first she heard nothing, but then…
There…
In the bedroom.
But…
No.
Sarayna’s heart fell into her stomach as she heard moans of pleasure from the bedroom, and her hand went to her mouth to hold back her sounds of shock when she realized who it was that was making those noises.
Her eyes burned with tears as she took a seat on the edge of the couch that faced toward the hallway leading to the closed bedroom door.
She shouldn’t be here.
She needed to leave.
But she couldn’t force herself to move.
Not as the sounds of Jared and…
Her brother.
Her hands went to her head, holding it as she tried to catch her breath.
She wanted to scream.
She should leave.
Why?
Why?
Jared was her Emperor.
Was this some sick ploy Lexan had been planning since before they arrived in the Otherrealm?
She had suspected something was off since returning to that cabin after what happened in the Borderlands and from the way Jared had been treating her ever since, she was certain it was because of something she had done.
But she had done nothing at all.
Not this…
Never this.
She was going to be sick.
Yet still she sat there.
She sat, and she listened.
She listened to every sound.
Even when they had finished and proclaimed their adoration for one another in their throes of passion, murmuring in bed, she remained where she sat.
It wasn’t until the bedroom door opened and Jared emerged, dressed only in his pants with his face flushed and…smiling…
She finally stood from the couch, and he made it halfway down the hall before he noticed her.
He stopped short and looked like he saw a ghost.
“Sara.”
At the sound of her name, she heard movement from the bedroom, and sure enough, Lexan, naked as the day he was born, appeared in the doorway.
“Rhaid.”
“Rhaid is right,” she hissed, but she was focused on Jared.
He opened his mouth as if he was going to try to explain, or make up an excuse, or say something to talk his way out of it, but all that he got out was, “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry.
“You’re always sorry. Well, now, so am I,” she breathed. “Get dressed. Someone’s waiting for us at Tanya’s apartment.”
She didn’t stay to answer them yelling her name or the questions they asked her.
She refused to allow either of them to see her cry.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Brynaxia could hear the two men arguing outside of her bedroom door and allowed them the illusion of privacy as they attempted to determine not only her fate, but the fate of the Empire.
“How could we have left them alone?” Razen demanded, sounding like he was in hysterics. “How could you have brought someone like that into the palace?”
“You must remain calm,” Xavon urged him. “All will be clear very soon.”
“What does that even mean? Did you know she was going to do this?”
“Brynaxia was always more ambitious than she was given credit for. I only intended for her to help. The decisions she made were her own.”
“We’re just going to stand by while she’s free to roam the palace and do as she pleases?”
“No, we are not, but Crystalia knew what she was signing up for when she became involved in our plans. As did you. We all knew there would be sacrifices to be made—”
“She should have had a choice.”
“Has there ever been a choice, Razen? You of all people should know how deep our involvement in this goes. You began contributing to the endgame long ago, and you should know as well as anyone that there are casualties in war. It is not my fault you became too attached to a woman whose only purpose was to produce an heir to the Borderlands.”
“It wasn’t right.”
“There was no more need for her, now that Brynaxia has returned. You and I both know that if she hadn’t ended her, I would have done so myself. Or you would have.”
“That is not true. That was never part of the plan.”
“You’re correct—the plan was that Prince Lexan and Lord Reylor would also assist us, but you’ve somehow let them slip through the cracks. Again. Plans needed to change, and your whore was an unfortunate but necessary casualty.”
“Enough talk about my whore when your whore is the one who needs to be leashed,” Razen hissed, and Brynaxia was startled as the doors slammed open against her bedroom walls.
Razen looked like a man possessed, his hair unkempt and his eyes wild, Xavon trailing behind him. She didn’t attempt to cover herself as he approached the bed where she sat, coaxing the newborn to feed from her exposed breast.
“What are you doing?” Razen asked.
“What does it look like?” Brynaxia asked softly, her gaze on the baby in her arms. “I’m feeding my daughter.”
“How dare you,” he seethed. “That child is not yours—”
“No more than it’s yours,” she reminded him. “I assure you my body is much better equipped to care for her than yours.”
“You didn’t even give birth to her.”
“And you didn’t contribute your seed—I’m still waiting for you to make a sensible point.”
“That child will never get the care she needs to grow into what is expected of her.”
“Oh, I think she’s doing just fine.” Bryn smiled down at the suckling child. Razen would never know the hurt of a mother who had gone so long without holding a child, or the struggle to remind her body that she, too, was once a mother, and she deserved the chance to raise this child as her own after so many others were taken from her. The magic she summoned to engorge her breasts with milk felt almost natural, like the gods were finally listening to her prayers and repaying her for the sacrifices she made so long ago.
“This has gone too far,” Razen raged as he moved around the bed.
“What are you doing?” Xavon demanded.
“Something I should have done when you first arrived. When I first suspected that nothing good was going to come from any of this.”
Brynaxia didn’t move as she watched Razen reach for the knife that sat on her bedside table, the same one she us
ed to remove the child from the now dead woman, the blade still crusted with Crystal’s dried blood. Didn’t flinch as he gripped it in his hand and brought it up as if to slice it down.
Only then did she reach out a hand, not to stop his hand, but outstretched toward him. She imagined her power as an extension of her fingers, and she curled them as if she was wrapping them around his neck.
The knife clattered to the floor as he reached for unseen fingers, nails scratching at his skin as if attempting to break the hold of her magical grip. Choking breaths gasped out of him as his face turned dark and blood pooled in his eyes.
“Don’t you know it’s poor form to sneak up on a new mother?” Bryn asked calmly as she returned her attention to the baby in her other arm.
The only response was a strangled gurgle from Razen as he continued to struggle against the magical hold on his throat.
With no more than a clenching of her outstretched fist, the sound of a crack drowned out Razen’s strangled protests, and the body of the former Lord Steward fell to the ground, limp and lifeless.
“It makes her quite overprotective,” she murmured, returning a coo to the suckling baby.
Only then did Xavon speak, not moving from where he stood during the moments that transpired between their arrival and Razen’s demise.
“Bryn…what have you done?” he whispered, but she knew as well as he that she had only done what she needed to do.
Instead of answering, she wrapped her arms tightly around the newborn child, and hummed a lullaby she hadn’t sung for centuries.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lord Dremond’s grip tightened around his sword, but Jamison allowed his hand to drop as he took a step closer to the ethereal form on the throne.
“What are you doing?” Dremond hissed at Jamison’s back. “This is madness, some trick that witch is playing on us!”
“This isn’t a trick, or a game,” Jamison growled back at him. “Watch how you speak of those who are assisting us.”
“I ask you again, Child of the Empire,” the voice spoke. “Have you come to make things right?”
“Who is asking?” Dremond shouted, and Jamison gritted his teeth in frustration.
The figure stood from the stone throne and approached, causing Dremond to shift his stance and draw his sword. Jamison put his arms out, not to keep the figure away, but to hold Dremond back should he do something stupid.
The ethereal form stopped a few steps away. The place where its eyes should be glowed, flashes of blue and silver, like an entire world lived within them. When it again spoke, Jamison felt as though the voice was not only heard through his ears, but through his soul.
“Who I am and who you want me to be are two different things. The simplest answer is I was once named Leminol—”
“The First Father,” Dremond breathed, almost in awe.
“—as those in the northern areas once called me, yes. I have also come to be known as Lord Steward, Crown Prince, and Founder of the Annals.”
“Leminol,” Jamison repeated softly, his own memories teasing through his mind. “Why have you come to show yourself now, after all this time? The Annals rested peacefully within the Empire for years and never once was anything reported of your presence.”
“You’ve answered that yourself, Child of the Empire. What once was peaceful rest is no more. The Annals have been tainted against that which they were made to protect. The time for my silence has come to an end and I must now right the wrongs that have been done.”
“What can you tell us? What has happened?” He had to ask, for Treyan’s sake. For that one last sliver of hope he refused to release. Even when Jamison felt he already knew the answer before the founding father of his realm began to tell his tale.
“I discovered the travesty of what was happening to my Empire far too long after my demise. When Brynaxia died, I was devastated and could not go on living as I once had. Not that I allowed the Empire to fall—far from it. I remarried and continued the line, but it was never as grand as it once was. There was no power to it, no honor. Not after what we had done…”
The ghost of the dead prince shook his head. “I ignored my responsibilities and locked myself away in my personal quarters to keep myself from making the same mistakes. One night, while I was sleeping, I dreamed. I hadn’t used the magic of dreams since Brynaxia died. Something pulled me in—something more powerful than anything within the Empire, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“The dream permitted me to see my brother—Xavon—within the Otherrealm. I discovered what he was doing. Who he was doing it with, and for what his purpose truly was.”
“What was he doing?” Dremond asked the question Jamison had on the end of his tongue, but found he was too scared to ask.
Those glowing eyes looked to the lord behind the Captain. “Xavon was seducing unsuspecting Otherrealmer women, sowing his seed to create generation after generation of Empireborn who would be loyal to him. I don’t believe he ever thought I would discover his plans.”
“So what did you do?” Jamison breathed.
“After losing two children to the Otherrealm, I could not bring myself to send any more out of fear of losing them as well. Eazon, my eldest surviving son born to me by my second queen after Brynaxia’s death, believed there was a way we could make things right. With his assistance we created a system to retrieve these women of Xavon’s making to protect them from the harm he might cause. We archived everything we did, every process and procedure, and I poured my very soul into the creation of the tome that would become the history of our people, and the warning of what was to come.
“Eazon successfully retrieved the first Queen Empress, but the dreams would not stop, Xavon would not stop, and we could not rescue them all. The dreams became too overwhelming, and I needed to find some other way to channel the magic I possessed in order to assist my family to the best of my abilities. I knew my time was coming to an end and my options were running low. I reached out one more time, initially in vain, until the dream led me to two individuals, that I thought had been lost to me forever. My children. Not lost to the Empire after all but thriving in the Otherrealm, and not only thriving, but helping with the same cause I thought was lost from my position here in the Empire.
“Through my daughter Alara, we decided we would send back the prince one more time, and only with him would we deliver the connection between the realms to keep better track of what Xavon was doing and to save the women left behind. With their help, I used the remainder of my magic and the last of my strength to create the very power that would link the two worlds together and protect the Empire from Xavon’s destruction. The Annals, and with it, the Prophecy of Fire and Light.
“The power of my dreams was stronger than I ever could have imagined. The magic I left behind seemed to seek out that which lingered from the Empire—in this case, Xavon’s unsuspecting offspring. It was as though the dreams were my magic calling out to its counterpart as a way of making itself whole again.”
“Let me see if I can understand this,” Jamison interjected, dumbfounded by the revelation and wanting to ensure he understood correctly before moving forward. “You’re saying that finding the next Empress in the Otherrealm is the Annals’ way of countering Xavon’s grand plans, whatever they may have been?”
Leminol nodded. “It worked, almost seamlessly, until darker forces infiltrated the Empire. We thought we had considered all possible threats, and that our plans for rebuilding were seamless…until that darkness bastardized what was once so sacred.”
“Reylor,” Jamison growled.
“Not necessarily the Lord Steward of your Empire; but with Razen and Axell, and their Saratanya. There was a grave betrayal that even the Prophecy could not foresee, nor the Annals rectify. The path only grew darker from there.”
“Is that what you meant by right the wrongs?” Dremond moved closer, seemingly as lost in the tale as Jamison had been.
“Knowing what Xavon had done�
�that he had infiltrated the active line by manipulating not only Razen, but Reylor and even Lexan—in my corporeal form, already dedicated to the integrity of the Prophecy, I attempted one last, final attempt to resolve the corruption.”
“But how?” Jamison asked.
“With the new King Emperor. When Xavon instructed Reylor to cast the darkest of curses on Queen Empress Alexstrayna, he set in motion the plans for not only the Empire’s demise, but for his own demise as well. The only way I could have any power would be to intervene using the power of the Annals. Using the familiar magic of dreams that I was so terrified to use in the past, I was able to introduce Jared to Lexan, to not only cure the wrongs that had been done, but to begin creating an Empire anew.”
“Jared is Sarayna’s Emperor,” Jamison corrected.
“No, he is not,” Leminol stated assuredly. “Sarayna is the Golden Child, brought forth by Xavon’s own corruption. As the Golden Child, she shall not continue the line. She will be the Light that cleanses us all.”
“If Lexan and Jared are—”
“After all of this time, we needed to right the egregious wrongs against the Empire. This war between us—it was going on for far too long, and too late did I discover what Xavon was doing. The only way I would have been able to fix it was to sacrifice myself—my life’s work—into the power of the Annals to even begin to correct the course of fate.”
“By using Jared…”
“It all would end. The Empire would start anew because it must. It was the only way…”
“This is ridiculous. My son was caught in the middle of this—” Dremond shouted, but Jamison silenced him.
“I am sorry about your son,” Leminol addressed Dremond directly. “Too many innocents have been caught in the middle of this useless war.”
“What can we do?” Jamison asked.
Leminol looked to the Captain for a moment, and in a swirl of ethereal power he drifted back toward the stone throne. “I assumed that since you are here, looking for the very book our Empire was built upon, that you are seeking the final piece needed for the greater purpose. Do you have them then?”
