by K R Leikvoll
Cyndre’s little trick was folly, for now I had the greatest demon to ever grace Praetis under my sway.
Smoke. Screams. Flame. Chaos.
There was no warning that the last living citizens of Kaeda could have received that would have given them enough time to survive. The only chance they would have had would've been to evacuate the continent – something the proud Evyans of Ambryss would never agree to.
No. They wished to live and die by the sword, even in the face of absolute death that was the Infernal Army. The fighting had been going on far too long. Like a bug, they would flee my boot only to return from the cracks.
Following Cyndre's departure, and my seemingly inescapable capture, I fell into a sickness. It was not the classic sort – sniffling or fevers. It was a severe lack of sacrifice. Having Lord Nakarius within me usually dictated that I did not feel such a strain. Channeling War without a way to feed it, however, put me into a daze like back in Zaar.
The only way to escape the stone caverns was to allow Typhlon to endure his... rebirth. With his blessing, he was transformed by the Void to something that could be of use: the highest tier of demon I had summoned yet. He was the biggest – the strongest. I was proud to know it was my blood that brought him into his new being. Though he was a bit slighter than the Avatar of Ortos, I don’t doubt he would have been able to bring it down on his own without as much trouble as Levia. His wings were just as big, hands large enough to tear a man in half. He led the way as a Commander of different sorts. Perhaps Vincent would be upset when he returned home and found Typhlon was under my sway. I could not find it in me to care, as I knew my time of being equally matched to him was nigh.
Even with an ever-growing legion of demons, the Evyans were fighting their last stand. I almost regretted sending Varnoc away. It was a long war. No matter how many fell to my weapons, I was not satisfied or sated. I did not sleep or allow myself to cease. I knew better than any other that giving them the time to recuperate would hinder my efforts. The endless waves of demons and undead knew only the drive to consume. We were all one connected hivemind, seeking to snuff those light-worshipping heretics out eternally.
I could recite every battle like a sacred ballad of my deeds, but I find that I have no desire to. I was numb to the death and suffering of my people. Evya was not home – the Void was my home. Evyans were no longer my people as they once were. After the death of Zaar, I found that I felt even less in response than I expected to. It became a methodical dance.
They sent their best and brightest: champions blessed by the light, archers and woodsmen skilled in guerilla warfare, spellcasters and monster slayers intelligent enough to make a dent in my numbers. Did it matter? The plague had spread and made so many sick that I likely could have retreated and still emerged victorious, but where was the fun in that? Where was the triumph and glory?
Without Vince's presence, I could forget about that part of my life. Everything was so simple while I was fighting. I felt that my entire existence could consist of only that – and it had. Lord Nakarius had destroyed planets and it made the sensation familiar. Despite all of it, I was lonely. I thought that at some point, killing would fill a massive hole forming inside of me – that my hatred might finally stop making me feel so ill.
The hole was starting to consume my soul. It was becoming harder to recall that place in paradise I was fighting for. Instead, the vision was shifting into something else completely. It was dark – I felt the chill and isolation of Treachery as if I were basking in it. It was miserable and I was not even granted the pleasure of being near the hallowed entrance to the Vast Dark. I could not stop my actions until I felt warmth again. Surely the doorway back to my old emotions would return eventually.
I will give you a small insight – it still hasn't.
I will never return.
Wind carried fire through the trees of the grandest city in Evya. The structures were mere shadows of what they once were. Toppling most of the statues of the various Divines was pleasing, but it was not enough. Walking over hundreds of dead and raising them as more beautiful Evyans of darkness was not enough. Even slaughtering members of the Grand King Vya's line did not stir satisfaction in me.
"When will it end?" Vya's only heir, Mykas, cried out as he kneeled. He was clutching the stump where his leg used to be. My blades were coated in his blood.
"When the last breath of this planet is expelled," I replied passionately. "Do you not see the beauty of my work?"
He looked up at me with vehemence. I could see the flames – the utter destruction – reflecting in his inherited amber eyes. He was shuddering from weakness. His father must have died somewhere on the battlefield without him. I remember thinking it was a shame that he was not there to see the fall of his holy line.
"You have won nothing," Mykas spat. "Your darkness cannot break divine light."
I leaned near him, ignoring his spasms and attempt to flee. My wings pulled him back into my grasp. I held his face in my hands, though he tried to bite and squirm.
"You poor, ignorant creature. Your people have grown blind to progress, but worry not – I have brought the gift of sight."
I snapped his neck in a simple, fluid motion. It did not make the screams any more silent.
"Nyzara!"
Cyndre leapt down from the rooftops nearby. Icy pillars crashed through the earth on all sides, surrounding us in a circle. It was her way of making me pay attention to her; I had been specifically avoiding her like a sort of game. It was entertaining to say the least. It had allowed her horrid feelings to manifest until she could no longer contain it.
It was the perfect state to introduce a wonderful curse.
It was one of my own design – one that would help me overcome my weakness to wizards.
"I am without words," her shaking voice uttered. She glanced around at the carnage of our most holy city. "Let's finish this, sister. It's finally time to put you down."
"The destruction won't cease until my vision is fulfilled. Try if you'd like, but you cannot possibly defeat fate. Surely you are intelligent enough to know that."
She cast a sharp wave of ice through the air to clear the gap as she rushed toward me. Her magic surrounded her arm, transforming it into a weapon as sharp as any sword. I caught it between my blades and let out a shrieking laugh, pushing her back in the direction she came from. I flourished my wings and invoked the fire absorbing the city in the short moment I had free of her.
"Ve shelera daz," I muttered, concentrating as hard as I could through evading Cyndre's ranged counter-attacks. The flames cascaded through the gaps in her pillars like it was being carried in the gust of a hurricane. She let out a scream when the fire engulfed her location. I did not think for a moment it was enough to defeat her.
The flames were beaten back by a hastily summoned wall of ice that manifested from where she once stood. Naturally, the flame began to melt it, but I was clueless to her motives. The ice wall dissolved into water and rose into the sky in the form of a massive tidal wave. The only option I had to avoid it was to propel myself into the air.
I was about to dive from my position when she finally revealed her full potential. The icy pillars breaking the earth grew in size, shooting toward me faster than I could dodge. I was impaled from every side. It tore through my wings – it shattered me and sent pieces of my body flying – like my left arm. I watched the shadows of War soar through the air before it retracted back inside of me. Though I was gushing blood and staining the frigid ice, I felt no pain. I believe it is impossible for mortals to make me feel such a thing.
She punched me in the face after I fell back to the earth. Her knuckles were coated in a layer of ice as hard as diamonds. It crunched my bones, but I still roared in laughter. It infuriated her, making her lose herself in her rage. She hit me repeatedly. I thought perhaps my skull might cave, yet naturally, I never worried that I would die as a result of her blows.
"I hate you!" she screamed in fury. It laste
d until her voice went hoarse and collapsed onto her knees beside me. "I can't believe you are the cause of this... I can't believe after all of your actions, I still pity your lost soul. You deserve none of it!"
I was injured to the point I might not recover, but the glorious fire assured me not to worry. Everything was going according to my plans.
"Cyndre," I muttered, feigning death rattles to bring her closer. She was cautious – she bent over my face with hatred in her eyes.
"Final words before I send you to the abyss?"
I reached toward her with my remaining arm. I even let a tear slip out.
"Cee."
"What, Nyzara?" her voice croaked as she finally grasped my hand. Perhaps she thought I was going to atone for my sins before my soul was taken.
"Iseth ga amore," I muttered before returning to uncontainable cackles of pleasure to her immense confusion. Dense, crimson magic rose from my skin and swirled around her arm, up into her being. She panicked, but my vice grip was unbreakable.
"Let me go!" she shrieked.
I called upon War. I called upon Lord Nakarius and the fury of Naazvaba. I demanded that she be stripped of her magical rights, lest she committed her soul to the unholy Void.
"What's happening to me?!"
The icy shards impaling my armor dissolved to harmless water. It was uncomfortable, as I was surely bleeding to death, but it did not matter in that moment. I was far too absorbed in the results of my first curse.
The chilly aura radiating from my past sister had evaporated in the heat of the flame. The incantations she placed in the sky to battle the plague back dissolved in a glimmer of purple. The sooty black air poured in over our heads as the barrier ceased to be. The screams of those fighting were gurgled and repressed as Ambryss' forces realized they were exposed. Everyone’s focus had changed to fleeing rather than defending a lost city.
"I think you will enjoy being a demon," I told her through my injuries.
She removed a dagger from her side and sliced my hand off that was tightened around her. For a moment, she sought to cast a spell to wipe me from existence. She muttered choice words, raising her dagger in the air.
Whispers from the shadows engulfed us. A wave of darkness erupted from beneath her feet attempting to seal her soul to the Void. She ceased speaking immediately, noting that the shadows retreated when she stopped.
She would not be able to cast a single spell – my curse would bind her to the Void if she dared.
The ground shook tremendously with the force of my demons. One in particular had heard my mental calls for help – Typhlon. He roared loud enough to crack stone when he got close enough to see my injuries. I watched him bound through the city's square, sight set on Cyndre.
"This isn't over!" she yelled furiously. She ran faster than I had ever seen a mortal run before, even faster than Alexandra – leaping over the marble wall that separated the castle grounds from the rest of the city. Typhlon was more like my lesser children now; he rushed after her without thinking I might need aid.
I examined my situation as much as I could, feeling the chill of death that wished to take me. It was worth it, in my mind, to sacrifice a bit of comfort to entrap her in my curse. The truth was, I did not believe I could kill her outright, though I doubted she could kill me either. She was intelligent and knew better than to fight to the death, even if it meant that our people died as a result of her escaping. We were locked in a dance, but I had the advantage. She could run to the end of the world if she wished. I was well aware that she would be forced to use magic eventually.
I was unable to move. I could not bring myself to sit upright with my wounds. All I could do was watch the city burn down around me. It made my head hurt– it was near the destruction of A'roha, but it was by my hands. I was immensely happy with my progress and Sendrys' unstoppable disease magic. The Infernal Army need not be directed when it came to something as simple as "destroy".
The smoke made it difficult to determine individual smells, but the rush I typically received when I was near those I was bound to washed over me. It was a respite from the heavy density of my body. Could it be him? I stared through the flames of the square, seeking out who I thought to be Vince. I reached out through the smoke, much as I had in A'roha.
"Help," I uttered commandingly toward the crimson figure.
The being came into physical sight, approaching cautiously before stopping.
It was not Vince at all – rather, it was my brother James staring at me from across the square. His pale hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He was breathing like he had been running on foot for miles. Naxerella was nowhere in sight.
"James," I croaked, trying to crawl in his direction. "James, help me."
His eyes were wide in shock. He was examining all of the destruction as if he hadn't seen such chaos before. It confused me; he almost appeared morose and grief-stricken. It was the first sign that he might be a traitor like Vince – I should have followed my instincts and finished him off as soon as I recovered. Unfortunately, amidst the havoc, I had little room to think of anything other than being saved. I needed to continue until nothing remained, and I could not do that if I died on the street. Besides, it was the Void’s will that his presence was there for the purpose of saving me. Nothing happens by chance.
"James!" I yelled loudly with the aid of the Void. He jumped, startled by the noise, and rushed to my side as if that was always what he intended to do. "What are you still doing here?" I asked him as he removed his wrist guard.
He raised his arm toward me slowly – much too slowly. I used all the remaining willpower I had left to chomp at his wrist and clamp down. I could feel his bones cracking under the force of my jaw, but I did not dare to stop. I had long forgotten the unique, astral taste of his blood. It soothed me enough to sigh against his skin through my nose. The pain I endured from regrowing limbs was nonexistent.
I suppose that was the point where I finally reached absolute numbness.
"This battle was hardly a battle. It was a massacre," James muttered. He thought I was maimed beyond understanding him.
"You sound disappointed," I replied when I finally was able to separate myself.
"I feel like I'm in the Void... in the deepest realms of Dys."
"We're not there yet, but we will be. All will be remade in the Void's glorious image."
"Do you hold any remorse? Do you even feel?" he asked suddenly. His expression was wrought with inexplicable agony.
I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, taking a moment to glance around the carnage. The streets were littered with the dead of all sorts. The toughest soldiers lay just as deceased as the weakest children. In a short time, I would be the only Evyan left.
I was the only one that deserved to live. I had truly become the Queen of Oblivion as I stood among the dead of my own.
"Only hatred now, brother. There was never room for anything else."
PART THREE:
MISERY
THE FALL OF LUX
There is nothing colder than feeling alone.
I thought, foolishly, as usual, once I extinguished those responsible for leaving me to rot in the Everglade, I would no longer have to deal with my aforementioned void of suffering. My careless, stupid mind believed no matter how strong the bond pulled on me, I would be ready to kill Vincent after bringing Kaeda to ruin. The bond was simply magic – strong magic – but all spells had a way of being broken. That void of discontent was merely selfish, unstoppable emotions – but I was more than determined to overcome them.
Though I easily predicted I would not feel close to Lydris, and hate him even through our connection, I have never truly recovered from the loss of Varnoc. He was too soft and too bold with his own decisions. Being a demon may have made him more unruly, but it did not kill his love for mortals. Even losing his god hadn’t. I failed to understand him, which is why it was so easy for him to betray me in Zaar. Perhaps he would have been faithful had I given him
a second chance… but I could never.
For what was a Queen’s punishment worth if a few uncomfortable emotions could alter it? For what was the prophet of Naazvaba’s true stance if she allowed mortals to flee her wrath?
After I returned home, victorious once more, I did not wish to fall victim to petty attachments again. Not to Raven, not to my demonic children…
And certainly, never to Vincent.
I was home for years before he returned to Praetis.
I thought he was never coming back, in honesty. I may have paced endlessly and formulated a thousand plans as to how I would catch him, but I never worried that he would escape me forever. I could feel our bond through time and space, so I knew he was more than alive.
And, if he stayed on Earth, it would spare his life until Praetis perished. There were only two reasons he had to return: either he was loyal to Naazvaba (which I had long doubted), or the key to the Nephilim still rested within my grasp.
Oh, yes.
There was no doubt Naazvaba would demand I finish his work if it was easily accessible and achievable. I hoped deeply that they wouldn’t, as it would only delay my exodus from this awful place. What would I care for a weapon of half-light, anyway?
I was lounging on the throne when a roar as loud as thunder rocked the entire room. The crimson panels that let in a trace amount of starlight shook against the panes. I was startled out of my dream… though, it may have been a vivid daydream rather than sleep. I had been trying desperately to remember what my home in paradise looked like. Every time I thought of Evya, I could only picture it in flames, littered with bodies of the deceased. The place I pined for felt like it could no longer exist. I had sufficiently destroyed it in my mind.
