by K R Leikvoll
“He wanted to know what the Scroll said,” Lydris said on an exhale like it was a heavy burden on his shoulders. “He thought that because I am a Tavandrys, she might be inclined to share it with me.”
“Why did Vince need to know what the Scroll of Fates contained?” Raven asked puzzled before I could interject. “That’s public knowledge. Everyone knows that.”
“Wrong!” Lydris piped up, shaking his head again. “Eve lied. Eve has always lied. He knew that.”
“But why?” Raven asked, squeezing him tightly against the knife.
“Because!” Lydris screeched to make it stop. “Because he thinks she knows how to make the Nephilim!”
Raven’s grasp loosened completely; the sound of the blade hitting the stone echoed around us outside of Lydris’ groans. I was stunned – in absolute shock – for a moment. Vince sent Lydris under the guise of aiding Sendrys to retrieve information on the Nephilim from our most hated enemy. Of course, none of us truly believed our Master was ceasing his plans. It was more of the implications.
For if Vince – after thousands of years of failed attempts – felt that the Divinus was the key to creating the Nephilim, chances were, he was correct. He must have expunged every bit of knowledge available to Praetis. The only scripture he was incapable of reading himself was that of the Scroll of Fates.
The Scroll of Fates was an artifact I was vaguely familiar with, as it was something I read religiously as a temple priestess. Well, not the Scroll itself, but the recitations of Alvir and his courts of light. Since all of the records were that – recitations – the entire world had no way of knowing if each Divinus manipulated the texts for her own gains. Though all of the scriptures went decent enough together to be reasonably accurate, I had never heard Eve’s. She had become the Divinus before the war on A’roha, but had chosen to remain in Naadea instead of doing the ceremonious journey to Endhaven.
So, Vincent desired the truth of the text Eve was given because he believed it contained the information he sought after and that she longed to hide. It seemed likely once I thought through it all.
“Did you figure out what the Scroll said?” Raven asked Lydris while I thought to myself.
“No. Maundrell and his bitch Danielleara suspected me from the start as I said. I planned on stealing the Scroll from Eve when she went to hide it – it was obvious she knew something nobody else did. Danielleara caught me, and we fought, and I won. I had to flee before Eve returned.”
“Where did she hide it?”
“I’m not sure. I was busy trying to avoid getting a sword in the gut.”
“So, you betrayed Sendrys and you never got the information Vince sent you after. By following Vince’s orders, you betrayed me as well.” He did not know the depth of horror that was Treachery if one were a traitor, but he still knew he made the wrong decision.
“I know, I’m sorry,” he said genuinely. “I never should have listened to him. I should have told you, but he threatened to kill me! I wasn’t going to die over a stupid scrap of paper.”
I sighed, partially out of relief. If Lydris hadn’t retrieved the information, it was lost to Vince. If that was the information he needed to create the Nephilim, his plans were at a standstill. It was as if Naazvaba was finally giving me a stroke of luck. I was thankful in silence that I managed to get my hands on the worm before Vince, otherwise, I would have never been aware he was scheming through him. Regardless, I had all the evidence I needed.
Vince was told to cease – that the powers were unreliable in his hands – and he refused to obey. If that was not a death wish in the eyes of our Gods, I am not sure what else is.
After a long torture session, as I was far from letting Lydris free, Raven and I made our way back to the palace. The worm remained in the cave – we covered the opening and left him bound, screaming for sacrifice. I had no intentions of releasing him. He could sit in his blood and filth and cry out for a century. Nothing would change his punishment.
Raven and I bickered the entire way to the wine cellars. I wanted to confront our Master immediately, but Raven wished to speak to James first. James, that blasted fool. He was more love drunk than I was! He kept his pretty lips closed about all of our Master’s deeds. If he chose Vincent over me – over Naazvaba – he would be swiftly executed. The world was growing far too small for us all to coexist peacefully.
“I bet James is helping him,” I hissed while we walked down the staircase into the depths beneath the castle. “He’s hardly loyal to the Void.”
“You’re wrong, Lazarus. My brother is as loyal as they come.”
“Loyal to Vince.”
“Just because it seems that way does not make it true.”
“You sound just like him.”
Raven waved his hand and lit the various torches in the cellar. I gasped at the sight I was met with, falling into Raven and clutching his arm for balance.
It was empty.
Completely empty.
How long had I been carelessly lost in depression instead of keeping an eye on Vince?
“No,” I breathed. “No…”
“Find the andvara,” Lord Nakarius demanded.
“You don’t think –” Raven trailed off, scanning the floors above us.
“Let’s go.”
We hurried from the cellar, searching for Vince through the walls and finding that he was very much absent. I could not help letting out a tiny sob, scared of total forfeiture from my Gods. I forced Raven to hold my hands, focusing as hard as I could on our bond with Vince – yet we were blind to where he was.
It was as if he did not exist at all.
I ran to the front entrance and threw the massive doors open, searching the Azmordian Grove with demonic sight. Nothing.
I turned toward the ocean. Nothing.
The Everglade? Nothing.
I sank to my knees, holding my head. What was Vince doing with the blood of hundreds of dragons? Where was he? Was I out of time?
“What’s going on?”
James was walking down the staircase from our tower in a loose jade robe, hanging open carelessly. He rubbed his eyes and scratched his head as if he had just woken from a long nap. I was so distraught – so furious – I wanted to choke him for merely entering my presence.
“Where is he?” I snapped, rising. Shadows crept from the ground and surrounded my hands, but War did not form. James looked back to the top of the staircase.
“What’s wrong, beloved? Have you lost something?”
I swallowed hard and hesitantly peered at where my Master stood. Our bond of crimson lines was as vibrant and present as ever, yet he was a cold spot I could not feel metaphysically. He wore a pleased smile on his face – clearly enthused at my reaction. It only took that stare to figure out where the andvara was.
Vince was similarly clothed as James, revealing his chest nonchalantly. His gut was swollen and protruded in a way that was peculiar for him – as if he had eaten too much food like some of the chieftains I knew in the Everglade. Despite the gap in being able to sense him, it did not make me immune to feeling the energy he exerted from his being. It was practically seeping off of him in waves of crimson and shadow only visible to the magical eye. He was so engulfed in the magical qualities of dragon’s blood that he was currently capable of masking his presence to us.
He drank it all! The entire damned thing! There were hundreds of barrels; how was it even possible? More importantly, what was he going to use that much power for? My questions were burning me.
“Why did you drink it all?” I asked simply, unable to help that my voice trembled. His presence was immense in comparison to mine. I nearly felt the urge to kneel.
“Only a fool would think the Luxians won’t retaliate. It’s the end of the world – what a waste it would be to not use it, no?”
“Lies!” I couldn’t help myself. He was gathering the power for something, and I knew it was for the Nephilim. Nobody was blind enough to be oblivious to that. Raven tens
ed by my side. He was not ready for a fight.
“Excuse me?”
Vince dispersed into shadows to the spot I stood. His face materialized next to mine as if our lips might touch. He reeked of ancient blood. “Is there something you want to say?” he whispered forcefully.
“I know about Lydris,” I replied steadily, holding his gaze when he pulled away to meet my eyes. “I know about the Scroll.”
Vince scoffed like I was being ridiculous and turned to leave. “You know nothing, sweet beloved. That’s why you’re still around.”
“You told him to steal the Scroll,” I yelled after him. “You want Divine knowledge, which can only mean you are still trying to do what has been forbidden.”
He slowed his pace but did not stop. I trailed behind him, far enough away to avoid his strikes. “You lied! You told us you had ceased! Your secrecy reveals your intentions! After that display about how you were not responsible for Sendrys’ death, you almost had me fooled. So, tell me, what are you going to do with the Nephilim once you have it?”
Vincent faced me sharply, causing my blades to materialize in my hands out of reflex. I wish it hadn’t, as it only escalated everything.
“I’m going to hand it over to our precious Naazvaba,” he taunted back. “Let them use it to cut your wicked head off. You’re a liability to them, you know.”
“I am the liability?”
“Do you think they just let beings of intense power walk around freely? No, my dear. You sold your soul for nothing. You’re a slave like the rest of us.”
“You’re wrong!” I hissed back. “These long years have driven you mad, Vincent. Admit your sins before our Gods, now.”
“Or what, Lazarus?” he towered over me. “What could you possibly do to stop fate?”
“You will never create the Nephilim. Naazvaba forbids it.”
“I’m so terrified of the consequences, truly.”
Lord Nakarius reacted for me. My left blade was raised to cut him across his exposed chest. I would never allow him to harm the Void, and I knew without a trace of doubt that it would collapse without protection. The only way to keep Naazvaba safe was to kill my Master before he inherited that kind of power.
The sound of a snap registered before the impact of being hit by something. I was knocked back, sent soaring into Raven and James down the hall. It rattled my brain in my skull. I could taste blood. When my sight cleared, Vince was standing near the throne room’s threshold.
Dozens of spectral tendrils snaked from his back, alongside a pair of black feathered wings I hardly ever saw. His split blade was in his hands – Death. I channeled War in exchange, allowing myself to turn so I could use its full potential.
“Is this where it ends, my love? You trying to defend something petty like honor over a spout of paranoia? Your mind is addled and raw from loss. You won’t win this.” He was trying to demoralize me. “If you think I would willingly give up these years of work, you are more of a fool than I thought.”
“I’ve known since Naazvaba declared you a traitor that you weren’t going to give it up,” I responded. “You don’t care about Treachery because you don’t intend to pay for your crimes in the first place.”
Vince shrugged, flourishing his wings, and tapped his sword against the obsidian flooring. “Did you expect anything less?”
It was an out of body experience to fight him.
The first thing he did was summon his soothing magic. It was debilitating up close, which he counted on. I had to dodge around seemingly endless tendrils that whipped at me while I moved toward him. My wings shielded me from the worst of it until a pair wrapped around my ankles. I was thrown away from him again, sent into the palace’s entrance with a crash.
“Master! Enough of this!” Raven yelled. “She is the prophet! Think about your actions!”
When I was back on my feet, Vince still stood in the same spot with a bored expression. It was beyond infuriating. He was trying to taunt me by making me believe I was an unworthy challenger. I charged, flying through the air before he could grab me again, diving straight for his chest. I bit into his flesh, causing it to gush black. It tasted no different from the andvara I had many times before.
I was ripped away by my hair and slammed into the ground, face first. My right wing managed to hit him, but it did not matter, as his tendrils snaked around it and prevented me from moving. In an act of desperation to get out of his hold, I channeled all of the demonic power I could summon.
It was an intense sensation – a wave of flame ignited at my feet, rising gradually before bursting outward. Vincent had his tendrils wrapped firmly around my throat throttling me through the fire. It was destroying everything it touched, yet my Master remained unburnt. No matter how hard I tried, I could not will it to harm him. Another slam into the ground made me sputter. My blades swiped at him, but he was just out of my reach.
“All that talk and still no bite,” Vince snarled, climbing on top of me. The fire engulfed us both. It was all I could see – all I could feel. I could not consciously command it to stop as it drained everything it could from War. Vince removed his tendrils in exchange for his hands, pressing so hard on my throat I thought my eyes might pop out of my skull. The flame stopped channeling as my vision grew foggy.
Panicked, I struck him in the thigh with one of my blades, feeling as if I stabbed myself instead. Vince exhaled and smiled, removing his hands and raising them above his head. No. I could not allow him to win. Anything but his victory. I closed my eyes and fearfully brought War across my chest to split his guts.
I’m so sorry, my love.
The expected sensation of spraying blood never came. I cautiously opened my eyes.
My hands were shaking violently, holding my blades a mere fraction of an inch from his flesh. In turn, the jagged, black blade of Death was near my clavicle while Vincent stared down at me. We were both breathing heavily, trembling against the pull of our bond. I pushed as hard as I could, trying to force my weapons into him – to end my torment – but it was impossible to fight.
“Stop this!” James cried out. He was at our side with Raven, horribly distraught. “Haven’t we lost enough?”
War receded before Death. I flinched, prepared for Death to plunge into me, but Vince was still caught in the struggle. “Why won’t you die?” he gasped, finally allowing his blade to disappear. He rested his head on my heaving chest.
Killing Vince was never going to be as easy as a simple duel. The bond biologically compelled us not to fight each other. While I am willing to bet that Vince did it on purpose to save himself, I do not believe he anticipated that he would ever be as subjected to it as I was. Naturally, he thought himself so above me and above Naazvaba that he anticipated killing me would be simple.
I stroked his hair, not fighting when he sank his teeth into my breast. He was too strong to overcome. What was I to do? How could I finish the most important task I had ever been given? I would be doomed to immortal Treachery with no chance of reclaiming my lost paradise. I felt so hopeless, I wept.
“Just submit. It will be easier this way,” he whispered against my cheek. His tongue licked my tears away. “You won’t win. You rise only to fall.”
Whatever luck I thought I had vanished. I was never the right choice to be the prophet, I thought to myself while Vince proceeded to have his way with me while my brothers looked on. The visions Lord Baelarius had were false. There was no realm of existence where I reigned supreme over my Master. I was destined to kneel at his feet for eternity.
RETALIATION
Fate is a tricky, sly devil.
It does not care whether one is wealthy or poor – healthy or sick.
Divine or cursed.
There is no difference in approaching it boldly or running; it is forever inevitable. For every path taken leads back to its destination. The course may change, but the result will always remain the same.
It is absolute and unavoidable. The Void Lords, nor I were capabl
e of fighting it or changing it. Besides…
Who was I to fight fate?
Everything was different after our fallout. My accusations had not been denied, nor would they ever be following that. I could not kill Vincent, despite what the Void Lords told me. He could not kill me in turn, but that did not matter, as he did not need to kill me at all. As long as I could not cause him harm, he was safe to continue his treacherous actions with little consequence.
Lord Nakarius was mute. Though I called upon him many times in fits of mental collapse, he never responded. I tried to travel to the Void, but the openings were blocked. It only furthered my paranoid thoughts of abandonment. The paradise I longed for had grown faint in my memory, nearly nonexistent. The only part remaining was the sensation of hope. I felt it little in my life; I held on to the spark of it in a vice grip, burying it in my heart.
I would have thought, or rather, believed, that my relationship with Vince could never be repaired. In actuality, things were… peculiar. Foremost, the amount of andvara he consumed was, shall we say, toxic. It was not immediate; it took his body several days to react after his final glass. He was unable to control the building of the power, internalizing it and seceding within. Dark veins surrounded his eyes which were abnormally aflame. It grew worse every day.
During that period of time, to everyone’s confusion, including my own, I was his favorite person, not his pale-haired pet, James. We had just tried to murder each other – declared our various motives for the world to behold, yet he clung to me as he clung to his wine glass. It sounds bizarre, and it was. Whatever the andvara did to his mind made him desperate for comforts. His non-magical connection with James was nothing in comparison to our bond. His paralytic touch was incessant – he was incapable of controlling it. Sometimes it was as painful as being burned alive. Other times, it was overwhelmingly pleasing. Vincent had never experienced his own abilities upon himself before, and he felt all he dispensed on me. I became an intoxicating substance – his personal drug.
