Dark Goddess

by Amalie Howard

  Unlike the myths, Kira did not appear from Darika’s brow; she simply emerged from within the other goddess. Now, in human form, she looked as she had when they first met. Black leather pants. Black T-shirt. Nose ring. Kohl-lined eyes. Blood-red lips.

  Fierce and fearless. How could he ever have thought that anyone could take her place? Though her mortal avatar made his pulse leap, it was her true self that made his heart stutter.

  He narrowed his gaze, venturing beyond the veil and past her mortal shade. In goddess form, her fierceness had no equal. The embodiment of shakti—of pure female divine power—the stories didn’t do her justice. Thick, wild, black hair curled down her back. Her three eyes shone with fiery intensity, her midnight blue skin gleaming like polished stone. Clad in nothing but a tiger’s skin and a skirt made of severed human arms, she held a scimitar and a spear in one pair of hands and a detached demon’s head atop a staff in another. Kyle was not deterred by the garland of skulls hanging from her neck, nor the long red tongue that snaked out to wet her lips. He knew he was biased, but she was nothing short of formidable.

  Her scarlet eyes fell to him and she nodded, her lips baring in a smile of pure berserker rage. Though her counterpart Durga was a master tactician in battle and an impressive goddess warrior in her own right, Kali was passion and rage personified. She was unpredictable—just what they needed against Aranyasura.

  “Target the chakras,” he roared.

  With shouts and battle cries, they attacked the beast from all sides. Kira was an obscure shadow as she ducked and weaved, avoiding the demon’s many armed strikes. Her spear was the first to strike true, right into the center chakra. Aranyasura’s scream was terrible, but it gave Kyle hope. Lifting Mordas, he deflected a strike swinging toward him, and dared to sneak closer. He knew she would not deal him a fatal blow. Gritting his teeth, he dodged one of her flying discs and stabbed low, gouging the lowest chakra right in its center.

  Two down, five to go.

  But instead of pain, Aranyasura shrieked with pleasure, her neck arching from the sudden burst of power she’d stolen from two dead Sanraks, their throats carved open from the flight of her pronged discs.

  “Get your Sanraks back,” Kyle yelled to Dev. “We need to keep her as weak as possible.”

  The immortal warriors pulled back and circled the creature warily. Dev and Sera had made a dent in the throng of smaller demons, but that was not the case with Aranyasura. She had doubled in size and, though clearly wounded, she was far from weakened.

  As if reading his thoughts, she leered at him. “It does not matter how many warriors you throw at me, I will consume them all. You have lost. Accept it.”

  Kira moved so fast she was a blur, her spear cleaving through the air and lodging into the demon’s midsection. Gore exploded everywhere as the chakra at her stomach disintegrated. “We accept nothing,” Kira shouted, her eyes flashing. “Demon.”

  Aranyasura’s violent bellow shook the earth, causing huge fissures to open beneath them and a score of vetalas to burst forth. They were joined by several of their pishacha brothers, and for a harrowing moment, Kyle expected the Demon Lords to follow. But they remained bound to Xibalba.

  “You take care of those,” he screamed to Dev and Sera. “We’ve got her now.”

  But he spoke too soon. Kira screeched as Aranyasura’s blade tore a vicious path up the length of her spine, and the goddess stumbled back, her attack floundering.

  “Kira!”

  Kyle dove to her side, but she had already recovered, her eyes like burning coals and her mouth flattened into a thin, angry line. Her tongue lolled, and for a terrifying minute, she looked more demon than goddess. Kyle recoiled as her rage took over and a bloodcurdling battle cry escaped her lips.

  She was Kali, incarnate.

  The goddess fought with her scimitar and her staff, but she also used her mouth, biting with her teeth and lashing with her razor-sharp tongue. Everywhere she touched the demon, she left gaping, bloody wounds, and one by one, she struck at the creature’s chakras.

  Kyle felt triumph, but he felt fear, too. Kira was both magnificent and nauseating to watch. It seemed that the more of Aranyasura she devoured, the more demented she became. The Ne’feri and the other Sanrak started cheering as Kira stood on Aranyasura’s chest, one chakra remaining, her scimitar bearing down on the beast’s head.

  Covered in blood, Kira bared her teeth. “What say you, demon?” she thundered.

  Barely conscious, froth flecking her mouth, Aranyasura rolled her head back. “You cannot stop the KaliYuga. Man will fall. It is written.”

  “That day is not today.”

  With an inhuman cry, Kira struck the final chakra on the demon’s brow dead at its center, and Aranyasura gave up her last breath. The goddess raised her arms to the heavens and spun in a triumphant circle, her feet stomping on the remains in glee as Kyle and the others watched in mute horror.

  But she didn’t stop there. Kira gobbled the remaining vetalas in her path, consuming them with gusto, lost as she was to her ruthless appetites.

  Kyle had heard stories of how intoxicated Kali became with bloodlust—but nothing had prepared him for this. Kira danced on the entrails of the dead demons, covering herself in their gore, drunk on the slaughter and her passion. He exchanged a panicked look with Sera, who wore the same shocked expression as he. Kyle’s mind raced. According to the myths, the last time Kali had lost control like this, Shiva had had to throw himself at her feet to get her to stop.

  But Taran, Shiva’s latest avatar, was in Illysia.

  Sera, however, showed no such compunction. She hurled herself onto the bloody battlefield before anyone could stop her, her twin swords flaring.

  “What are you doing?” Kyle and Dev shouted in unison.

  “Someone has to stop her.”

  “Sera—”

  She flung a hand out, stalling Dev in his tracks, her face fierce. “Don’t even think about it. Get the rest of the vetalas, and make sure my brother is safe. Even though Aranyasura is dead, Temlucus won’t give up on him.”

  The two goddesses squared off. Kyle knew that Kira did not recognize Sera—in her current frame of mind, she would see her as a threat. She would only sense the part of Xibalba that had come to the forefront of Sera’s aura, thanks to Aranyasura’s earlier blows. It was like the first time they had fought, only a million times worse.

  Kira had been in control then.

  Now she was a berserker goddess with only one thing on her mind: destruction.

  Grabbing Mordas, Kyle mirrored Sera’s movements as she circled Kira. There was no way he was going to let his friend take Kira on alone, not after what he’d just seen. Sera was strong, but Kira was Kali. He wouldn’t kill either of the people he loved, but if he saw an opportunity to disarm Kira, he would take it. Their weapons clashed, sparks flying from where fire met fire. Despite Sera’s injuries at Aranyasura’s hands, they remained evenly matched, but one misstep and Kyle knew it would be over.

  Deflecting Kira’s artful strikes, Sera danced and weaved. She was attacking to maim, not to kill, but Kira wasn’t holding back. Her strikes were meant to destroy.

  Kira struck out with her spear and stumbled on a slick piece of earth. It was the opening Sera was looking for. Without hesitation, she spun and swung with her swords, forcing Kira to bend unnaturally to avoid being carved in the face. At the last moment, Sera threw out her elbow, using her momentum to catch the other goddess square in the chin. Their bodies collided and they tumbled to the blood-slicked ground together.

  Blinking fiercely, as if trying to get her bearings, Kira stood and pitched backward toward Kyle. Without hesitation, he brought the hilt of Mordas up—but even disoriented, she was able to sidestep his strike. She turned her blazing, scarlet eyes on him, and for a moment Kyle felt eviscerating fear. She would end him without a qualm.

  Hauling a ragged breath into his lungs, Kyle dropped his sword and reached for her shoulders. He’d faced her before an
d she hadn’t killed him. Perhaps he could do the same now.

  She was saner then, his inner voice warned.

  Her deifyre blistered his skin even as he drew closer. The pain was worse than anything he’d ever felt, but he held strong, closing the gap between them. Each inch felt like torture, his mortal skin flaking off in sheets.

  “Kira,” he said. “Stop. You have to stop this.”

  Her response was an angry flick of her whiplike tongue on his cheek that nearly made him pass out. She savored his blood, her eyes rolling back. He kissed her, and she bit him on his lip, her eyes boring into his. Without a second thought, Kyle shoved his consciousness into hers, pushing past all the layers of savagery.

  Stop this now. Her spear pressed into his stomach, the tip of it piercing the vulnerable flesh there, and Kyle winced against the mouth that still held him prisoner. He held her temples between his palms, and fought her cruelty with aching gentleness. If you have to kill me, then kill me. But you need to stop this madness.

  It seemed like time came to a halt as the world around them fell away, and it was only the two of them suspended in each other. After an interminable beat, the scarlet insanity in her eyes shifted to something like reason, and she slumped in his arms.

  “Wh—what happened?”

  “You kind of lost it,” he said with a grin, wincing at the sting of his sore lip. “And took out pretty much everyone.”

  “Aranyasura?”

  “You danced on her bones.”

  An embarrassed, wry smile curved Kira’s lips. “Yikes.”

  “It was something, that’s for sure.”

  “Did I hurt anyone else?” He shook his head as she reached out to stroke his scorched skin and bloody lip with a finger. “I’m sorry. Thank you for doing what you did.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank Sera.” Kyle raised a celebratory gaze to find his friend, then felt all sensation whoosh out of him.

  Sera lay crumpled on her side from where she had rammed into Kira.

  His blood ran cold. Why wasn’t she moving? The gut-wrenching cry from Dev confirmed his worst fears as the god descended to where his beloved lay.

  “No, no, no,” Dev cried, turning her over gently.

  Kyle’s entire body went numb at the sight of Kira’s sword impaling Sera straight through her chest. Blinded by anguish, he focused on her body, narrowing his gaze and pushing his awareness out—but there was nothing there but a cold mortal shell.

  No sunset deifyre. No breath. No life.

  THE GLADE

  The last thing Sera felt was the silky slide of the immortal weapon between her ribs. The pain was expected. What she did not expect was the peace that swiftly followed. Everything winked out of sight—the battle, the people, the world. It all fell away, until there was nothing left. The entire realm was washed clean, and she became its only occupant.

  Blinking, Sera shifted outside herself and studied the scene. Her body was floating upon a lake of delicate white petals, her hands clasped together over her torso. Despite a faint red glow that hovered above her skin, her doppelganger looked tranquil, as if she could be sleeping. But Sera knew better—that stroke had been a killing one.

  Someone had died.

  Someone with her face.

  She looked around again. Though this place seemed familiar, she had never seen it before. Perhaps it was Illysia. Was this what heaven looked like? Or perhaps it was simply her realm between realms. But this place did not feel this same. It didn’t smell the same. No, she had never set foot here.

  Sera wondered what would happen if she took a walk. Her body seemed safe enough in its picturesque, if watery, bed, and she wanted to explore. She would walk, she decided. Solid ground connected with the soles of her feet and she looked down at the soft carpet of grass. The pale blades of the meadow tickled her skin, as if to reassure her that she hadn’t quite left the world yet.

  She meandered for a while, admiring the landscape that rolled like a Monet painting in muted pastel colors. The air was balmy and smelled faintly of jasmine. She breathed it in deeply, although somewhere in her subconscious she knew that she wasn’t actually breathing. After some time, she came upon a river where two young girls were playing. They splashed each other and giggled. But when they saw her, they turned and ran, disappearing into the nearby forest.

  “Hey,” she called out, but they took no notice.

  Sera decided to follow them. The trees here weren’t green, she saw. They were white, with white branches and white leaves. The lack of color struck her as odd, but she did not dwell on it, focused instead on finding the two little girls. Laughter drifted through the slim, snowy tree trunks, beckoning her forward. She thought she caught a glimpse of the girls again, but it was only a trick of the light.

  Her legs were starting to tire when she saw a clearing up ahead. Perhaps she would have a rest there. Sure enough, the forest thinned and gave way to another meadow—only this one was covered in vibrant, red grass. Unlike the softness of the first meadow, their blades were sharp and prickly like thorns. And she’d scarcely taken a dozen steps when her feet started to bleed. Odd that she could still feel pain in such a place. Sighing, she sat and blew onto the tender grazes.

  “Why are you following us?” a tinkling voice said, and Sera looked up.

  It was one of the girls from before. She had hair the color of flame, hair that looked strange around such a cherubic face. Sera noticed the other girl, who was hiding behind one of the white-barked trees. This child had silvery-white hair, but shared the same angelic face as her sister.

  “Who are you?” Sera asked.

  “We are the daughters of the glade,” they replied in unison.

  “Is this Illysia?”

  Their laughter sounded like shattering crystal bells, and Sera fought the urge to clap her hands over her ears. “No.”

  “What do you want with me?” Sera asked, a feeling of unease starting to bloom in the pit of her belly. “Why am I here?”

  The red-haired child responded. “You are here because you choose to be.”

  “Am I dead?”

  “Your questions are silly.” The silver-haired child giggled. “Of course you’re not dead. If you were, you wouldn’t see us, would you?”

  They ran off, scampering through the razor-sharp meadow.

  “Come back!” She blinked, and they were gone. Were they ghosts? Apparitions? Demons? Sera balked as she stared at the thorny carpet beneath her. Wait, was she in Xibalba? But this place didn’t feel like Xibalba. It didn’t feel like anything.

  Her heart tripped over itself as she stood warily, looking around. This place looked nothing like the Dark Realms, and somewhere deep down, Sera knew that she would recognize it if she were there. She gingerly made her way to the edge of the grasslands, back toward the eerie, colorless trees. Her feet left bloody footprints as she retraced her steps until she found another clearing.

  “Hello, Sera,” a resonant voice said.

  Recognition burned in her brain at the sound of the voice before she saw its owner. Her dead uncle.

  Now she knew she had to be in Xibalba, or some other realm of torture. Her uncle had been the worst kind of evil before she and Kyle had killed him. Or perhaps she was stuck in some nightmare. She blinked and counted to ten in her head before opening her eyes, but he was still standing there, watching her with a hooded stare. He made no move to approach.

  “Azrath,” she said carefully, also keeping her distance. Upon further scrutiny, he seemed different than she’d remembered. His close-cropped, pale-gold hair was the same style, but weariness lined his features. She didn’t think ghosts could age. If indeed he was a ghost. Or a demon.

  “It’s good to see you.”

  “I wish I could say the same.” She waved a dismissive hand, then relented somewhat. Perhaps he would be able to shed more light on where she was than the girls had. “What is this place?”

  “The glade?”

  She eyed him. “Yes, what is it?�
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  “It’s a crossroads of sorts,” Azrath replied.

  “A crossroads for what? And why are you here?”

  He smiled, but the expression held nothing but a bittersweet kind of sadness. “I am banished from all the realms, and as such, I am doomed to wander this plane.”

  Sera’s stomach dipped. Did that mean that she had been banished as well? The thought of being stuck here, with Azrath of all people, left her cold. This had been his punishment for trying to unleash hell on earth, she realized. An eternity in a realm that was neither here nor there. A realm of infinite emptiness.

  Suddenly, Sera wanted to be back where she’d left her body. She wanted to wake up from whatever this was. She did not like being out of control, unable to process what seeing Azrath meant. “There has to have been a mistake.”

  “He never makes mistakes.”

  Sera frowned. “He?”

  “Brahman,” he said, his tone reverent. “The Supreme Being, and source of all creation. He is the creator of all things and is in all things. He is the air and the earth, and the breath in your lungs. He is the beating heart of all the realms.”

  “Then why doesn’t he show himself?”

  “Because he is formless.”

  Suddenly, Sera felt a warning prickle along her skin and her uncle started to morph into someone else. His thin face shortened and widened, and his cropped head of hair burst into a full-on mop of golden curls. He shrank to the height of an eleven-year-old boy.

  “Nate!”

  She ran forward but stopped short of the boy, frowning. This Nate was dressed in his favorite worn pair of cargo shorts and a black Grateful Dead T-shirt he’d likely purloined from her closet. But her Nate was safe in Illysia. Confused, she stepped backward.

  Was this some kind of trick?

  The person with her brother’s face smiled at her, and it was so much like Nate that she had to pinch herself. “Hey, sis. You look like someone peed in your Cheerios.” Even the voice was his. And the humor.