Ryze Series: Books 1 & 2
Page 24
Kystm – The veils, or barriers, between dimensions.
Otificas – Chamber of Powers; inside Renentr.
Prophexia – Prophesied female.
Prophexi – Prophesied male.
R’ma – Female mate.
R’mann – Male mate.
R’mmanev – Mating between two beings.
Refluth – Monsters created when the Aviraji combined the DNA of the worst creatures in the Universe.
Renentr – The main underworld/Crius’s realm.
Ritrio –The Empire of Blood, one of humanity’s earliest empires.
Ritrioan – People from Ritrio, Dimithinia’s people.
Ryze – Defenders of the Universe; nemesis of the Aviraji.
Sesengt – Guardians who watch over the Universe and all its dimensions.
Sivigh – Door to the Underworld of Renentr.
Ryze – Group of gods defending the Universe.
Terets – Weapons, molecule destabilizers.
Utorou – Portal to the Haklanayasas.
Vyshi – Reality benders/ Witches and Warlocks
Ziaphrite – Mating ritual.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Epilogue
Dedication
To MG Herrera. You came into my life out of nowhere, fell in love with my work when I was having yet another period of doubting myself, and fired me up in a way that few have been able to do so.
I honestly love the hell out of you girl. You have become not only the backbone for this series, but probably one of the most important aspects of my career period. You inspire me to write like very few can and I am so fucking grateful for that.
To anyone who ever hurt me, broke me, betrayed me, or turned their backs on me: You know who you are. Thank you. Without you breaking me, I would’ve never gotten to where I am today.
“Nothing comes unbidden: where the shadow is, there is also the substance.”
–James Allen, The Mastery of Destiny
“Most beings have forgotten that there is more to life than momentary happiness. They have forgotten that in order for a sword to be forged, it must be hammered into perfection. That’s where I come in, to remind them. And trust me; by the time I’m done with them, they will wish they had stuck with the hammer.”
–Nylicia, the Watcher of Destinies.
May 14th, 1972–
My therapist told me today that I should start writing this shit down.
Yes. I have a fucking therapist. Don’t judge me, okay? I’m trying to take control of this crap, but just in case my therapist does read this one day, I need to make this very clear:
This isn’t going to fucking work.
But you told me to do this, so here goes . . .
Among the war Erencei—beings considered demons by the humans—was born a male. A male I prophesied would become a monster . . . a male with a sensitivity that would prove a deadly threat to most living beings.
Especially myself.
On the eve of his twentieth birthday, Mavrak, the son of Persicutis, Goddess of Integrity, was sent back to the planet his mother had taken him from—Earth. There, he was to spend the next hundred years in the service of a father he had never met, the great war demon Sophron.
Mavrak wouldn’t make it through the first year though, let alone the next ninety-nine. Faced with the atrocities of the mortal world and the animalistic greed of the war demons his father ruled over, he began to weaken. He began to go mad. When his mother was destroyed without warning or reason, Mavrak lost his last tether on reality.
Five hundred years before the Dixieme Eductu, Mavrak tore through the pre-Neolithic world, leaving scars and pushing the gods into retaliation. He was captured and imprisoned. Sentenced to be beaten, and subjected to heinous, experimental rituals that were to take place until he either died, or his rage was ripped out of him.
That was the beginning of the circle. For out of Mavrak’s torment, an opposing being would be born. The Universe lives on Ying and Yang, you see? And where there is darkness, there is also the potential for light. Mavrak had to be broken in every way for Zeniel, the God of Tranquility, to emerge.
“Full circle” is one of the little laws that the Universe runs on. It pisses me the fuck off, but it’s inescapable, even for someone as omnipotent as me.
My name is Cyake, God of Divination, and, if I’m not careful, the voice of the Fates. Because of me, Mavrak, God of Vengeance, was set on a path of pure hell—one that would lead to his final destination. I’m writing this down to leave some record that I, asshole that I am, accidentally cursed an undeserving male because I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut.
I’ve been trying to atone for it ever since. And it’s the main reason I stick to being a seer. No one wants to deal with that kind of crap on their conscience. It’s bullshit.
–Cyake, God of Divination
“The bloodshed of war,
the light of Integrity,
Heralding death, the two meet.
The selfish souls shall fall, Vengeance in their ashes,
leaving behind only that
which is right.
Robes of self-preservation
shall suffocate wrath,
when a circle starts on
the night of light’s death.
Resurrection shall
bring impossible life, divine
splendor and peace with new breath.
And so it shall be, so he shall rule.
Eons will pass and be blessed,
Until the hunger of
Justice rises once more,
threatening to rip Vengeance
from its tormented rest
and dragging Tranquility
through arduous test.”
PROLOGUE
Two weeks before Ismini and Evesse’s Death.
– Enzyria. Lower level, living room area and sparring quarter.
CYAKE
“Y oung man.”
Love and Hip Hop is on. I have the volume on blast. One would think I wouldn’t be able to hear that soft-spoken, familiar voice past all the delicious “ratchedness” on the huge screen in front of me.
Wrong. The perks of being a primal being are sometimes more of a curse.
I ignore that frail voice because . . . Well, lately I’m being a pussy about everything, okay?
Shit. Who can blame me? Forget the cold feeling squeezing around my heart. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been hearing them more often than before. And their hunger for me has become a dark, suffocating presence that I can’t escape.
Them.
The Fates.
I’m freaking sixteen-millennia-old and I’ve been resisting them my whole life. Most beings would have gotten the hint by now, no?
Of course not. No one denies the Fates. No one. Those cunts won’t rest until I’m leading them.
Me of all beings.
Okay. I get it. Once upon a time, I was one with them. Up, in the cosmos, in the spiritual plane, before I was born into a flesh-and-blood body.
But I am not that being anymore.
I don’t want to be. He hadn’t cared about anything except the primal energy of Karma—
No. Stop. Don’t think about it. I went mad once missing that connection. My mother had to sacrifice her freedom to help her sons survive the disconnect from our partner energies.
I won’t give in. I have no desire to be Fate. It’s a death warrant. For me and the ones I love.
If those fuckers up there miss me so much they can’t function, than they can kiss my ass. They never should’ve allowed us to be ripped from the ether and be born on this plane.
I’m not going back to that. Feeling nothing, zero sympathy for any of my victims, only this insane obsession to reconnect with an energy that’s been missing for millennia.
Karma is gone. Lost somewhere. Just like Knowledge and Creation.
And so is the God of Fate. That fucker can stay dead for all I care. I will not be returning to that role.
Thank Illion, my dear old Dad, that I’m a god and can’t break out in a cold sweat. The mere murmur of those voices is almost enough to make me do so.
I focus on the TV, determined—
“I asked you why are you watching this garbage, young man?”
“You’re dead,” I grumble under my breath, eyes locked on the screen. Two days ago, I was walking through downtown Manhattan with Ianthen, and a frail, eccentric-looking, little old lady was waiting to cross the street.
I don’t know what made me do it, but I stopped next to her, offered her my arm like the gentlemen “of old”, and I helped her across.
Sweet old lady.
At least, I thought she was sweet, until I made the mistake of leering for a second too long on a fine ass girl that walked by.
Then, I got my ass put in its place by a human woman that was sixteen millennia younger than me.
Oh, the motherfucking irony.
And Ianthen? That fucker nearly lost his immortality to a laughing fit.
Man, she did a great job of making me feel ashamed of being “such a disrespectful young man”.
The entire interaction couldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes, but for some reason, I couldn’t forget that feisty but frail old woman.
Yesterday, I tracked her down. Just to check up on her, you know?
Edna Johnson. Born seventy-years ago on February 17th at 7:42am in New Orleans, Louisiana.
Died yesterday at 3:29am in her tiny studio apartment in upper Manhattan.
She was all alone when it happened. Died in her sleep.
For anyone out there wondering: yes. Ghosts exist. Souls get stuck in the physical plane all the time because of unfinished business.
Us immortals can see them, all of them, when we so choose.
Or when they decide they want to be seen.
Anyway, I’m not freaked out about the fact that I can see the outline of Edna out of the corner of my eye.
I’m freaked out that she’s here, in Enzyria, period.
First, the voices of the Fates started getting louder.
Second, and for the first time ever, I started developing the insane urge to give in. To become the cold, heartless monster they want me to be.
Third, I started having those dreams, the ones where all I can see is the dark outline of a short, voluptuous female, and all I can hear is her throaty voice as she curses me to all the hells and back.
Now this?
Yeah. This shit has the handprint of the Fates all over it. I would say this is Nylicia’s doing, but she’s never fucked with me before.
She doesn’t have to. The Fates are riding my ass hard enough as it is.
“Didn’t anyone tell you that it’s rude to ignore your elders?”
That’s it. Sitting up straight on the couch, I finally face her.
No doubt about it. Definitely a ghost. A see-through “hologram” just like Nylicia. “You’re dead now, which means you know you’re a baby compared to me.”
Edna crosses her thin arms and glares at me. The same way she did days ago when she set me straight.
I look her over, realizing she’s still dressed as flamboyantly as the day I met her.
Leopard print pants. A matching t-shirt. Red, feather boa around her neck. Fucking combat boots on her small feet.
But it’s the hairstyle and the make-up that take the cake. Her black hair is in a complicated-as-fuck updo that would’ve made any woman in the 1800s jealous.
That make-up is styled to match, with pale eyeshadow surrounding her honey-colored eyes.
All-in-all, not a person one would easily forget.
Or ignore, for that matter . . .
Still. “Why are you here?” I snap, not because a huge part of me isn’t glad to see her, but because—
Edna’s huff interrupts my train of thought. “I have no idea why I was pulled to you. All I know is that I went to bed. Then I woke up outside my body. Next thing I know, I’m here.”
What did I tell you?
Spell it with me. F-A-T-E—
“Who are you talking to, Cy?”
Edna disappears instantly.
Is she fucking kidding me right now?
Dyletri is standing under the archway leading into the living room, white brows furrowed.
Alright. Time to go with it. It isn’t like they don’t all already know I’m insane. “Myself. What’s up?”
He shakes his head and motions for me to join him.
I take a moment to look him over. At optimum health, gods don’t need sleep. As for food? We can go a long time without it before our bodies start shutting down.
I know he’s been eating.
Also know he’s been sleeping.
Yet that male looks like utter shit. Has since he arrived here with that unconscious girl in his arms.
She’s still unconscious and I can see it eating at him.
You fucking assholes. Demanding a life for a life. And you wonder why I want nothing to do with all of you.
GO FUCK YOURSELVES.
There. Now that that’s off my chest . . .
I flash next to him. “Everything okay?”
He starts walking down the huge hall. Curious, I follow him.
“Nylicia was just here.”
I’m not surprised. She’s everywhere.
If my brother Zexistr isn’t around, that is.
I picked up on it three millennia ago, around the time he realized two very odd things.
One, he just might be the only immortal being in all of existence that has never met her.
Two, he can’t see her likeness in any of our minds.
Considering his mad quest to find her, he’s been looking. O-D, as the humans say.
“She gave me some very startling information.”
I continue to follow Dyletri, hands in my pockets. Again, I’m not surprised. We all realized a long time ago that she’s doing what I will never dare to do.
She’s playing Fate. Which side of it, we don’t fucking know. Everyone says she’s on our side. Maybe I believe it. She hasn’t betrayed any of us in almost fourteen millennia.
But this whole hiding from Zex thing worries me.
Then again, most days, I don’t even know which side my brother is on. He says he’s finally free from Maivera’s hold, but we all heard that once before.
Until he went right back to her.
“What did she say?” I ask Dy to distract myself from the discombobulated mess of my family problems.
“Zen needs
to go to Earth.”
I tense at the mention of his name. Then again, living with a lifetime of guilt will do that to a male.
I’m the one responsible for the way his life turned out. His mother’s death. His descent into madness.
He was my first mistake.
My first victim.
I was only five-years-old when I looked at his mother and the Fates took over, forcing me to speak that fucking prophecy.
A good three millennia before the male was even born.
Gods, I’m such a piece of shit when I’m like that.
I lost one of my closest friends when Mavrak was destroyed. The male that came after him, Zeniel, is also one of my best friends.
And every day we live, waiting for the moment when the monster Mavrak became rises once more, obliterating Tranquility and taking control of the body that is rightfully his.
“Why does she want him on Earth?” There’s no hiding the suspicion in my tone.
Dyletri runs his hand through his white hair. “Come on, Cy. You really think she’d unleash Mavrak on the world?”
“Sometimes, with that female, I don’t know what to think,” I confess in a low voice.
He chuckles as we pass one of the massive indoor fountains built into the light, marble walls. “That makes two of us. But she’s proven true for too long. We can’t ignore what she says.”
“And what exactly did she say about Zeniel?”
“That he has to go to Earth to get Ismini’s friend and bring her here.”
“Another human in Enzyria?” Ismini will be dead in the next week, week-in-a-half. Erasing her memory of us and this dimension won’t be a necessity.
Or an issue, rather.
Mortals have infinite minds, capable of infinite powers, but because of their narrow-minded views of the world, their brains have grown weak.
Non-malleable.
Bringing Ismini’s friend here means taking the risk of fucking up her entire brain chemistry when we erase her memories of us.
“Why could she possibly need to be here?”
Dy gives me the side-eye.
Okay. Okay. He has a point. I more than anyone understand why Nylicia can’t give us full disclosure, although everyone I know wants to fucking choke her for it.