Legacy of the Blood (The Threshold Trilogy)

by Callie Kanno

  He nodded. “Very well, just do not hurt them.”

  “I am afraid it is no longer that simple,” Signe sighed with false sorrow. “Your earlier refusal has brought your loyalty into question.”

  Kendan’s face warmed with anger at the accusation. His father had done nothing to deserve such treatment.

  Signe’s eyes took on a vindictive gleam. “In order to prove yourself, you must kill your wife, who is the cause of your betrayal.”

  Keeva sobbed in terror and darkness engulfed Devlin’s expression. He looked deadly as he glared at his former lover.

  Signe appeared unmoved by the hostility of the man before her. “If you do so—and join me on my mission—your son’s life will be spared. He will be taken to the fortress where he will be kept safe.”

  “Never,” Devlin rasped. “I will kill every single one of you!”

  Signe tilted her head to one side. “Not in enough time.”

  She nodded to one of the Shimat holding Keeva, and he drove a dagger into her heart.

  Kendan and Devlin’s voices joined in a cry of disbelief and agony.

  “NO!”

  “Kill him,” ordered Signe as she walked out of the cottage.

  Kendan followed her, shouting even though he knew he could not be heard. “Why? WHY!”

  Signe hurried around to the back of the house and climbed through the only window there. She glanced around in the dark and soon spotted the huddled form of a young child in the corner. He was sobbing uncontrollably and hiding his face in his small hands.

  She picked up the toddler and held him close. “There, there,” she whispered. “I will protect you from those bad men.”

  Signe listened for a moment to the sounds of the other room. The violent struggle seemed to have come to an end, which could only mean that Devlin was dead. He had probably killed at least half of her subordinates in the process, but that did not seem to matter to Signe at the moment.

  She finally had her revenge.

  Signe smiled in satisfaction and climbed back out the window with her newly adopted nephew in her arms.

  ***

  Kendan turned away from the antechamber of the Threshold of Zonne. He fell to his knees facing the entrance where Adesina and Ravi stood waiting.

  “I cannot,” he gasped. “I cannot!”

  Adesina was shocked to see tears running down his face.

  “If you cannot accept what you see as truth, you cannot pass,” reminded Ravi.

  Kendan continued to shake his head, and they knew he could go no farther.

  “Must we leave him here?” asked Adesina in desperation. She had been counting on Kendan’s help to defeat Basha.

  “We have no alternative,” replied Ravi grimly.

  Adesina turned to face the antechamber with no small amount of trepidation. If what Kendan had seen was enough to stop him from moving forward, would she be strong enough to overcome it?

  I will stay by your side, Ma’eve. Our Joining should allow us to face it together.

  Keeping this thought firmly in mind, Adesina squared her shoulders and took a single step into the room.

  ***

  If Adesina hadn’t known any better, she would have thought that she was Dreaming. The barrier simulated the same vivid, yet impossibly omniscient, feeling.

  Ravi stood beside her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  She was not alone.

  They were in a small cottage that was packed full of people. A bed was in the center of the room and everyone was pressing in on it, trying to be as close as they could to the occupant.

  A withered old man was nestled in the bed among blankets, which had been wrapped around him with great care. His hair was white and his face was shriveled, but Adesina immediately knew who he was.

  “L’avan.”

  It was clear that he was dying, and he was surrounded by his eleven adopted sons.

  “Father?” said a man with golden hair. “It is I, L’aslo. Father, can you hear me?”

  L’avan’s eyes fluttered and his voice wheezed out an unintelligible response.

  A silver-haired man leaned forward. “Father, we are all finally assembled, as you asked. O’nan rode all night, and he has just arrived. Father, what did you wish to tell us?”

  L’avan was so weak that he could barely form words. “I…swore…to give…prophecy…before…dying…”

  “A prophecy?” repeated L’aslo in surprise.

  Murmurs ran through the group of men and they exchanged startled glances. Adesina wanted to quiet them, because L’avan had already continued speaking.

  His words could not be heard among the other voices, and L’aslo gestured to his brothers frantically.

  “Hush! He is trying to give us the prophecy.” He turned back to the dying man. “Father, could you say that again?”

  L’avan was oblivious to what was happening around him. It was as if he was in a trance while he spoke. His words were a whisper, and they could only be heard by a careful listener.

  “…Look, therefore, to the advent of the Threshold Child. One who is of this people yet not of this people. One who bears all gifts, Dreams as friends, sees as the enemy and shall be called the bird of prey. This is the one who stands on the Threshold of a New World. This is the one who will save my children from the slow destruction of their atrophy and lead them back to the light of their purpose.”

  L’aslo leaned forward. “Is that all of it, Father? Father? Father!”

  L’avan was gone.

  The eleven adopted sons wept in silence, bidding their beloved parent farewell. Then, they quietly left the cottage so they could discuss what the last words of L’avan meant.

  Adesina and Ravi looked at each other in concern. They both knew that the first part of what L’avan had been trying to say had been lost to his sons.

  The prophecy was incomplete.

  ***

  Adesina and Ravi stood among a mass of pine trees, and an overlook of a wide valley revealed that they were on a mountain. There was something familiar about the valley below, but Adesina couldn’t quite identify it.

  “Where are we?”

  Ravi drank in the sight with his eyes. “Home.”

  Adesina then recognized the landmarks of Pevothem. She saw the lone peak surrounded by a forest and the Rashad grasslands. The city of Yavar was notably absent, which had contributed to her original confusion.

  The rustle of underbrush brought them around, and they saw an old man walking up the slope.

  It was L’avan.

  He was still white-haired and his face was still lined, but he was younger than he had been in the first portion of Adesina’s vision. She estimated that it had to be at least fifteen years earlier.

  “I suppose we should follow him,” suggested Ravi.

  Adesina readily agreed.

  L’avan had a purposeful gait, but it did not appear that he had a specific destination in mind. From time to time he would stop and admire the scenery, and occasionally his path was obstructed and he was forced to turn around.

  However, Adesina sensed something that was out of sight—an invisible force that gently drew L’avan onward.

  After a while, L’avan stumbled across a small meadow filled with thousands of fragrant flowers. In the center of the open area stood a building that appeared to be woven out of fallen branches.

  The old man walked towards it without any trace of hesitation.

  The door stood open, and he let himself in.

  “We have been waiting for you, L’avan,” said a musical voice.

  The building consisted of a single room, and it was simply furnished with a dozen chairs and a basin in the middle of the structure in which a fire could be built. Eleven of the chairs were occupied by angelic women, and each had a large golden-furred feline sitting next to her.

  They were Serraf.

  Adesina frowned in confusion. This was clearly many years after the battle in Zonne. How could there be Serraf on this side
of the Threshold?

  “Please, sit with us, L’avan.”

  The old man did as he was told, but he seemed just as stunned as Adesina.

  “I do not understand. How did you escape being pulled into the Threshold of Zonne?”

  The leading Serraf was petite, with milky skin and fiery hair. Her grey eyes were filled with sorrow. “We were instructed to come here instead of joining our sisters on the battlefield. We were given a different purpose.”

  L’avan passed a hand over his aged eyes. “You have been waiting here for the past twenty years?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” he asked in amazement. “Why have you not gone and opened that Threshold again? You could free all of those who have been trapped.”

  The Serraf shook her head. “We are forbidden to interfere. We have a different purpose.”

  L’avan looked at each angelic face with the joy of one who has been reunited with beloved friends. “I am sorry it took me so long to arrive.”

  A Serraf with a dusky complexion smiled. “We led you here when the time was right.”

  He began to understand. “It was no coincidence that I brought my sons to that valley to live.”

  “Correct.”

  L’avan straightened and lifted his chin, as though physically preparing to accept what was asked of him. “Why are we here?”

  The leading Serraf’s expression was soft as she looked at the man who had spent so many years as a faithful servant to the Immortal Ones.

  “We are here to give birth to hope.”

  His brow creased slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “The world is on a dark path, and all those who swore to shepherd this earth are trapped in another realm. We must begin now to set into motion the events that will bring humanity back to a path of light.”

  L’avan bowed his head solemnly. “I will do whatever you ask.”

  “We know you will,” said a Serraf with light brown hair that curled around her face, “but the greatest task will not lie upon your shoulders.”

  The leading Serraf continued the explanation. “The use of vyala must not disappear from this world. It needs to thrive. For that to be achieved, we have agreed to mix our bloodlines with those of your sons.”

  L’avan stared at them, bewildered. “You wish to…bear the children of mortals?”

  “We will give up our immortality and wed your sons. We have each been chosen for the likelihood of a loving union with each of your sons,” said a plump, blonde Serraf.

  “Through our descendants,” said the Serraf with the dusky complexion, “hope will be brought into the world once more.”

  The leading Serraf took control of the discourse again. “Many years ago, the Serraf were given a prophecy by the Creator. We were told that it could only be repeated once by us, and then it could only be passed on once by that recipient.” She fixed her grey eyes on L’avan intently. “You are the one who is to receive the prophecy from us, and you are to give it to your sons only upon your deathbed.”

  L’avan swallowed nervously. “What if I cannot remember it?”

  The Serraf all smiled.

  “You will remember.”

  He did not look reassured, but he placed a hand over his heart in an oath. “It shall be as you say, Immortal Ones.”

  The Serraf stood and encircled the man, holding hands and glowing with the power of their vyala. The leading Serraf spoke, and her voice struck L’avan to his very soul.

  Thus speaks the Creator—listen well:

  Tragic days lie ahead, born from the pride of my children.

  The conflict between Light and Darkness is far from resolution,

  in spite of what may seem to be a reprieve.

  The Blood of my heirs shall be wantonly spilt.

  The earth shall cry out in pain and sorrow.

  The benighted years of silence shall only be broken

  when the Child of the Threshold stands on the brink of eternity—

  when a life is freely given in the purity of love.

  Only then will the path leading to the Light appear.

  The Sacrifice will stand as a bridge between Light and Darkness,

  spanning the worlds and cleansing each of ancient hatreds.

  The Sacrifice will bring both destruction and salvation,

  like the purifying flames of a forest fire.

  In the moment of truth, the Sacrifice shall become the Child of the Threshold,

  ushering in the Era of The Return.

  Look, therefore, to the advent of the Threshold Child.

  One who is of this people yet not of this people.

  One who bears all gifts, Dreams as friends,

  sees as the enemy and shall be called the bird of prey.

  This is the one who stands on the Threshold of a New World.

  This is the one who will save my children from the slow destruction of their atrophy

  and lead them back to the light of their purpose.

  ***

  Adesina stood dumbfounded in the limbo between her vision and whether she would be allowed to pass through the barrier. Ravi sat beside her with a stony expression on his face.

  Adesina’s terrible truth was to hear the full prophecy of the Threshold Child—to be told what was expected of her.

  What did the prophecy mean?

  It spoke of bloodshed, followed by years of silence. Could that be referring to the Great Wars and the opening of the Threshold? After all, it had been centuries since there had been any communication between mortals and higher powers.

  It spoke of the Era of The Return, and how the Threshold Child would usher in that period of time.

  How?

  The prophecy said that a sacrifice must be made in order for the Threshold Child to open the doors to the new era.

  Adesina’s thoughts came to a sudden halt.

  No, the prophecy said that the sacrifice was the Threshold Child.

  The benighted years of silence shall only be broken when the Child of the Threshold stands on the brink of eternity—when a life is freely given in the purity of love. Only then will the path leading to the Light appear.

  Ravi’s tortured eyes met Adesina’s, and she knew that she was right. Her guardian realized the truth of the prophecy, and it tore at his soul to know he could do nothing to stop it.

  Adesina was destined to die at the Threshold.

  Chapter Fifty-one: The Threshold

  Adesina continued to linger in the limbo between the barrier and the antechamber of the Threshold.

  How could she simply accept the fact that her life was about to end?

  There had been a time when she would have given her life for the Shimat order. In fact, that kind of dedication was expected. It has seemed simpler then. She’d had no family, no emotional ties of any kind. What did it matter if she died for a cause that was greater than herself?

  Things were different now.

  She had a husband, a father, a brother, a guardian…she was no longer alone. Her life mattered to others, and it had come to mean something to her as well. How could she give that up?

  Adesina carefully considered the words of the prophecy—words that had been engraved upon her mind.

  The Threshold Child was meant to be the one to bring Light back into the world. It was promised that the years of sorrow and bloodshed would come to an end. Humanity would be led back to its true purpose, and the world would be cleansed of the ancient hatreds.

  Did it matter that she would not be there to enjoy it?

  Her heart knew the answer instantly, even if her head did not.

  No, it did not matter.

  The very people who gave her life meaning would be a part of that new world. L’iam, Me’shan, E’nes and his family—they would all see the golden future that was promised.

  She would gladly give her life for that.

  Ravi knew her decision, and a tear rolled down his feline face. Adesina shared his conflicted emotions as he struggled to d
o what was right. He was her guardian, and he had sworn to protect her. More than that, he loved her dearly and would have done anything to keep her safe and happy. Yet, he knew that he must honor her choice.

  Together they took a step forward—accepting the truth of what they had seen, and facing it without fear.

  They exited the barrier, and found themselves standing on the opposite side of the antechamber. Kendan still knelt near the entrance, and he was relieved to see them emerge.

  “Go,” he called hoarsely. “I will wait for you here.”

  Another door waited before them, and Adesina hurried forward to fling it open. Every moment mattered, and she dared not hesitate.

  Adesina burst into the adjoining room with Ravi on her heels. She drew her Blood Sword from the sheath on her back and looked around the room for her oldest enemy.

  Her heart stopped when she realized that the room was empty.

  ***

  Near the base of Daemon Mount, in a small cave hidden beyond the main entrance, Basha gripped the stone floor and shivered in a small pool of her own blood. L’iam stood in the center of a rune circle which formed a magical conduit to the Threshold far above their heads.

  L’iam’s vyala acted as a power source for the spell that the Serraf had put into place centuries earlier, and the conduit directed that power to where it was needed. The runes and the conduit provided a way to activate the Threshold without having to pass through the barriers that guarded it.

  Nayati the Scholar had discovered the hidden cavern with the runes during his years studying the secrets of Daemon Mount. He had told no one about it, but he had written about it in his private journal—the book that was now in Basha’s possession.

  Basha had learned that she need only pass through the wall of fire around the perimeter of the mountain, and then she could execute her plan to make contact with demons from afar.

  L’iam’s life was quickly draining away, and the Threshold was now opened enough for the blood vow between Basha and Cha-sak to be completed.