Fractured Souls (Soul of a Dragon Book 3)

by Clara Hartley

  Table of Contents

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Afterword

  Fractured Souls

  Soul of a Dragon, Book 3

  Clara Hartley

  1

  Constance didn’t want to open her eyes.

  It was cold, but that was the least of her worries. The aches of her body prodded at her soul. Her surroundings had the stench of thick piss and shit, and she could hear crying in the background. She felt like hell itself surrounded her, sticking to her skin with its humid, miserable atmosphere.

  Her memory wavered. What had happened last, before she had been thrown into this wretched state? She allowed herself to meander in the blur, understanding that clarity would bring more pain than reprieve.

  A merciless sting snapped at her arm. She flinched, and her eyelids reflexively flew open.

  “Wake up,” a smooth, but sharp voice commanded.

  Her sight first met a damp wall. She turned toward the direction of the slicing voice, finding the Dragon Mother looming over her, wielding colorful magic. The flames first danced with a fiery red, before shifting to a cool blue, and then the colors of the rainbow. Constance couldn’t pry her eyes from the flames. They were beautiful, but also menacing, reminding her of the visions she had experienced when in her coma.

  Where was she? She peered around. It was too dark to make out anything of significance, but she could hear the muttering and moaning of destitute prisoners, and unnerving shuffling in the background.

  Why was she in front of the goddess? Recollection began to seep into her.

  Rayse—he’d almost killed her, but he obviously hadn’t or she wouldn’t be sitting here. That was the last thing she remembered. Her ribs and throat throbbed from the violence. It couldn’t have been that long ago or her wounds would have healed. Did he know she was alive? Something must have happened after to place her in front of the dragon goddess.

  “Why…” Her throat strained just to let out a whisper. “Why am I here?”

  “Because I want you here.” A devilish smile curved along the Dragon Mother’s lips. It sent fear spiraling through Constance’s chest.

  The Dragon Mother was flanked by two bluish mishram, each reminding Constance of the minions of a demonic figure.

  “I don’t know what I’ve done to you, but please, let us go,” Constance begged. “Rayse, he prays to you. We’ll continue to do that. We won’t bother with your plans. Just… let me go home.” She wondered if the Mother could make out what she was saying—she barely could hear herself.

  Apparently, the goddess did, for the Dragon Mother replied, “You’ve done plenty, sister.”

  Sister?

  “Adriana,” Constance called, testing the name. She had an inkling she knew who the Dragon Mother was. Names held power. Perhaps knowing the goddess’s name would change something.

  The Mother’s eyes flared. A deep pause. Then laughter. The goddess threw her head back. The chortle was almost unfitting for a regal figure such as she. Her laughter was a sharp sound, which hurt Constance’s ears.

  The Mother pulled herself together and directed her gaze to Constance, her expression haughty. “It worked again. Every time. You always assume yourself the better sister. The victim. Constance—is that the name you’ve been given in this lifetime? I am Aesryn, dear sister. Every vision I’ve shown you but the last, you were in my skin, feeling what I felt. Suffering what you did to me. You are Adriana. And I let you see my first dragon… allowed you to view what you had made me become. It was only the last vision when you were in your own skin.”

  Constance drew back. What the Mother said gnawed at her mind. “I’m Constance, not Aesryn… not Adriana.”

  “Oh, but you are her. Your soul comes back once every millennium. We are tied, sister. Your soul can never rest, and I need yours and Edrienne’s to not fall to rest. And alas, the time has come again to take what is mine.”

  Nothing made sense to Constance, even as the Mother was trying to explain the truth of it all. Her, a witch of the old? Who had lived countless lives? She was supposed to be a simple healer. She couldn’t belong in something as grand and terrifying as this. A thousand years. Thousands of years. She couldn’t even begin to understand how long the Mother had lived.

  She had tortured Aesryn, or at least her soul had. She shared the same essence as Adriana—the woman she’d hated with all her heart when in those visions. How could she be as vile as that woman? She didn’t want to believe it.

  Couldn’t believe it.

  “I’m not going to trust in your lies,” Constance said.

  “Believe what you wish. Your heart knows the truth. You always deny it, every lifetime, but inside, we are the same.”

  “What… what are you going to do to us?”

  “I’ve had my fun for these thousand years.” The Mother reached out a hand. Constance winced. She felt the Mother’s power touching her soul. It made the hair on her hands stand, and her insides coil.

  The goddess frowned. “This… this isn’t right.” The Dragon Mother reeled back. “Your bond.”

  “It’s not complete,” Constance said.

  “But the sequence has been carried out. You’ve bonded with Edrienne, and he betrayed you. Now is the time.”

  Constance searched her surroundings for an escape. She could hardly see in this darkness.

  The goddess growled. “But we do this every time. Like clockwork.”

  Constance smiled. Knowing she’d foiled the Mother’s plans, and seeing one as dignified as the goddess fumble, made a fire light in her heart, however dim.

  “Wipe that grin off your face, sister. This just means that your length of torture has increased. Perhaps you can experience the pain of being disfigured once more. This time, in actuality.”

  Green fire, like the one Adriana had used upon Aesryn, glowed in Constance’s peripheral vision. Her stomach curled in dismay. She didn’t want to go through that agony. She wanted to beg, but knew that would only add to the goddess’s pleasure.

  She gritted her teeth and forced back a cry as flames licked her skin, piercing through her flesh.

  “What would you like me to do, goddess?” the pet said.

  Aesryn glanced down at her subject from her golden throne. Metal flowers spread across her throne room, in a sea of shine. Aesryn used to try placing real flowers around herself, but they died quickly around her influence. Nature could not withstand her darkness, and so nature was shunned from her palace.

  Aesryn crossed her legs and ran her fingers around the rim of her chalice. She closed her eyes and released a sigh. Everything was different this time. For once, Adriana hadn’t bonded with Edrienne, ruining what she always did each harvest.

  Aesryn liked to find new ways to torment Adriana in each of her lives, and once she was done, she would get rid of her sister to spend the remainder of her time seducing Edrienne.

  It was easier to make him love her when he was broken.

  A million years was a lo
ng time, even though she’d spent a lot of it in slumber. Seeing Adriana and Edrienne each time gave her renewed vigor. Nothing was more fun than sweet revenge.

  Perhaps it was the voices. There was a time when she didn’t revel in the suffering. She had tried to overcome her lust of death, when she had first turned into a dragon.

  But the souls she’d taken… they led her to want to hurt more, and to see the lives of those unworthy squirm beneath her overwhelming power.

  Aesryn thought she was done with this cycle. The whole of the Everstones hated Adriana. Marzia was gone, and Adriana had gone through those visions, which shattered her every time.

  The pet knelt in front of her, his hands curled into nervous fists. “Dragon Mother?”

  “Come up here,” Aesryn said.

  The man stiffened. He slid to his feet and slowly shuffled his way up the steps.

  She hated that he was dallying this much. “Hurry.”

  He scrambled. “Yes, Dragon Mother.”

  He positioned herself two feet away from her and kept his arms straight at his sides. Was he shaking?

  “Kiss me,” she ordered him.

  The pet’s face turned into a ghostly white. “Uh… I…”

  “I don’t like waiting.”

  His eyes showed cowardice, but he leaned in anyway, and placed his lips in hers in a sloppy fashion that made her insides duller than they already were.

  Shame.

  This man was one of the more attractive ones. She had wanted to add him into her harem. But looks were only one half of the equation, and this pet, unfortunately, failed the other half miserably.

  He quickly stepped back.

  She rolled her eyes with annoyance. The pet was a waste of time. She waved her hand, summoning magic from her soul beads, and flung him back down the steps. He flew across her throne room and landed exactly where she wanted him to.

  “Mo… Mother? Please.” He managed to look up, despite his right arm being cracked in an awkward position.

  She shook her head, projecting disappointment, and balled her fingers together into a fist, gesturing her magic out.

  The pet strained. His once-handsome features contorted into a gruesome pattern. Veins bruised on his neck, and his skin turned into an unpleasing bluish-black. He shrieked and thrashed, like the rat he was.

  She tapped her hand rest and waited for the screams to subside. Eventually, the pet lost all energy, and the cry lowered into a soft whimper. She knew this man would face the agony for at least another year, until his soul gave out. That almost made her smile.

  If he couldn’t provide her pleasure, then he was better off entertaining her with pain.

  “Take him away,” she said to her drakin.

  The drakin bowed. He rushed to the pet, knowing she didn’t like waiting, and scooped the whimpering man up. The drakin padded out of the throne room.

  “How many did the last Honoring bring?” she asked another drakin.

  “Twenty pairs, as usual, my goddess.”

  “Send all of them in.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yes. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  Her subject nodded and waved to one of his peers standing in the hallway. Aesryn pressed her lips together and tried to control her irritation as she waited. Soon, a small group of couples were pushed in front of her. Their abilities were all suppressed by dragon stone. A troop of warriors surrounded them, with their wings open and swords drawn, in case the couples tried anything strange.

  She called to their souls, drawing the lot of them in. She didn’t bother trying to foster betrayal amongst them. It was too much trouble. Cries of pain and death filled the air. She bathed in the darkness. The power seeped from them and into her soul beads. She reveled in her renewed strength, letting it calm the turbulence the knowledge of Adriana’s fake bond had caused in her.

  Soon, she was met with a pile of dead bodies. They stacked on top of one another.

  “I want another Honoring scheduled earlier.”

  The head drakin frowned. “But goddess, the people won’t be happy.”

  “Do I look like I care?”

  He cast his eyes to the ground and bowed his head. “I’ll see to it immediately.”

  “And clean this up. It’s unsightly.”

  “Yes, goddess.”

  One by one, the carcasses were dragged out.

  Aesryn rested her chin on her hand as she watched the mess being cleaned.

  How was she to punish Adriana for foiling her plans?

  She allowed the presence of the new souls to calm her. Some of them projected voices in her head, forever keeping her company, save for when she slumbered. The voices didn’t bother her. In fact, they drove her to be stronger.

  A grin cut across her lips when an idea grew in her mind. She shouldn’t be upset about this interruption of her plans. A million years without change was boring, and perhaps a little shifting from her routine was a good thing.

  There were so many better ways to bring pain to her sister. Why stop at what she’d always done?

  2

  Sixty years later

  Rayse called to his human form. The sight of his dragon struck fear amongst these villagers—if he could even call them that. They were more like a smattering of humans. Broken, and the remainder of what sixty years of war had left behind.

  These humans had seen him, the Black Menace, countless times before, but most of them had never shed their dragon fear. They stared at him in half-frozen states, wide-eyed and leaking the familiar scent of cold sweat.

  The group’s chief stood in front of him. He wore a stern front, typical of a strong leader, but Rayse could see past his shroud of confidence. The chief’s hands were trembling, and his jaw was clenched too tight.

  The Black Menace had been a strong leader once, too. Those days had long passed.

  He slipped his pants on. He wouldn’t have cared for modesty, but it seemed the sight of a naked male stirred tension as equally a dragon would amongst these small-minded people.

  The chief crept forward. “Lord Rayse…”

  “I’ve warned you not to call me that,” Rayse spat. He was undeserving of a title. Not after what he’d done to not just his mate, but Gaia. Civilization in the continent had fallen, more quickly then when he built it, because of what he didn’t do.

  The chief inched back. “Uh, I’m sorry my… uh, I mean Rayse.”

  A beat of silence. Then Rayse said, “I’ve done what I can to receive as much grain as possible from the people of Yvrdeen. They were happy to trade their goods for your ores.”

  The man peered behind Rayse, to where the shipment was left behind. “We are ever so grateful, sir.”

  Rayse ignored the title. It was tiring, constantly correcting the humans. He knew his presence was too commanding for them to not show respect.

  But he also knew that they gave him other titles when he wasn’t around, in hushed whispers, and simmering with hate. He’d heard names such as Rayse the Coward, or the Betrayer. The people despised him. Rightfully so. His tucking his tail and running away from his responsibilities had led to war and famine amongst tens of thousands.

  Was it evil, to not prevent deaths when he could have?

  Did he even care whether he was?

  He recognized the ambivalence of the chieftain, but set it to the back of his mind. “Share this with other villagers. This is more than enough for the lot of you.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Why was Rayse even trying? He knew his small actions made no difference. All had been lost long ago, on that day, when he had crushed his future in his talons.

  He sighed and strode away. He slipped his clothes and weapons off his body when the humans were out of sight and tucked them in his rucksack. He called to his dragon form, letting his bones crack and shift into the shape of large beast. He then picked up his bag with his teeth and slung it around his tail. He spread his wings and sought the skies.

  Aryana was
likely wondering where he’d been. His stay with the Grimfire dragons didn’t come for free, though it was fairly cheap.

  He could have simply remained a rogue. He could survive by himself. But that was no way to search for Constance. The power and wisdom of the witches amongst the Grimfires was his best chance. Still, it had done little good. Tens of years of searching for clues, and still nothing. Not a ghost of where Ayesrial was, or a sign of Constance.

  Earlier, the Grimfires had sent him out for a task. They did so once in a while, under his insistence. He didn’t complete it this time, because the humans distracted him. His new clan made terrible use of his abilities. Rayse didn’t bother arguing over what he was told to do. The part of him who had conquered and reigned had withered away long ago. He didn’t have it in him to be rebellious over trivial errands. His mind drifted often, going with the flow of things. Sometimes it felt like he was already dead. Mostly, that was true.

  Sometimes he saw Constance, walking to him with the familiar glow on her face. And then she’d just disappear, wisping into nothing. It was a trick of the mind, a result of him missing her too much. He hadn’t started hearing voices, not like Greta. He wondered when they would come. Was he crazy to think that he wouldn’t mind hearing Constance’s voice in his head?

  He glided toward the mountains of the Grimfire clan, soaring through the clouds. The mountains where the Grimfires had set up were not as tall as the Everstones’, and weren’t as wintry. The rocks there were still slick with moss and greenery, and shrubs still grew amongst them.

  He was surprised to find Aryana and Diovan waiting for him at the entrance. They were usually too busy to pay him much mind. Or perhaps he’d pushed them away too many times, and after a while, they stopped bothering.

  “I don’t see any animals for us to harvest,” Aryana said.

  He shrugged. “I was distracted.”

  “I don’t understand why you make us give you chores when you don’t do them.”

  “Propriety, mostly.” He was a stickler for pulling his weight. When people stopped doing that, communities fell apart, as his clan had. And Gaia damn him if he were responsible for Aryana and Diovan’s clan crumbling. He’d let too many things fall apart already. “And I do my chores most of the time.”