Still, I was me. Insufficient. Quiet. But me.
Light poured into my life when Genevieve first looked at me. I lost myself in her greenish eyes, her sandy hair flowing carelessly down her back. She was perfection, her curvaceous body gently wrapped in silvery silk and layers of shimmering organza, white blossoms resting behind one ear. Her soft lips kept me awake at night. Her exceptional Druid talents made me feel inadequate.
I struggled for a long time, until one day I was finally accepted into the Grand Temple. Genevieve was in her fifth year there when I started. I always suspected she’d had something to do with those old windbags allowing me to join the school, but I had no proof, so I kept the idea to myself.
It wasn’t easy. I consistently failed, barely acquiring ten levels before one of the Grand Druids pulled me aside one day and advised me to consider other options outside the Grand Temple.
“Perhaps an apprenticeship in one of the southern cities here, on Persea,” he’d said, making me scoff. I’d ignored him but taken it as a warning. I wasn’t wanted there. I was considered weak.
Inadequate.
My friendship with Genevieve, on the other hand, grew stronger. Her laughter brought me to life. Her smile turned my heart inside out. I longed for her with every breath I took. Then Almus came along. I liked him at first. He was the only one besides Genevieve who acknowledged me. Who spoke to me. He was the one who advised me to be bold. To think outside the box. To be daring and take risks.
So I did. One night, I snuck into the Grand Temple library and rummaged through the forbidden section. I’d heard rumors about some powerful magic there. The others had said it was easy to learn, but dangerous, even deadly. I was tired of my insufficiency.
My inadequacy.
I started fiddling with forbidden magic. Surprisingly enough, it helped unleash something in me I’d never thought existed. Strength. Determination. Hunger for more. I went through the other Druid levels like a hot knife cutting through a block of butter.
By the time I was ninety, I was eligible for a Master Druid position, having just earned my hundredth tattoo. Genevieve was still working through her ninetieth, and Almus was having trouble with his trials for his hundredth level. They were both good, but a bit too righteous for my taste. I’d gotten the hang of playing dirty and enjoyed reaping my rewards.
Once I was given the keys to Purgaris, I put on that dark green velvet suit and posed for my portrait. My heart ached for Genevieve, still. She’d just become a Master Druid herself, months after Almus. The years went by, and we all stayed close, but something changed, and I didn’t even notice it until it was too late.
After Almus took control of Persea and Genevieve celebrated her fifth year as Master Druid of Calliope, our meetings got shorter and shorter. They were both busy. They had little time left for their good friend Azazel.
It was then that I realized it.
Their good friend Azazel. Their friend.
They were together. I saw it clearly during one of the Master Council meetings in the hall between worlds. I’d been dealing with bureaucracy for years. Other Master Druids telling me what to do with my kingdom. My people. My laws. The arrogance!
I was taking Purgaris to a whole new level of greatness, but I still had to get their approval for everything, like I was a little Druid, unable to think for himself.
Like I was inadequate.
I’d felt the darkness growing inside me. The hate toward each of those Master Druids. Each more arrogant than the other. All considering themselves far superior to me, when, in fact, they were afraid. They’d given me the lousiest of Eritopia’s planets, a land full of thugs, thieves, and killers, thinking I would fail. I’d turned it around so fast, they didn’t even realize what had happened until it was too late. Purgaris held the most aggressive and downright lethal fleet. My armies were ruthless. Obedient. Disciplined. And it scared the hell out of the Master Council.
And yet, nothing stung more than realizing that Genevieve had given her heart to Almus. A heart I’d struggled to get for myself for so long. It blistered on the inside. It festered. It hurt.
When news of their wedding came, I finally collapsed.
Before I knew it, I was sneaking back into the Grand Temple on Persea, digging deeper through the forbidden manuscripts. It was there that I learned of Asherak. Now there was a Druid I admired. He’d been ruthless. He’d gathered power. He’d turned a planet around like I had. Whatever he’d wanted, he’d taken it. His prowess drilled holes in my stomach.
I felt inadequate.
Then I saw a sketch of his pendant. The jewel in which he’d hidden his soul, an item so powerful that no Druid alive had been able to destroy it. Rage came over me when I read that the Master Druids had been tasked with its safekeeping. They’d all kept me in the dark. They’d kept it a secret from me.
I realized then that I’d seen the pendant before. A golden snake twisted in a perfect eight-loop, quiet and beautiful, with glistening ruby eyes. That sniveling old fool Lorenz had been wearing it. It had been his turn to keep it safe.
But I wanted it. The darkness growing inside me yearned for it. I’d already been using some of Asherak’s spells, putting to use things I’d read in those forbidden manuscripts. The strength I’d infused my soldiers with. The poisons I’d used to remove the generals who had gone against me, supposedly upholding the Master Council’s wishes. The tricks I’d played to modify Purgaris’s constitution by bending the will of its people in my favor.
I was more than worthy of that pendant. The manuscripts had also spoken of fusing one’s soul with another. The final proprietary spell that Asherak had written down before sealing his soul inside the snake with ruby eyes, leaving behind a lifeless body before they could kill him. A smart Druid, that one.
I could be like that.
I could be stronger. Richer. More powerful than the entire Master Council put together. I could take Genevieve away from Almus and keep her to myself. What would he do against me, if I had the force of Asherak behind me?
Killing Lorenz was one of the easiest things I ever did. Putting the pendant around my neck and summoning the spirit of Asherak, on the other hand, was something else entirely. The moment I allowed his soul to enter my body, everything changed. My body changed, slowly, from the inside.
I’d already met Tamara by then. She’d been keeping my bed warm.
Almus and Genevieve had announced that they would soon have a son.
And Asherak’s voice continued whispering in my head, beckoning me to go further. To kill those who opposed me. To claim my throne. To gather more power. He showed me feats of dark magic I’d never thought possible. The pride that surged through me was addictive, lifting me closer to a permanent state of ecstasy with every day that went by.
Then I learned about Tamara’s lies. She was revealed as a Lamia, the filthiest of creatures I’d ever seen, and yet she’d convinced me that she was a Druid. She was with child when she fled. My child. It was then that I finally broke. It was her betrayal, her insolence and her lack of respect, her lying to me and taking me for an imbecile, that pushed me over the edge.
Before I knew it, I was so deep, so lost in Asherak’s charms that I willingly gave him my soul. He ate it all up. He swallowed me whole, and I welcomed it. My bones broke. My muscles swelled, mind-numbing pain flaring through me as my serpent nature consumed my physical body and I became a Destroyer.
The massive creature looking back at me from the mirror in my throne room. The yellow eyes. The retracting fangs. The forked tongue. And all that power surging through me, fueling my hatred for those who had looked down on me, who had made me feel inadequate.
I wasn’t inadequate anymore, though.
I was strong. I was powerful. I could do anything I pleased. I’d embraced the darkness inside me. I’d given it everything it wanted, and, in return, it made me into a force to be reckoned with. One that even the Daughters of Eritopia didn’t wish to deal with, especially after I’d sn
atched their sister from Mount Agrith.
One by one, the planets fell under my control. The people had a choice—obey and serve me, or go out and die in the wilderness. I had no room for traitors in my ranks. Those I considered a threat I immediately killed. On some I took mercy, shoving them into cages, solely because they’d never really done anything against me. They’d never belittled me. They’d never looked down on me.
And yet, after all those years, after losing Genevieve, after spilling Almus’s blood, after conquering the entire galaxy, I was once more staring at my reflection in the mirror, feeling inadequate. My volcanoes were gone. My Daughter of Eritopia was gone. And a little Druid, a snotty bastard with silvery eyes and too much magic on his hands, had managed to bring back an emotion I’d sworn I would never feel again.
Inadequacy.
But Asherak wasn’t done with me. I felt his voice thundering through my head in that instant, as another explosion rumbled through the western hills and the screams of dying incubi filled the sky.
Your power is draining, Azazel. He sounded calm, but I could feel his anger coursing through my veins.
I didn’t move my lips, but my reflection in the mirror did, as if speaking on his behalf.
How could you allow this? You’ve gotten soft, Azazel. Confident. Too confident.
He was right. I’d enjoyed the feeling of invincibility for so long, I’d completely disregarded the possibility of a creature brave or stupid enough to defy me. To slip through the cracks and dismantle the empire I’d spent so much time building, brick by brick.
It’s not over yet, Azazel. The Daughter may be gone. The volcanoes may be gone. But we both know where your real power comes from. Asherak smiled at me, wearing my face, my yellow eyes.
Indeed, I felt it broiling in me, pulsating through every fiber of my muscles and trickling through my veins. The darkness I’d embraced so many moons ago. The darkness that had pushed me to kill. To lie. To cheat and steal. To do everything I could until I got everything I wanted. It was still there.
I’m still here, he said.
And I had plenty of tricks up my sleeve. Plenty of ways to make one unruly Druid regret the day he ever came out of hiding to defy me.
I took a deep breath as the castle shuddered from another explosion. The enormous golden chandelier dangling from the black stone ceiling overhead creaked. I went over to the north wall, where two rectangular stones were slightly pushed out. I pushed them both in, and they clicked into place.
The wall trembled and grumbled as it moved back a foot and to the side, revealing a hidden chamber I’d set up centuries ago. Amber flames burst onto the wall-mounted torches as I walked in. The walls were covered in glass vials, carefully affixed one next to the other, each holding a blood sample I’d taken from various persons of interest. All my followers had been instructed to do the same, and every week I was given new samples from creatures they’d met through their voyages, creatures they’d thought I’d like to control if I needed to.
A cauldron was set in the middle, filled to the brim with a black liquid. I’d had it prepared decades ago, when I wasn’t sure I could fully trust Patrik after his transformation. If I’d known then what I knew now, I would’ve employed this method sooner.
I heard the rebels shouting outside.
It made me grin as I gathered an armful of vials from a recent batch and poured them all into the black liquid. I tossed them on the floor, enjoying the scratchy sound of glass breaking, then uttered a fire spell. The flame surged from my hand and lit the liquid’s surface up.
It smelled of lilies and roses, despite its highly poisonous contents. It was the most powerful blood spell I’d ever assembled. It did immeasurable damage to its victims. It bent them to my will and then some.
That’s right, Azazel… Show them who they’re dealing with.
I watched the fire die out, the black liquid simmering in the cauldron. I put my hand inside, hissing as my skin burned. I felt it then, and wrapped my fingers around it. I pulled my hand out and smiled at the sight of a small, rectangular diamond, with perfectly polished facets and a tiny thread of green glimmering inside it.
I licked the black liquid off my hand. It tasted like sweet water. Like sin.
Show them who Azazel really is, Asherak’s voice continued whispering in my ear. Show them who we are.
It was time to set the record straight. It was time to reaffirm my position. I was Azazel, Prince of Destroyers, Eater of Worlds, and Drinker of Souls. I ruled over all twenty planets of Eritopia. I owned every soul that walked my lands. I had the rivers, the oceans, the mountains, and the valleys. Even the air they all breathed was mine.
And I was going to show them exactly what it meant to cross me.
I was going to break them down, piece by piece, then toss them over the edge.
This is my world. And they’re not having it.
Serena
We made our way up a narrow stone staircase. Draven was first, in front of me, while Jax, Hansa, Jasmine, the young Druids, and the wards followed. Rebel deployed Bajangs on each level of the castle to distract the Destroyers and the incubi roaming around—we could hear the commotion beyond the staircase wall.
She and eight Bajangs were left with us as we advanced toward the top level. I used my True Sight as I looked up. Six more floors and we’d reach the top platform. My heart felt smaller with every step I took.
A loud bang made my blood freeze, and the staircase shuddered from a blast, thick clouds of dust swallowing us from behind. I immediately drew my sword and leaned against the wall to keep my footing as I whirled around.
Destroyers had burst through the staircase, the stone wall torn about thirty steps down from our position. There were dozens of them, accompanied by incubi, too many for the space available and our numbers.
“Out of the way!” I shouted, and pushed out a strong barrier.
Our group below instantly obeyed and stepped aside, enough for the invisible pulse to shoot past them and smack the hostiles hard. They fell backward, but were quick to recover.
The Bajangs immediately leaped into action, their flexible feline bodies sneaking through the tight spots, their long fangs sinking into several Destroyers, while the others tried to move up toward us, their eyes glimmering with the anticipation of murder as they hissed.
“Draven, you four go ahead,” Jasmine said, referring to me, him, Jax, and Hansa. “We’ll hold them off!”
“No, you can’t!” Draven shot back, lifting his sword with both hands, clutching the grip. I felt his fear of losing her after having just found her, and it tore me apart on the inside.
The wards jumped in and used the narrow space to their advantage, and the Destroyers became like sitting ducks in that staircase—unable to move much, allowing the wards to use their mind-bending abilities in full.
“Milord, go! We’ll take care of this!” one of the wards shouted over his shoulder.
“Fijian!” Jax managed to shout before Hansa cursed under her breath and pushed him up the stairs.
“Go, Jax,” she growled. “They’ve got this! We need to go before more of them show up!”
“Draven, go!” Jasmine insisted as she turned to face the incubi and Destroyers, some of them wailing and crying as they collapsed on the stairs, while others struggled to move past them and come after us, their swords drawn. She gave us a quick glance over her shoulder. “I’ll see you up there, darling!”
She muttered under her breath and sent out spheres of concentrated blue flame from her hands, each engulfing a Destroyer, the fire eating away at their flesh. The creatures writhed in pain, screaming and howling as the Druid spell consumed them.
Draven blinked, breathing rapidly, before finally acquiescing. “I’ll hold you to that!” he called, grabbing my hand as we ran up the stairs along with Jax and Hansa.
We took two steps at a time, putting more distance between us and the scuffle below. Jax repeatedly cursed as we darted through the next two leve
ls.
A small door opened to the side just a few feet ahead. We were moving too fast to stop in time, and bumped into the three creatures that rushed through it. I jumped back as far as the narrow staircase allowed me to, bringing my sword up in self-defense. It was then that I noticed that Jax, Hansa, and Draven had stilled, looking confused.
Jovi and two males who wore nothing but dark green military pants stood in the middle, both tall and armed with broadswords.
“Jovi!” I exclaimed, rushing forward and drawing him in for a quick hug.
A familiar growl made me turn my head toward the small door, where one of the two shifters he’d taken with him was waiting, a slew of dead incubi scattered along the corridor behind them. I then looked at the two males, trying to figure out who they were.
“This is Patrik, and Thadeus,” Jovi said, pointing at each.
“Oh, I can’t explain how happy I am to see you all!” I gasped.
Draven nodded firmly. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time.”
Indeed, I could still hear the fighting below, swords clashing, Destroyers hissing and Bajangs roaring. Without further ado, we continued our race up the stairs, followed closely by the shifter.
“You managed to turn Thadeus,” I said to Jovi as we ran.
“Believe it or not, that was the easy part,” Jovi replied, breathing heavily. “Finding them clothes that fit was the bigger challenge. These dudes are tall!”
I would’ve laughed, had it not been for our life-threatening circumstances. They’d most likely stripped two of the incubi I’d seen in the corridor below, and Patrik and Thadeus seemed taller than the average Druids, who were already at least one head above the incubi. The borrowed clothes looked awkwardly short on them.
“But at least they’re dressed now,” Jovi added. “You have no idea how awkward it’s been running around with two naked Druids.”
“Not as awkward as you staring at our lower naked parts!” Thadeus retorted from behind.
A Shade of Vampire 50: A Clash of Storms Page 10
