Destroyed by Onyx (A Dance with Destiny Book 4)

by JK Ensley

  “Have you found Mama, Brother?”

  The sparkling hope dancing in the happy Angel’s eyes almost brought a smile to Daichi’s stoic face.

  “Yes, big brother. I am all but certain of it.”

  “All but certain?” Tenshi’s shoulders drooped. “You’ve not actually seen her, have you?”

  “Not with my own eyes, no. But they know of her on Val Hal. She has already made contact with a fair-haired warrior of that layer.” His growl was surprisingly vicious. “I came for you so we could search her out together.”

  “Then you should both make haste before she slips through your fingers yet again,” Vareen said, smiling warmly at them. “I will go to Earth and let Vinika know she can return to Vanahirdem. I will anxiously await your glorious arrival—precious mother in tow.”

  Vareen could still hear Tenshi’s excited chatter as the perfect angelic twins entered the clouds, heading for layer five.

  Good luck, boys. If I know your mother, and I do, you’ll be needing all the luck you can get, she thought.

  *****

  Daichi gasped. “Ah, something has changed. Her presence is much stronger now than when I first left this realm. Something has happened,” he growled. “I don’t like it.”

  Munenori’s voice was low and threatening when he spoke, “That’s not all there is here not to like. Naga’s aren’t the only wings I sense upon this layer. Evil has made a playground within this realm. Dark feathers are circling, Brothers.”

  “Yep, that’s proof enough for me.” Vareilious drew his massive sword. “Black wings will always follow after those diamond ones.”

  “Black wings an’ broken hearts,” Vittorio whispered.

  “Is Uriel not coming?” Tenshi asked.

  “We don’t need Uriel,” Munenori said. “We’re more than a match for the vile little Sage lurking around here.”

  Five angelic beings watched as the war horses of Val Hal descended upon the Great Hall, leading to the ancient castle home of the Kings of old. The jarring clash of steel and final screams of the dying filled the air around them.

  “Shall we intervene?” Tenshi whispered, his words all but lost in the rising cacophony.

  “Theirs is not the battle we seek,” Munenori answered.

  “Aye, that may be true. But I can almost bet we’ll find our colorful wee treasure right in the very midst of yon carnage.”

  Vareilious slapped Vittorio’s shoulder and laughed. “We know her well, Brother.”

  Daichi rolled his eyes. “That’s not Naga down there, only her shell.” His hand went to the dagger at his side. “We know not who claimed her, who filled her empty heart. We know not whose side she fights upon. Hell, she may have even been the one to start this bloody war.” He looked sideways at the two Guardians. “Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut… for now.”

  Munenori muffled his laugh while Tenshi just stared at them.

  The sapphire Blessing continued, “They called her Gealach. I know not why.” His lips turned up in a snarl.

  Munenori’s brow furrowed. “That’s odd. Gealach is their word for moon.”

  “This I know,” Daichi spat. “She must not be able to recall her own name.”

  “Yes, but of all the words one could use to describe that colorful little bundle of fire, moon would not be among them,” Munenori pondered, drumming his fingers upon his chin. “What in the world did they see in her that would bring the moon to mind?” he said absently.

  “That, I do not know.” Daichi inhaled deeply. “It gave me pause and… I almost dread finding out.”

  Five sets of heavenly eyes studied the battlefield with renewed interest and curiosity.

  Chapter 19

  Vybius

  (VYE-bee-us)

  Drostan jumped when her head popped back up out of the frigid water. His mind had been preoccupied with thoughts of his Queen. He was torn between loving her and destroying her. He wanted both.

  “Come here, Naga,” he said. “Hurry, before you catch a death cold.”

  She smiled at the self-describing, yet unintentional reference. “If only I could be so lucky.”

  He frowned at her, admonishingly. “Do not take your life so lightly, no matter how long you think it might be. The end is always but a breath away, tiny lady.”

  Duly chastised, she approached him, head lowered. He wrapped the thick blanket around her and began vigorously rubbing from her head to her feet. She couldn’t restrain her giggles when he worked near her ribs or behind her knees.

  Once he was satisfied, Drostan pushed back the blanket from her hidden face. His heart leapt as he beheld bright snowflake eyes, a shimmering scar, and a broad chattering smile.

  “Wow… You look like magic, Milady.”

  “Gratituuude. And youuu loook like a kniiight, minuuus hisss Kiiing.” Her words came out shaky and broken through her rattling teeth.

  He smiled softly, pushing a wet curl back from her pale forehead. “Yes. I don’t believe there’s any way of hiding that. I’m minus a horse as well. Warm yourself by the fire. We’ve a long way yet to go.”

  She ate only a little of the gamey venison he’d prepared. Instead, she chose to fill her belly with the dark, sweet wine.

  “Mmm… Usually, the darker, the drier,” she mused.

  “Not so with mine, Milady.” He stared into his half empty goblet. “This was my wife’s favorite. The sweeter the better, she’d say. It takes twice as long. But it’s well worth the wait.”

  “Your wife? So you’re married, then. How many offspring do you boast?”

  “Three.” Tears filled his distant gaze. “Alas, they left with their mother during the war with the demons. I buried my entire family in one day.” He seemed to diminish under the weight of his sorrowful words. “One insufferably dark, agonizingly lonely, bitterest day imaginable. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

  She felt the guilt of his words weigh upon her as well. They pushed deep down inside her, making her soul nauseous.

  “Sincerest apologies, Drostan,” she whispered. “Let their deaths be upon my head, not yours. Hold no guilt in your heart concerning them, Brother.”

  He narrowed his eyes, causing the pooling tears to stream down his unshaven face. “Why would you say such a thing? What have you to do with the death of my whole world?”

  “Because it’s true. The guilt is mine. My many mistakes brought about that apocalyptic carnage. Every drop of blood spilled, every soul claimed, was done so in my name. It was a black time. One I was powerless to prevent but strong enough to stop.”

  His eyes remained fixed on her. They were colder, darker somehow. “What are you? Who are you?”

  “I cannot answer you in whole, because… I am no longer whole. Yet what I can recall, well, it’s not something for the faint of heart, Brother.” She matched his gaze. “I was once the beloved wife of the sapphire Prince of Hell. Never had I been so loved.” Silent tears spilled down her face, unchecked, and landed like ice pellets upon her shattered heart. “I have been many things, lived many lives. What I am… I know not. Who I am… well, that’s a question not easily answered. I can tell you who I was. I was wife to the King of Demons, prisoner to the Emperor of Jinn, restorer of life, bringer of death, Guardian of Dragons, Mother of Angels, and sole ruler of the entire ninth layer realm of this universe.”

  He stared at her in disbelief, mouth agape.

  “I was betrayed by my ethereal sister and delivered into the mercilessly abusive hands of a madman… while she carried the lie of my true death upon her deceitful lips, whispering it throughout the Underworld.” She looked back to the dancing flames, a distant look glazing over her eerie black eyes. “What you bore witness to, the hell you had to live through, was the vengeful wrath of my dark husband’s broken heart. I stopped him upon the ninth layer, bound him to the gates of his fiery pit. Alas, my action was far too little, far too late, for far too many.” She absently wiped at the cold streaks her many tears had left upon her
pale cheeks. “As I said before… sincerest apologies, Brother. I would gladly undo what was wrought if it was within my power. I have been cursed with many blessings. Bringing souls back from the Otherworld is not one of them.”

  Heavy silence hung between them, weighed down their hearts, drenched the night air. Only the popping within those little flames filled their laden ears.

  “So… you’re not from here, then?”

  Drostan nearly jumped out of his skin when she burst into laughter.

  “No, Brother.” She choked out her words between snorted laughs. “I’m not from here.”

  *****

  Valencia closed her wings and fell, crashing head first into the still waters of a shallow pond. No matter how hard she scrubbed, nor how deep she dug her nails, she couldn’t remove Ahriman’s touch from her skin or her mind. Any remaining innocence, any lingering naïvety had been stolen, utterly crushed, obliterated. Never again could she be the woman she had been only yesterday, or the day before. Her heart and her soul were irrecoverably scarred. His horrible violation had changed her forever. She would fight it the rest of her life. Perhaps even become stronger because of it, perhaps not. But for certain… she would never be free of it, never. She was different now than she had been, and nothing could ever change that.

  Dragging her bruised and bloodied form through her chamber door, she thought of home, thought about slipping into Vanahirdem, taking a quick dip in the healing pool. But that was one burnt bridge she could never cross again.

  Painful tears embraced her until fitful sleep claimed her. Then, justified dark dreams held her prisoner…

  A tiny trembling figure sat huddled in a darkened corner. As she moved closer, Valencia could see the girl was naked, knees drawn to her chest. The mounds of curls cascading from her bent head fell down around her, all but covering her shivering fragile form. The occasional sniffs and tiny muffled sobs were heart-wrenching. Soft moonlight filtered down, barely reaching the occupied corner, scarcely illuminating a gaunt back, bones protruding, completely covered with open wounds and blackened bruises. A startled gasp escaped the she-Guardian, unbidden, causing the beaten girl to slightly lift her head. Valencia knelt in front of her, trying to peer through the tangled, matted locks. When she got up her nerve to cautiously pull back the mangled golden mop, she beheld piercing pink eyes staring back at her, staring through her. Then… their bright light slowly began to fade, melting away until only dull, black, dead eyes remained.

  Valencia’s own screams woke her, catapulting her out of the Sandman’s dark clutches. Only when her racing heart slowed did she hear the very real banging upon her door.

  “What is it? What do you want?” Valencia tried to use her threatening voice, but what rang in her ears was that of a terrified little girl. She cleared her throat and asked again.

  “My Queen, we’re under attack! The old King stands just outside the battlements.”

  Lunging for the door, she jerked it wide. The sudden action made her whole body ache. Actually, she was having a hard time simply standing erect. Her mind told her to bend with the pain, cave in to the deep bruises. The ones you could see… and the ones hidden deep within her.

  “Prepare the troops and reinforce the gate,” she commanded. “Has Drostan returned?”

  “No, My Liege. There has been no word.”

  “Then he is lost,” she said. “Set a proper command over his troops. No one is to remain idle. We need every sword at the ready.”

  Turning, Valencia caught a glimpse of her reflection—an unrecognizable woman within the mirror. When she stretched forth her wings, the movement caused her to cry out, forced her to her knees.

  “Now? He chooses now to attack? By the gods!” she shouted.

  Ah, ah, ah. Let us not bring heaven into this. You set this little party in motion by your own hand. You drew first blood, oh mighty Queen. You took the girl he claimed as kin. His only daughter, no less. The ridiculing little voice in her head whispered accusations.

  “Very well, then. Let him come. I will meet his might,” she said, narrowing her gaze, setting a hard line to her jaw. “Yes… Today’s as good a day as any. Better, in fact.”

  The tiny giggles in her head taunted her, set Valencia’s blood to boiling within her veins. Yet, her conscience would not be quieted.

  *****

  His eyebrows were almost touching. The deep furrow between them made her blanch.

  Why did I do that? Jenevier thought. Why did I laugh? Am I truly as cold a creature as I seem to be?

  “Why are you here?” Drostan hissed.

  The sharp snap to his words made her flinch. “Apologies. That was extraordinarily rude of me. The question caught me a bit… I mean… look at me.” Jenevier held wide her arms. “Do I look like I’m from here? You alone are the sole recipient of my recent confession. Others have asked, yes. Yet I knew not the answers.” She couldn’t hold his bitter glare. Her eyes strayed back to the flames. “Perhaps I am cynical, perhaps mad. I know not. I honestly thought the answer you sought was blatantly obvious. If not by my skin, then at least by my words. Again, apologies. I am truly sorry.”

  “Why are you here?” His tone remained as pointed as before.

  Her voice sounded oddly thin when she spoke. “…I know not.”

  Drostan’s sarcastic snort drew her gaze quickly back to the braided warrior.

  “Yet you seem to know so many other things,” he said. “How is it you play dumb to such a simple request? Why are you here? Now, that’s not too hard to answer, is it?”

  Well, hell, I guess I’m here because you cracked me in the back of the damn head and carried me here. She thought it, but she didn’t say it. His accusations ignited a spark of anger, yet her enormous guilt quickly stamped it out. She held her tongue.

  “You speak of fairytale creatures and impossible powers,” he scoffed, kicking dirt into the fire. “You don’t look as ethereal as you think you do, Milady. The warrior I saw split your lip, he’s from here. He is crowned with snow and praised with rare beauty. Yet he exudes life and fire and strength. You…” Extreme distaste ruled his now hardened features. “…you do not boast such magical things. You are minus glory. You are as death.” He chuckled coolly. “And what sane man would desire to lie down with death?”

  His words were true. Perhaps that’s what made them hurt so badly. Lies? Well, lies would just roll off her pale back. But his truths? Ahh, his truths pierced her through and through.

  Jenevier felt the dark clouds boiling and churning within her, filling her. Where’s Brodder’s warming lullaby now, stupid girl? Her thoughts grew ever darker as Drostan’s vicious berating continued.

  “I’ll tell you why you’re here.” One corner of his mouth slid up in a condescending smirk. “You are here to do what demons and dark things do. You are here to taint the good, scar the beautiful, and hinder the valiant. I’m glad the Silver Witch demanded to have you. At the very least, I was able to remove your wicked form from my King and his trusted few.” He spat upon the sizzling embers. “Before you were able to suck out what little honor and nobility remains in this godforsaken place.” He stood, drawing his sword.

  “Do not do this, Brother. Do not sacrifice your life for naught.” She hissed out her warning as she mirrored his stance.

  “A demon can be killed. I know. I’ve done it.” His cold smile was feral, vicious. He took a step toward her. “I’ll do it again.”

  Her growls increased with the extension of her deadly claws. Her back arched in a crouching stance, and those black eyes lost their snowflake glimmer.

  “What causes such anger where only admiration lived?” she asked, snarling.

  “I swore not to rest until my family was avenged,” Drostan said. “Leaving even one demon standing breaks my honored vow.”

  The icy darkness within her continued to grow, numbing her mind to what she must now do. Taking the life of this innocent man was not grieving her heart, no. In truth, her mouth watered with the tho
ught—the delicious thought of the coming blood. Her skin felt prickly and her heartbeat no longer raced, it grew ever calmer as she determined what she would do with this delectable man.

  As she reveled in the vile pictures playing out in her mind of her coming gruesome feast, Jenevier felt an all-consuming presence in the forest—dark and ravenous. It, this man, this creature, this entity, was a haunting siren call, beckoning her, rattling her internal emptiness.

  Heady with anger, frenzied with flowing crimson thoughts, it took every ounce of her control not to leap upon the man her gaze was locked with and devour him whole. The need was so ripe, so intense, it was painful. Then… an icy calm enveloped her.

  Turning to the approaching shadow, a smile slowly crossed her face. Drostan followed her gaze, yet he saw nothing. He studied her face, concentrating on her watching eyes, noting how she was obviously following the movements of something he could not see.

  As her transfixed gaze neared him, Drostan’s sword went up, fear controlling his jerky movements. She was staring at the unknown, right in front of him. When his blade sliced through the air, it made contact with nothing.

  Angelic whispers filled his mind, entrancing him. Return to your Queen. She has need of your… ministrations. Leave the pale one. She is no longer important. She is not a demon. You have no need to harm her. Forget about her. Your lovely Silver Queen no longer wishes to meet her. Valencia needs only for you to return, Drostan. She is desperate for your help, for your sword, and for your heart.

  Without so much as giving Jenevier another glance, Drostan sheathed his sword, retrieved his cloak, and walked away.

  The vaporous shadow drifted closer to her, passing over the smoldering fire, leaving the glowing little embers black in its wake—cold as stones. Not even a tiny puff of smoke rose to mark the place where warmth had just lived. It was beyond eerie, an unnerving sight, to be sure.