by Alex Lux
And I realized in that moment it wasn't multiple roots holding me, but the root of one tree, somehow. They were all connected, all pulling away with the pain of the bite. I spit out the bitter chunk of root flesh I'd pulled off and dug my teeth in again, this time not holding back.
The more I bit, the more the root pulled away, peeling off of me as I ate away at its body. I struggled against the restraint, pushing aside the rest, biting more, until I freed myself.
I moved away from the wall of the cave, hoping the roots couldn't grab me now, and was digging into my jeans pocket for my phone, when I heard a growl coming from deep within the cave, red eyes moving closer to me through the darkness.
A faint shaft of moonlight streamed in from the opposite direction and I ran with everything in me to reach the exit of the cave, hoping it was in fact an exit.
But luck was not with me as new roots sprung up from the ground, grabbing at my ankles, tripping me as I worked to avoid getting trapped by them. They whipped at my legs, cutting through my jeans and leaving what I was sure would be angry welts and bloody trails, but I didn't stop to look, only pushed myself harder to run.
The Beast didn't follow, which didn't make sense, but I couldn't pause to think about it.
I just needed to get out.
To get help.
Relief flooded my nervous system as I saw the exit, a large opening that released me into unfamiliar surroundings. A hill with a forest below, the moon shining bright in the sky.
I ran down the hill, but roots grabbed me, tripping me and pulling me back.
As I fell, I dropped my phone out of reach. I strained for it as the roots tied me down, limiting my movement. My fingers stretched painfully, muscles burning as I reached as far as I could, but the phone was just out of reach, and then I was immobile, unable to move at all. A sob escaped my throat as I struggled against my bonds. I couldn't reach any root to bite into it, could barely turn my head for fear the root around my neck would strangle me.
But I could see enough to know I was in deep shit.
The Beast's eyes glowed in the night, moving slowly out of the cave and coming straight for me.
Before it could reach me, another figure appeared in the sky above me, dark at first, then shining with a golden light, like a falling star. I thought I was hallucinating as the roots choked the air from me, but when I blinked to clear my eyes, I saw the falling star land and stand over me as he brought up a sword and sliced through the roots.
Drake.
SEVENTEEN
No Remedy
DRAKE
there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service,
— William Shakespeare, Othello
WITH SAM FREE, I prepared to fight, and kick the shit out of the Beast.
I jumped between them, blocking Sam, who struggled to stand, with my body and sword. "Why are you after Sam?"
If I was hoping for a rational discussion on motivation, I was bound to be disappointed. The Beast charged me, and I twisted, blurring into a gold shadow as I dodged his lunge at the last moment and slashed my sword toward its leg, cutting into flesh.
The Beast fell, roaring as it tumbled down the hill.
"Hide!" I yelled to Sam. "Call backup. I love you."
She shouted for me to wait, but I was already flying down the hill and after the Beast. He had to be stopped or he would keep coming for her.
The Beast was nearly recovered when I reached it. As soon as it saw me it howled, rage shaking the trees around it as its voice filled the night sky.
The trees pulled themselves out of the earth. Mighty oaks and pines, even a weeping willow tree, which made me think of our nearly sentient tree at Elysium. Their branches turned to arms as they moved faster than trees should move, attacking me as one unit.
I stretched my wings, lifting myself into the sky, but one branch shot out like a whip, grabbing me and yanking me to the ground as roots sprouted through the earth around me, caging me and pulling me into the ground.
Using my new super strength, I pushed through, but more roots formed, keeping me trapped.
Something shot out of the sky, falling at an alarming rate. Beleth hit the trees, body and sword one as it tore through the branches and roots, freeing me and leaving a destroyed forest in his wake.
"I will hold off the trees. Kill the Beast." The tree Beleth destroyed to save me was already reforming, but I trusted him to handle it as I sought the Beast, charging him with sword ready, flying into the attack with all my speed.
Claw met sword as we attacked, circled, dodged. I couldn't get an in. He moved with a speed even my Nephilim blood couldn't counter. I lunged again, spotting an opening, when a root grabbed my leg, stopping me.
I cut the roots away with my sword, hurting the monster attacking me. Beleth lunged at it, stabbing what looked like the tree’s head, and it collapsed.
All the tree creatures had been ripped apart, shredded and no longer moving. With Beleth by my side, we flanked the Beast, coordinating our attack instinctually, as if we'd done this before. As if we'd done this forever.
For once, the Beast hesitated, a look of panic in its eyes. It howled a different kind of howl, sharper and higher pitched than before, and mist gathered around it, obscuring it from view as it ran into the night, disappearing.
I leapt into the sky, gaining a vantage point over the now-fading mist, flying high enough to spot the Beast. He stood on the hill, bent over—
Rage.
Power.
Speed.
I pushed harder than I ever had before.
Flying faster than I knew I could, my wings nearly ripping my back apart.
Landing hard, I smashed into the Beast, plunging my sword into its back as we both rolled on the ground.
I righted myself and reached for my sword, only to see the Beast running away, sword stuck in its back. I moved to follow when a sound stopped me.
Gasping.
Dying.
I turned, all the air rushing out of my lungs as I collapsed to my knees next to Sam, who lay dying where the Beast had just been, her body covered in bites.
The ground around her soaking up her tainted blood.
EIGHTEEN
Fury In Your Words
DRAKE
I understand a fury in your words
But not your words.
— William Shakespeare, Othello
BLOOD.
So much blood.
And in a moment of total and complete self-hate, I craved that blood, the blood that covered my wife, the mother of my child. The life blood that could mean her death.
But I didn't have time for that descent into my own personal hell, because I could sense her heartbeat, quivering but there. I leaned down to her and could see her chest rising, slow and shallow, hitching and stopping, but always starting again.
Beleth landed by me, his own body covered in scratches and wounds that were quickly healing. Did he crave my wife's blood, as I did? The thought made me want to tear his heart out.
And mine.
"You need to help her. We have to save her, like you saved me." My voice stuck in my throat. "She's dying."
Beleth, who seldom showed any emotion on his face, looked pained. Sad even. Regretful. "We can't."
"What do you mean? You said some are turned rather than born this way. The Court of Nightfall, right? So we do that."
Beleth shook his head. "That is not what I mean. The Emzara would never approve Sam. They tolerated your transformation because you are of Nephilim blood and my son, but this, they won't allow it. The Twilight Queen guards her position fiercely, as do all who preceded her. Creating new Nephilim is a process that must be approved by her, as she must weigh the benefit with the risk. If Nephilim were allowed to change others at will, a rival could form a Nephilim order and overthrow the Twilight Court, causing political chaos that would never stabilize. So she, like all past Reigning Monarchs, is unrelenting with the punishments of those who break this sacred law."
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br /> "I couldn't give a shit about Nephilim politics right now." Sam's body convulsed in my arms, and I nearly died right there. "I won't let her die, Beleth."
"The Emzara will come for you. You will both have to pay. Your baby, Ana, will pay. It will destroy your family."
I bit my own wrist and held it over Sam's mouth. Beleth made no move to stop me.
"If she dies, my family is already destroyed."
NINETEEN
She Chose Me
THE TWILIGHT QUEEN
For she had eyes and chose me.
— William Shakespeare, Othello
IN VENICE, ITALY, beneath the majesty of Saint Mark's Basilica, stood a door to another world. Carved by magic from gold and ebony, it depicted creatures of splendor with wings made of light fighting the demons of hell.
Through the door, the Throne Room of the Twilight Court overwhelmed most who entered. The first floor stretched long and wide, covered in gold and black carpet, lined with suits of armor on either side. The second and third floors held balconies from which you could view the hall. Members of the Tribunal used it while making judgment, and they sat there now, the Lord of Nightfall and Lord of Sunrise, each wearing the colors of their Order. Those pleading, or on trial, used the first floor and seemed puny amidst the vast hall.
At the far side, a circle engraved with glyphs and cycles of the moon marked the carpet's end and the place where the High Queen had ascended her Throne, which hung suspended by magic above it all. No one could reach the Twilight Throne without wings to fly them. It had been carved of white and black diamond fused together with a base like a giant rock of obsidian and gold. It shimmered with white heat, a warning to those who try to sit in the seat of power. If any Nephilim other than the rightfully-elected Twilight Ruler tried to breach the protection of the Throne, their wings would burn off. Some say, they never grew back.
Only the ruler of all Nephilim could sit in the Throne.
Queen Seraphina sat there now, her black hair inlaid with golden vines to match her black velvet gown stitched in gold. She was of the Court of Nightfall, and as such wore her Order's colors, tempered with the Sunrise gold and white to honor her place as ruler of them all.
Her dark wings pulsed behind her as she rested her pale hands on her lap, her nails the color of the moon. With sharp eyes she watched her Lords hear and decide the fate of those in their Order, noting names and faces, filing it all away in her expanded memory and consciousness.
Politics were always fickle with the Nephilim, even after her reign of almost 500 years.
A globe hung to her right, sizable enough to hold in two hands comfortably. It shimmered with color, rotating on its own, reflecting images at seeming random. Seraphina had devised the object early in her reign to expand her own ability to 'see' her kingdom. It had alerted her to the boy, Drake's awakening. By law, Beleth was justified in completing the transformation of his son, but the act done without consent gave her leverage over the unusual Nephilim, and she coveted these debts owed for a time when she would need them most.
She lifted her gaze, her dark eyes flashing as the Emzara Commander approached her throne. He was larger than most Nephilim, endowed with special gifts that made his job as enforcer of her laws easier. He did not wear the colors of his Order. None of the Emzara did, as they had their own uniform made of fire and ice, forged with magic to become part of them.
"My Queen, the new recruit has given us problems once again. We have him in custody awaiting your order."
Seraphina would have sighed, but that would reveal too much about her emotional disposition. Instead, she paused, letting the weight of her silence linger.
The Commander wouldn't shift, wouldn't show any signs that he worried about her reaction, but she could tell. And so she waited more, and then spoke when she knew the timing would be most impactful.
"Summon the Disrupter," she said. The Lords to her right and left paused in their own discussions as the large room on all floors fell silent. No one had summoned the Disrupter in over a thousand years.
For the first time, the Commander nearly stammered. "Uh—yes, Your Majesty."
"We need this soldier. I have my plans. I see your questions, know your concerns, but in this you will have to trust my judgment. You do trust my judgment, do you not?"
He bowed deeply as she knew he would. "Of course, My Queen. It shall be done."
Sounds of screaming could be heard throughout the Twilight Court for three days and three nights without relief. Those who could leave, had. Those who couldn't without offending their Queen or failing in their royal duties remained reluctantly, a collective expression of discomfort on the faces of them all.
Only Seraphina remained visibly unaffected by the torture.
If she shuddered within, well, who could know such things?
When the screams stopped, the Court let out its collective breath and life quickly returned to normal.
It didn't take long for the Commander to return, escorting a figure shrouded in dark robes, and an Emzara soldier who walked with purpose, clad in the gray armor of one who had once forsaken his duty.
"My Queen," said the Commander, as the Emzara fell to their knees, "it is done."
She gestured them forward. "Disrupter, please step forward."
The figure in black did as asked, but did not bow, and the Queen did not press the issue.
"Will I have any trouble with this one moving forward?" she pointed to the Emzara soldier, the Nephilim who had disrupted court for three days with his screams.
A voice so scrambled, so inconsistent that she could not tell if it was male or female came from the figure in black. "You will not. He is ready to serve."
"Thank you for your service. What do you require of me in payment?"
The Disrupter considered for several moments before speaking. "A favor from the Queen, at a date and time of my choosing," said the disquieting voice.
Once again Seraphina locked in her sigh. She did not like being beholden to others, especially the Disrupter, but she had no other choice—no one ever did who worked with him. "You have my word."
The figure nodded its head and left without leave.
She directed her attention to the Commander. "Is he ready to fight?"
"Yes, My Queen. Without delay."
The globe beside her pulsed red, letting out a low hum. The Queen closed her eyes and looked inward, searching, seeing, discovering, then smiled a small smile. "Very good. Beleth's son has just turned a human without leave of this Court. We have a Nephilim to punish. Rise… Ryder of Nightfall, and take your place amongst the Emzara once again."
Ryder stood, his movements echoing through the hall. One of the Queen’s men had found him up in the mountains, bleeding from his eye but alive. Finally, he had been returned to her. And though Seraphina knew his next words would pain him, he would say them anyway. "As you desire my Queen, it shall be done."
TWENTY
The Soft Phrase of Peace
BELETH
Rude am I in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace.
— William Shakespeare, Othello
TWO MONTHS LATER
BELETH SAT UNDER the weeping willow tree watching his tiny granddaughter throw stones into the lake. Her chubby little hands worked so hard to get the stone to skip, but they all just sunk gracelessly into the placid water.
Still, Ana didn't lose her patience. A unique child, indeed. She kept at it, tossing stone after stone, until he brought his large dark hand to her small white one and tilted it.
"You're trying too hard, child. Toss the stone sideways and let it find its own path to the water's surface. If you launch the stones into the water, they will continue to sink."
She looked up at him with big blue eyes so like her parents'. So like his son's. "Like this?" She tilted her hand like he'd shown her.
Beleth smiled and nodded, his dark wings unfurling behind him in the warmth of the sun. "Like that."
She tried again, this time skipping the stone twice before it sank. She jumped up and yelped, then threw herself into his arms.
Unaccustomed to children, or physical contact, or hugging, Beleth had to force his body to relax and welcome the child as he cushioned her body to keep her from falling to the ground. She held a hand up to his wings, running one finger over the dark glow of them. "So pretty, Grandpa. Will I get wings someday like you and Mommy and Daddy?"
He ruffled her blond hair and smiled at the child who had stolen his heart. "Someday. When you're ready to become fully Nephilim."
"I can't wait," she said, curling into a ball on his lap and laying her head against his chest. "Someday I'll fly, just like you. Someday I'll be big and strong, just like you."
He kissed the top of her head and enjoyed the smell of sunlight, grass and happiness. "You are already strong. Stronger than all of us, child. Never forget."
This child would surpass them all in power, when the time came. Until then, he would protect his new family with everything in him.
Ana ran a hand over his arm, tracing his tribal tattoos. "Tell me another story, Grandpa. About the Nephilim."
"Another story? Aren't you tired of all the stories? I think I have told you most of them at least twice."
"I'll never get tired of them. Just one more. Pleeease?"
Beleth wrapped an arm around her and leaned against the tree. "Very well. Do you know the story of The Gray Watcher?"
