He eyed the mysterious creatures ahead of him. Where were they taking him? Glancing around, he wondered where the rest of the necromancer society was. The streets were that of a ghost town. Neither a murmur nor a whisper wafted from behind closed doors. Nothing.
It was then that a terrific explosion ripped through the languid air, startling Kane. Blue mist radiated from a huge building to his left. He stopped in his tracks, as did his two ushers ahead of him. They casually glanced to their left, noting the happening with vague interest and a smile, then proceeded along the path.
Kane followed, though his nerves were rightfully rattled.
It was then that hordes of people began pouring into the center of the street, seemingly from the origin of the blue fog. Hundreds of necromancers surrounded him, their steely, liquid-like skin shimmering with each movement, eyes of swirling diamonds fastened on him.
But he didn’t see any of them. His sights were locked on the dozens of shades now occupying the boulevard.
His lips curled back involuntarily. Hand reaching for his sword, he drew it and prepared to fight.
“I just want to meet her,” Fate stated to Vale and Xia as she made her way to the center of the field where the newborn necromancer was being fawned over by her twelve red-robed parents.
She approached the cluster, hoping the new necromancer would be capable of speech. Memories of her first encounters with Kane flooded back and his surprise that Fate could speak Attra.
How do I know their language? Her mind sifted her recollections of the Surface. Latin. She decided with a nod, thankful she’d studied so hard in school. It’s very similar to Latin.
A longing tugged at her heart. She wished she could go back, relive every moment of her human life and appreciate it. Do it better. Fate wondered what Shelby was doing. Her parents. Even her brother. Were they still out looking for her? Had Rory been brought to justice?
Rory. Anger lit in her fragmented soul. How could he have done this to her? If he had truly become immortal, as Vale suggested, he would continue doing to this to countless people for centuries to come. Fate seethed, her blood boiling with the notion that more would suffer as she did. But she was stuck down here. Rory was free, alive, on the Surface. There was nothing she could do. Was there?
Vale and Xia held back as Fate approached the circle of necromancers. The little zombie girl in pink, previously decaying and covered in rotting flesh, now displayed a perfect body covered in shimmering, metallic skin. Her once wild and blonde hair was now sleek and dark blue. The pink dress, apparently evaporated during the transformation, had been replaced by a downy-soft, navy robe.
Fate waited patiently for her turn with the newborn. Finally, the crowd parted and she approached to the girl.
“Hi,” Fate began, wondering if she should offer her hand in greeting. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your win.”
The girl turned her head, inspecting Fate with her new swirling eyes. A lengthy moment went by before the girl spoke. “Thank you,” she said with a soft smile arcing her chrome-like lips, voice tinny and hollow, but hypnotizing in texture.
Anxious to learn more, Fate inquired, “Do you remember much about your life on the Surface?” Fate was anxious to reminisce about home. To remember with another who had been there so recently.
“The Surface?” the girl repeated, her smooth forehead, devoid of eyebrows, furled.
Fate’s heart dropped a little. The girl didn’t remember. A comforting arm suddenly appeared on her shoulder, a familiar voice soothed her, “She doesn’t remember,” Vale confirmed, “she’s not like us.”
“Why?” Fate asked, her voice small.
“They are brought back to life, but they don’t receive their original souls,” he explained.
She turned, giving him an incredulous look. “Then whose soul do they get?”
He gave her a small smile. “They share one.”
Fate’s eyes widened. “They share one?”
He nodded as Fate assimilated the information. How do thousands of beings share just one soul? She wondered if that was why the necromancers’ souls didn’t appeal to her. Why the monster within remained at bay. Maybe this one soul was spread so thin between hosts that it didn’t leave anything for her to consume.
Fate turned back to the former zombie girl, still intrigued. “Do you…have a name?”
“The elders have named me Aura,” she stated, her radiant eyes blazing even brighter.
Upon returning a smile, Fate heard a tiny peep emanate from the pouch on her hip. “Spark!” She hastily opened the bag and released the tiny phoenix. She’d completely forgotten about him! Poor thing was likely going crazy being kept captive in the small purse.
The tiny flaming bird darted madly about the arena, ping ponging off imaginary walls, leaving trails of orange fire behind him. Fate and Aura shared a giggle as they watched him literally burn off some energy. After a few moments, Spark returned and settled onto Fate’s shoulder, his chest fluttering from exertion.
“He’s beautiful!” Aura said.
“Thanks,” Fate responded. “Would you like to hold him?”
Aura held out her hands with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old. Spark dimmed his fire, allowing Fate to take him from her shoulder and place him on Aura’s open palm.
“It…tickles!” Aura exclaimed as Spark’s tamed embers licked her steely skin.
One of Aura’s attendants spoke, “Please forgive us, we must take Aura to be prepared for the ceremony.”
“Ceremony?” Fate questioned.
He nodded, prompting Aura to return the phoenix to his master. The group of red-robed necromancers then guided her new friend out of the arena.
She turned to Vale and Xia who were chatting amongst themselves a few feet away, then asked, “What ceremony are they preparing her for?”
Vale’s luminous eyes settled on Fate’s. “Her inauguration,” he explained, then added, “We should get going, we have to get ready ourselves.” He extended a gallant arm to her, taking Xia on the other.
“We’re going too?” Fate asked, excitement building within.
Vale grinned. “Yes, my lady, we are going to the ball.”
Facing Destiny
Kane’s indigo eyes surged with ferocity, hatred fueling his rage. Many of the shades’ eyes narrowed at him, a mutual mistrust and instinctual revulsion mirrored within. His arm muscles flexed, legs set apart in fighting stance. He knew he could kill at least a few before they ganged up and took him down.
“Be calm, prince,” one of the necromancers stated as he approached Kane, raising his silver hands. “These shades are…tame.”
“Tame?” Kane repeated, logic warring with instinct. How could they be tame? Fate had been the only shade he’d ever encountered that had shown the ability to suppress the murderous desire. “How? Were they born…alone?” He couldn’t fathom it. Had the ritual on the Surface changed? Had Malus found a way to communicate with her human minions on the land above? Impossible. The only way to the Surface was through the fissure, and it had been sealed for centuries.
“No,” the necromancer explained in a gentle tone. “They escaped Malus, and Vrill took them in. They are welcome refugees in Necrosia.”
“Vrill?” Kane reluctantly put away his sword. “Who is Vrill?”
“Come,” the necromancer waved the demon forward. “Follow me.”
“Wow!” Fate’s eyes couldn’t look around fast enough. The great hall of the palace was both eloquent and macabre. An odd mixture. Slender, crisscrossed bones formed the walls around them, latticed and interwoven with thin golden twine. An enormous ivory staircase wound upwards like a corkscrew, the delicate gold strands barely visible, leaving the stairs to appear floating in midair. Extensively long crimson swags hung from the ceiling, undulating with every soft breeze that dare enter the room. Black candles flickered from every corner, shadows danced, creating an ambiance both sinister and mystical.
Xia excused herself and de
parted into another room, leaving Vale and Fate to themselves. “Shall we?” he inquired, extending his open palm to her.
She set her hands onto his, giving him a questionable glance. “Shall we what?”
“Meet my master,” he said quietly, leading her to the winding flight of steps.
A flutter of nervousness swam through her chest. She had no idea what to expect of Vale’s master. Was he frightening? Kind? Images of the demon city flickered through her thoughts. Though many of them had been afraid of her, even hated her, she’d felt strangely at home in the underground palace. She might have stayed if it weren’t for Kane. Would Necrosia leave her with the same sense? Would she be welcome here?
They climbed the stairs, Fate’s wariness increasing with every step. How different her life had turned out than she’d imagined. On the Surface, her life seemed mapped out for her, like destiny had already drawn invisible paths to her final destination. Birth, school, marriage, kids, death. There wasn’t any question to how her life was to unfold. Here, though, all that existed were questions. Uncertainties. Where did she fit in? Which way was she supposed to turn next?
It’s hard to plan a life without the expectation of death. Normally, on the Surface, this might be considered a good thing, even desired, but now being in this predicament, Fate was unsure as to how to proceed. What does one do with eternity?
“In here,” Vale’s voice stole her from the philosophical daydream.
He led her into a darkened room, a deep lavender scent exciting her nostrils. The same décor had followed them upstairs: scarlet drapes, onyx candles, with the addition of furniture assembled with various bones.
Vale moved towards a set of French doors on the right. “I’ll be right back.” And he disappeared through the entrance, closing the doors behind him.
Fate swallowed. The growing anxiety in the pit of her stomach beginning to annoy her.
She walked slowly about the room, examining every oddity and splendor. Statues, both small and large, decorated the room. Adorned from all the rocks and gems available in the underworld: jade, sapphire, ruby, diamond. The list went on and on.
She stole a glance at the French doors, hoping Vale would return. Dismayed, she continued.
In the center of the room sat a most peculiar, yet beautiful, item. An orb. Nested on a black, marble pedestal, the swirling blue and white sphere pulsated with power. Fate took a tentative step forward, as though the gleaming ball was begging her to touch it. Caress it. It seemed to call her.
Intoxicated by its energy, she raised her hands to set her palms upon it. The moment her skin made contact with the cool glass, the room behind her disappeared. All that existed was peace. Oneness. Power pulsed at her core, in the emptiness where her soul used to reside. It warmed her. Cajoled her. Satiated her hunger.
“Ah, I see you’ve discovered the Nexus,” a hollow voice commented from behind her.
Fate pulled her hands from the orb as though she’d been burned. Guiltily, she spun around. A male necromancer stood before her and, even without introduction, she anticipated this was the infamous Vrill. His long ivory robes swished against the black marble floor, silver hands tucked into his sleeves.
“Um, hello,” she stammered, looking for Vale who was nowhere to be seen. “I’m sorry, I was just…”
“Feeding,” he interjected. “I understand.”
“Feeding?”
He nodded, his galactic eyes twisting with silver stars. “Yes, this is the source of our soul,” he explained calmly.
“This,” she eyed the shimmering sphere, “is your soul?”
“Our soul,” he emphasized. “The necromancers.”
She nodded, recalling how Vale had said the elusive species shared a massive soul of sorts. But feeding? Had she fed? She didn’t feel the hunger anymore. Was that considered rude to feast from the strange soul container? She hoped not.
“Please, sit.” He slid past her, seating himself upon a skeletal chair.
She looked the fragile-looking bone chair up and down, certain it would bust into pieces the moment she put any weight on it. Testing it slowly, she eased herself in, praying it wouldn’t collapse beneath her.
Fate pointed to the Nexus. “I apologize if I wasn’t supposed to…feed from that,” she said, stumbling over her words.
Vrill chuckled lightly. “Please, do not concern yourself. The shades within the walls of this city are free to utilize the Nexus as they need. The Nexus cannot be drained. Nor destroyed. So, please, use it as you need.” He then moved on, asking bluntly, “Vale tells me that you are the Devil’s heir, is this so?”
She smiled wryly. “So I’ve been told.”
“Does that displease you?” His nonexistent eyebrows creased.
Fate sighed. “I don’t know exactly what it means to be the heir. No one has…fully explained it to me. I’ve gotten bits and pieces of it…” her voice trailed off. She honestly didn’t know how much information she should divulge to this stranger. This world had a lot of politics going on that she didn’t understand. A lot of shady politics.
“I see,” he said quietly, removing his silver hands from within the robe and bringing them together, fingertip to fingertip, his angular, steel face etched in deep thought. “Vale also tells me you’ve befriended the demons.”
She hesitated, then nodded, uncertain how accurate his statement was. It was true she’d made a few friends within the demon community, but not enough to commit to being comrades with the lot of them.
“Ah,” he said suddenly, glancing behind her. “I believe we have one of your friends here now.” He rose and greeted two necromancers as they entered the room. Fate sensed another figure in the room, not by sight—but by smell.
A demon.
And she knew that delicious scent anywhere.
Surprises
Fate had nothing to say. Her eyes locked with an ocean of sapphire, heart beating wildly in her chest. Here he stood, only a few feet away, and her tongue refused to function. If Kane hated her, his eyes were truly magnificent liars. Boring into her slivered soul, the energy he exuded seemed to reach out and embrace her with uncontrollable lust.
She knew she might feel something when she saw him again. She just didn’t expect to feel this. Nor that it would be reciprocated.
“Well,” Vrill clapped his hands together, snapping the mystical moment between the shade and demon. “I understand you two know each other?”
Both nodded, eyes never wavering from one another.
“Hmm.” Vrill suppressed a knowing smirk, leaving Fate to wonder if he could read their minds or if their expressions were that obvious. “Yes, well, I apologize for disrupting your reunion, but I understand that Prince Kane wishes to discuss some business with me. So, if it’s alright with you,” he stated, showing Fate the door, “I will have my servants show you to your room so you may ready yourself for the ball this evening.”
Fate smiled in appreciation, frankly a bit relieved to be leaving. She needed to think.
“Can I…see you later,” Kane said, his baritone voice hopeful, tantalizing her with the deep frequencies.
She pushed a rogue strand of silver hair from her face and replied composedly, “Of course.”
“Wonderful!” Vrill exclaimed, the servants ushering her out of the room. “Shall we, your highness?” Fate heard the necromancer say as the doors closed behind her.
She followed the female servants to a room down the hall, candlelit sconces guiding them through the dark passage.
“In here,” one said, bowing after Fate entered the room. “Someone will come for you when the ceremony is about to begin.” And with that, they left, closing the door behind them.
Fate wrapped her arms around herself. Seeing Kane had caught her off guard. How was it that he was here? In the same city? Did he track her here?
No. He looked just as surprised to see her. And just as eager to speak with her. She wondered what he had to say.
A trickle of fear filtere
d through her. What if he really didn’t care for her? What if everything he said in the garden was still true? That she was dangerous. That he didn’t trust her.
She felt herself grow cold, knowing she couldn’t let him in again. Couldn’t let him hurt her again. She’d play it cool. Keep him at a distance.
If she could.
She looked around the room, the warmth of the crimson drapes conflicting with the skeletal furniture. An enormous skull with fangs protruded from the wall with four huge femurs acting as pillars for the four poster bed. A fire raged in a corner fireplace, decorated with what appeared to be the finger bones of some unfortunate creature.
Fate sighed heavily, slumping on the bed. So much had changed. The world wasn’t the same.
The Surface was so predicable. Sure, it had chaos and the occasional inexplicable coincidence, but here, here had no rhyme or reason. No set destiny. No pattern.
On the Surface, at least she could count on everyone being human. And alive. Here, she wasn’t sure from moment to moment who she could trust, who was what species, and so forth.
It frustrated her. She hated living—or not living in her case—second to second.
Her glowing eyes swept the room, pausing on something peeking out from the closet. Something green.
Fate stood and walked to the closet. Her hand upon the rib-like handle, she pulled, exposing the most exquisite dress she’d ever seen.
The shade of Northern Lights on a cold Canadian night, it glistened as though tiny diamonds had been woven into the fabric. Lifting the dress out of the closet, she held it up, observing its full glory.
She quickly slipped out of her skirt and top, then slid the dress over her cool skin, and walked to the full-length mirror situated in the corner.
Tight in the bodice, cupping her breasts just so, it then followed the contour of her torso with boning shaping the corset (she really hoped they didn’t use real bones). It flared at the waist with long strips of fabric that flowed freely around her milky legs. Loose straps hung from her shoulders, cascading the length of her arms like teal streamers.
Dark World (Book I in the Dark World Trilogy) Page 23
