Lights of Aurora (The Stone Legacy Series Book 3)

by Theresa Dalayne

  Chapter Eight

  Zanya’s next step landed her shoe into something wet. She slowly lowered her gaze to the river of blood flowing down the steps.

  Her heart raced.

  “It has been a long road to get here, has it not?” Sarian escorted her up the stairs, practically dragging her the entire way. When they reached the top of the temple, Zanya’s legs throbbed from the climb. The heat intensified, blistering her cheeks and forehead.

  “This place is a wasteland.” He surveyed the dead, cracked land. “Its true potential has long been wasted by a king who prefers to stay hidden in the deepest layer of the underworld, mourning a son who rejects his throne.” He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “But no longer. I will resurrect this kingdom as my own.” He flipped the pages of the book. “But first, I must cleanse it of the unworthy.”

  Zanya’s hatred for him grew so fierce she would kill him herself if she were able. If only she had the strength.

  Sarian clicked his tongue. “Now that’s not very becoming, Guardian. You shouldn’t have such thoughts about your future king.”

  Zanya sucked in a breath. Could he hear her thoughts or somehow see into her mind? What else did he know?

  He leaned in so close to her, his breath washed over her ear. “Everything, my dear. I know absolutely everything.” He placed an unwanted kiss on her cheek. “I was going to force you into obedience when I first broke the spell.” His lips brushed against her jaw. Bile rose in her throat. “But listening to all of your thoughts and fantasies about that boy was too enjoyable. All of the thoughts you have about him.” He gripped Zanya’s wrist so tight, the delicate bones ground together. She gritted her teeth. “The dreams you have about him. I could do those things to you.”

  She turned her head and spit in his face.

  He flinched back, his lips pressed tightly together. He raised his hand as though he was going to strike her, but paused and curled his fingers into a fist. He wiped the streak of saliva from his cheek, his features turning to stone. “Very well.” He turned to the enormous book propped on the altar. “The Popol Vuh.” He practically cooed the words. He ran his hand over the pages. Etched in faded ink on the pages were the same kinds of markings she’d seen on the stone altar in the cave. He read the first few words, and the markings glowed with life.

  Zanya’s stomach lurched as he continued to read aloud. With every word that passed through his lips, her limbs grew heavier and harder to move.

  The thousands of people raised their hands toward the sky, chanting in unison. Their words slurred and morphed into white noise.

  Sarian reached into her pocket and removed the stone. Its light shuddered, and Zanya’s heart tore open when her stone streaked with panic. “You wouldn’t accept my proposition willingly. Perhaps you will reconsider now that you see all you could reign over once you belong to me. By my order, the stone will strip you of your abilities—at least until I see you are willing to obey my commands.” She struggled to keep standing. Sarian yanked her against his chest. He narrowed his eyes. “You can either accept your fate and live, or I can release you to the will of the underworld and you can die a slow, agonizing death.”

  Zanya curled her lip and summoned every bit of her energy, then grabbed his hand and wrestled him for her stone. He threw her against the altar, where the blood from the last sacrifice had already dried and turned to dust. “Stupid girl!” She blinked when bits of soil fell onto her cheeks and eyelashes from the roots slithering above them.

  His eyes narrowed as they locked on the pendant around Zanya’s neck. A scowl arched his lip. “You believe the heaven deities can help you now?” He grabbed Cualli’s emblem, tore it from her neck, and threw it to the ground. “You are mine now. They have no power here.” He towered over her, glaring as if he hated everything about her. “I own you.”

  He cradled the stone close to his mouth and read from the book. The moment the words passed through his lips, her stone flashed with purple. The sickness crawling through her veins burst with such intense heat, as if she’d been set on fire. The dark energy clamped around her heart.

  Zanya’s muscles locked. He extended his hand and trailed his fingers over her cheek. She slapped him away, but it didn’t seem to faze him. He trailed his hand down her neck to her bust line, and stopped just as his finger caught the lace of her tank top. Her powers were gone, and instead his dark force pulsed through her.

  “Now. Let us watch the cleansing of your new kingdom.”

  Zanya didn’t reply, partly out of fear, though mostly out of resentment. Sarian grabbed hold of her hand and rested her open palm on his cheek. He dragged his lips over her wrist, inhaling her scent. His eyes closed, and his throat visibly tensed with sexual desire, making her want to gag. “Remember.” He opened his eyes and stared into her face. “Your abilities are chained, and if I so choose, you will be just another corpse lying at the bottom of the temple. I suggest you exercise some sense and do as you are told, young guardian.”

  Zanya swallowed, but her throat was so dry she could barely manage. Where was Arwan when she needed him? The only explanation was too painful to consider.

  She glared defiantly at Sarian.

  He returned the gesture. “You prove to be more like your mother than I care to remember.” He shoved her back, nearly throwing her to the ground.

  More soil tapped over her shoulders. A thin layer of dirt now powdered the stone temple.

  Sarian continued reading from the book. The ground below them writhed with roots. More of the tree’s roots from above reached down, and more pushed up through the dusty earth. The temple trembled. Zanya grabbed on to a stone block and bent her knees so she wouldn’t fall down the steps.

  Thankfully, she still had control over her body.

  Sarian didn’t seem fazed by the churning ground and wild roots slashing at the air. Zanya’s gaze flickered from him to the book while he dragged his finger along each line he read aloud.

  This was the book from her dreams. It had the same curled corners, the same yellow tint, and the same textured pages.

  Screams and shrieks replaced the underworlders’ chants as roots coiled around their ankles and legs and dragged them under.

  Gut-wrenching screams shook the air. Underworlders scattered in every direction, desperately seeking refuge from the hungry tree. Scarlet puddles sat on the dry surface. Soon, the ground looked like a sea of blood.

  Sarian read line after line, page after page, and she could do nothing more than watch. Her stone was hexed with his underworld power, which was more powerful than anything she could control. She would have to be smart.

  Zanya squared her jaw, examining Sarian. “Is this how you really want to win?”

  He stopped reading and slowly turned his head toward her.

  “I mean, this isn’t even a fair fight. You really are a coward.”

  His upper lip twitched.

  “Oh, so that’s it. You’re scared of me.” She huffed. “Well, I should have guessed as much. My mother showed you up, so why wouldn’t I? You couldn’t take the same chance twice, so you took the coward’s—”

  He lunged toward her and clenched his hand around her throat. “Your mother, that whore, was no match for me. It’s true she put up a reasonable fight, but I broke her.” His grip tightened, cutting off her air. “And I will inevitably break you as well.” He tilted his head to the side as she struggled to pull in a breath. The edges of her vision clouded with black. He released her throat just before she lost consciousness, and she gasped and coughed. “If you are suggesting you think you can defeat me in my own realm, I welcome you to try. Perhaps getting this over with early will be of more benefit.” He turned back to the book.

  She didn’t have time to think, just react. With everything she had left, Zanya closed her eyes and searched her soul for the link connecting her to her stone. Though it was weak and struggling to hold on, the tether was there; like a single thread of spider web stretching from one branch to ano
ther, being battered by the wind. Zanya called to the stone. It was the only hope she had to recover even a small amount of power, even for a moment.

  Her stone’s distant whispers echoed back. The longing that exploded in Zanya’s heart was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Not for a real home. Not for Jayden when he’d left. Not even for Tara, on the nights Zanya was forced to sleep in solitary after she woke from her nightmares with slashes clawed down her arm.

  Something inside her snapped, and the bond to her stone began to grow. She clung to it, pulling harder until she could feel the link strengthen. The cool energy of her light spread through her chest, clashing with the sick heat of the cursed charm.

  It was now or never. Energy flowed under her skin, through her limbs, and back to her chest. Her palms grew cold as she concentrated on collecting her powers and threw out her hands to strike him with an energy ball.

  There was nothing.

  Sarian grinned. “Did you honestly believe your abilities would simply return? That I would just give them back? Foolish girl.” He shook his head. “Women are good for little more than to be subservient. I will never understand why the gods chose a female to guard the stone.”

  “Maybe because they knew what a complete ass you are, and there was no one better for the job.” She lunged at the book and tore out several pages before he was able to react. The pages scattered around their feet.

  He grabbed her wrists. “That, Guardian, was a step over the line.” He pulled her so close their bodies touched. “You made the mistake of thinking I need you.”

  He knocked the wind out of her lungs with a punch to the gut. The taste of salt and metal coated her tongue, and warm liquid spread over her shirt. Zanya slowly lowered her gaze to see the handle of a knife protruding from her side.

  Was it possible? Could somebody who was already dead, die?

  Sarian shoved her back. A dull ache spread through her gut, and she fell to the ground, staring up at the ceiling of dirt and roots trapping in hell’s sun. Cualli’s emblem sat beside her. Zanya grabbed it and held it against her chest for comfort.

  Everything had gone so wrong.

  Sarian’s expression changed. She pushed up on her forearms to see what was happening. The knife twisted under the effort, and she muffled a shriek by biting her lip. With a deep breath, she gripped the handle and yanked it out of her side in one swift jerk. It was impossible to trap in the scream. She let go of the blade, and it clattered to the ground. Her hand shook as she pressed her palm over the wound.

  When Zanya was finally able to force herself to a sitting position, Sarian’s posture had changed. He stared out at the ground, not reading, not moving. Zanya followed his gaze and spotted Contessa strolling through the genocide as if nothing were happening. Why would Sarian’s ex-lover leave the comforts of her quant home in Moscow to come to the underworld? When Contessa was involved, the outcome was never good. Either she’d showed up just in time to watch Sarian finally get what he wanted, or she was up to something. The latter was Zanya’s first bet.

  Contessa didn’t make any effort to pick up her gown or avoid stepping in puddles of scarlet as she strutted toward the temple. She twirled a strand of hair while passing the lifeless underworlders as they were dismembered and pulled beneath the earth. The roots were now plump with blood, pulsing and writhing above the surface. As if they’d had their fill, they dodged Contessa’s light footsteps.

  “Hello, lover.” Contessa’s voice was like silk. She stopped at the altar’s base. Her stance was wide, and she tapped her index finger against her bottom lip.

  Deepening creases around Sarian’s mouth gave away his disbelief.

  “What? Not happy to see me?” Contessa looked at Zanya, whose muscles tensed. “Oh dear.” She ticked her tongue. “I see you aren’t doing very well.” Instead of climbing the steps, she stood in place, her emerald eyes gleaming. “Allow me to make an educated guess.” She tilted her head to the side. “Stabbed? Luckily for you it wasn’t through the heart.” She turned back to Sarian. “And you.”

  Sarian glanced around the quiet city. “This wasn’t part of our agreement.” Zanya might not have heard the quiver in his voice if she hadn’t been so close.

  “It may not have been part of your plan, but it was part of mine all along.” She swayed her hips side to side, as if she were a playful child telling a story, delighted to be the center of attention. “You couldn’t have honestly believed I would give up the lock of the guardian’s hair so you could better control her stone. Why? Out of the kindness of my heart?” She paused. “Oh, wait. I don’t have a heart any longer. You pierced it.”

  “We agreed on a price, and you will get what you want as soon as I am finished with the book.”

  “Yes.” Her smile vanished and her expression turned to stone. “You can be sure I will get everything I want.”

  Sarian closed the Popol Vuh and scooped it under his arm. He shifted his weight. Zanya had never seen him look so nervous. “Stop playing games, Contessa.” He scanned the bloodstained valley. “Where is he?”

  “Who, pet?”

  “The king. I assume you are here because you’ve informed him of my plans. Or are you here for another reason?” His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned on the altar with a smug grin. “A second chance at earning my good favor, perhaps?”

  “As much as it would please you to have me groveling at your feet for an opportunity to claim the throne you once promised me, that’s not at all why I’m here.”

  A shadow fell over Sarian—the first shadow Zanya had seen in this realm. It loomed over him and stretched across the altar, then down several of the stone steps.

  Sarian stood up straight, his brows furrowed.

  Contessa smiled widely. “I merely came to watch.”

  Zanya froze, her eyes wide and her breath stalled as Sarian slowly turned, finding himself face-to-face with a beast. Its muscular legs quivered under sleek black fur as if it had just learned to stand. Probably thirsty and weak like the others, it was most likely drawn there by the scent of blood.

  Zanya pressed harder on her wound, but her hands were already coated in scarlet. Perhaps hers would be lost in the scent of the rest of the other blood.

  The beast bared its teeth. The pads of its paws flattened against the stone when it took a step forward. Its breath blew a strand of Sarian’s hair away from his face, now drained of color.

  Zanya held her breath and hoped the creature didn’t hear her pounding heart. Its dark eyes gleamed with specks of gold. Sleek, midnight-black fur covered its entire body. The only exception was a patch of gold on its chest.

  The underworld animal snarled and lunged at Sarian before he had a chance to change and match the beast’s size and strength. The animal’s jaws clenched around Sarian’s shoulder, and it thrashed its head side to side until the ground was dotted with a fresh coat of red.

  Sarian’s frantic efforts to morph into his beastly form only seemed to anger the creature. He managed to slice the animal’s face with a sharp blow. It snarled and threw Sarian’s mangled body against the altar, then towered over him. The beast’s snout came within an inch of his face. Sarian dropped the book to the ground and reached out in a placating gesture, his hands now trembling as if he were a child. He opened his mouth to speak.

  The beast didn’t give him the chance. It snapped down and tore off Sarian’s head. Blood sprayed over the steps as the animal discarded its trophy. Sarian’s head bounced down the steps until it rolled to a stop at Contessa’s feet.

  Bile rose in Zanya’s throat. She pressed her hands over her mouth and dug her back into the stone—as if curling into a ball would somehow make her invisible. She remembered doing the exact same thing in the orphanage while drifting off to sleep, hoping Sarian wouldn’t be waiting for her in her dreams. It didn’t work then, and she had no idea why she was doing it now. Maybe instinct. Maybe just wishful thinking.

  Contessa stared down at the remains. She tilted her head to one side
in morbid curiosity, and then she stepped over Sarian’s head, as if it was merely a piece of garbage littering the ground.

  Chapter Nine

  “Rise up and stop cowering on the ground.” Contessa paid no attention to Sarian’s limp body lying beside the altar.

  Zanya frantically searched for the beast.

  “Child.”

  Contessa’s cold tone brought Zanya’s focus back to the woman—and the corpse. Sarian’s hand twitched. Zanya clenched the wound on her gut. It would be her withering in the unforgiving sun if she didn’t heal soon. The ache in her side grew into sharp spikes of agony.

  Contessa stooped down, grabbed a handful of Zanya’s hair, and lifted her head just enough to bring Zanya’s ear to her lips. “Hear me, child. I will not repeat myself twice.” Zanya swallowed and nodded the best she could. “You have done me a great justice today, and although it pains me to admit it…” Her lips puckered as if something bitter coated her tongue. “I am in your debt. Even the damned believe in honor.”

  Zanya would take what she could get, as long as it meant going home. “I want to get the hell out of here.” The blood from her wound had formed a pool beneath her, but she couldn’t leave without taking back the one thing she’d come for in the first place. Not after everything that had happened. “But first I came here to get Jayden’s soul back.”

  “That’s right.” Contessa let go of Zanya’s hair, allowing her cheek to slap to the ground. “You still desire to retrieve your comrade’s soul?”

  Zanya struggled to sit up against the stone wall. “Yeah, but why do I get the feeling you know something I don’t?”

  “I know many things you do not.”

  Everything about Contessa’s tone made Zanya uncomfortable. “Like?” She continued to probe, struggling to ignore the pain radiating through her muscles.

  Contessa examined her face for a moment before speaking. “I shouldn’t have expected you to understand.” She sighed. “When you came to me for help after your comrade’s passing, I found an opportunity I could not resist. I am not the only enemy Sarian has made over the years.” She extended her hand to the quiet realm. “You see how little regard he has for the souls of the underworld. Many despise him, though none more than I.” She dropped her hand back to her side, and her focus moved to the Sarian’s corpse. She dug in his coat pocket and pulled out Zanya’s stone. Zanya gasped and snatched it from Contessa’s grasp, then hugged it to her chest.