“You know what? Just because you’ve been such a pain in my hide from the moment you and your precious little Oracle friends got here, I think I’ll just go ahead and wipe your kind off the face of…what do you call it? Earth?” Azazel grinned.
He pulled his arms back. Draven dropped motionless to the floor. Serena’s shrill scream pierced through the sky and tore me apart. I moved, so I wouldn’t have to see his eyes open wide, staring lifelessly at her.
Azazel’s claws were glazed in scarlet blood. His skin glimmered gold where it hadn’t been tainted by black scales. He straightened his back and tore his white silk shirt off, revealing his bare chest.
“Just because you’ve been such a nuisance, such a loud little insect constantly ruining my work, I’ll show you what it’s really like to irk a god like me! Your Druid’s just the beginning, my darling!” He laughed maniacally and started scratching runes across his chest, his claws drawing blood with each scratch.
Serena froze, swallowing back tears and watching him in disbelief. She recognized the ritual that Azazel was performing, and so did I. Draven had done the same when he took us to see the Daughters. Where were the Daughters in all of this?
“The Daughters will never let you leave!” Serena shot back, as if reading my non-present mind somehow.
Azazel chuckled as he finished cutting the runes into his flesh. “The Daughters are gone, my darling. Haven’t you noticed?”
A moment of silence followed. Then, Azazel clapped his hands once, and the golden light inside of him expanded outward, as if a star had just been ignited for the first time.
“What…what are you talking about?” Serena’s voice trembled from across the terrace.
The light shone brighter until it was a blinding white, as if we were being swallowed by a nebula. As everything was engulfed by it, Azazel’s words thundered, hurting my ears.
“The Daughters have left, Serena! They’ve abandoned Eritopia, and now, so will we! I’m taking my army to your Earth and burning it all down, and you’re coming along, my darling. I’m going to make you watch as I destroy everything you hold dear.”
Serena’s cry was the last thing I was able to make out as pure hot whiteness glazed me. I felt like I was disintegrating.
Phoenix
I walked through the jungle. Giant purple trees with gnarly branches reached out above, their dark oval leaves obscuring my view of an orange sky. It was dusk, by the looks of it. I followed a narrow trail that snaked through the forest. Swamp canals ran along both sides. Where there weren’t trees, thick mauve foliage, and bundles of dark green shrubs, there were steady streams of murky water riddled with fast-moving shadows.
Little red lights flickered across the water like fireflies. Birds sang overhead. Branches broke, and leaves rustled somewhere behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw a small figure, about as tall as Vita, emerge from the forest.
The creature wore a dark brown hood, clutching a black leather bag in its skinny arms. It tripped and fell to the ground. A soft voice cursed. It was a woman, I realized, and stopped to get a better look.
She stood up and pulled the hood back to better see ahead. She looked right through me. Her hair was rich, black, and braided with black and white feathers. Her skin was pale, almost as white as marble, and decorated with thousands of tiny green bead piercings mounted in straight vertical lines along her limbs. She was thin, with bony ankles and wrists, and she wore shiny rows of red beads on her forearms and calves. She looked young, but the dirt on her sharp-edged face made it difficult for me to tell more than that.
She walked right through me, and I decided to follow her. Clearly, she was the reason I was having this vision. I walked behind her as she struggled with the heavy load hanging from her shoulder.
We soon reached an open space, semicircular in form, with a tall limestone mountain wall occupying the straight edge. The grass at our feet was purple like the trees around us. I watched the woman as she approached the wall, looking up. The surface seemed carved with giant faces, simple slanted eyes, thin lines for mouths, and an abundance of red vines climbing and spreading across.
“I’m here to see Klibi,” the woman shouted at no one in particular.
A moment passed before the ground started to shake. I froze as I watched the limestone wall tremble and crackle with life. The forms I’d seen sculpted into it emerged from the mountain, their features far more pronounced. They rumbled as they stood up, vines still attached to their legs.
They were massive stone giants, and I wondered if these were the Dearghs that Anjani had told us about. One of them took a step forward and looked down at the tiny woman—she was microscopic in comparison.
“What is a swamp witch doing so far away from home?” The giant’s voice thundered through the clearing.
“I told you, I’m here to speak to Klibi. Now,” the woman commanded.
I moved closer in order to get a better look. I had heard about swamp witches from Serena’s account of their visit to the Red Tribe during breakfast, and this was a unique opportunity to see one up close, since they were presumed to be extinct.
“What business do you have with Klibi, little one?”
“I am here on behalf of my entire coven, Deargh. I seek Klibi’s help to protect our magic from Azazel. You must have heard by now that he’s been starting wars against the eastern citadels of the incubi. Agoris has already fallen, and he has captured three of my sisters,” the witch explained, her voice low, full, and warm.
I stood before five enormous Dearghs and a small but fearless swamp witch. The giants stepped aside, making room for her to walk forward and past the wide opening left in the wall.
I followed closely as she climbed up a stony ridge until she reached a red marble plateau just a few feet above the ground. The view was different from up there. I could see the dark purple tree crowns undulating below, hiding the water streams and even the trail I’d followed up there. The wind brushed through the tall purple grass.
The sound of stones cracking made me turn around to see another Deargh standing in front of the swamp witch. The woman bowed respectfully and pulled something out of her leather pack. It was a book, from what I could see, bound in a dark animal hide with strange symbols embroidered on the cover. She handed it to the giant, who took it with two massive fingers, as if he were picking up a little fly.
“Klibi, we need your help,” the swamp witch addressed the Deargh.
“What is this?” Klibi asked, his voice powerful and heavy.
“It is one of our three books of Knowledge. I need you to keep it safe,” she replied.
“Why come to us for this?”
“Because you are the strongest of the Dearghs, and Azazel wouldn’t dare attack you, not even with his monstrous Druids and their poisoned arrows. He’s amassing great power in the east, and he’s been hunting my kind down. He’s after our magic, and we cannot, under any circumstances, let him have it. You know very well what we are capable of, and Azazel must not wield such power. It would be the end of Eritopia.”
The Deargh thought about this for a while. Then, he nodded and stood.
“That is fine, little witch,” he replied, on a slightly gentler tone. “You’ve helped us in the past, and we will return the favor.”
The witch nodded her appreciation.
“Thank you, Klibi,” she said. “Rest assured that you are doing Eritopia a great service by protecting this book.”
“When will you be back for it?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed, and I could almost sense the sorrow in her voice. “I may never come back for it. I would rather die than lead Azazel to it. He’s closing in on our coven, and there are traitors among the incubi. It’s how he’s been able to kill my sisters. We never see him coming.”
Klibi nodded, looking at the book, tiny in the palm of his hand.
“What do you want us to do with it, then?” he asked.
“Keep it safe for as long as time flows in thi
s world. Someday, if I don’t come back for it, someone else will. I don’t know who, for I cannot see into the future, but someone is likely to rise against Azazel, strong and bold and ready to take him down. Only a worthy fighter must gain access to this book.”
“I understand, little witch. I will make sure that your knowledge ends only in good and pure hands. You have my word.”
I had so many questions for the Druid, but in the meantime, I was surprised and intrigued by how detailed and lengthy this vision was. I’d only had snippets of the past before and been unable to understand much from them.
This, on the other hand, was quite an elaborate memory of a time long gone. Before I could move around and see or hear more, however, the image before me blurred, and I was enveloped by a familiar darkness.
Not long after that, I heard different voices.
“Almus, what is this?” A husky, feminine voice shot through my consciousness.
The darkness around me dissolved into a different scene, bathed in an abundance of warm, orange light. I looked around and realized that I was inside a tent. It was a conical shape with loose seams and animal furs padding the floor.
It was spacious, and delicate translucent layers of red and white fabric were hung overhead, pinned from one side to the other and gently falling down like soft curtains. They served a decorative purpose and contrasted nicely with the amber light and black furs. Various swords and shields were gathered on one side next to a massive wooden chest with metallic hinges.
At the far end, opposite from the entrance, was a large slab of black stone that resembled obsidian. Its surface was smooth, seemingly polished to perfection. In front of it stood a young succubus, her skin glimmering silver, and a man. He wore the 1800s attire I’d already grown accustomed to at the mansion, and the name Almus instantly rang a bell. He was Draven’s father.
I took a few steps closer to see both of them better.
“It’s a passage stone,” he said to the succubus.
I couldn’t help but marvel at her beauty, which was eerily similar to Anjani’s. Her long black hair spilled over her shoulders in an abundance of curls. Her eyes were wide with swirls of gold and emerald, and her lips invited a man to taste them for an eternity. Her curves were equally appealing, wrapped in leathers and slim belts made of gold and encrusted with precious rubies. A massive sword hung lazily from her hip, cradled in a beautifully crafted scabbard with heavy gold ornaments, complete with artful filigree.
She may have been designed by nature to seduce, but judging by her firm muscles and menacing weapons, this succubus was also a fearsome killing machine.
“What is it doing here?” she asked him, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“I’m gifting it to you, Hansa.”
And all the pieces came into place. No wonder she looked familiar! I’d heard about Hansa, Anjani’s sister and chief of the Red Tribe. My mind immediately flew back to Jovi. I’d noticed how he looked at Anjani when he thought no one could see him—dumbstruck and fascinated. I couldn’t blame him, really. Looking at this creature in particular, he’d had every reason to find himself ensnared.
Judging by how Draven’s father was looking at Hansa, he seemed to be suffering from the same affliction. The flickers in his gray eyes were not reflections of the tent’s light, but embers of attraction. The succubus seemed to have quite the effect on the Druid.
“It connects this place to a hidden cave beneath my mansion, which is under the protection of the Daughters’ shield,” he explained. “It’s for us to communicate and make sure the books are safe. The swamp witches are all gone, but we still have their priceless heritage. If something ever happens to either of us, the other can use the passage stone to retrieve them.”
Hansa smiled and caressed the side of his face. The Druid leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. I was beginning to feel a little awkward and hoped that my vision wasn’t going to show me something I’d regret seeing.
“Thank you, Almus. That is very thoughtful of you,” she replied gently. “How does it work?”
“It needs your blood. It will only take you to a place with another stone, a place you have already seen. You shouldn’t risk it otherwise. I’ve heard horrible stories of its misuse.”
“Then you need to show me where your mansion is, darling,” Hansa smiled and closed the distance between them, bringing her face barely an inch from his. “You know where I live, but I don’t know where you live, and I think we’re past the stage in our relationship where we can keep such secrets from each other.”
Almus laughed lightly and sealed her lips with a kiss. I noticed that he held a book in his right hand—one I had seen before, identical to that given to Klibi by the swamp witch.
“At the next full moon, I will show you, Hansa. I promise. I just need to prepare Draven for this. You must understand,” he said.
Were they in some kind of relationship? Was he about to break the news to his son? I had so many questions for Draven. It felt like watching a drama on TV, and I personally knew one of the protagonists. I held back a chuckle as Hansa took a step back, wavering a little before the Druid.
“Are you sure you want me to meet him, Almus?” she asked.
“It’s been a long time since that boy has seen anyone other than Elissa. He needs to experience some kind of change in his life. He gets so lonely, Hansa.”
“As long as you think it’s the right thing to do, I won’t mind. I’m already too deep in this to back out. I’m so close to breaking tribal traditions.” She smiled and kissed him gently on one cheek, intentionally close to the corner of his mouth.
“Neither of us saw this coming, Hansa. You surprised me,” he replied and held the book up between them.
They were both trying not to tear the other’s clothes off, judging by their heavy breathing and bedroom eyes. I took a step back then, not sure if I wanted to see what happened next. Whereas previous visions had ended too soon, this one sure seemed to take its time.
“I’ll take this back to the mansion tonight. Make sure you hide yours as well. I must not know where it is,” Almus said slowly.
“They’re all dead, aren’t they?” Hansa asked, her gaze fixed on the book, darkened by sadness.
Almus nodded. “They were betrayed.”
Before I could hear more, darkness poured over my eyes once more.
Typical.
When I wanted it to end it sure didn’t rush me out of there, but when I wanted to stay, it immediately pulled me out. I’d have to work harder to try to control these visions.
The image came into focus again, painted in vibrant strokes of crude green and electric pinks and oranges beneath a deep blue sky. Long strings of pale orange sky ran across, from east to west, as the giant sun slowly began its descent.
I stood on top of a mountain. It was so tall that I could see the rest of the world curve gently at the horizon. The view was breathtaking, and I soaked it all in slowly—a stunning display of lush jungles with young trees that barely rose from the tall grass and sharp hills that had yet to be eroded by the passage of time. Volcanoes spurted bright orange lava in the distance, and rivers flowed wildly across the land.
A peculiar crackle prompted me to turn around. I realized then that I was on the very peak of the mountain. My feet were inches from the edge. Below me, a deep crevice split the mountain in half. Two sharp tips of white marble rose around a pool of hot water. The water climbed as high as the walls allowed before spilling outward from the low side of the crevice and cascading down the mountain.
The water was a dark pink. Its luscious surface reminded me of the new Daughter’s hair. It held the same fascinating hues of red and fuchsia, like paint had been poured in it and swirled around.
I heard the crackle again, but it took me a while to identify its source. The pink water was bubbling up on the surface with white foamy rings expanding one after another, traveling with the ripples.
The wind blew strong at that altitude.
I could tell from the way the handful of purple shrubs nearby bent with it. It whistled and swished between the white marble peaks, creating a pleasant acoustic effect in combination with the sound of water dropping for thousands of yards along the mountain.
I bent over slowly to get a better view of the pink water. I could see my reflection in it, barely a stick figure at that height. The water trembled, and a white egg emerged from below. I stilled, realizing that it looked eerily familiar. It was a large shell with a pearly white glaze and thin red veins spread out on its surface.
It floated around for a while until the bubbles gently pushed it toward a flat sliver of white marble onto which the egg rolled quietly. The pink water lapped at the narrow shore. I got down on my knees, not sure whether I could do anything else from that angle. I had yet to explore the physics of my visions, but given all the rugged ridges of marble that waited below, I didn’t want to risk it.
The last rays of sunshine passed over the egg, throwing shades of amber and rose against its shimmering shell. I stayed there for a while, wondering what else I would see. I didn’t want to draw any conclusion just yet, not based solely on the resemblance of that egg.
Before I could formulate another thought, the shell cracked, and I held my breath. After a few more pushes, it hatched, and out of it came a marvelous creature—one I knew in my heart was exactly who I had suspected. It was a Daughter of Eritopia, so young and pure, with pale skin and reddish pink hair and the same electric violet eyes that I’d become so fond of back at the mansion.
She looked around with a dazed look on her face. Her attention was then drawn to the pink water, which pushed out a few more eggs. It dawned on me that I was watching the birth of the Daughters of Eritopia at the beginning of time.
One by one, they hatched from their eggs. Seven of them, similar in appearance, clearly sisters. Their hair flowed straight down their backs in shades of fiery red and pink. Their eyes burned bright like violet flames. Their lips were soft and full, drawn in beautiful cupid’s bows. Their skin was opalescent, delicate veins slightly visible underneath.
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