The Girl from the Stars Series Boxed Set

by Cheree Alsop

  Liora bristled.

  Devren grabbed her arm. “Don’t let him get to you. That’s what he wants.”

  She took a calming breath and led the way up.

  “What is it with you?” the Sadarin asked. “Why won’t you just give up and die? You don’t know the woman I have. She abandoned you the day you were born. What kind of a mother is that?”

  Liora couldn’t help herself. “The kind that cares about the life of a child, unlike you, assassin of Foundlings.”

  The Sadarin gave a grunt of approval. “So you know the truth about your heritage. You know your father left you with Damaclans to be raised in abuse and hatred. What kind of a parent could he be? Are you tired of being abandoned, Liora? You know I won’t abandon you.”

  “I wish you would,” Liora muttered.

  “No, you don’t,” the Sadarin answered in amiable tones as if they were talking about the price of fried banarang. “You need the balance.”

  “You upset the balance by killing the Foundlings,” Liora pointed out as she climbed.

  A laugh rolled down from the Sadarin. It was dark, spiteful, and sharp to Liora’s ears.

  “The balance was upset long before that. You think you know Foundlings, that they’re some honorable, trustworthy race above pride and ego because they founded the races. Look well, Liora Day. Behold the truth.”

  The crystal staircase and rocks around them reflected images from every facet.

  Liora saw Foundlings, beings with a variety of features, morphing to match the atmospheres and landscapes of the planets on which they landed. Their children, as new races, took on the same features, filling the planets with families, people with hopes and dreams.

  “They made themselves out to be lords and gods,” the Sadarin said.

  She saw structures erected to worship the Foundlings. A myriad of images of Foundlings being praised, bowed to, and offered goods and sacrifices flooded through the crystal pathway.

  On many planets, the sacrifices came at a high price, young girls and young men led like zanderbin to the slaughter. The Foundlings didn’t stop them; instead, they seemed to revel in the attention, lauding good crops for harvesting planets, a multitude of creatures for hunting, rain on desert planets, and lavishing gold in return.

  “It’s not my place to say whether they were right or wrong,” the Sadarin said. He paused and gave a dark chuckle. “Actually, it is. They preyed upon the strength of the people to stay alive. They didn’t have to; there were other ways. But they chose to take the easy route. They got greedy and their people became strong.”

  Liora reached the top of the steps with Devren at her side. A long, flat expanse of glowing crystal met them. Halfway between the top step and the table upon which Liora’s mother lay, the Sadarin stood.

  His skin flowed and writhed like black, living flames. His eyes were piercing and yellow, deep and hypnotic, yet emotionless. The turn of his mouth was cynical. There wasn’t a throat behind his curled lips, only an endless black void that gave the appearance of being far deeper than it should have been.

  “I am Sadarin, the last of my kind. But the Foundlings didn’t create us as one of their many people to rule. Do you know why?” His eyes narrowed and he said, “Because the Sadarin were Foundlings.”

  “You’re lying,” Devren told him.

  The Sadarin waved his hand and the crystals showed images once more.

  “I chose not to be beholden to the admiration of the races like my brethren,” the Sadarin said. “Instead, I encouraged the races to rise up, one by one.”

  The images shifted to show people burning their temples and destroying the altars. Statues of the Foundlings were smashed. Pyramids were pulled down. With each form of rebellion, the Foundlings lost power from their people. As they did, their forms faded and they became the insubstantial beings Liora knew from Ralian. They became voids, bitter, angry, cursing those they created for forgetting about them.

  “You betrayed your own people,” Devren said.

  The Sadarin smiled; it was a bone-chilling thing.

  “The irony is in the balance,” he said. “Good, evil, it didn’t matter. I felt their choices were wrong, so I made them right. In doing so, I doomed myself to their fate because the Macrocosm will have its balance.” He met Liora’s gaze. “Oh yes, it will have its balance. An effect for every cause, consequences to every action.” He waved a hand. “Meet the consequences of your actions, Liora.”

  Forms detached from the shadows. Liora’s heart slowed. She recognized members from her Damaclan clan, beings long since dead. Their eyes were black, but their bodies were real. The first reached for her. Liora batted the hand away. Another hit her in the head so hard she staggered backwards a few steps.

  “Fight, Liora!” Devren called out. “They’re not the people you knew!”

  Liora glanced back to see others around Devren, fallen members of the Coalition, officers they had killed; scavengers and Revolutionaries advanced toward him. Devren pulled out his knife and stuck it through an officer’s eye. The man fell to the ground and disappeared.

  Claws sliced across Liora’s arm. She drew her knives and lashed out at the creatures from the moss cave.

  Each time her knife sunk into one enemy and it hit the ground, its body vanished and two others took its spot, Vos and Cherum, members of the Gaulded Obruo blew up, officers and scavengers. Malivian came out of the darkness along with Vogun, the boy she had killed to become a member of her Damaclan clan.

  Liora fought them all, slicing and parrying in a whirlwind of blades to keep from falling at their hands. Each body hit the ground and disappeared. By the time attackers stop coming, Liora was fighting to draw a breath. She had lost count long ago of the number she had slain yet again.

  The Sadarin gave a deep chuckle. “That’s right, Liora. Face the consequences. Each of them died either at your hand or because of you. Confront the impact you have had on the Macrocosm, girl from the stars, the girl without a soul. If my puppets can’t take you down, perhaps this one can.”

  Liora looked to the Sadarin’s right and her heart slowed.

  Chapter 15

  Obruo, or the black-eyed being who wore Obruo’s body, stepped from the darkness. He held a knife in each hand. The sneer on his face was so familiar Liora’s stomach turned.

  Devren gave a yell. Liora glanced back to see him clutching his stomach. He parried the claws of a creature Liora didn’t recognize and shoved his knife through its skull. It fell to the ground.

  She turned back in time to block Obruo’s attempt to stab her in the throat. It took both knives and all of her skill to keep the Damaclan’s blades at bay. They whirled through the air; the clink of metal on metal and the whisper of air split by the blades were loud in the chamber.

  Wherever his attacks snuck through her defense, the knives marked her skin. Liora felt the sting of a dozen cuts along her arms and chest. Panic rose at the realization that he was toying with her, causing her pain instead of finishing her outright. He was as cruel in death as in life, and fear that he would finally win burned in her chest.

  “Let him win,” the Sadarin’s dark voice taunted. “Give us the balance you speak of with such authority.”

  “Never,” Liora growled through gritted teeth.

  She found a hole in Obruo’s guard and took it. The blade with the purple stone in the hilt sunk into his chest where his heart was. Obruo staggered backwards with a look of surprise. When he hit the ground, his body vanished.

  Clapping sounded. Liora looked up to see the Sadarin give one more clap, then cross his arms.

  “I’m really looking forward to this one.

  A tingle ran along the back of Liora’s neck. She turned slowly, afraid of what she would see.

  The darkness parted, a fiery curtain of red that lit the man before her in an otherworldly light. Liora bit back a gasp.

  Tariq, his eyes black and without feeling, advanced toward her one step at a time.

  “What a
conundrum,” the Sadarin said. “Do you slay your love again the way you let him die in the dome? Will you let him kill you so you don’t have to feel your blade slide into his very real skin? Will you let guilt dictate your actions?”

  Tariq was almost to her. Liora took several steps back. Her grip on her blades loosened. The knife from the Kratos fell to the crystal ground with a ringing peal.

  “It’s not him!” Devren yelled.

  Pain colored his voice. Out of the corner of her eye, Liora saw him collapse against the wall. He slid to a sitting position, his hands clutching his stomach.

  Tariq, or the shell of Tariq that stood before her, lunged forward with two serrated knives.

  Liora knocked one away, creating an opening to his throat. She could have sliced and taken him down, but the thought of feeling her knife cut through his skin made her hesitate. Tariq brought his blade back in a sweep that cut across Liora’s shoulder and nicked her neck.

  “You’ve got to kill him, Liora,” Devren said.

  She heard him struggling to breathe. His attackers were gone, but he was battling for his life.

  “Can you kill your one true love, Liora?” the Sadarin asked, his voice taunting. “Can you be the one to let his life slip through your fingers the same way you did when you left him to die in that dome?”

  Tariq’s knife got through her defenses again, slicing across her back when she spun. The pain that burned along her scarred skin made her cry out. Tariq advanced, stabbing her in the thigh.

  “Liora,” Devren gasped.

  If Tariq got through her, he would kill Devren. She knew there was no way the Sadarin would let him live. There was no choice, not anymore. She would protect Devren if it destroyed what was left of her.

  Liora clenched her jaw and gripped the knife with the purple gem in the hilt. She blocked a double thrust toward her stomach, spun around him, and shoved her knife through the back of his ribs into his heart.

  Tariq stumbled and his legs gave out. He dropped to his knees. Tears flowed down Liora’s cheeks. She grabbed the hilt of the knife and pulled it out. Tariq fell forward and vanished at her feet.

  “That must have been difficult,” the Sadarin said.

  “Your turn,” Liora replied. She strode toward him, scooping up the other knife as she did so.

  “Not just yet,” the Sadarin interrupted. “There’s one more person I’d like you to meet.”

  The shadows to his side massed instead of separating. When they collected, a tall form with death gray skin and black eyes watched her.

  “You didn’t know you had a half-brother, did you?” the Sadarin asked, his tone casual. “Besides the puny human one, of course. Raio has been dying to meet you. Haven’t you, son?”

  When the young man smiled, the teeth revealed were nearly black and pointed.

  “No.”

  Everyone looked at the table behind the Sadarin.

  Raliel, Liora’s mother, watched them. Her arms, legs, and torso were bound to the table. Tears showed on her cheeks and there was something in her eyes when she met Liora’s that resonated in Liora’s chest.

  “Don’t make them fight, Lyliel. Please,” she begged. “There is good in Raio. Don’t do this.”

  The Sadarin’s face twisted. He turned toward her, his tone sickly sweet. “I haven’t been called that name in centuries, my love. Is the thought of your children at war bringing back those feelings of love?”

  “You used me,” she replied with vehemence in her voice. “You took Julius Day’s form and impregnated me with your son.”

  The Sadarin nodded. “I did,” he replied succinctly.

  Raliel looked at Liora. “Your father and I knew we had to bring balance back, to give the Macrocosm at least a chance.”

  A toothy smile spread across the Sadarin’s face. “You hear that, precious girl? Yours was a birth of necessity instead of love.”

  “It was both,” Raliel said.

  “Enough with you,” the Sadarin spat.

  He opened his hands and the bands that held Liora’s mother to the table sparked.

  “Leave her alone!” Liora yelled.

  Raliel let out a yell of pain, then fell silent, her eyes closed.

  “You have greater things to worry about than your mother,” Lyliel replied. He turned to the shadow at his side. “Your entire purpose is for this moment. Don’t let me down.”

  “I won’t, Father,” Raio replied.

  He pulled bladed weapons as long as his arms out of his black robes as he advanced. Liora settled into a fighting stance. When he attacked, blocking the first two blows made Liora’s arms ache. Each hit of blade upon blade sent shockwaves all the way to her shoulders. He battered her again and again. Her rear foot slipped and she felt to her knees. She continued to block, holding the blades against her arms when her fingers were too numb.

  The blades sliced the skin of her arms where they were exposed. The Ventican shirt she wore did little to protect her against the relentless attack. Liora felt fear pushing at the back of her mind. Raio was strong, stronger than she was. He didn’t appear to feel fatigue. He just kept hammering at her.

  Liora’s arms were weakening. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep it up, but he didn’t have any holes in his guard. Whenever she tried to goad him into making a mistake, she paid for it with blood. Her arms faltered.

  “Liora, take my strength.”

  Devren’s voice was weak. Liora could hear the rasp of his voice. He was bleeding out from the wound in his stomach, yet he was offering her strength to defeat Raio.

  “We’re both lost if you don’t,” Devren said. “Do it, Liora. Do it now.”

  Liora didn’t want to. Raio rained down several more blows. Liora’s left arm gave and one of the blades sunk into the top of her shoulder. She gave a cry of pain.

  There wasn’t any other choice. She hated that the Sadarin had put her in such a position. She pulled from Devren. The strength wavered, then filled her, flowing through her body and up her arms.

  Liora surged to her feet. Raio’s eyes widened and he took a step back. Liora pressed her advantage. She battered him, honed her strength toward speed, and did a fast spinning sweep with her feet that knocked his legs out from under him.

  Knowing any hesitation could mean death for both her and Devren, Liora launched herself on top of Raio and put a knife to his throat.

  “What just happened?”

  The Sadarin’s question echoed through the chamber.

  “Raio, did you just lose?”

  The disgust in Lyliel’s voice made Raio struggle. Liora pressed the blade tighter to his neck so that it cut into his skin. His struggles stopped.

  “Go ahead. Kill him,” the Sadarin said.

  There was a hint of tightness to his voice, but a glance at him showed narrowed eyes and pure anger.

  “Do it.”

  Liora stared down at Raio. He asked her to kill him. He wanted her to do what Lyliel demanded. He was giving up.

  “Kill him,” the Sadarin repeated.

  “Kill me,” Raio said. He lifted his neck, pressing it against the blade.

  Red blood welled up against the gray skin. Liora stared at him.

  “Do it,” he repeated. Pleading filled his voice.

  The realization that he was begging her to take his life struck Liora.

  “No,” she said quietly.

  “Have mercy,” Raio said.

  “I am,” Liora replied.

  Raio shook his head heedless of the blade at his throat. “This isn’t a life. I don’t want to live like this.”

  There was a flicker of humanity in his gaze, of someone lost, trapped, without the torchlight’s flicker to cut through the darkness of the cave. He was a lost soul, his life taken by someone else before he was even born.

  “Come back with me.”

  Raio stared up at her. “Like this? I am not a human, Liora. I’m a beast made only to destroy you, and I lost. Kill me.”

  He grabb
ed her hand and tried to force her knife through his throat.

  Liora ripped her hand free and backed away.

  “You are whoever you choose to be,” she said. “That’s the thing about Foundlings like us. If we don’t like ourselves, we can change. We adapt.”

  She pushed acceptance at him, understanding, hope. She saw his features relax.

  “No!” Lyliel growled. “You can’t have him!”

  The Sadarin pushed his energy into a mass and propelled it toward Raio.

  Liora shoved Raio out of the way. The blast hit her with such strength it ran through her, surging to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes. The hatred and strength the Sadarin threw at her was fueled by the fear of what she could do. She felt envy, rage, and desperation.

  The centuries of his life he spent gathering his strength for that moment undermined whatever power she had left. Liora felt the rush from Devren be snuffed out. Her wounds and the energy she had spent fighting those who had died warred against her. She felt the power coursing through her nerves, shredding her joints, her muscles, her bones. The energy was tearing her apart from the inside out.

  “Liora!”

  Devren’s voice was muffled. Liora looked down at her arms. Her skin glowed with the same dark fire that filled Lyliel. The evil pushed through her, bringing up the memories of everyone she had killed, the pain she had caused. It tore her apart with whispers of her wickedness, remarks of her maliciousness.

  “That’s right, darling,” the Sadarin said. “Let the evil consume you. Belong to it, embrace it. It chooses you because of the darkness of your heart, of your soul. Join me; become a Sadarin. Together, we will control this Macrocosm.”

  It would be easy to give in. All of the guilt Liora carried could be chased away. She would be like Raio, acting on Lyliel’s whims, a pawn in his game. She was good at hurting people; the Damaclans had seen to that. If only she could get rid of her conscience.

  “You are good,” Devren shouted.

  Liora could tell by the weakness of his voice that he was using up the last of his strength.

  “You are pure, Liora,” he said, his voice weaker. She saw him fall to the floor, his hands on his stomach. “Remember Tariq. Remember your father.” His voice was barely a whisper when he said, “Remember me.”