by D. Fischer
Jaw flexing, I inhale an impatient breath. Where is she? How do I call upon her? Do I speak her name? I mentally shrug. It’s worth a shot.
“Ferox,” I rumble to the open, quiet space.
Eliza stirs in my arms, her face pinching toward her nose. I study her features once more in hopes of diving into her unconscious mind. Though my demon nature is consuming and still fueling my purpose, everything I used to feel for her has come back with a powerful intensity. My heart swells, my blood pumping for her, but my pulse hammers to the tune of my nature, begging to be fed. And because of that, I know I’m too unstable to keep her safe myself. I have to get her to safety. She can’t stay here, and she can’t stay with me.
“You beckoned?” a familiar voice sings.
Tearing my eyes away from Eliza, I look to the voice. Ferox’s hypnotizing face stares back at mine, an annoyed expression narrowing her eyes. Her tentacle hair twitches, submerging the ends into the surface. Above the surface, the thick hot goop drips down her deep green, slender shoulders.
“I do not enjoy being summoned, Thrice Born,” she growls, exposing sharp teeth.
I flick my tongue and lick my bottom lip, uncharacteristically nervous. I hold no weight with the pyrens. They don’t owe me any favors, and yet, I’m about to ask for one. This may not go over well.
“I need your help.”
Her gaze drifts to the woman in my arms. “I, or we?” she drawls sluggishly.
I straighten my spine, irritation swirling in my stomach. Slitting my eyes to match hers, I lower my voice. “We,” I demand with more conviction. What I’m asking isn’t up for negotiation. She’ll do it, or I’ll kill her and ask the next pyren I come across.
Slowly, her gaze lifts back to mine, voiceless threats twitching her plump fish lips. She angles her head, considering me and my demand, and as she does so, her gills flutter. The corner of her eye twitches, and we hold each other’s stare in a silent challenge. I’m ignorant to the pyren’s true capabilities, but I’m sure it’s deadly. Her abundance of confidence displays as much.
“What have you done, Thrice Born?” she nags sharply, accusing.
“Nothing yet, but I will if I need to,” I threaten, smirking and tucking my chin. “I wonder what happens to a pyren when a demon feeds from them. Are you all connected?” Her lips twitch, and I know I’ve hit truth. “If I feed from one, does it drain the rest? That sounds like quite the meal, don’t you think? The ultimate power boost.”
“It’s forbidden,” she growls, and her tentacles quiver.
It takes a moment for her to compose her anger. She shakes her head and chuckles, bravely brushing it off. Holding up a hand with long and pointed fingers, she returns her gaze to mine and runs a nail over the small curve of her chin. The pads of her palms and tips of her fingers have tiny suctions on them, and as the black lava drips, it reveals six fingers, yet every two fingers are webbed with a transparent layer of skin.
Unspoken questions surface in her eyes, the possibility of manipulation at the root. It’s expected. It’s our nature. But I still prepare myself for her demands.
“Have you caused a rift, Thrice Born?” She toys with the lava, swirling her finger in the goop. “Is there something I should know?”
“Not yet.” Shifting my bottom jaw, I grind my teeth. “There was a battle in the Death Realm. The dragon you spoke of was there. Corbin was injured, but it wasn’t because of me or her. The dragon had friends. Powerful ones.”
She waves her hand in the air. “Corbin will heal if he hasn’t already. What of the dragon?”
“The dragon?” I frown and shift my weight, impatient with her interests. She’s no longer intrigued with what she can demand from me but rather what the dragon means for her. It’s obvious and has me curious about her alternative motives, yet annoyed for the impending conversational direction.
Ferox says nothing.
“Yes.” I sigh and look to the Domus Timore. “She came. She’s alive. I have no doubt she had plans for Corbin, possibly Kheelan and Sureen as well, but I don’t think it went in her favor.” I return my attention to her. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time here.”
She waits, patient, and a dramatic scrunch of her forehead wrinkles her smooth skin. “You have devious plans of your own, don’t you, Demon?”
Speculating, she tilts her head to the side, her eyes flicking to the black lava castle. She bites her bottom lip, and her pointed teeth easily slice her skin, yet blood does not pour from the wounds. Instead, it leaves puncture holes that visibly close before my eyes, the flesh sucking back together like poked cake batter.
“What is it you want my help with?” she asks.
“I need to find a place where neither Kheelan, nor Corbin, will travel to,” I begin, talking rapidly. “They cannot find her, Pyren. Do you understand?”
One tentacle points at me. “Why?”
I snarl. “You don’t need to know.”
“I do.” She smirks, eyeing my bared teeth. “I’ve heard the angels are rebelling. The shades tried but failed. Are you planning a rebellion of your own, Demon?” She jabs her finger at Eliza. “You’re harboring the wife of Kheelan. I’m sure she has many new gifts to aide you in doing so.” She swims closer and lowers her voice. “Why not use her? Why stow her away?”
I think about that for a moment. My eyes traveling to the lavafall behind her, and my mind wanders with each slow dribble. The first and only solid plan is to keep Eliza safe, to find a place she can remain undiscovered. But it won’t be enough, will it? They’ll come for her. They’ll find her. If I hide with her, they’ll come for me as well, and anyone who’s around me will die. Besides, I can’t be trusted. I don’t even trust myself. And I won’t use her.
Something Ferox said echoes in my head though, nagging at my thoughts. The wife of Kheelan. New gifts. Did their union bestow his powers to her? I saw it with my own eyes and know it to be true. She holds the same kind of power as a fee; this much is obvious.
It would make sense. We are their ultimate creations – their weapons of mass destruction. We’re their strengths in whatever they have planned, but a strength is also a weakness. Without Eliza, Kheelan will be the bottom of the food chain compared to those he’s allied with. Without me, Corbin will be lesser of a fee, and his plans for what is surely to be a power-struggle will be lost. He can’t compete against the dragon, against me. Not if we joined forces.
She giggles at my silence. “You plan to find the dragon.”
The dragon is Corbin’s weakness, his power source. If I find the dragon, I can develop a more solid plan.
I return my eyes to her and wonder how she feels about that. “Yes. I’m planning a rebellion,” I say, ignoring her intuitive behavior. That knowledge in the wrong hands could be dangerous.
Ferox’s giggle deepens to a darker tone. It’s musical, like a harp’s song, flowing and smooth. I said the exact words she wanted to hear.
“Very well. Come.” She turns, the veins of fire crackling with disturbance. Floating forward, she wades through black lava, slow enough for me to keep even pace. Puffs of smoke rise in her wake, filling my nostrils with a more potent sulfur stench.
I find it mildly interesting the smell never bothered me before now - now that I have someone in my arms who can’t breathe this air for long. She needs oxygen - pure, clean air.
“Wait.” I jut my chin, frowning. The only reason Ferox would agree to a plan involving Corbin’s death is if she gains something from it. “What’s in it for you?”
Slowly, Ferox looks over her shoulder and touches the edge of her teeth with the tip of her tongue. “You’re not the only one who desires freedom, Thrice Born,” she spits.
Nostrils flaring, I grunt my response to her hostility. What I desire at this moment is to rip the truth from her instead of small chatting filled with nonsense and riddles. I know it wouldn’t be easy though. These beasts, the fire-swimming mermaids, are strong. They swim through thick lava as quickly as water, de
spite their slight musculature. The most formidable opponents hide their strength.
From what I’ve been told, pyrens are Corbin’s favorite. They’re the ones he confides in at any given chance. As cherished creatures, he favors them like a loved pet, and yet, the pyren before me claims hatred for him and his affections. Why?
I look at my feet, gathering my senses, and hesitate with the question on my tongue. Then, I take the first tentative step onto the black moving lava. It takes several seconds for me to fully place my foot down, rolling my heel and arch until the toes inside my shoes are firm and sure. I keep my exhale of relief quiet and briefly examine the lava, watching it move under my foot. It holds my weight as though I’m not even standing here.
A sliver of doubt creeps into my abdomen, clenching my stomach, but I mask my uncertainty of its hold by clearing my throat. If I were to fall through, I’d survive. But would Eliza?
“What do you mean?” I ask, distracting myself more than wanting her answer.
Ferox turns back forward, wading through the lava once again. She continues her path, swimming toward the nearest lavafall. The thick substance parts around her body. “Ignorant child.” She speaks in the same captivating sing-song voice which once held me under its spell. I’m surprised it holds no effect on me this time. Perhaps it’s due to the woman unconscious in my arms.
Does Ferox know the woman in my arms is my anchor - my only weakness? I could be making a mistake. The pyren could be fooling me into false security. I grind my jaw, hoping I didn’t make the wrong choice by seeking Ferox’s help. I’m a desperate demon. She could easily make a fool out of me.
“We Pyrens may be able to travel to all realms,” she answers gently. “But we are still on a leash. Corbin demands us to do his bidding. When we are not finding humans at sea, we are to spy on his enemies. It’s not an easy feat, and we keep much knowledge to ourselves. But you would be surprised how much you learn in the blue and clear waters.”
I tilt my head and take another careful step, untrusting of the lava and the creature who lives in it. “What do you mean? What do you do with humans?”
“We climb their ships and drag them to the depths of their ocean and sea,” she mumbles, her words clipped. “Afterward, we destroy their ships and bring the humans here, half dead.” Her voice changes. The tone, the personality of each vowel, it shifts as though another part of her soul is speaking. The evil slowly drips from her lips and causes me pause. “They fight and plead, eyes swimming with the salty sting of their waters. By the time we reach this realm, their lungs are filled but their heart still holds on, still beats with the last remaining hope.”
“And then?” I growl when her silence stretches on, frustrated with her fascination in death. I’m tired of probing for answers and sick of death itself. Death and I have had too many encounters. One more, and I might as well move in with Kheelan, kiss his feet, and call him master. The thought raises invisible hackles along my spine.
The ends of Ferox’s tentacles curl as though they brushed against something hot and quickly recoiled from the burn. A sign of disgust, maybe? “Corbin turns them. Adults, women, children. How did you think he made demons?”
I raise my eyebrows. I wasn’t expecting this answer. “I don’t know. I’ve never asked myself that question.”
“Well,” she whispers. “Now you have the answer.” Her tail flicks under the lava, and droplets splat against my forearm, sizzling. It tingles. “To be a creature of terror, you must be changed during the moment of highest fear. It’s only a sliver of a moment in which Corbin can change them. When their heartbeats falter, but their brain function continues.”
“Do you like what he asks of you?” I speculate when she finishes.
Ferox sighs. “None of us do.”
She reaches the black lavafall first and turns to face me with a look I’ve worn many times in this third life: Pinched. Starved. Thirsty. “Death is beautiful. It is fascinating. It is the only sure bet in the realms. But no, Thrice Born. We have no choice but to do as he wishes. It is this reason alone we hunger for freedom.”
“Freedom,” I mumble, nodding to her.
“Freedom,” she echoes and tips her head to the black lavafall behind her. “This is your portal to the Guardian Realm. You could shimmer there, but unfortunately, I’d wager you’ve never been. A demon cannot shimmer to a realm he’s never been. This,” she waves to it, “is your way in. I will travel with you, Thrice Born, but only this once. Do not ask favors from me again unless it benefits me and my kind.”
My eyebrows pinch above the bridge of my nose, and I narrow my eyes in disbelief. “And this doesn’t benefit you?”
She purses her lips, resembling a tight rosebud. “I have no idea your intentions. You want to be free, and we want to be free. At this very moment, you’re the only one escaping, yet your judgement is clouded by a heart created to never feel love. You say you plan to rebel, and this could be good for my kind. But how can I trust you’ll come back for us? Will you leave the woman in your arms with a stranger to keep her safe? You have not given me your word, and even if you do, how do I trust it?”
I inhale deeply, seeing her point. “Demon’s aren’t trustworthy, but as you’ve said, I’m not a normal demon, am I?”
She smirks, and her face smooths once more. “No, you are not.” Reaching up, she softly trails her fingers over the skin of my forearm. “Come. There isn’t much time. The pyrens are to convene by Domus Timore. I can hear the call.”
I frown and tilt my head, listening for a sound that isn’t there.
Her smirk widens to a cocky grin. “The frequency is too low for anything but our ears.”
“What are you gathering for?” I ask.
“Corbin,” she spits, looking to the castle. “I surmise he’s lost many demons today. He’ll be needing more.”
I stretch my neck, popping my spine. In other words, many will be dying today on the Earth Realm. A part of me cares, but the other part of me is resigned to a nature I have no power to stop. The humans’ safety isn’t my chief concern.
She swallows, and her gills close as she does. “I will travel there with you, but I will not stay. If there was a battle as you say, each realm will be on the defense. This is an up-hill climb for you, Thrice Born. The tribes will not be welcoming.”
Gripping my forearm, she quickly leads me forward. The lavafall parts on its own, revealing blue, sparkling water behind it.
“Tribes?”
CHAPTER FOUR
TEMBER
GUARDIAN REALM
We emerge through a separate portal than the one all angels take when we travel to and from the Guardian Realm. It’s the main portal inside the Angel’s Ground and would surely have shredded Dyson and the sandman to pieces. Only fee born creatures may pass through it, walk among the angels, and live to tell the tale. Even Jaemes wouldn’t survive it as he was born the traditional way.
No, this portal is nature made. It feels as though the air is forced from my lungs, the winds too high, too strong for anything but asphyxiation. I remember it well from when our makeshift fee group traveled to the Dream Realm to save Katriane from Sureen’s smite.
Erline created this portal for our escape. Kat must have called for her. Or perhaps, Erline knew we were in need. Both could be true.
Since Myla is no longer in Kat’s body, it tips to the conclusion Katriane and Erline’s bond is on a solidified and unique level, one which I’m beginning to understand. Erline loves Kat, but I know better than to suspect the adoration is mutual. It’s hard to love the fee who are all corrupted by their own desires. Somehow, I’ve managed that emotional feat despite Erma’s shortcomings.
Death clings to me, a heavy weight settled between my shoulders, slicing through my spine and exiting my chest pressed against Kat’s scales. It clings like a sickly internal dread.
I release some of the tension I’ve been holding between my shoulder blades by shifting my arms. I breathe deep, the first inhale of fr
esh, normal air since we had departed to rescue Kat from her heroic efforts.
Dyson, who is tucked under the sandman’s tall frame, gasps as the oxygen returns to his lungs. His intake is loud and desperate, his body too mortal for such a transition from one realm to the next.
Our torsos are flat with our cheeks pressed against the rough scales lining the back of Kat’s dragon. Her wings beat once, an automatic instinct to right her off balanced body. The correction is a mistake, her wingspan too large for this area, and the edge of her wing clips a thick, black marble pillar.
The pillar crumbles like the wall had in the Death Realm, raining chunks of rock into the common area. I grind my teeth and lean as a piece narrowly misses my shoulder. It hits Kat’s ribs instead.
Screams of surprise erupt from the angels who, until our unexpected arrival, had been leisurely roaming. Their shouts carry and bounce in echo until they reach the top, exiting through the structureless ceiling to join the starry sky.
I imagine this wasn’t what they were expecting - a dragon and her riders disrupting their peace and calm as an unannounced arrival, but we had no choice. This is the only safe place, the only realm where our enemies have no eyes. Erline was clever to send us here.
Kat dips her long head in an attempt to regain balance, but it shifts us instead, further teetering her flight. I grip her scales tighter, the edges of my knuckles white, and my thighs tighten to keep my rump firmly seated. Jaemes curses in his native tongue, and I feel his body tense in front of mine.
Dyson lifts his head for a peek and shouts as the belly of Kat’s dragon thumps into the black marble floor. The Grounds, which float in the sky of the Guardian Realm, shake from the force of her weight while she slides across it.
The sandman grabs Dyson’s hips to steady his slipping frame, and the bounce’s second impact almost knocks me from her back. Spinning, we skid several feet, her scales scraping marble. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping we miss the pillar we’re fast approaching. The air whooshes from my lungs as we come to a full stop.
