by D. Fischer
He continues, a snarl on his lips. “It’s too much to ask for everything to be simple with you crazy people.” He looks to me, expectantly. “How did the disease originate?”
I frown. “Do you think I have all the answers?”
His eyebrows flick and a small shrug rocks his shoulders. “You march around with a superiority whipplemonk on your shoulder, chirping opinions and demands. I only assumed.”
I turn to face him, angry. “Says the elf whose own people refuse to leave the Guardian Realm to protect those who can’t.”
Tilting his head back, he laughs without humor. “Says the angel who sleeps with her creator for favors.”
My face heats, and my hands curl into fists. He knows that isn’t true.
I open my mouth to retaliate, but Erma cuts me off before a word can be uttered. “Enough,” she spits. “These are unfortunate circumstances and pointing fingers at one another will be our downfall. There’s no sense in it. We need to continue through the Grounds.”
Jaemes peels his hard stare from my face and bows, sweeping his arm out. “Mascots first.”
I growl as I shove past him. Perhaps the heat of the moment is getting to my head and causing me to pick a fight with the elf who has saved me on numerous occasions, but I just murdered dozens of my own species. He could cut me a little slack.
As we get near the hallway entrances, we remain silent except for my stomping feet echoing my anger.
Refusing to look at Jaemes, I nod to Kai, and he silently motions with his hands for us to split up. Jaemes remains with Erma and me, and we watch as his brothers divide into teams and head through the other archways before we go our own direction.
“How are you holding up?” I ask Erma, spotting the lines of exhaustion around her worried eyes as we stealthily roam down a hallway moments later.
“Tired,” she admits. “The losses today have taken their toll.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She brushes hair from her face. “My lives are tied to those I create, Tember. By killing them, I’m weakening myself.”
“Excuse me?” Jaemes says as we halt.
I rapidly blink as I stare at her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ELIZA PLAATS
GUARDIAN REALM
Sitting on a log in front of the quarantined teepee, I dig a stick into the snow while watching as a group of elves chant a haunting tune. They wrap Mitus in fine furs, a customary tribute to their fallen leader.
“What happens to him?” I ask Erline who nobly sits next to me, hands neatly clasped and rested on her thighs. It’s as though she sees this every day of her life. I suppose she has.
“There will be a ceremony for the dead and another for Mitus,” she begins. “In the past, Erma has assured me it’s quite a beautiful tribute.”
“Hmm,” is all I manage. A tear swells in my left eye, and I swipe it away before it can fall and betray the sorrow I’m keeping carefully hidden. “And a new leader will be elected?”
Erline puckers her lips. “No. A new leader is already elected. As royals on my realm, it is by blood.”
My incessant poking halts, and my finger’s hard grip breaks away a few chunks of wood on the splintered end of my stick. “His oldest son then?”
“No,” she quietly drones. “His youngest.”
I whip my head to her. “Jaemes? Why the youngest?” I ask.
From what I’ve witnessed, the elf in question is a great warrior and stalks around the village like a panther hunting his next meal. He’d make a fine general, but a leader of this tribe? I don’t know Jaemes well, but even I don’t believe he’d give up battle for such a position.
She slowly tips her head, and her black eyes gaze into mine. “The youngest brings youth to old traditions as well as ferocious strength that can age over time. Mitus had made these arrangements when it was evident a war had begun.”
A great leader will sacrifice himself for the many. It’s exactly what Katriane is doing, and Tember and Jaemes, whereas Aiden is fighting for my freedom just as Dyson is fighting for Kat’s affections. I wonder what would transpire if we all fought for the same thing. To me, my own personal battle against a chemical warfare feels lost. All this power inside me, and I couldn’t even save the one who counts the most to these creatures.
Erline scoffs with a whip of her head. “Do not pity yourself. You have a purpose. Find it.”
A deep sigh lowers my shoulders, and my back hunches. She’s wrong. There’s no purpose in a war when the enemy is my husband. Many choices are no longer mine to make.
“Does Jaemes know?” I mumble, desperate to stick to the subject. If anything, to wipe Erline’s attitude from her scowling face.
A subtle shake of her head supplies my answer, and a ruckus pulls our attention from the conversation.
“I should have anticipated this,” Erline grumbles and excuses herself to help the sandman keep an angry Dyson from going after his mate in battle. He’s just recovering, and already he desires to dive, paw first, into battle. That would do more harm than good. He almost died. Running into another fight for his life wouldn’t end well.
I swivel my attention back to the teepee of death and let the elves’ song serenade my sorrows. This won’t be the only death today. I can feel it in my bones. Something terrible is happening. Something I have no power or knowledge to stop.
You are more than what you feel you are, a voice jabbers in my head. It’s the same voice who told me Mitus was gone before I could recognize it for myself.
A great loss is about to come, sweet Eliza. But this shall not be your only concern. The voice pauses, and I can feel thoughts and memories being plucked from my mind. Your love will return to you, but prepare yourself. He will not be the same, nor will this war have a favorable outcome.
“What do you know of Aiden,” I mumble aloud. I drop the stick and sit up straighter.
I know he’s endured great pain in the face of your well-being. In doing so, he’s accepted his nature, and his appearance is now that of true form, forever altered in his sacrifice for your safety.
I gulp. “Sacrifice?”
Oh yes, he hisses. But he will be yours just the same.
“When?” I ask.
When the time comes, do not lose faith in me, he cautions without answering me.
I scowl. How can I lose faith in someone, something, I don’t even know? “Who are you?”
He waits, and I count the seconds, almost believing him to have left my mind. I am Fate, and I come to you with a confession, Eliza, the Born to Love.
“Oh?” I ask while scowling to the added name.
Your fate, your lover’s fate, and Dyson’s, Katriane’s, and Tember’s are all tied together because of the choices the fee have made for you in the past. You are each set on a prudent path, one I needed to implant to right the wrongs of my children.
“And who are your children?” My eyes flick to Erline, directed by Fate as though he pulled them there himself. I growl and mimic Erline’s earlier snarl. “You’re using us to do your dirty work just like them.” I had heard Kat’s shouts before she took over half the village and charged into battle.
He continues. If you do not fight as one, you will lose Hope, and Despair will fill the Realms. All will be lost.
Fate speaks of them as people - living beings. I shift in my seat, working frantically to categorize his revelations.
“Why are you telling me this? I have no authority here.”
You, Eliza, have a heart of gold. You find the ability to love with a pure heart even in the most impossible circumstances. Each of you are the chosen five, the five appointed saviors, born of love, compassion, strategy, mercy, and vengeance. The rise of a greater destiny for the Realms is in your hands.
My eyes swivel to the barren tree branches as if to find him there, staring at me. “And if I refuse to participate?”
Then all will be lost, he whispers. You are the voice of love. A war needs it. Hope fo
llows it. And Fate becomes of it.
The pressure of his presence lessens, easing the ache in my skull.
“Fate?” I call to him, but he’s no longer there.
What will become of us?
AIDEN VANDER
DEMON REALM
It’s quiet. Too quiet. The only thing left to hear is the gentle slosh of the lava under the clear floor.
Breathing heavily, I lift my arm, turning it this way and that, and examine my new skin. I’ve never seen anything like it, and the sparkles distract me, my eyes flicking to each speck. The muscles quiver, begging to find my next feed, but I push the urge down with a deep inhale through my nose.
I had expected to feel different once my true form emerged. But instead, I feel the same as I did before entering this realm, aside from the void’s voices who speak too fast for me to distinguish.
Turning, I look at one of the walls, and just as predicted, a black lavafall tumbles inside a chimney constructed of skulls. Instead of traveling through the portal, I form a different plan. I half shimmer to invisibility like a shade, thunder forward, and travel straight through. Once on the other side, I reform and slowly swivel in a circle, frowning.
This is Corbin’s room. The bed’s canopy sways, and the familiar scents tickle my senses. The last time I was here, it was under better circumstances. I was a willing slave then.
“May the Divine help us,” a female voice utters to my left.
I turn my head to gaze upon my audience. I knew he was watching. I just didn’t think he’d be so close.
Corbin, Sureen, and Kheelan have themselves seated on the Victorian-styled red couch. The puddle of oleum is at their feet, risen to their knees in the shape of me.
Sureen is situated between the men, dark eyes wide, and a trembling hand hovers over her shrewd mouth. Kheelan grips his black robe around his collar, his face sickly pale with sweat beaded at his temples, and Corbin props his hands at the nape of his neck, leaning into the back of the cushion with ease.
Hot feelings return to the pit of my stomach at the sight of the two men. It churns and swirls, urging me to retaliate while I have the chance - while their guard is lowered. But instead of lunging at them, I take a page from Fate’s book and practice mercy like he cautioned. They have much to pay for, but my desire to see how this plays out is greater.
“What have you created, Corbin?” Sureen hisses, slapping her hand against her thigh.
A smile spreads across Corbin’s face – his telling smug grin which shows a moment of his dark intentions. His black eyes, his focus, remains on me.
“You’ve been hiding more than errands from me, Thrice Born,” he gently chides, his subtle way of telling me he watched the entire interrogation.
Kheelan angles his head to look past Sureen’s and straight to Corbin. “How did you do it?” His voice is as weak as he looks.
“Do what, dear brother?” Corbin inquires, innocence dripping from every word.
Sureen chuffs. “Come now, Corbin. We all saw it.” She points to the Oleum. “He holds each element from the five realms. A beating heart, inferaze skin, transparency, the pure soul of a guardian, and he feeds on fear.”
I soak in this knowledge as it throws me off guard, but before I can ponder too long, I’m distracted.
Corbin leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and sweeps my demonic frame from head to toe. “So, it would seem.”
“Is this because of the void?” Kheelan splutters, spittle coating his chin. “Or because he’s your child?”
My head juts to the side, eyes blinking rapidly. Did I hear that correctly? I flex my fists, refusing to speak, and search each fee, wondering how I’ll defeat all three at once. And then wondering if I should. Knowledge is power.
I, indeed, have magic from the void and have been gifted many powers associated with each realm. The shocking knowledge that Corbin is my father further confirms Kheelan’s speculations and my own. It would explain how it’s possible.
“My child?” Corbin questions with a smirk.
Sureen growls. “Don’t play us a fool, Corbin. We know you impregnated that human. This is your child. All the evidence points to it. Why else would you have pulled this one from the void? Why else is he so different from the others?”
The others? At first, I believe her to be talking about the demons, but somehow, by the way she said it, I know my assumptions are incorrect.
“It wasn’t to torment me,” Kheelan mumbles, a dawn of understanding. “Your Children of the Night did a fine job of that, and now they’re dead! You pulled him because of blood. Your blood.” He turns to me, sweeping his gaze from my head to my toes. “Now, you’ve created something impossible! We can’t even delve into his mind!”
“Quiet, Kheelan,” Corbin murmurs. “You need to gather your strength. Killing the ties to your life must be replenished by rest.”
A drop of lava slips from my cheek and splats on the floor. “Son?” I ask, unable to move past the thought. My voice’s tone draws the attention of the three but only for a moment.
Sureen turns back to Corbin. “What is the plan? The other side now has formidable creations. We’ve been bested twice, and Kheelan is in no condition to fight or lead, not even with his new mate as an anchor. They have the advantage. How will we gain the upper hand?”
Is Eliza the only reason he’s still alive? Because her heart still beats? I knew Kheelan was tied to his shades, and by killing them, he has weakened himself. It brings back the first conversation Corbin and I had, right there on the couches. No doubt this is Corbin’s insistence. He likes his allies as weak as his enemies. It’s a smart plan, I’ll give him that.
Kheelan shifts in his seat. “The fallen angel’s first attack was fruitless. We can only hope they’ll hold the Angel’s Ground.”
“No,” Corbin mumbles, his attention still on me. I hold his gaze, unafraid of my supposed father. “It wasn’t. When those angels arrived, they sprinkled The Red Death across the village. Every being it encountered will suffer from the deadly disease.”
I stiffen. A disease is sweeping the elf’s village?
The urge to flee and check on Eliza ripples across my skin, and Corbin’s face brightens at the show of muscular strength. The sneaky attack wasn’t to dwindle our numbers traditionally. It had a double purpose: sweep the village with deadly force then a deadly disease.
“The Red Death was your creation?” Sureen asks Corbin, noticing my stiff, wild posture.
“It was,” Corbin says curtly. “The most excruciating death. No doubt Eliza is suffering the consequences.”
Kheelan grumbles like a child, but his words ease my troubled mind. “I doubt a fee wife will be affected.”
“But it still won’t be enough,” Sureen demands, her fists balling against her thighs. “Not with a dragon reborn. And you can’t trust that thing,” she spits in my direction, “to be any use for us. He killed his own kind without a single drop of remorse.”
“Correct,” Corbin begins, standing and taking slow, deliberate steps in my direction. “That is why my plan has yet to unfold. Thrice Born, child of my blood, will not be the only one I pull from the void.” He reaches forward and touches the lava flowing from my eyes. I yank my head away from his hand. “And if Thrice Born wishes for his beloved to live, he will do as he’s told.”
“Like hell I will,” I growl. There’s no point in playing spy when they already know what I’m capable of. I have no doubt they know why I’m here as well, but even I know I can kill all three at once.
Tucking his chin, he whispers to me. “If I can’t contain you, how do I control you?”
He thinks on this for a moment, his posture frozen, and considers his next move.
In a swift spin, he turns back to the fee seated comfortably on the couch. “Come. The fallen angels should have returned by now. It’s time to prepare for the coming battles.”
It doesn’t take long for the three fee to exit his chambers and lead us out of t
he Domus Timore. And as we do, many demons follow obediently as though drawn to the powerful.
We hike along the path which leads to and from the demon’s lava castle. I continuously question myself why we don’t travel in more conventional means, but the rows and rows of demons who follow may not be able to shimmer.
I could destroy so many with a simple thought, too. However, my mission for revenge has turned into a mission of information even if they know why I’m here.
Dyson was right. I wouldn’t make it out of here alive if I tried to unleash my wrath. The demons marching behind are loyal to their creator, and they’d surely follow me back to Eliza. All would be lost if that happened.
As we stride, our marching makes an impending song of doom. One by one, pyrens surface from the black depths of lava, curiously watching. I lock eyes with Ferox to find her expression wide with shock, sweeping the length of my new body.
I clench my jaw and return my attention to the path, wondering not for the first time where we are going. The lavafall portals are to my right, yet we head to the place of my birth. We don’t plan on leaving the realm then, and this thought alone works in my favor. They aren’t planning to attack yet.
Corbin shimmers to my side, matching my pace. “Do you think you can hide from me, Thrice Born? Did you think I wouldn’t know you were aiding the enemy in favor of keeping Eliza alive?” I don’t answer him nor acknowledge that I’ve heard a word of the crap sprouting from his feeble mouth.
He chuckles at my resolve. “She will die, you know. I’ll do it myself, and I’ll force you to watch. Or… I’ll take her for myself. Perhaps then you will fall in line.”
I allow a small smile, a grin of wickedness. He could sure try. The note of wavering confidence in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. It almost sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to sway me.
I wonder if Kheelan knows he plans to kill his wife. In doing so, Corbin would kill Kheelan.
“Is that how you normally talk to your offspring?” I ask.
