Power (Dark Scions Book 3)

by Anna Carven

  “And what is that, Khelion Rel?”

  “I am told he is your offspring.”

  “He is indeed.”

  Perhaps those simple words should be an earth-shattering revelation to me; perhaps I should feel some sort of profound emotion at finally being given the answer I have sought for so long.

  But I feel nothing.

  I simply accept Lok’s words, because they are truth.

  Khelion stirs in the darkness. “I will gladly to send him to your domain, Lord of the Underworld. In exchange, I want a drop of your blood.”

  “Are you absolutely certain this is what you want, mortal?” My father’s voice is completely devoid of emotion. I can’t read him at all, but then who can presume to understand a god?

  “Yes. I will be your eternal servant on earth. I will make disciples in my own image. You will have the unquestioned, undivided loyalty of the Ven.”

  I concentrate on the solidness of my fingers. I can make fists. I can feel my palms again. They are real, not ephemeral.

  I can twirl the strands of time around my cold black fingers.

  It is a long time since I have been able to do anything like this.

  “You forget something, mortal. I only bargain when it suits me.”

  Beside me, Khelion stiffens. “You bargained with Tamaku, the one who became Andoku. You granted him immortality. Why is it different now?”

  The death-god remains silent. A cold sensation ripples across my body. He’s looking at me in the darkness, studying me.

  Khelion’s voice turns desperate. “Heal me, Lok. I will do anything you ask. Anything.”

  “The affliction on your face is a curse that was given to you by another. It is not my place to remove it.”

  The Ven lets out a low growl of frustration. His blade drops to my chest, pressing into the skin above my heart. He cuts me, but no blood flows. “Your time beyond the veil is short. Your power here is limited. Solstice will pass, and your presence here will fade. I have your son, and he cannot die in this world. I can keep him here for a very long time, locked beneath the mountain, tortured and suffering. If you deny me this, I will make your child experience the worst kind of pain imaginable.”

  “Are you threatening me through my son, mortal?”

  “Give me what I seek.”

  For a moment, there’s just silence; deep and impenetrable and perfect, laced with the coldest menace.

  I draw comfort from it.

  Then the dark god laughs, and the walls and ceiling tremble. A cold, spectral hand passes over my face, gently caressing my features.

  “Stop,” he whispers, and suddenly the terrible agony that has been ravaging my body ever since Vyloren scratched me…

  It drains away.

  Leaving me feeling perfectly cold.

  I look up, into darkness.

  Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the darkness starts to fade, giving way to cold grey light.

  I see the faces of the Ven looking down upon me. I see Khelion Rel, his features twisted by rage and desperation, his knuckles taut around the dagger that he’s holding pressed against my chest.

  I see Djeru, his hard expression tainted with a drop of fear.

  I see the young disciples, who aren’t so good at concealing their fear. They’re looking at me as if I’m death itself, come to take them away.

  None of them make a sound, because they can’t. They’re all frozen like statues.

  They don’t move.

  At all.

  Ah. Now I understand. The god that has stepped out of his domain and into the mortal world has stopped time.

  Not just slowed it, but stopped it.

  Completely.

  “So I can see you properly,” he says softly, almost gently. “I have waited for this moment, my child. At last, you are ready.”

  I look up.

  My breath catches.

  I stare back into a face that is so eerily similar to mine. We have the same bone structure; the same long, straight nose. The same jawline.

  The same coloring.

  But his eyes—iris and sclera and all—are smooth perfect black. Tendrils of obsidian hair float around his face, and it takes me a moment to realize that they’re not quite hair at all, but wisps of darkness.

  His robes are the same; swirls and tendrils of impenetrable darkness, both solid and ephemeral at the same time, floating up into the air like smoke.

  He is perfectly ageless, ancient but completely untouched by time.

  “You are my father,” I say softly, completely transfixed by the face of death.

  A complicated knot of emotion forms in my chest. It’s awe and sadness and relief.

  And anger.

  I’m not quite certain how to feel right now.

  The only thing I don’t feel is surprise.

  Deep down, I’ve always known. Maybe that’s why I didn’t despair when they captured me and cut off my hands.

  “Yes, Kaimeniel. I am your father, and Lialli is your mother. You are our cherished son.”

  Now my anger spills over a little. “Why did you hide it from me for so long?”

  “Long? That was but a drop in the ocean of time, son. I needed to be certain.”

  “Certain of what?”

  “You have no idea how powerful you are, child. That much power… in the hands of one whose heart and mind are not fully developed…” The dark god shakes his head, his eyes reflecting great sorrow. “I would not do that to this world again. Even I am not that cruel.”

  Again?

  “But every time I met you in my dreams, you tried to tempt me.”

  “A test of your nature, my son. Even when you were consumed with the need for revenge, you refused my offer, because you wanted to be your own man. Admirable. And now you know how to fight for better reasons than mere revenge.”

  A glimmer of understanding surfaces in my mind. “So you needed me to suffer; to know what true helplessness feels like.”

  “I needed to make sure you were firmly tethered to this world first. She has ensured that in a way that I never could.”

  She. Longing tears through me. Growing impatient, I strain against my bonds. The pale, unmoving faces of the Ven hover in the background, fear frozen in their eyes.

  I clench my cold black fists, pulling against the metal restraints. Strength fills me. With a groan, the iron bolts start to pull free of the stone. “You left me to suffer when you could have intervened.” I move my legs, pulling against the shackles around my ankles, forcing the iron bolts to give. “Even worse, you left my mother to suffer. Are you really that indifferent to human suffering?”

  The God of Death stares at me. His eyebrows lift a fraction. His eyes widen. His jaw clenches. A single black tear forms in the corner of his eye, growing bigger and bigger until it has no choice but to roll over his black-lashed lower eyelid and slip down his pale cheek, forming a dark track.

  My breath catches at this sudden display of emotion.

  “I couldn’t,” Lok says at last, “no matter how much I wanted to. Gods can’t exist in this world for long. Ever since the veil appeared, we have been confined to our domains. I can only appear during for a short time during solstice, when the veil is at its thinnest. You, on the other hand…” A smile curves his pale lips, revealing a flash of his gleaming fangs. “You are unlike anything else in existence. See, you are mortal and immortal. You have a foot in both worlds. Soon, you will be able to walk freely between the living and the dead.”

  “The soundless place in my dreams…”

  “Is the entrance to the Underworld. You should pay us a visit sometime. Your mother wants to see you.”

  Mother…

  My father’s pale features start to blur. The smoky, billowy dark tendrils of his robes and hair swirl around, coalescing with the darkness. “I do not have long in this world, Kaimeniel. Already, my domain pulls me back.” He reaches forward, gently threading his ephemeral fingers through my hair. “When you were born,
I put a seal on your body. That’s why you were able to pass as human when you were a child. But as you grew, the seal started to wear off. Your appearance started to change. I never planned for the seal to start to fail before it was time, but that is how powerful you truly are.”

  Is it just my imagination, or is there a note of pride in his voice?

  He leans in and plants a tender kiss on my forehead.

  His lips are as cold as ice. They merge with the cold that’s already swirling in my body, amplifying it a thousandfold.

  “Let me take that poison from you.”

  The god of death does what only a god can, dissolving the corrosive fire in my body.

  Bit by bit, the dragon’s poison melts away, leaving me perfectly cold.

  Intense relief washes over me.

  It feels incredible. The only time I’ve ever felt better is when I’m fucking the woman of my dreams.

  “And now I release the seal,” the God of the Underworld whispers, his cold breath feathering over my face. He leans back and looks into my eyes, and his face is both tender and terrifying. “This is your death and your reawakening. As your mortal body gives way to your true form, accept the power that is your birthright, my son.” Death’s expression turns sly. “Contrary to what mortals believe, death isn’t my only domain. What dictates life and death, my son? What determines mortality and immortality?”

  I stare at him in awe, shaking my head.

  “It is time.” His smile is both benevolent and devious. Glittering stars appear in his obsidian eyes, as if a drop of the night sky has fallen into them.

  His eyes start to swirl, becoming distorted, spilling over into the shadows.

  His face begins to fade.

  The Ven in the background start to move in excruciatingly slow motion.

  I stare up at the god as he floats up into the air. He reaches out with one long, pale arm and touches my face. “When this is all done, you will come to my seat of power in the underworld. I have returned your strength and given you power you cannot yet fathom, but there are conditions attached.”

  “There always are,” I say dryly. Somehow, I’m not afraid of the death-god’s conditions anymore. For Amali’s sake, I would do anything, even accept the worst kind of devil’s bargain.

  “I have plans for you, Kaimeniel. There is a very important role you must play in this world. But for now, you must go to her. Find the one that makes you whole, and make her safe. In case you should wonder, I approve of her; very much so…”

  His voice grows soft.

  He disappears, fading into darkness.

  Then he’s gone.

  Annoying old man.

  I blink in surprise. Did he just use the last of his precious time in this world to convey his blessings over my choice of mate?

  The Death God approves of my union with Amali.

  Not that it would make any difference whether the old man approves or not. She is mine.

  Gods, I need to get out of here.

  I need to go to her.

  For a moment, I just stare up at the cave’s dark roof in disbelief, idly twirling time around my fingers, contemplating life and death and irreversible change.

  Then I pull against my iron bonds again, and this time, I break them with ease.

  Strength flows through my body.

  The dragon’s poison is gone. It’s really gone.

  I touch the wound at my cheek. It’s perfectly healed.

  What in his own hells did Lok do to me?

  I release the seal.

  Some seal that was.

  I grab Khelion Rel’s hand and twist hard, releasing the dagger from his grasp. It drops to the floor with a clatter. I’m pretty certain I just broke a few bones in his hand.

  Time returns to normal speed, and the Ven around me surge into motion.

  Khelion Rel’s disfigured face looms in my vision. Shocked, confused, he howls in pain.

  I smile a hard, bitter smile.

  It is time to find out exactly what kind of power I’ve inherited from my father.

  Twenty-Three

  Amali

  The door to my cell opens, and this time it’s Trise, flanked by two black-uniformed Midrian soldiers.

  “Get up, Tieglander,” he barks. One of the soldiers walks to my side and grabs my arm, roughly hauling me to feet.

  I glare at Trise. The cold, dispassionate stare he gives me sends a small shiver of fear down my spine.

  This man looks at me as if I’m less than human.

  He’s capable of anything.

  What are you going to do to me?

  I don’t say a word, though, because I don’t want to show them even a single trace of fear. Instead, I hold my head high and straighten my back. My clothes are dirty and my hair is disheveled and I probably stink to the high heavens, but I don’t care.

  They can’t kill me.

  The soldiers march me down the narrow passageway, passing cargo and ropes and cannons and other strange nautical objects I don’t even understand.

  They take me up onto the freezing windswept deck, where the sailors are standing in a line at the rear of the ship. Decked out in full leather and chain armor at least a dozen Midrian soldiers flank them on both sides, hands resting menacingly on sword hilts.

  The soldiers don’t look like they’re standing in solidarity with their sailor comrades. They look like they’re threatening them. With their far superior weapons and sturdy armor, the soldiers look like they could easily overpower the motley crew of sailors.

  What is going on?

  I glance over the side of the ship, taking in the landscape beyond. Tall grey cliffs loom beyond the shoreline, crowned by thick forest and dense white mist. A slender waterfall drops elegantly from the top of the cliffs into the roiling grey ocean below, shearing through the ghostly mist.

  If there weren’t a dozen grim-faced Midrian soldiers before me, I would be astonished by the sheer beauty of this place.

  But suddenly Trise is there beside me, his foul, musky stench washing over me, his thick hand caressing the back of my neck, sending a shiver of revulsion through me.

  I tuck my arms close to my body and stand very still in the freezing cold. I stare over the edge of the ship, looking out across the churning grey ocean. A lone black bird soars above us, cutting through the mist with its impressive wingspan. It lets out a sharp, mournful cry; a sound I’ve never heard before.

  I don’t even know what kind of bird it is, and I know most birds.

  I’m a long way from home.

  Trise’s callused fingers snake through my hair and caress my scalp. Suddenly, he makes a fist and pulls, stretching my hair taut from the roots, yanking my head backwards.

  Pain lances through my scalp. I stifle a gasp.

  “You’ve been telling my sailors devious things,” he hisses, his tabac-tainted breath washing over me. “About curses and gods and dissent. The words of a Marked One have power over weak minds. Some are even feeling sympathetic toward an emperor-killer. They’re bringing you gifts in the night. Dare I say that some are thinking of mutiny as I speak.” Dread coils in the pit of my belly as Trise runs his rough fingers along my jaw. I recoil from his touch. He lets out a soft snort of amusement. “That cannot be tolerated. The sailors might think you belong to the gods, but we both know that’s a lie.” He nods toward his soldiers, and two of them walk slowly along the line of sailors.

  The sailors are clearly afraid. They stand perfectly still, with their backs straight and their eyes looking everywhere but in my direction.

  Trise’s men stop at the end of the line and haul one of the sailors forward.

  My heart stops.

  It’s Iyen.

  The young sailor steps forward reluctantly, his blue eyes hard and defiant.

  “Now you will see what happens to the weak-minded, Tieglander; the ones who let themselves be beguiled by your nonsense.”

  “What are you doing?” I whisper as the soldiers grab Iyen under his a
rms and drag him across the deck.

  “Discipline,” Trise says lazily. “Can’t have mere sailors thinking they know better than the emperor.”

  “On your knees,” one of them barks, shoving Iyen down. Iyen resists, struggling for a moment before the two soldiers overpower him and send him sprawling onto the deck. One sticks his boot into Iyen’s back for good measure.

  I gasp.

  His fellow sailors balk. I see white knuckles around hilts and clenched jaws. But none of them say a word.

  Not a single one protests.

  They’re terrified.

  The soldiers’ faces are hard like stone.

  Horror and anger unfurl in my chest as I realize what they’re about to do.

  This is an execution.

  For what? For showing me a little kindness? For giving me a few little extra morsels of food?

  Bastards.

  I stiffen as pure hatred courses through me. Memories of childhood terror flash through my mind.

  The faces of my mother and father appear before me. For a moment, they’re so real I could almost reach out and touch them.

  “Don’t you dare,” I whisper.

  Trise chuckles; a low, menacing sound. “This is reality, Tieglander. Lessons must be learned. Rules must be enforced. Did you really think I would let you fool these sailors into thinking you were actually favored by the gods? You have no power here. They’re about to learn that the hard way.” He tucks his fingers under my chin, forcefully turning my face so that I’m staring up into his cold grey eyes. “That storm didn’t hit us because the gods were angry. It was just a storm. A coincidence. I’ve had enough of this superstitious horseshit.” He raises his voice, turning toward the sailors. “She had nothing to do with that storm.”

  Why does he sound like a man who’s trying to convince himself of his own words?

  What was it that Kaim told me once? That Midrians are terribly rigid about their beliefs? That they’ll wait until morning to get things done, just so they can receive Elar’s blessing?

  My heart starts to race. My fear melts away, replaced with pure anger. This asshole thinks he can punish me by executing Iyen?