by Ana Calin
And I would never see Cerys again. She would be left to wander the nine worlds alone, unable to ever love another man. Draven, her brother Zillard and her father Hades would probably manage to keep her safe from physical harm, but her heart will die inside her chest. She’d wilt on the inside, even though her heart would still be beating.
My mind is clouding, but one last thought claws to light—the poison Zillard gave me.
“A warlock’s gut feeling is his compass.”
I pull the bottle out from my sleeve, and pop the small cork. Green poison crawls out of it, spreading to the remaining wraiths and Samael. Samael jerks away from the portal as if he’s been burned with acid.
The rapidly shrinking portal throws me out back into the sirens’ cavernous tunnels, where I hit the ground hard. I try to get back up to my feet as quickly as possible, but I’m still bleeding, and the ground catches fire, which fuels me with energy. But as I stand, I see that Samael has made it through the portal, too, blocking my way and pointing his blade at me.
“A fair fight,” he says.
We measure each other for long moments, circling each other with hawkish eyes as a ring of fire spreads around us. Intensifying flames add to my strength, and my focus increases, but Samael seems to be at the peak of his power. He smells of death, a scent that feels dangerous but also enticing to humans, parahumans and supernaturals alike, but to me, it’s sulfur.
I turn the Blade of Annihilation in my hand as I assess the odds, deciding on angles and strategy. I only need to hit him with it once, and he’ll start to disintegrate. But as I watch him for weak spots, I realize that Samael the Archangel of Death has only a few. He may look like a pretty boy with a curse, but rarely have someone’s looks been so deceiving, and so contrasting. He has wavy ebony hair that would make many think of a poet, but slitted yellow eyes like a serpent. He’s a sullen pretty boy that exudes terror.
He attacks first. It happens swiftly, but I block his strike with the Blade. He retreats fast, grey fog forming around him. When he attacks again, he emerges from the fog like a whip, lashing attack after attack, forcing me to block each one until I fall on one knee. Fuck, I haven’t had the chance to recharge enough. The ground splits under me, my knee digging deeper as Samael pushes against my blade, perfectly white teeth bared. He looks like a deeply disturbed creature, like he’s accumulated a shit-ton of anger.
I push myself off the ground with a roar, forcing him back. He loses his footing, and as he stumbles backwards into the fog, a medallion slips from under his armor. The fog wraps around him quickly, and he takes longer to re-emerge this time. But I’m not so quick to continue the fight either. Whatever that medallion is, it’s important to him. His slit eyes widened for a moment when I caught a glimpse of it, and I saw him grab it just before the fog closed around him.
I prowl along the circle of fire like a panther, waiting for him to attack again, and when he does, I focus less on harming him than I do on grabbing that medallion. It’s close to impossible, because he protects it with incredible skill and determination. Soon we’re both sweating, our moves slower as we cross blades. We’re forced to take a step away from one another, and I rest with my hands on my knees.
“You’re a worthy opponent, I’ll give you that,” I tell him.
“I can say the same about you,” he says in his voice that’s so deep it could stir the dead. “But then again, I always knew that.” He measures me up and down, as if he just noticed something. “You’re hurt.”
Indeed, I’m bleeding from more than just one wound, all of them caused by the wraiths. and I’m more tired than him. I’ve been able to keep up the fight because the fire fueled me, but once I’m out of here I’ll be a complete wreck.
“Want to continue this some other time?” I say mockingly.
“It would be fair of me to offer the possibility, since you’re in no state to fight. But you see, I can’t afford to. I need you out of the way, and I need you out today.”
“Why are so bent on that? The Fire Realm, my people, we’ve been keeping all of you safe from cosmic monsters for millennia. Why would you destroy those defenses, especially now that harmony between realms is within our grasp?”
“Didn’t you see what I did in the Chaos realm with the wraiths? I can bring death to worlds where deaths didn’t even exist. I can defend the worlds against those behemoths.”
“Samael, you killed a few wraiths down there, but you don’t know for sure if your powers would work on Apophis. There’s a big chance they won’t. I don’t understand why you would sacrifice a good resource. An experienced one at that.”
“You mean you.”
“And my people. We’ve been doing this a long time, successfully. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ll fight you, I’ll destroy you, and I’ll enjoy it. It’s just that your motivation, it doesn’t make sense to me. You’re not stupid enough to want to eliminate me.”
He doesn’t answer. So I’m right.
“Who is twisting your hand, boy?”
“I’m doing what I have to do.”
“In order to get something. Don’t even try to deny it.” I look to his medallion, the top of which sticks out above his armor.
Samael looks down to it, too.
“I’m sorry. But I have to do this.” He launches at me, giving me no choice. I slash his calf, just enough to cut through the metal protection and graze his skin, aiming just to hurt.
Samael stops abruptly. And when he notices the scratch that turns black like burnt paper, spreading over his skin, he stumbles back. His slitted eyes meet mine.
“I’m sorry, too,” I say gruffly. “But you give me no choice.”
The spread seems to stop at his knee, and even though it must hurt like a mother, it doesn’t show in Samael’s face. He looks young, but he’s obviously anything but, and he’s a master of self-control.
Without a word, he disappears into the fog, which dissipates in the hot air.
It’s over. High realms, I can hardly believe it, but it’s over.
I drag myself through the tunnels towards the exit, but with every step strength is leaving me. The Blade hangs from my hand, scraping the floor and leaving sparks behind it.
I emerge to the surface just as the first sunrays caress the ground. At least I won’t have to fight my way back to Cerys through the mist of the Caledonian. I manage to reach the Palace, but just as the crowd bursts into cheers the world tilts, I hit the ground, and everything goes black.
Xerxes
A SURGE OF ENERGY RUNS through me, and I sit up with a jolt. Fuck, the power in me. I could take over the world. I look around, recognizing Cerys’ suite. The next thing I know, her face appears in my field of vision, a peach glow in her cheeks, her honey eyes alight with relief.
“Xerxes,” she whispers, and I come undone. I take her in my arms and crush my lips on hers, pressing her to my body. Feeling her against me gives me comfort and relief like I never knew before.
“The Blade?” I manage as she peels her lips off of mine. She opens her mouth to answer but I can’t hold back long enough, I claim her again in a kiss.
“Ahem.” Draven clears his throat, bringing it to my attention that Cerys and I aren’t alone. He stands by the bed, Marayke next to him, embarrassed and looking everywhere except at Cerys and me. He holds out the Blade. “It’s here. You won, Xerxes. You won two of three quests, and Samael never came back from the last one. Your supporters are already drunk downstairs.”
“My supporters?” I arch an eyebrow. “I didn’t know I had them. Especially after all the years in which the realms feared me.”
“Now you’re different, and they know it.”
“Harmony is restored,” Cerys repeats, her eyes bright with elation.
“But not all our problems are solved,” Marayke puts in. “There’s still the shadow Council member. And only my brother can tell us who it is.” There’s urgency in her voice. “But if we want to find out, we better do it fast. With the battle los
t, they might want to take him out before he speaks.”
“What makes you think that he’ll tell us?” Cerys counters. I can tell she’d rather let him rot in there, and who can blame her.
“He’s out of allies, Cerys,” Marayke says. “He’s facing a trial that’s going to send him plummeting deeper into disgrace and despair, his only chance now is me.” She’s seriously distressed, I can see that, and it hurts. “It’s us. It’s you, and King Xerxes.”
“I’m willing to forgive him,” Cerys says after a long pause.
“But I’m not,” I hiss. “Cerys, I’ll never forget how I found him on top of you. It burned my heart when I thought you’d invited it, but when I learned he was trying to force himself on you, and how close he came to raping you—”
“Milord, please,” Marayke cuts in, her voice high-pitched with despair. I wouldn’t forgive the intervention from anyone else, but I do owe Marayke a lot, and quite frankly, I’ve grown fond of her, especially since she became Cerys’ best friend. “He could be in danger. If we want the answer, we have to go now.”
“Fine. We’ll go see him. But before we do that.” I turn to Cerys. “Down in the tunnels, I saw you brother.”
“Zillard?” She raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Here? How come?”
“He helped me out of a very nasty situation with the sirens, because Samael blew my cover in order to gain the lead.” I look at Draven. “Zillard and his wife were the two people in Edinburgh, the ones shrouded in the Glamour Anonymous spell. I sensed Tartarian energy because Zillard is the son of Hades, like Cerys. But he wasn’t there to hurt us. He was watching, ready to assist from the shadows. They kept their identities secret so that they could watch everything from the sidelines, making it impossible for our enemies to predict their moves.”
“But how did he even know about all this?” Cerys says, stunned.
“I told him,” Marayke steps in. “I went looking for him because we needed all the help we could get.” She lowers her voice as she says that, as if the walls had ears.
“Marayke, you genius.” Cerys throws her arms around Marayke’s neck, but while my most trusted general accepts the embrace, the distress in her face is growing intense, which isn’t lost on Cerys. Marayke’s face twists as if she’s in pain.
“Marayke, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, I have this strange feeling that something is terribly wrong with my brother.”
“All right, let’s go, now.” I start toward the door.
“Maybe you should recharge completely first,” Draven intervenes. “You just finished the hardest quest, and you even banished the Archangel of Death. The Council postponed the banquet to give you time to recover, so use it.”
“I don’t need to recover, I feel fantastic.” I scoop Cerys up, which triggers a yelp from her.
“Of course you do,” Dravens says. “Your wife channeled replenishing power from the rivers of the Underworld into you.” He looks at her with pride, and I realize he must have helped her in the process.
“You used power from Tartarus to help me recover?”
“I’ve been practicing that skill exactly for a moment such as this.” She takes my face between her small palms that feel cool on my cheeks. “You made it, Xerxes. You’ve not only saved us, you’ve restored harmony among all the realms, but it took a toll on you. You fell to the ground before you could even reach the Palace entrance, and you were so heavy that four men couldn’t lift you. So I had to do it there on the spot. You may not remember this, but it infused you with enough strength to at least react to Draven and let him help you up to your feet, and bring you here. Then I tapped deep into the waters of the Styx and channeled force into you. Since you integrated the power of the dead back the Cemetery of Doom, I thought it would be safe to do that. And look at you now, as good as new.”
Now that she says it, I start to remember, even if vaguely. I take her hand in mine, deepening eye contact. “There are no words to express how grateful I am to have you. And everything we did, we did together.” I look to Marayke and Draven. “All of us. This wasn’t just me alone. It was team work.”
Marayke cries and bends from her waist, arms across her stomach. I put Cerys down, and pick her up because it’s clear she can no longer transport herself.
“We’re going to see him, now. “
“You promise to help him?” she manages, looking at me pleadingly from under scrunched eyebrows. “I know he hurt you, he betrayed you, but—”
“He is your brother,” I tell her as we jump onto the cloud that carries us up to the tower where Kareim is imprisoned. “And that’s enough to secure his life. I would never do anything to hurt you, and even if I ever wanted to, Cerys would never let it happen.”
Cerys
I BRACE MYSELF AS WE reach the door of Kareim’s cell. It’s a special one, a single room at the top of a spire, but it sends chills through me. This is a dungeon all right, even if it’s not underground.
The guard at the door lets us in, because now that Xerxes emerged the champion, he’s been told to obey his orders. But when the door opens and we find Kareim choking on his own blood on the floor, I’m just glad the guard was there to testify Xerxes didn’t kill him before he could have his trial.
But for Marayke, the experience is very different, and it pierces my heart. She screams and throws herself on her knees by his side.
“There’s no wound,” she cries, searching all over his body.
Draven examines Kareim as well, but doesn’t find anything either.
“Something is strangling him from the inside,” he says. “But I can’t help him. I’m no healer, we need Zillard.”
“No way he’s gonna get here in time,” Marayke cries, but Xerxes sends the guard for him anyway.
“Tell the others downstairs what happened. Tell them to send for Zillard Dark, he should be close.”
I just stand frozen as the three of them try to help Kareim, not feeling anything. Watching the man who hated and harmed me more than anyone die at my feet, his crimson eyes wide, and fixed on me, I should be feeling something, shouldn’t I? Nazarean prowls between my feet, brushing my calves with his thick, soft tail, trying to comfort me, but I’m not sure I need comofort.
Only when Xerxes comes over to my side and takes me out of the room do I realize that I was in shock.
“Come on. No need for you to see this.”
“It must have been the Council member, the puppet master behind him,” I manage. “The risk of Kareim disclosing his identity was too great, so he had him killed.” But as soon as Xerxes steps with me onto the cloud, it hits me. “Wait. There is one more way to do this, one that the puppet master surely didn’t think about. If we hurry, we might just find what who he or she is.”
Cerys
KAREIM VELDUROS MIGHT seem like the last person who would know the identity of the Council member who wanted Xerxes out of the way, but he isn’t. Tonight, at the banquet, we’ll find out at last.
This is also the night in which our troubles officially come to an end. The crowd roars around us, and we’re sitting at a table up on the podium, by the welcome committee, which is both an honor and a curse. The demons’ presence is hard to put up with, and the only way I can do that is by using the darker powers of Tartarus, with which I’m growing more comfortable by the day.
With Xerxes by my side, out in the open, his big hand wrapped around mine right here on the table for everyone to see, it makes things even pleasant.
“We must admit we’re surprised that you won,” one of the demons tells him in a metallic, inhuman voice that scratches my eardrums. “Delightfully so, for we never cared much for that sullen recluse Samael. He can be cruel to his own kind—which is us, even though the won’t admit it. But he did stand the better chance.”
“Yes, and I wonder why that is,” Xerxes retorts, his face unreadable and his deep voice free of any inflections. “It did seem to me at every turn that the quests were built in such a wa
y that he stood the better chance.”
“Are you implying the Council was against you, King Xerxes?” an angel woman says.
“I’m implying someone in the Council might have been.”
“Milord,” I say. “I think I would like to dance now. The music is divine, and we both earned it.”
He smiles and helps me up. Together, we step onto the cloud and come down among the crowd in the ballroom, and happiness fills my chest. It’s like a balloon of elation because, finally, I can openly show that I belong to Xerxes, and claim him as my man in front of all the realms. The crowd quiets down, only the music flowing through the grand room as we take the checkered dance floor. Lysander and Arielle had to leave yesterday, but we’re scheduled to visit with them when we leave here, and I’m looking forward to that, but right now, locking eyes with my brother is just as good. He and I get to experience the same kind of happiness, at the same time, and that is worth fighting for to the bitter end, come what may.
“You think it was a good idea to confront the welcome committee on the issue of the Council?” I say under my breath. The music and the noise ensure that no one can hear us, but one can never be careful enough.
“It serves us that whoever orchestrated the whole thing knows we’re onto them.”
“But that will only make them more careful.”
“Which is what we need now. We don’t need them going ballistic on all the realms, and destroying what we’ve achieved. We want to grow into this new harmony, unite with people, we need time to grow stronger together. For that, we need time.”
I narrow my eyes up at he podium from where the welcome committee watches us.
“You think they were in on it?”
“I think one or two might have been.”
“Xerxes, but that means that one of the most powerful entities in the realms wants to bring down all the nine realms, or establish some kind of regime of terror over them. If they even have Samael in their hands, like you said, blackmailing him with something, or manipulating him... sooner or later the shit will hit the fan.”