by J J Marshall
The Last Forsaken
The Downfall of Man
J.J. Marshall
All Rights Reserved to J.J Marshall
Cover Art done by: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art
Dedication
This book is dedicated to everyone who has ever felt like life isn’t enough. It’s dedicated to the underdogs, the person who feels like sometimes life should be more than what it is. But also, to my buddy A.J. I miss you, friend, rest in peace.
Table of Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Prologue
Irisi
Fuck, Irisi thought as he paced about the castle halls of Partheon City, his deep purple robes flapping behind him. Things were not going as planned…as usual. He vigorously contemplated what he would say to the Elders regarding his father’s failure as he bit at his perfectly manicured cuticles, paying them no mind as they began to bleed.
I have no intention of ruling this dried up land! I’ll be responsible for bringing down the ENTIRE human race, something even my father could not do. Exasperated, he ran his fingers through his long sandy locks, racking his brain.
FUCK!
The halls were dark like that of the night sky. Lit only by sconces hanging from the cold stone walls, their flames dancing across the dark marble floor below as a gentle breeze blew through the open arches in the wall. Irisi continued to pace, rubbing sand from his ocean blue irises. His father had tried nearly everything to bring down the human race and had failed. And now it was his turn, and he feared the same. His father was right, the Elders were tough to please, though he guessed they had to be. Descended from the Archangels, the Elders were the first of the Keepers, holding all judgement over the Midland, including their king. They oversaw what was best for the realm and punished as they saw fit. Irisi’s father the late King Gareth had reported to them, tasked with killing off the human race in order to take their realm for the Keepers. Gareth had failed and, as a result, was punished. Death had taken Gareth, and now, threatened his son’s life, too, as he now took the throne.
A door creaked open in front of Irisi, spilling light onto the dark floors below, snapping his attention away from his thoughts. A short blonde woman pushed her way through, carrying a small flickering lantern. She set it down with shaking hands to smooth the wrinkles from her shirt. Her hair was done up nicely in a chignon, and her white blouse and black pencil skirt were nearly flawless. The faint glimpse of her golden wings shimmered as she picked up her lantern and approached the king. Her wings, such light and beautiful wings. Her black heels clicked and clacked as she sauntered towards the young king, batting her dark lashes his way.
Ahhh, what a sight to behold, Irisi thought. Belle Merxy will be a welcome interruption from this nightmare. Belle Merxy was heiress of the Rodo forests in the Midland, ruled by her Klave and her grandmother Fawna, each of whom were in Partheon on royal business.
“Hello, my sweet Belle,” Irisi’s deep voice crooned, bowing his head respectfully as she neared.
“Hello, Irisi,” she chirped, her small voice sounding amused as she tried to hide humor from her face. Blood rushed into Irisi’s cheeks, and other parts of his body, as he fought the urge to push her against the stone walls and make love to her right there. The thought amused him as he looked up, sneaking a peak at the young heiress. They had been known to have a tryst from time to time. But here, right now, with the way she looked, he longed to push his lips against hers and make her moan under him. He needed a good distraction, and surely, she could be it. His lips quirked up in a smirk again.
“It’s King Vanderwall now,” he said, shaking the sordid thoughts from his mind. Belle averted her eyes from the young king, trying to hide the pink hue of blush creeping onto her pale cheeks.
Oh, fuck me, Irisi thought as he moved towards her. His fingers gripped around the handle of the lantern, lightly peeling Belle’s away. Once it was fully in his grasp, he set it aside on the floor. He moved closer to Belle, noting her every movement as he encroached into her space.
Trailing an index finger lightly down her cheek, Irisi caressed the warmth of her blush. He could feel her pulse quicken as her breath came in shorter puffs. He leaned in closer, supporting himself above her, as his other hand pushed into the freezing stone behind Belle. His cock grew hard as the scent of rose wafted from her, welcoming him. A delectable smell for a delectable woman.
His fingers knotted in the hair at the base of her neck, pulling Belle’s head up towards his. Her breath greeted his lips as she shut her eyes. Irisi felt vulnerable, exposed in the few moments they shared. At any moment, someone could walk by and see them, but that only fueled his animalistic urges. He leaned into her, his lips meeting hers with an abrupt hunger. A lump formed in his stomach as he tried to steady his breathing, taking in the scent, the taste and drowning his frustrations into Belle. He needed her, but—
“Irisi,” she whispered breathlessly into his ear while his mouth moved to her neck, allowing her speak. “Irisi,” she repeated. “The Elders are ready for you.” Irisi stopped, using his arms to hold himself up. Her words hit him like a cold bucket of ice water, washing over him, erasing any heartfelt feelings they’d shared only moments before. He was numb as new emotions began to flood him.
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” he asked, masking the irritation that was threatening his tone. The irritation he so desperately wanted to be rid of. This entire ordeal was unsavory, to say the least. All Irisi wanted was an escape. Belle.
“You didn’t give me the chance.” Belle smiled gently. Irisi smoothed his long locks away from his face and took a deep breath. “You are ready, aren’t you?”
No, I most definitely am not ready and this will likely be the last time you will see me, he thought.
“Um…yeah. I have a plan,” he lied, smiling before making his way towards the War Room door. His stomach knotted as he looked about the room.
Before him stood a colosseum-like set up with chairs filed all along the cold stone walls of the War Room. Only bright eyes stared back at him, some blue, some greens, but most the haunting bright amber that he was accustomed to. Eyes that belonged to the Originals, the Elders.
He stood there, noting the different houses that showed up for his meeting. House Vanderwall rulers of Partheon City, his house, and his uncle Uriel as representative and a few other distant family members. House Zamoria, represented by Armen Zamoria and his clan, lords of the Ethereal Mountains, House Arnel, represented by Mercurial, The Skeletal Man, lord of Caldone’s township, and House Merxy, represented by Lady Fawna and her royal house, lords over Rodo’s forests. As he stood mesmerized by the strange setting placed before him, he quickly snapped back to reality. Disapproving murmurs filled the air, piercing Irisi’s ears as their harsh words spoke of disdain regarding his appearance.
What am I doing here?
He had no plan and would likely bluff his way through his entire meeting. Belle
took a final look his way, pursing her lips as she bowed her head respectfully in his direction. She turned on her heels and left the room, the sound of her heels clacking as she walked away. The whispers ceased as the faint sound of Belle’s steps could be heard down the halls. Likely heading back to her office chambers.
Mercurial Arnel, the oldest of the Elders, stood from his seat and glided towards Irisi. The glow of nearby candlelight glinted from his bald leathery head. He stood at a mahogany podium embossed in etchings of the Angelic words of the forefathers, something only the Originals had been taught to read. His white, bony fingers picked up a gavel and swiftly brought it down, causing a large boom to resonate throughout the room.
“Irisi Vanderwall,” Mercurial croaked, “You are brought before the Council of Elders today because you have failed yet again to fulfill the mission assigned to you by our ancestors, casted to your care in wake of Gareth’s death. You were given time, but now it has run out.” Mercurial spat the last words as his old amber wings stretched behind him gently flapping. The candles flickered, casting iridescent light through the Elder’s thin, worn wings. “The humans still live, and they should not,” he continued. “Your father gave us his word he would destroy them, and failed. This is unacceptable. In light of recent events, the Council has decided to strip you of your throne and give it to Arturo Zamoria, Lord of the Ethereal Mountains.” Irisi swallowed, attempting to clear his sandpaper-dry throat. His own wings ached for release beneath his robes as his bit at the inside of his lips. Mercurial’s words rang in his ears like a loud hum as he fought to get his thoughts together.
Strip me of the throne? After everything I have done, everything my father has done, for these boney freaks? And give it to that wretch! Blood rushed to his face as he tried hard to calm himself. Breathe, you can do this, Irisi! But memories of Arturo’s betrayal continued to surface, playing out before his eyes.
Screams resonated the war zone as Irisi sat upon his stead with sword in hand. His best friend, Arturo Zamoria by his right side, ready for battle. Arturo smirked as his light blue wings fluttered in the gentle breeze. Today, they would win. Today, the humans would perish. Sheathed in armor, Prince Irisi glanced about as smoke cleared the air. “Retract your wings, dear friend, lest they be torn from your back,” Irisi muttered as he turned and faced his army. His heart stammered against his chest as adrenaline took over.
“On my word, we march forward. Slay any man who comes within your reach! That is an order!” he shouted, “Right guard, protect the king. Left guard, advance!”
Hooves tore through against the lush sod as the troops to his left moved forward, Irisi in tow.
“FOR THE MIDLAND!” they shouted. The air whistled and cracked as the sounds of metal on metal clashed together. Blood ran in streams of red beneath the troops, watering the grass below. Sweat poured from Irisi as he dismounted and shoved his sword through the enemy, breaths coming in short puffs until they came no more. He wiped the salty beads of sweat from his eyes as movement to his right caught his attention.
Arturo, surrounded by twenty Renegades, bodies of his comrades laying in red pools around him. Slain. He was alone fighting to save the king.
Looking to his left, Irisi made a snap decision and thrust his legs into motion, running as fast as he could to help, his wings protected by his armor. And then he halted as his world went numb…
Arturo, with his back to the king, wheeled around and grabbed King Gareth by the throat, wrapping one arm around his father’s torso as the other held a knife to the king’s barren neck.
“Kill him or die!” a Renegade angel shouted from nearby.
“And if I do…will my life be spared or will I face certain death?” Arturo asked, his voice wavering. Irisi watched as the Renegade group parted down the middle. The air grew slightly colder as Irisi’s heart pounded in his ears. A Renegade general approached, stopping ten feet from Arturo Zamoria.
“If you do it, I’ll let you live…you worthless piece of shit!” he hissed. “But the longer you wait, the longer I have to contemplate how I will kill you, and I can promise death will be in your foreseeable future if you falter.”
Irisi lurched forward, screaming as a sword plunged into his own flesh. Pain seared at his insides as hot liquid oozed from the blade. His eyes widened as his attacker came into sight.
“Commander Irisi Vanderwall,” his attacker crooned smugly. “You will watch your father die from the hand of one of your own.” Irisi shut his eyes as a hand clutched his neck, forcing his face upwards. Fingers pried at his eyelids forcing them open. “You will watch your father die, and then you will join him,” the Renegade whispered in his ear, his hot breath scorching the side of Irisi’s neck.
Irisi’s vision ebbed as the pain in his side intensified. He saw Arturo move in a swift motion as the darkness swept in. He watched as his father’s lifeless form crumpled in a heap on the ground. He watched until the darkness swallowed him whole.
“Long live the Renegades. Long live the humans,” his attacker whispered before everything went black.
*
Clearing his throat, Irisi stood and began to speak, the memories of his father’s death still fresh, cutting at him like the blade in his side, a blade of betrayal. “Um…. Good evening Great Elders of the Midland. I’d like to make this quick since it’s truly a nightmare to be standing before you right now.” He paused and took a breath, wiping at the tears the ran down his cheeks. Not now. “I know you all think I’m a screw-up, a young kid who was given a kingdom because my old man kicked the bucket, and you probably think I’m going to tarnish his legacy.” A few of the Elders nodded in agreement but remained silent. “Let’s be honest, you’re probably right.” He squared his shoulders, meeting their disapproving gazes. “However, don’t discredit me just yet. I have some plans up my sleeve, and I think I can end the humans. You just have to give me some time. I know that I am young and have yet to see what this life has to offer, and I know I have failed you and our people as general. I understand if you wish to strip me of my title. But I am asking you to please give me a chance. Have faith in me. Have faith in my father, who he raised me to be the best king the Midland has yet to see.” The Skeletal Man stood back up and quietly approached Irisi, descending down a flight of stairs until he was face to face with the young king.
“And how do you plan to do that, Irisi? The Vanderwalls have been given so many chances and failed. What is your last plan?” his old voice croaked once more. The sounds of angry mutters could be heard throughout the War Room from the Vanderwall house. But Irisi paid them no mind as he focused on Mercurial. Death emanated from the Elder and, briefly, Irisi wondered if he was the Grim Reaper himself. Shaking that thought away, he continued.
“I would like to set forth a decree, of sorts. A decree…that will…weed out the loyal from the defiant.”
“Loyal from the defiant?” Mercurial mused, arching a thin white brow in the young king’s direction.
“Yes. Loyal from the defiant. Now, may I continue before you ask any more questions or waste anymore of my time?” Irisi spat. Mercurial’s jaw tensed, gritting his teeth as the air grew thick with animosity from the royals seated above.
“Fine. Carry on,” Mercurial said, waving Irisi onward, looking past the young king, or rather through him.
“I propose that upon the seventeenth birthday of each new Keeper, a choice be made. To stay in the Midland and fight amongst our army, the Consortium, or to be cast out to die amongst the humans. We will eradicate the weak from our dying land, ensuring the strong’s survival.” The room erupted into a flood of whispers once more as the Skeletal Man stood before Irisi. Turning, Mercurial scanned the room before bringing his beady, unimpressed eyes back to Irisi.
“The Elders will convene for ten minutes, nothing more, nothing less. And when we come back, we will let you know what the Fates have decided.” Fear ripped through Irisi as Mercurial turned and silently walked towards the glowing eyes. Screeches filled th
e air as the Elder’s pushed from their chairs, some extending their wings, others stretching as they filed along the walls through the same doorway Irisi had entered. Irisi was alone at last. He moved away from the podium and took a seat on the cool floor, bringing his knees to his chest. His arms cradled his legs like the Elder’s cradled his fate. Did he convince them enough to stay on the throne or would they kill him and put Arturo in his place right away?
Time ticked by slowly as Irisi awaited his judgement, but after ten agonizing minutes, the Elder’s filed back into the room, each taking a seat by their Houses. Mercurial drifted once more towards Irisi, extending his bony hand towards the young king.
“Stand up, son. This is no time to be sitting.”
Irisi gulped the lump that had been forming in his throat down and extended his hand, taking Mercurial’s skeletal fingers in his own. The Elder pulled him up, faster than lightning, shocking the young king. “I may look frail to you, however, I am anything but.” Mercurial smiled. Raising his hands above his shiny head, he commanded silence once more.
“We, the Council, have decided that you may keep your throne under a few conditions. First, you must wed my daughter Kyrina. She is fertile and will bear you many sons. You may wed more than one wife if you choose, but you must wed my daughter. She will ensure that your plan follows through. Raising your sons in the ways of the New. Second, when an heir to the throne is born and reaches their seventeenth birthday, they must choose your Consortium idea. If these are not met, you will lose everything, your riches, your throne, your wives and your life, Irisi.”
“Is there a second option?” Irisi asked, smiling nervously at the Elder. Mercurial’s cheeks perked slightly before falling back into a mask of death.
“No. This is it. Take it or leave it, the choice is yours to make, but it must be done so now.”
Fuck!
Irisi knew that this was the best option the Council could have given him. Shit, they had even told him he could marry more than one wife. What was the problem with that? All he had to do was bed Mercurial’s daughter and bear a few sons with the lady and he would be free to do as he wished.