A Legacy of Nightmares

by J. M. Wallace

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to kill Bastian.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shaye

  When night fell, Bastian sent his men in to retrieve Shaye. Signe had dressed her in fine silk; the color was remarkable, a deep purple that shimmered when she moved. It reminded her of the Northern Lights she longed to see again. The silk wrapped around her body with a cinch at her waist. Signe clasped it together with a black, jeweled brooch. The dress was unlike anything she had ever seen, and she marveled at it in the mirror as Brina pinned her hair back neatly.

  Signe caught Shaye’s eye, noticing her admiration of the dress. “It is a style that was common in early Asterion, centuries ago.”

  Shaye blushed. “It is lovely.” It was the first thing she had worn since coming to the Nefari camp that did not remind her of Bastian.

  “I chose it for you. It is the style of your ancestors. I told Bastian it would be best if you performed the ceremony under their blessing... Not that a dress would ever make a true difference, but he bought the lie just the same.”

  Shaye turned to Signe, embracing the Ceasg who had become her friend in the last weeks. It gave her courage to know that she had so many to stand behind her. No matter what came next, she knew that there were people out there who cared for her, no matter how broken she was.

  Brina smiled at her from across the room, “Beautiful... There’s just one thing missing.” She pulled something from her jacket and Shaye caught the flash of steel. “I believe this belongs to you.”

  Shaye took the jeweled dagger that Brina held in her hands. She ran a tainted black finger over the Asterion crest: a stave and sword, surrounded by florals. It was the same dagger that Sorin had given her right before they found the Stave. She gripped the small hilt tightly to her chest. As a tear rolled down her face, accompanied by the memories of Sorin and the freedom she no longer had, she embraced Brina, whispering in her ear, “Thank you.”

  Bastian interrupted, breaking through the heartfelt moment, and Shaye’s heart leapt from her chest. He could not catch her with the dagger he had taken from her on the night she had arrived in the camp as his prisoner. Brina slipped the dagger from Shaye’s hands and tucked it into her own jacket.

  Shaye turned to Bastian and fought the urge to sneer at him. He beamed at her, “Perfect.” The mere sound of his voice made her sick to her stomach. He held his hands out for her to come to him. Shaye took one hand, and he spun her, admiring his prized pet.

  Shaye motioned to the tent’s entrance, “Shall we?”

  He offered his arm and escorted her out into the dark night. There were no stars out tonight, though the skies were clear. The blood moon loomed high above them. It was massive in size, and Shaye thought of the crows that had been following her. The moon seemed close enough for them to fly up and touch. The camp glowed under its red-orange light.

  Bastian steered her through the bustling crowd of Nefari and other magical creatures. A group of Orc grunted in acknowledgment as she passed, and Nefari soldiers bowed to their royal couple. Bastian did not release her until they were on the wooden platform. They were surrounded by native Asterion flowers in full bloom, and there was a flat, sleek rock centering the altar.

  On the altar, with Shaye and Bastian, stood Duke Brayham and his smug daughter. She was dressed in a gown befitting a queen, and for a moment Shaye wondered if Adella had spoken true—if Bastian had agreed to marry her when all was said and done. Shaye wanted to scoff, He’s all yours, I don’t want him.

  Brina and Signe also joined them. The guards escorting them shoved them into their place behind Shaye. Bastian had not told her what she was supposed to do once she was in place, so she stood wringing her hands together nervously. She looked around for any sign of Sorin or the others in the crowd, but they were nowhere to be found. She did, however, spot Gorm and Ulf standing at the edge of the altar—they glared at the guards who had handled her friends roughly.

  Bastian raised his hand, and a hush fell over the crowd. “We stand here tonight, unified.” His voice rose, sounding every bit the king that he fancied himself to be. “Our people have been met with persecution and slaughter. Magi were once powerful and revered throughout this land. Now we squander our lives away on the docks of our oppressors, or are forced to hide away.”

  The Nefari in the crowd nodded in agreement, and a few shouted in anger. Bastian was in his element, and Shaye was hating every second of it. He reveled in the crowd’s response, growing more intense in his words as he shouted, “But no more! Tonight we take back our birthright... Tonight we take back our power!”

  The crowd went wild, stomping their feet and cheering. Bastian waited until they were silent again before continuing. “Once we harness the power of Roth’s Sword, we will be unstoppable. At dawn, we destroy our oppressors. We will take Asterion back through bloodshed.”

  Shaye flinched at the familiar words. It was just as The Final Judgment had read. The three brothers had been given a test. One that the last brother, Pris, had failed in his need for vengeance. The Fate, Atropani, had been right: Sorin, Shaye, and Bastian were facing their own tests, and Bastian was about to fail his.

  The crowd erupted in a roar of applause. Bastian turned to Adella, who proudly presented him with the Sword. Signe took that as her signal and presented him with the Stave. Bastian nodded, and the women took the relics to the smooth stone, placing them gently on the sleek surface. He gestured for Shaye, and she came to him. She eyed the Sword; the emerald stone in its golden hilt glimmered under the moonlight. She could feel the power of it calling to her. She wondered if she would be quick enough to run it through Bastian. He was close enough, and once he placed it in her hands, he would be at her mercy.

  She did not care about the consequences. With him dead, her friends stood a fighting chance of getting out of there. Even if she lost her own life in the process, it would be worth it to end all of this now. Her fingers itched to feel the cold steel of the Sword in her hand. She fought to steady her breathing and kept her hands still at her side. She had to strike at the right moment, or risk failure.

  Bastian turned to her; his pale face was flushed with excitement. Shaye held her hands out, expecting him to place the relics in them. He reached down to grab the Sword, then paused. “Signe.”

  Signe stepped forward obediently, her eyes shifting between Shaye and Bastian. “Yes, my lord.”

  “I believe this would be a good time to use my last wish.”

  Shaye’s stomach dropped as Signe bowed. If he was using a wish, then Signe would be powerless against it. She would have to do anything he asked.

  His lip curled as he spoke, “I wish for Shaye to obey my every word.”

  Shaye’s stomach lurched. “Surely by now you must know that you can trust me, Bass. Please, this is not necessary.”

  He ignored Shaye’s plea, grabbing Signe roughly by the arm. “Would you defy your master?”

  Signe looked helplessly to Shaye. “I am sorry.” Tears filled her eyes as her magic bloomed around them. Golden dust blinded Shaye from the roaring crowd. They cheered, loving the show that their master was putting on for them.

  Shaye felt as if she were on fire. Signe’s magic burned as it coursed through her, down to her very soul. She fought the urge to cry out—she would not satisfy Bastian with her despair as he took the last ounce of freedom away from her.

  When the magic faded away, the burning stopped. Shaye collapsed onto the altar, but she refused to show him her defeat. She stood carefully, raising her chin as she pushed her shoulders back, feigning confidence that she no longer had. She looked him directly in the eyes, and heard the crowd gasp. Looking around to see what had caused the shock, she realized it was her. When she looked down at herself, she saw black lines running along her arms and chest. Her body was covered in the thin black marks.

  Brina let out a sob as Shaye turned to her in a panic. “Your eyes, Shaye. They...they’re like his.”

/>   Shaye raised a hand to her face, and looked into Bastian’s endlessly black eyes, as dark as the Obsidian stone hanging around his neck. Her despair was replaced with a wild fury as he tested his hold on her: “Pick up the relics.”

  The magic connecting them rocked her body, as she did as he commanded—shocked at how her body obeyed, even as her mind screamed not to. Bastian smiled, pleased with Signe’s work. “Now call on the darkness.”

  Shaye fought it; inside she was screaming at herself to stop, but it was no use. She felt the lightning rising within her, demanding to be released. Bastian goaded her, he was enjoying every minute of this.

  Images of pain and death flashed in her mind. She could no longer see the power-hungry Nefari, or the beasts that stood with them. Instead, she saw her parents, lying dead before her, with lifeless, empty eyes. She saw King Allerick, slaughtering her people in the ballroom. Hatred bloomed inside of her, Bastian’s pull was growing, and she could not fight it.

  Sorin. I need to think of Sorin. She tried to picture his handsome face and the dimple when he smiled, but the vision did not come. Instead, visions of his father, King Allerick, danced in her mind. He grinned at her as he cut her aunt down, sticking his sword into her breast. He grabbed Shaye’s uncle next, but it was no longer Allerick looking at her. Sorin’s deep blue eyes stared back at her now, as he cut her uncle’s head from his body.

  Shaye knew these were false memories—Sorin had been a child when the Winter Solstice coup occurred. But it was too late, she could not deny the fear and anger fueling her magic, pushing it to the surface for Bastian to use. A fiery pain shot through her as Bastian stepped closer.

  Again, she saw her parents. They were alive this time. She watched as her father was beaten by Allerick’s men, as her mother was ravaged by them. It was too much, she needed it to stop.

  “Please...” She could not get out more than a whisper, “Please, Bastian, stop.”

  She knelt down on the altar, dropping the relics beside her. She dug her fingers into the rough wood beneath her. Bastian knelt down in front of her, raising her chin so that she had to look into his soulless eyes. His smile was like venom in her veins as he spoke, “Power the Sword, Shaye. Do you feel it? Do you feel me in your magic? We are one now.” He snapped his fingers, and Adella came forward, smiling down at Shaye’s pain.

  “My lord.” She bowed deeply to him as he stood, leaving Shaye to writhe in pain.

  Bastian took Adella’s dainty hands into his own. He caressed her cheek, before kissing her deeply. “You have been a faithful servant to me, and for that you will reap a great reward.” He bowed to her, and the crowd followed suit.

  Adella reveled in the attention, looking at Shaye triumphantly. Bastian lifted the Sword from where it laid, and Shaye moved to get up. She needed to get to that Sword while she still had an ounce of free will left. Bastian noticed her before she could rise, “Stay down.”

  Shaye’s body betrayed her, and she sank back down to her knees. It felt as if she was trapped under stones. She looked to Signe and Brina, knowing they could not help. They stood to the side, shaking in horror at what they were witnessing. Adella giggled, and stood proudly beside Bastian.

  The crowd waited in anticipation, unsure of what would happen next. Bastian had been secretive in his preparations; they did not know what the ceremony would entail. Even his personal guards looked to one another, not knowing what they were supposed to do.

  Bastian held the Sword up for all to see. It gleaned in the light of the blood moon, its power flashing on the steel. Shaye wasn’t sure if the others could see it, but she could. Bastian put an arm around Adella, pulling her close and running his fingers down her bare skin, as he held the Sword up with his other hand. Shaye watched Adella’s face, shining with glee at the attention she was getting.

  Shaye heard gasps from the crowd, and Adella’s smile was replaced with a grimace. Adella groaned, brow furrowing, as she looked down at her chest. Shaye followed her gaze to find Roth’s Sword plunged into her heart.

  Adella cried out as Bastian tore the Sword out of her. Blood poured from the wound it had left. She looked at Bastian with confusion and betrayal before falling to the ground. Shaye looked around, waiting for someone to run to the girl, to help her, but no one moved. Even the duke stood uselessly as his daughter bled out before him.

  Shaye tried to go to her, but her body still would not cooperate. She was trapped, helpless to watch this innocent mortal die before her. “Bastian. What have you done?”

  He held the Sword up; a bright glow was now emanating from it as it dripped in Adella’s blood. He announced, loud enough for all to hear him, “Blood for power. With this mortal sacrifice, we power our army. Raise your weapons.” The Nefari army silently unsheathed their swords. They held them up, pointing them at the altar.

  Bastian released Shaye from the magical restraint that was keeping her on the ground. “Rise. Power our army and take your place as my queen.”

  Shaye could not shake her desperation. She was not strong enough to fight him. This was the end. She stepped over the stream of blood that was flowing along the altar. Adella’s blood. Her body laid untouched on the platform, her lifeless eyes staring up at the moon. Shaye stood at the stone, looking down at the Sword where Bastian had placed it. He handed her the Stave, and she gripped it tightly in her hands. Its wood felt smooth and powerful under her touch—it was hard to believe that this was the same piece of wood they had found broken in the cave. It felt so long ago... Shaye could not believe their actions had led to this.

  Bastian was close to her, and she felt the strength of his power, dragging dark and hateful thoughts from the hidden depths of her heart. She saw the massacre of the Magi again. She saw Witches being punished by the people of Asterion, for simply existing. She saw herself, running away to Sagon, leaving her people to fend for themselves in a society that did not trust them. Her vision clouded as he whispered to her, “Harness your nightmares. Make them feel the fear that you have endured.”

  Her magic answered his call, erupting from her as it had in the abandoned camp. She closed her eyes as dark magic flooded her senses—the smell of sulfur filled the air, and she burned from within. All she could think of was releasing it out into the world, of making them hurt just as she was hurting.

  She gave in as he commanded. When she opened her eyes, she unleashed her power into the Stave. The moon glowed brighter in response to her call, a blood red light flowing from it, through the Stave and into the Sword. It flowed simultaneously with her power from the Stave. The darkness of night was drowned out by the magic, lighting the camp in its wake.

  When the light winked out, the camp was once again left in darkness. Even the moon seemed to have dimmed from the drain on its power. Shaye stumbled back, strained from the magic she had used. Guards began to light lanterns and under its light Shaye was able to see the inky black lines still snaking along her body.

  Bastian took his own sword then. Spinning on his heel, he slashed through Duke Brayham, cutting the man’s torso clean in half. The duke fell to the ground, now in two, gory pieces. The crowd cheered wildly. The Nefari and the magical creatures in their ranks let out whoops of triumph. The ceremony had worked. The Nefari now held the power to cut through anyone, and anything, in their path. Shaye fought back the vomit rising in her throat.

  Bastian grabbed her hand, wordlessly leading her down the stairs, and away from the horrific scene on the altar. Brina and Signe did not follow, as guards blocked their path, keeping them in place. Shaye struggled as Bastian dragged her back to her tent. He pulled her into the dark room and threw her onto the bed. “Stay.” With a snap of his fingers, he lit the candles throughout the tent.

  No matter how much she struggled against the command, she could not move. Bastian removed his jacket; his movements were wild with adrenaline. He was the picture of pure glee as he turned back to her. “That was marvelous. And you...” He ran to her, kneeling before the bed. “You were rema
rkable.”

  Shaye looked away in disgust. “You’re a monster.”

  “We are the same, you and me. We are connected now. And we will stay that way. There is no use in fighting it.” His mood shifted to something more ominous as he stood, stalking to the table to pour himself a drink.

  “Bastian, please. This is too much.”

  “No Shaye, I am just getting started.” He leaned against the table. His words were bitter as he spoke, “You will not fight me ever again. You think I did not know you were plotting against me. Playing the demure woman... It was a nice touch, but I know you better than that.”

  “I...”

  “Silence. You answer to me, and you speak when I allow it. We could have done this the easy way. If you would have cooperated, then it would not have come to this.”

  He made his way back to the bed. Sitting beside Shaye, he unpinned the brooch that held her dress in place. The silk fell from her body, exposing her bare breasts beneath. Shaye’s blood boiled as she sat helpless against his whims.

  “You may speak now.”

  She thought of the jeweled dagger that Brina had tucked away in her things. “I could kill myself, you know.”

  “No. You cannot. Here is what happens next. You will obey me. You will not resist. It is not just you who is under my control. Do not forget that I hold Brina’s life in my powerful palm, as well.” He ran a finger along her collarbone, and added, too casually, “As we speak, my guards are forcing poison down her throat.”

  Shaye’s heart dropped. “Bastian—”

  “The poison will work its way slowly into her system. It will take days to kill her. You will play your role tomorrow, and when we have destroyed Sorin’s sorry army, I will give her the antidote.”

  Shaye nodded, she would do anything to keep Brina safe. Even if it meant destroying their country. Bastian leaned in and kissed her neck. He smelled of sulfur and honeysuckle. It was a disgusting mix, and Shaye resisted the feeling of bile rising in her throat. He kissed lower, making his way to her breast before he stopped. She let out a heavy breath in relief when he rose to look at her.