A Legacy of Nightmares

by J. M. Wallace

  “Don’t worry, love, I will honor your wish to wait until our victory before I take you as my own.” He kissed her lips before he rose to leave her. Tears of relief streamed down her cheeks. She could still feel his mouth on her and it made her skin crawl. He was nearly to the tent’s entrance before he turned to deliver the final blow to her spirits. “In one day’s time, we ride into battle; and after we have destroyed them in body and in spirit, I would like to give Sorin’s army a little show.” He flashed his teeth in a vengeful smile. “Once we have achieved victory, you, will execute King Sorin.”

  Bastian threw the canvas flap open and disappeared into the night. Shaye let out a sob once he was gone. She felt as helpless as she had the night of the Winter Solstice. She hated herself for her own weakness. If Bastian gave the command, then she would have no choice but to obey. She would have to kill the man she loves.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sorin

  Sorin felt weak as he tried to find the strength to keep his head up. His throat ached from the need for water, and his lips were cracked. His body was stiff from lack of movement, and his head throbbed from the work Umbra had been putting in on him. She had been digging her shadowy claws into his mind for the better part of the day, until Bastian had called her to his quarters. Sorin was thankful for the reprieve.

  He was alone in the prisoner’s tent, and the air was suffocating and hot. His eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, and he feared that he might never see the light of day again. He hung his head and tried to find the strength to go on. Umbra was truly a monster from The Beyond. She delighted in torment and excelled at entering one’s mind. She had spent the day filling Sorin’s head with scenes of gore.

  It was becoming difficult for him to tell what was real and what wasn’t. She had started off slow, taking him back to the Winter Solstice, drudging up memories of Magi being massacred at his father’s hand. But as the day had progressed, she grew more malicious. She delved deeper into his mind, and his heart, presenting him with the deaths of each person he cared for.

  He was helpless, watching Elijah being consumed and mutated by the fog. Then Bron being eaten alive by the Black Shuck. The beast’s mouth was red and dripping with Sorin’s best friend’s blood, as he watched the light in his eyes go out. The worst, and final, vision was of Shaye. It had been too much for Sorin to take and had nearly broken him.

  Umbra created a scene that felt like torture, as he watched Bastian strip Shaye naked in front of the Nefari army. Then he was forced to watch as Bastian ripped her very soul from inside her body, and devoured it. Sorin wanted to die at the sight of it. Only when he begged for Umbra to stop, did she relent.

  Now he sat in the darkness, alone and praying to anyone who would listen, that the people he loved did not meet the ends that Umbra had shown him. She had not revealed much about herself throughout their time together, but he had gathered that Bastian had some sort of hold on her. She was immensely powerful, and not of their world. Sorin knew Bastian’s magic was powerful, but he could not fathom that it would be strong enough to control a dark magical being like Umbra.

  He himself could not escape her clutches without help, and he was praying now for a miracle. He had not eaten or drank anything all day and he felt sick. Every time he tried to picture Shaye, he could only conjure the image of her on the altar the night before. Her attempts at fighting Bastian had been fruitless, and Sorin knew her well enough to know that she was blaming herself for not being able to fight against the magic that Signe linked them with.

  Umbra had cackled by Sorin’s side that night, as she forced him to watch the entire thing. Had it not been for Umbra’s hold on his mind, he would have ripped the world apart to get to Shaye. To stop her from becoming Bastian’s slave. A sob escaped him now, in the darkness of the tent, thinking about the moment of Shaye’s defeat. His heart was broken, and he hated himself for being too weak to save her.

  A laugh interrupted Sorin’s grief—it was Bastian. He stood in the shadows, but Sorin knew it was him by the bitter laughter. Sorin was not sure Bastian could feel amusement or joy enough to really laugh. The dark magic had eaten away so much of him that hardly any humanity remained.

  “Bastian, finally decided to grace me with your presence?” Sorin spat on the ground.

  “I just came to see how you were holding up. Umbra said she’d done quite a number on you today. I was curious to see if there was anything left of you.”

  “Ah, well I do have to admit, your friend Umbra’s company leaves something to be desired.” He coughed. His throat burned from speaking.

  Bastian ignored the quip and pulled a chair over so that he was facing Sorin. “I’m not here for games. I simply want to give you an update. Your army has arrived in the valley. Sorry numbers, I must say. I expected something far more challenging from your famous General Tyrell. Nevertheless, we will destroy them tomorrow.”

  Sorin glared at Bastian, and imagined what it would feel like to rip his throat out with his bare hands. His breath quickened at the thought of Bastian’s hot blood running down his hands, and onto the dead Asterion earth. Bastian shifted under Sorin’s intense gaze.

  Bastian cleared his throat, and continued to taunt him. “It is too bad you will not be there to see my victory. I had considered keeping you around as entertainment at court, but I could not have you distracting Shaye with your presence.”

  Sorin bristled at the mention of Shaye. “Where is she, Bastian? If you’ve laid a hand on her I—”

  “Shaye is no longer your concern. And I will lay my hands on whichever part of her I see fit.”

  Sorin felt a growl rise from within him, and he lunged for Bastian, but the restraints on his arms held him firmly in place. Bastian laughed at his efforts. “Don’t worry, you will have a chance to say your goodbyes to her at dawn. Right before I order her to execute you.”

  “She would never—”

  “Oh, but she would. Thanks to Signe’s magic, I own her. Mind, body, and spirit. She will dole out your execution—and when she does, there will be nothing to hold her back from her true potential. We will wed, and she will rule Asterion by my side.” He rose, looking down at Sorin in disdain. “Sleep well, King Sorin.”

  Once he was gone, Sorin hung his head in despair. Bastian was right, Shaye would not be able to resist a direct command from him. The Ceasg’s magic was too powerful and binding. Sorin wanted to scream, but he held back; he would not give Bastian the satisfaction of knowing that he had given up.

  Umbra returned shortly after Bastian’s visit. She stalked around the room, circling Sorin where he sat. His instincts went on high alert at the sight of her, but there was no use fighting his restraints. He needed to save his energy to fight her in his mind instead.

  Umbra closed the gap between them. She smelled of rotten earth, like a cold, sulphureous place. It made him shiver. He gritted his teeth as she put her cold, veiled hands to his face, forcing him to look up at her. Her claws dug into his skin, drawing blood; it trickled down to his jaw.

  She purred like a feline, “Now where did we leave off? I’m feeling much more refreshed now.”

  Sorin struggled to pull his face away from her grip. “Perhaps someone else would appreciate your attention more. I think you and I could use a break.” He hissed between his teeth when she grabbed him by the throat. She dug her long, sharp claws into his skin once more. This time, dangerously close to an artery; one wrong move, and Sorin would be dead.

  “Unfortunately, this is our last night together. Let’s make it count, shall we?” She released his throat and sat in his lap. She was surprisingly light, almost as if her body were suspended in the air, but her shadows enveloped Sorin with a heavy weight on his mind. His vision went black as she took hold of his thoughts. It was an excruciating feeling—Sorin felt as if he and Umbra were physically in his mind together.

  It always began the same, in a small dark room. When Sorin was rested he was able to put up a fight before allowing her
through the doors to his innermost thoughts. But each time, no matter how hard he tried, he could not fight against her strength. This time was no exception; he was at his weakest point now, and the doors were already opened for her.

  She pulled the two of them through to the chamber of his mind that she enjoyed visiting the most—his fears. Sorin could not deny that there was plenty for her to work with there. They had spent hours in that dark corridor of his mind, as she used the fear of losing his friends to torture him. She had even tapped into his fears about taking his rightful place as King of Asterion. Making him live through all the ways he could fail.

  Umbra spoke, her voice echoing in his mind, “It is interesting, you know... That you do not fear bodily harm to yourself. Bastian was right to enlist my assistance in breaking you. Had he sent in one of his thugs to physically torture you, I suspect it would not have done much good.”

  Sorin ignored her. “Let’s just get this over with. What will it be this time? Watching my friends stretched on a rack? Watching my mother drown in the harbour again? This is getting old, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, I’m just getting started. Let us revisit your fears about being king. Or, should I say, of becoming your father.”

  “My father was a great man who tried to be a fair king.”

  “Tried,” Umbra spat the word out. “I’ve seen a great many kings in my time, each one claiming they ‘tried.’ Sorry excuses for failure.” She paused for a thoughtful moment, and Sorin braced himself for what she was planning.

  The chamber of his mind flared to life as she threw them into a vision. They were at the Summer Palace. It was just as he remembered it, warm and inviting. Sunlight drifted through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the king’s private rooms. Sorin searched anxiously for anything that was out of place. Umbra’s visions were always dark and full of anguish. This one was different.

  The door opened and Shaye came fluttering into the room. She was dressed in light, airy fabric, perfect for the summer heat. Her hair shined and her eyes were the bright gold that had mesmerized him since the first time they met. Her cheeks were flushed as she came face to face with him. She beamed brightly at him, and his gaze dropped to her full belly—she was pregnant.

  He stuttered, “W—what is this?”

  The vision of Shaye grabbed his hands and placed them on her round stomach. He felt a small flutter as the baby kicked. Shaye giggled, “He’s growing strong, like his dad.”

  Before Sorin could speak, Shaye kissed his cheek and bounded to the other side of the room to pour herself a glass of water. Lost in the sight of her standing before him, beautiful and healthy, Sorin forgot about Umbra’s presence. He approached Shaye, who had walked gracefully to the terrace overlooking the capital. He could see Aramoor in the distance; the colorful buildings towered high, and the water by the docks sparkled under the summer sun.

  Shaye rested her head on his shoulder as they looked out on their kingdom. There was no blight. No sign of war, or of Bastian’s Nefari. Shaye sighed and leaned into him, “It is wonderful, isn’t it? I am so proud of you, my sweet husband.”

  Sorin’s heart ached. He knew this could not be real, no matter how much his heart longed for it to be. He shut his eyes tight. “That’s enough, Umbra.”

  Umbra’s voice came from behind, “But you haven’t seen the best part.” She clapped her hands and the palace rocked. The floor beneath Sorin’s feet rumbled and he reached out to steady Shaye, but her fingers slipped through his like a ghost. She vanished before his eyes, as the room around them morphed into something ugly and horrible.

  Gone was the sunlight that had flowed through the windows. It was replaced with a dark gloom. The king’s private chamber was now a shell of its former self. The curtains at the terrace door were shredded, and broken glass lay scattered across the floor. Furniture was overturned, as if there had been a confrontation. Sorin ventured back to the terrace, knowing that he would not like what he would find.

  Aramoor, which had stood proud and prosperous in the distance, was now in piles of rubble. Smoke drifted from the city and into the dark, cloudy sky. Skeletal creatures screeched from above, circling the remnants of the harbour. Even from this distance, Sorin could hear the cries of his people, begging for mercy.

  Soft crying came from behind him, and he turned to find Shaye staring beyond him, to Aramoor. He tried to go to her, but when his hand reached for hers, it slipped through his grasp. He couldn’t touch her, and she could not see him. She limped toward the balcony. He could see bruises peeking through her elegant black gown, as if someone had injured her badly. There were bluish-purple marks along her arms and around her throat. Sorin’s anger flared, and he clenched his fists. Bastian, you son of a bitch. Sorin did not need to see Bastian to know that this was all his doing.

  Sorin stood beside Shaye, studying her. He wanted so badly to be able to reach out and comfort her. He looked down to see her hands on her round belly. She was pregnant in this vision as well; but he knew this time, it was not his child she carried. Shaye choked out a sob and spoke to the wind, “I am so sorry I could not be stronger, Sorin.”

  In this vision he had failed, lost the battle, and his life. This is what would become of Asterion if Bastian succeeded on that battlefield. This is what would become of the woman he loved.

  The vision of Shaye sucked in a breath; when she released it, she spoke again, “If I could kill myself I would, Sorin. I would join you in the afterlife and be free of Bastian. But I can’t do it, you see—I need to protect this innocent child. I have to be strong... I have to let you go.”

  When she turned to leave the terrace, Sorin watched the change in her. Her face became hard and determined, no sign of the despair that was there only seconds ago. Sorin understood what she was doing. She was turning away from her humanity, and the memory of the people she had lost, so she could survive this nightmare she was being forced to live through. Sorin felt it deep within his heart at that moment that the Shaye he knew and loved was gone.

  Umbra laughed gleefully from behind him, “Marvelous, just marvelous! The utter anguish you’re feeling right now is absolutely delicious. Interesting how the vision of you no longer being of this world did not drive you into hopelessness; but rather, it was the idea of the woman you love being forced to carry on in the world that Bastian will create.” The vision faded away, and Sorin opened his eyes to find that they were back in the tent... Back in reality.

  Umbra was still settled into his lap with her arms around his neck. She lifted her veil slightly to lick a tear that streamed down his face at the pain and anger he was feeling. Sorin pulled back and slammed his head into Umbra’s face, knocking her off of him and into the dirt. She let out a venomous hiss and screeched in frustration. Though he knew it did not harm her nearly as much as he had wanted it to, it was still satisfying to have caught her off guard.

  Umbra dusted herself off indignantly. “I will never understand you mortals. Horrible little pests. I look forward to watching your execution. And more than that, I look forward to the moment that Shaye is unprotected. When given the chance, I will gut her. Ohh, but not before I shatter her mind. What I have shown you, is only a fraction of my power. Pity I could not show you what I can really do. Bastian insisted that I not break you entirely. He would like you to be coherent for your army’s defeat, and your execution that will come after.” Sorin watched her with hate-filled eyes—he could feel the rage rising in him.

  She bowed to him, startling him with the odd show of respect after she had spent all this time torturing him. He could see the shadow of a smile beneath her thin black veil. “Thank you, King Sorin. Thank you for feeding me with your fear. It has been too long since I have tasted a king’s power, especially one as strong and noble as yourself. I have quite enjoyed myself. I need to rest now, see you in a bit.”

  Before Sorin could spit a retort, she vanished through the flap of the tent. He struggled to rest in her absence, haunted by the vision of wh
at would become of his country if Bastian succeeded on the battlefield. Worse was the lingering memory of what could be if the Asterion army emerged victorious tomorrow. Of what his life would be like, reunited with Shaye and able to start a life together... If that's what she wanted. It had not escaped him that she had not said she loved him too, when he had declared his feelings for her the night before.

  Shouting interrupted his thoughts, and two new guards arrived with a prisoner. They dragged the woman in by her arms, her feet leaving a trail behind them as they pulled her roughly through the dirt. She lay in a heap where they had discarded her, and did not move for several minutes. Sorin feared that she was dead, until she let out a gasp.

  “Are you alright?” he whispered to her, not wanting the guards to punish them for talking.

  The small woman struggled to rise from the ground. Her clothes were filthy and brown—the color assigned to the mortals Bastian had enslaved in the camp. Bastian’s way of ‘putting them in their place.’ There wasn’t a doubt in Sorin’s mind that Bastian would undo all the good King Allerick had done. Though Sorin knew his father had made mistakes as a ruler, he believed that his heart had been in the right place. If Sorin got out of this, he would build on what his father had started. Except, this time, he would raise all of Asterion up. No mortal and no Magi would be revered over the other; they were all equals and deserved to be treated as such.

  The mortal woman choked, trying to catch her breath, and pushed her disheveled hair from her face—revealing the familiar, fierce woman that had once held an axe to him and his men in defense of Shaye.

  “Brina?” Sorin was shocked to see her here, and in this state. “What did he do to you?”