Ashes of Chaos (Legacy of the Nine Realms Book 2)

by Amelia Hutchins

  Not once had it been a good omen, since black magic indicated death and foreboding. Silently, I stepped over the salt line, trembling with the power of the warding spell that slipped against my skin, sparking magic to my fingertips.

  A blanket of darkness covered the village, but I could still make out the destruction. I walked further toward the center of town. Flags of all shapes and sizes blew in the breeze above the doors of each house I passed.

  Frowning, I moved closer and peered at a door, seeing it marked in blood before I noticed droplets dripping onto the earth. Lifting my eyes, I slapped a hand over my lips, stopping the scream before it escaped through them. What I thought was a flag, swaying in the darkness, was a woman.

  She hung upside down, her throat slit until her head clung to her body by a thread as her dress whipped in the wind. She dangled by a rope wrapped around her feet, secured to the cottage’s chimney as her blood painted the ground crimson. A shiver of trepidation slid down my spine. I backed away against the house across from hers.

  Something wet dripped onto my cheek. I brought my other hand up to wipe it away. I peered up into yet another woman’s sightless eyes. I fought the tightening in my throat as bile churned in my stomach.

  Scanning the other cottages, I found more women strung up, draining their blood into the ground below them, flowing into shallow trenches in the earth that lead deeper into town, creating a stream of blood.

  I whispered a spell to shield myself, becoming invisible to the world around me. I slowly withdrew the potion from my pocket to enhance the spell I’d cast. Tipping my head back, I chugged it as I stared into the lifeless woman’s cloudy eyes. She was young, too young to have lost her life. She blinked, and I gasped loudly, unable to stop the noise from ripping from my lungs.

  A scream ripped through the night, forcing my attention further down the road. I stifled my fear as a shiver snaked down my spine. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply as I fought for calm, slowly inching to the center of town.

  Music wafted toward me, and my brows creased in confusion at the noises that sounded like revelry. How could there be celebration while dead bodies hung from chimneys like sacrifices?

  I paused at the mouth of the darkened alley, noting that my hair rose along my nape. Growling stopped me, causing goosebumps to form on my arms as another shiver made its way up my back. My lips trembled, studying the forms concealed in shadows, heading in my direction. Fighting not to tuck tail and run like a bitch, I clenched my teeth to keep the chattering noise from waking the dead.

  Gasping, I watched as huge dire wolves moved toward me. Once they were near enough to where I stood, I relaxed ever so slightly. I took in their appearance from the light of the torches swaying in the wind. Red glowing eyes studied me, and I fought the hot tears threatening to break past my rapidly blinking eyes as I tried to hold them back. Bones protruded from their faces, appearing as if someone had kicked them in death before raising them from their grave within Hecate’s tomb.

  “Oh, you sweet babies,” I whispered, carefully lowering to my knees as the dire wolves bared their deadly fangs in warning as they walked toward me. “Who brought you here? Who would be so selfish to disturb your rest?” I cooed to them as their ears lowered, noting the drool that escaped from their mouths. “Come to me, my sweet darlings, and allow me to ease your pain and send you back to your sleep.”

  Dire wolves raised from Hecate’s tomb, or even in the surrounding area, were a terrible sign of what was happening here. They don’t rise on their own. Someone must summon them from their tomb, calling them here for a purpose. No one except a Hecate bloodline witch would hold the right or power to control them, let alone summon them from their grave.

  The fact they were dead and disturbed from their promised rest, protecting Hecate during her eternal slumber, was definitely not a good sign. Dire wolves were ethereal in life and could only reanimate if someone from the Hecate line performed death magic. I could sense they were here to guard something sinister.

  Knox’s scent rolled through me, the spiciness of it causing my body to heat with need. Closing my eyes, I harnessed the hungry bitch within me who preened, taunting me with the fact that eventually, I’d lose my battle. She promised me I’d weaken in time and go to him to stop the need driving me.

  My sex clenched, and the image of his eyes holding mine prisoner as he drove his magnificent cock into my body, caused a needy moan to slip past my trembling lips. My hand lifted, covering my mouth as a soft purr fought to escape, calling him to me.

  According to Aurora, I was entering a breeding cycle that would only end once I’d either had sex or attempted to breed. My instincts were taking over. The creature inside of me needed the beast that was within Knox. We needed him to catch us and do what he’d promised; fuck me so damn hard that I’d never need or want any other man so long as I lived.

  Bastard.

  I hated that Knox was so smug about the fact that he knew what I was and suspected what I would become. He held it over my head, goading me. He’d left items around for me to find, notes asking if I needed assistance getting fucked or if I had any interests in a quick fuck-and-duck, using my own term against me. He had no idea how badly I wanted to leave him a pair of my panties with my scent soaked into them, showing him just how close he was to the mark. The problem, I was breeding. I couldn’t chance getting pregnant while fighting witches as I cleaned the house of Hecate, alone.

  Since I was so young, Aurora had faith that I wouldn’t be able to get pregnant because, well, sometimes, mixed-species struggled to achieve the biblical act of creating life. She sugar-coated the shit out of it since my body was a mixture of fire and tension that kept me in a frenzied state of sexual frustration. The worst part I’d discovered about being in a breeding cycle? I couldn’t get off without him to help me. It wasn’t an orgasm my body craved; it was him, and what his body alone could offer mine.

  The wolf neared me, sniffing the air as I lifted my bloodied hand with the palm up. “That’s it, baby. I vow that I won’t hurt you. Show me who brought you here, interrupting your promised and deserved sleep.”

  The wolf snarled but stopped abruptly as his nose touched against my palm, cold as ice. I winced, taking in his blood-red eyes that bespoke of the pain he’d endured being awoken from death. Whoever disturbed their sleep was selfish and uncaring that they’d caused the wolves to suffer needlessly.

  I watched as the wolf nuzzled my palm, the relief from my touch, driving him closer to me. He bowled me over, and I laughed silently as he burrowed his head into my hold, finding comfort in my arms. Others moved closer until five decaying dire wolves sat around me, touching me. My hands slid through their fur, ignoring that clumps of fur and skin fell off as their tails wagged with happiness.

  I sliced through my palm, slowly letting them lick the blood as their saliva mixed with it, strengthening them while allowing me to see who had brought them back from death. My head spun as my eyes closed. My third eye opened to show me dark, shadowy figures slitting throats and torturing women while sightless-eyed men stayed behind the inky silhouettes. A dire wolf stood beside each shadow as hands silently stroked them to calm their unease.

  Screaming ripped me from the image, cutting it off as the wolves bowed their heads, growling at something behind me. I stood, peering into the shadows before I smirked. I lifted my nose, drinking in the scent of masculinity that danced through me. Knox was close, too close. I turned toward the screams, closing my eyes. I swallowed hard, ignoring the need that rushed through me, hot and dark.

  “Get’em, boys,” I hissed, stifling a laugh before I stepped deeper into the shadows. “Do no harm. Only play, my loves.”

  Turning toward the screams mixed with laughter, two sounds that didn’t belong together, I moved in their direction with my heart racing loudly in my ears. The hair on my neck rose. I listened to the snarling wolves while men screamed, and a smile spread over my lips.

  Knox deserved the wolves’ anger for h
unting me until I was so exhausted I didn’t even remember what it felt like to sleep. There were much better ways to exhaust me, and chasing me wasn’t it or fun. I knew his game was to wear me down until I made a mistake that would allow him to capture me without a fight. I didn’t intend to let that happen, not at any cost.

  Chapter Two

  Knox wouldn’t enjoy the wolves, but he also wouldn’t hurt them. Technically, they were already dead, but the problem with dead dire wolves was this; if you killed one after its true death, it would multiply during regeneration. When Hecate first discovered this anomaly, she allowed the witches to use this knowledge to manipulate the wolves, creating an army of thousands. Living dire wolves were rare. Therefore, Hecate allowed the mated pairs to roam freely within the tomb to breed, maintaining the line.

  At the sound of Lore screaming like a woman, I winced and canted my head, pausing. I could hear Lore, Brander, and Killian, but I couldn’t hear Knox, even though I knew he was behind me.

  I shivered as the sensation of being watched settled on my spine, thankful that my invisibility spell was still working. My eyes swung toward the mouth of the alleyway, finding it empty. Worrying my lip with my teeth, I exhaled as I greedily drank in Knox’s scent before dropping my head back, trembling violently with need.

  Forcing myself to ignore the scent of the primal male that promised carnal pleasures untold, I moved toward the center of town. Rounding a corner, I came to a dead stop as my stomach churned, and chaos danced in my mind. Men and women swayed on their feet as their bodies dripped blood from gashes slit deep into their flesh.

  The scene was grotesque, and the vileness mixed with carnage had me swallowing past the saliva in my mouth, threatening to release the contents of my stomach, which I’d been lucky to find. Food wasn’t something I could waste since I needed the energy it would give me to escape Knox. Food was fuel, and without it, Knox would surely catch me.

  My back brushed against a stone cottage. I backed away from a couple that nearly trampled me. They barreled through the village, blindly, tearing each other apart with their bare hands and whatever they found lying in the road, doing anything to ease their sexual urges.

  I covered my mouth, stopping the scream that bubbled up, tightening my chest while they went at one another. Blood splattered the wall near my face, and I closed my eyes, trying to block out the sounds of their bodies slamming together against the house as they fucked and moaned loudly. Clearly spelled, they were mutilating each other for someone else’s entertainment.

  Cruel laughter turned my focus to the dark shadows across from me, watching the couple as they feasted on and fucked each other, slowly stripping their lives away in the process. Feminine voices cheered the male on, laughing when the woman screeched as he parted her legs too far, and bones crunched as he repeatedly slammed his body into hers.

  The woman’s teeth ripped into the man’s throat, tearing the flesh as he moaned and snarled, pounding into her body, harder and faster until she screamed her release. The couple was driven into a frenzy using sex magic while the shadowed figures continued to cheer and utter encouragement.

  Slowly, I side-stepped toward the doorway of the nearest house, carefully to not disturb the dirt and gravel at my feet. I forced myself to move away from the splattering blood that painted the stone cottage from their frenzied coupling.

  Turning my head, I watched as other couples slowly joined the morbid dance of death, oblivious to their surroundings. Blood turned to ice in my veins, growing sluggish as it pumped through my body, and I shivered. Disgust raged within me, realizing the people in this village served as living sacrifices for the wicked creatures still hovering in the shadows.

  The entranced couples danced an ancient ceremony once used to induce mass suicides as sacrifices to Hecate. It was one of the darkest rituals she’d performed, and long ago outlawed because the spell could spread without warning, causing entire villages to become inflicted by the mysterious lure of the magic.

  Entering the stone cottage, I quickly tore a piece of fabric from my dress to wash away any traces of blood that might have splattered on my face. I jumped as a loud bang sounded against the house’s wall, followed by loud cries of pleasure mixed with pain. Taking a deep breath, I nearly choked on the coppery smell of blood that hung heavy in the air, and I closed my eyes, pushing the back of my hand against my lips as I fought the need to throw up.

  It took effort not to get sick as the pained sounds of coupling continued outside. Every single person who had lived inside this village was dead. They just wouldn’t succumb to death until the shadowy figures had finished playing their game. There was no need for this spell to linger, but the spell casters were enjoying the pain inflicted on the villagers, enjoying their suffering as their forced copulation fed the spell.

  Grabbing onto the handrail, I climbed the darkened staircase, compelling myself to move faster before I heard another body hit the ground in death. I searched each of the darkened rooms, peering out the windows into the torch-lit night. I searched for a view of the courtyard. Window after window, all of them faced other windows and stone siding to the cottages next door.

  The last room I entered had a perfect view of the monstrosities playing out in the courtyard. I settled into the shadows, observing the scene as dark figures wearing masks depicting demons and hideous beasts, danced around the couples continuing to encourage their participation. Long daggers glinted in the torchlight, ending life after life of those that didn’t dance fast enough, or hadn’t been pleasing to watch. Hecate, the goddess, demanded the most beautiful and purest men and women to mate, coupling to offer a child for her altar.

  I’d never actually seen the dance of death playing out, but I’d read about it a thousand times. The House of Magic told us about the evilest, vilest enchantments, whispering to us in warning of spells and dark sorcery that we couldn’t allow practiced. The house itself was a vessel of magic, a calling to be pure of the darkness and bathed in the light of true magic. I was always eager to hear the tales and learn, much to my sisters’ chagrin. They found it boring and tedious to listen to a house.

  This was the third town in which I’d found all the inhabitants dead. The dance was a new touch of carnage, but the dark figures inducing the magic weren’t. Each village had shown an escalation of violence, their acts growing viler as the spell grew more potent and more ominous.

  This spell was smothering and powerful, forcing my skin to pebble and my soul to recoil. I knew the difference between darkness and light, having been tested for both types of magic after my mother declared to my teachers that I was a practitioner of the dark arts. I knew how each felt and what the magic of the light offered to avoid the darkness. The magic in these villages was darker than any other I had ever experienced.

  I wanted to examine the horror unfolding, needing to sense what was at work after I stumbled across the first town. The Neanderthal chasing me made it difficult to manage, though. Each time I entered a village, Knox was hot on my heels, forcing me to take in what I could quickly before I had to portal out or chance getting caught. He was making it extremely difficult to do anything about the current state of affairs in my house. I portal-hopped until I was partially drained, slaughtering an entire manor of witches, escaping by the skin of my teeth from the last realm I’d visited.

  I was growing more exhausted every day, worn down until my body was a mass of burning muscles. Resting my head against the window, I noted the dark figures were placing their victims into a pattern. I blinked, scrunching up my nose, frowning, and fighting the urge to vomit. I peered down at the scene below. I was forcing myself to look past the carnage to examine the shape that the masked figures created with their victims’ corpses.

  They arranged the bodies in a large pentagram pattern, draining each person of all blood and bodily fluid before placing them on the ground, posing their faces, forcing cloudy eyes to stare sightlessly at the midnight sky. Their arms stretched above their heads, touching the
fingers of the body above them, connecting each of the victims to create a grid of power fueled by their sacrifice.

  My heart pounded in my ears, echoing each beat as I trembled violently. Closing my eyes, I tried to concentrate, searching through memories for where I’d seen this pattern before. Feeling a twinge in my leg, I opened my eyes and frowned. I bent down, running my nails over the cut in my thigh that itched as the skin healed.

  Thinking back, I recalled seeing pictures in a book depicting a similar design. The book filled each page with morbidity, and atrocious patterns of human corpses, giving me nightmares. To witness it happening in person was much worse. It was the shit of horror shows that even the most creative of minds would have had trouble bringing to life on film.

  The illustrations showed men and women spelled to slaughter one another. The victims had to be willing to die for the sacrifice to power the grid. Spelling the victims provided a way to cheat the process, ending their lives without argument. The sexual incantation used was then amplified, turning it into a weapon to drive their victims mad with the need to take their pleasure by force. They created sexual monsters that felt no pain or remorse, only boundless pleasure until they died from mating or self-inflicted wounds.

  Chapter Three

  I stared through the window as the masked figures set ablaze the bodies, and my breathing stopped. I watched the Hecate insignia burning dimly on the remains of the many victim's heads and chests. Each palm also carried the mark and was placed touching another, sealing the circle and igniting the grid as a sacrifice to Hecate, increasing the coven’s power.

  Adult bodies created the outside circular pattern while smaller victims formed the five-pointed star in the middle. As I studied one male’s face, his eyes shifted, holding mine as his body slowly burned, and I clamped my hands over my mouth as tears slipped from the precarious hold I’d had on them.