Ryze Series: Books 1 & 2

by N. Isabelle Blanco

I shake my head. “Forgive me, but I do not remember anything . . . except the things I brought to pass.” Slowly, I move to stand.

  Dyletri extends a hand to help me. “None of it was your fault.”

  I begin to shake my head once more. Those kind of excuses matter naught. If I am learning to control it now, why could I have not learned before killing so many?

  You were not Zeniel then.

  No, but what I was before is an abomination. Nothing will change that.

  “I do not wish to speak of that at this moment.” A wave of dizziness makes the walls around me spin.

  Dyletri places a hand on my shoulder. “You have not eaten in centuries. You might not need sustenance to survive, but you have gone too long without. You will not regain full strength until you eat.”

  “I do remember that.”

  “Well, I hope you remember this as well.” Still holding onto my shoulder, Dyletri dematerializes us.

  My feet touch the ground so hard I am almost brought to my knees. I look around, realizing we are in a clearing. In front of us stand two mountains, a waterfall cascading between the peaks. It ends in a round basin surrounded by large flat rocks. All around, human males move back and forth, some tending to fires, others going about their daily business. Small huts are scattered throughout the clearing.

  “We read all their minds before deciding on this place. They are pure of deed, every one of them. This group is a new religious settlement. They are determined to live holy lives,” Dyletri says.

  “They are all male.”

  He smiles ruefully. “This specific group is, but over time we can find you a female pure of deed and bring her to you.”

  The idea bothers me on a level I cannot understand. “That is not necessary. I am in no need. Why did these men settle here?”

  “They are one of only a hundred or so small settlements left on the whole planet. They settled here to live lives of penance. Even if civilization were to spring back rapidly, these men want to stay away from it all. They want to appease the higher powers that punished them.”

  Dyletri’s dual-colored eyes have darkened.

  “What happened while I was imprisoned?” I stare at all the men below, relieved when no visions come to me. No sins. No roars.

  “There was a war, Zeniel.”

  I turn sharply and am met with the furious scowl on Dyletri’s face. “A war?”

  “The Aviraji, as they are now known, turned on the rest of us. The very ones who had you imprisoned decided that all of us—including the humans—should be punished as well.”

  “I deserved what was done to me,” I remind him calmly.

  “What you did was not your fault. You had a sensitivity—a justified one considering the Universe is full of shit. You should have been helped, not tortured for five-hundred summers.”

  That is how long has passed since I was imprisoned?

  “And I, for one,” Dyletri continues, “would have loved to have had you on the battlefield against the Aviraji on that day. With what they had just done, you would have ripped them all apart in one second.”

  “And any allies, as well.” Illion did not create perfect. How I understand that, I do not know, but it is a resounding truth in me. As Mavrak, I could never differentiate. Any type of selfish mistake was punishable by death. Again, I lack the memories of how I know this, yet it is a fact and I feel that. “I was helped. I am much different now.”

  Dyletri studies me. “You still resemble the God I knew before your sensitivity took over. Except your eyes, those are different. They used to be red and surrounded by black.”

  “What color are they now?”

  “Blue and gray surrounded by white. Almost human-like.”

  This pleases me. Very much.

  “Humanity is just starting to rebuild. You can settle amongst these men while you get accustomed to your new powers.”

  I turn back to stare at the village below. “You said that they are living lives to appease the gods. Who is their main god?”

  “You are. Or, you will be.”

  Has the male before me gone mad? “I am a god no longer.”

  “That is not true. You are getting new powers. You feel it. I feel it. And Nylicia has already seen what you will become.”

  That is the name of the female that visited me in my cell. I remember pieces of my conversation with her, but not all of it. One of the things she told me is of extreme importance. I feel it in my chest, feel the pressure growing by the second.

  Why can I not remember what she told me? Why do I feel as if there is something I need to be doing, but I do not know what? Protect . . .

  “What will I become?”

  “God of Tranquility. You wanted the opposite of what you were. Well, you got it, my friend.”

  I must admit, I truly like that part. “Is it even possible?”

  “You have awoken with few memories of yourself, and battling back your old powers with the new ones emerging. I would say that it has already happened.”

  Do I want to be a god again? Of any sort? That word whispers through me, reminding me of what is important. Why it is important that I not return to being Mavrak.

  Protect.

  The only way to achieve that, is to remain the opposite of the monster I had become.

  God of Tranquility it is, then.

  “Fine. Introduce me to these humans and let us get this started.”

  EVESSE

  “This part hurts the most,” is the first thing that I hear.

  Then comes the exemplification of that statement.

  I realize I’m awake, aware, and with lightning fast immediacy, my mind sucks me back into the dream I had, the one with Zeniel and Dyletri.

  But it wasn’t a dream. Oh Gods, no. That was one of his memories. Reliving what I saw makes me desperate to have Zen near. “Help,” I cry out in a tiny voice, unable to move due to the ache slicing my body.

  “Evesse, breathe.”

  Impossible. Yearning kicks in my gut. My body arches. Everything hurts, my skin hurts, my heart.

  “Please . . . make it . . . go away . . .”

  “We need to find Zeniel.”

  “He’s fallen off the grid. Even my own. For some damned reason, he isn’t meant to be here.”

  Ianthen? His words tear a broken sob out of me. Logically speaking, I know my reaction is more than a tad pathetic. I try to do as I’ve been ordered, but the deeper I inhale, the tighter my ribcage seems to be squeezing down on my lungs.

  I’m heartbroken. Maybe I have every right to be, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. I feel like I’ve just lost everything in the world, and the memories of both my past and Zen’s are colliding inside me.

  “Evesse, please, we’re here. Try to calm down,” Ismini says, sitting on the bed and grabbing my hand.

  I shake my head, unable to explain.

  “I can imagine what you’re going through. It was painful for me, too. We’re going to find him for you.”

  “N-now. Need him now.” Ah fuck, I sound like a whiny kid demanding its toy.

  Although this goes much, much deeper than that.

  I’m alive and Ismini’s alive, even though we both died. I should be happy, fucking ecstatic even. Instead, all I can feel is the gaping wound in my chest, the emptiness from all that’s missing in my life.

  I thought I’d gotten over it. I thought I’d healed. Instead, it’s all resurfacing, like a scar sliced open once again.

  My dad is dead. My mother, wherever she is, needs some sort of freaking shock therapy. My brother has been gone from my life for ten years.

  Zeniel is “off the grid”.

  A long sob leaves me, the tears multiplying. I end up on my side, grabbing Ismini’s arms, my chest shuddering with each massive sob.

  “She’s heartbroken. It’s normal,” Nylicia says.

  “I felt a little loopy days after being brought back, but this?” Ismini asks.

  “You weren’t exposed to a cosmic mindfuck and
the awakening of your R’mannev all at once.”

  Oh, hell no. That’s so not what I need to hear right now. R’mannev?

  I need hope. A promise that this is going to get better—or that they’re going to haul Zeniel’s ass to Enzyria right away.

  Ismini moves her arms so she can hug me. “So what do we do?”

  “She has to ride it out. I have to leave to take care of something important, but help is on the way. They’ll be able to alleviate her enough to give her relief.”

  “Nylicia, wait—”

  But she clearly left, leaving me stuck in my breakdown and with no way out.

  CHAPTER 11

  EVESSE

  “I just want to go back to sleep.”

  Soleria scoffs, softly caressing my soaked forehead. “You were asleep for almost three weeks. Enough is enough.”

  Easy for her to say. She has no idea how unbearable it is.

  Like going through emotional labor with no epidural in sight.

  “When it started hitting me, the pain made me near crazy. And Dyletri was actually with me when my symptoms began.” Ismini is tucked into Dyletri’s side. He came looking for his mate a little while ago and stayed when he saw I was awake.

  Thank you, Ismini. Thank you.

  I’m trying to not be irritated by the way Dyletri keeps kissing Ismini’s shoulder and hair. The idiot won’t stop touching her.

  Just as I’m about to lash out at Mr. and Mrs. Lovey-Dovey, the door opens. A shockingly gorgeous short woman walks in, her black hair floating behind her, brilliant blue eyes wide, and a shell-shocked expression on her face.

  She looks like a war survivor just starting to deal with PTSD.

  The fuck?

  “Dimi? What the hell happened?” Ismini asks, her eyes following the newcomer.

  Dimi? As in, Dimithinia? This is the ancient queen Ismini had to die for. And Ismini is calling her Dimi?

  I don’t get it. Don’t understand why Ismini seems genuinely concerned, and perhaps a little amused at her rival’s appearance.

  What the hell happened after we were thrown into the vortex?

  “Dead, woman. I am so dead.” The woman who supposedly once ruled over humanity’s oldest and largest empire is almost shaking, no traces of composure in sight.

  “Huh?”

  I look at Soleria, then turn to Ismini just in time to see Vedlyl and Ianthen walk in.

  “The cavalry has arrived. We should be able to get you out of that bed now.” Ianthen crosses his massive arms and smiles kindly down at me.

  Next to me, Soleria almost falls off the bed, but she totally tries to play it off like she’s all cool and shit. “Cavalry?”

  If I wasn’t so miserably weak, I’d call her out on her shit. I can feel her slight tremors as she holds me. Apparently, all Ianthen has to do is walk into a room and she begins to fall apart.

  Cyake waltzes in next, his trademark dimples flashing, followed by two men that are clearly his brothers.

  Clearly.

  Why didn’t anyone tell me that Cyake is a triplet?

  “Holy shit,” Soleria whispers under her shaking breaths.

  Ianthen’s face hardens into a scowl.

  Three.

  There are three of them.

  For the first time since waking up, I’m grateful that my mating symptoms are showing. I wouldn’t have survived what’s in front of me otherwise.

  “These are my brothers. Zexistr and Keiros. Or, Existence and Time, if you rather call them by their designations,” Cyake says, motioning to the two next to him.

  “Which is which?” I ask, looking between the two. They’re identical to Cyake, except their eyes are different colors, and they both have longer hair.

  The one in the middle is dressed in a leather coat and a black t-shirt that looks like it’s barely hanging onto his large chest. His dark hair is held back in a ponytail, just like Zen’s, and his eyes are multi-colored. Gold, light-green, light-blue and silver irises glow from behind a sea of eyelashes. There’s a row of metallic hoops running down his right ear, two in his left eyebrow, and a black one is hugging his pouty bottom lip.

  What disturbs me, however, is his stark expression as he looks down at me.

  Trauma. It’s in his dilated eyes. Something about seeing me in this condition is bringing back some fucked-up memories for him.

  “I’m Zexistr,” he says, nodding his head in greeting.

  Existence. He’s the God of Existence.

  Does that make him the equivalent of the God? Holy crap. But why the hell is he so pale? It can’t be whatever he’s feeling, can it? Something about his skin tone seems . . . dead.

  It isn’t just his skin tone, either. I can sense the muted power in him. There’s something about him that reeks of illness.

  Isn’t Existence supposed to be more alive?

  “I’m Keiros, God of Time,” the one in the black suit says in a perfectly eloquent, clipped tone. He has shoulder length hair, the same color as both his brothers, and his eyes are the same light-green-metallic shade in Zexistr’s eyes. He’s all seriousness, his arms crossed as he stares down at me with a stoic look.

  “Father Time,” I say. Because really? What else can I say to that?

  Cyake actually giggles, and Zexistr smirks behind his hand.

  “There are three of them,” Dimithinia whispers in that same shaky tone Soleria used before.

  “Fucking three of them.” Soleria grabs onto my arm with a titan’s grip, her whole body trembling as she stares wide-eyed at the three males.

  This time Ianthen growls, his glare focused on the triplets.

  Cyake freezes, his eyes moving from Ianthen to his brothers. He swallows, then slowly, very slowly, takes one side-step away from his brothers. Then another, and another.

  “So you’re Existence,” Ismini says, tilting her head and studying Zexistr.

  Dyletri tenses, pulling her closer and looking at her, trying to see if she’s as attracted to them as Sol and Dimi seem to be. Both of their mating marks start to swell, the skin around them turning a brutal, angry red.

  “Relax, baby. I’m yours. Everyone knows this.” Ismini pats the large hand on her shoulder and turns back to the brothers. “Why are you guys here?”

  Cyake stops mid-step, his nervous stare bouncing between his best friend and his brothers. He catches Ianthen’s stare and subtly shakes his head.

  Ianthen shoves Cy, his scowl only growing.

  Zexistr catches his brother before he can barrel into him. “Ved is out of juice. Impotent, it seems. Never thought I’d see the day, but here we are to step in.”

  Vedlyl’s glare is almost as fierce as Ianthen’s. “This is a temporary situation, I assure you. Now do your thing and help her.”

  “Do what thing?” I struggle to sit up. No one is doing anything to me without explaining what it entails first. The last time I agreed to allow a God—or Goddess, as it were—do their “thing”, I ended up becoming a guinea pig in Nylicia’s experiment.

  Yeah, it worked out and I ended up with superpowers, but that shit hurt more than I had expected.

  And Nylicia warned me it would hurt like a bitch.

  “Hard to explain,” Zexistr says, and that agonized glint is back in his eyes. “We’re three of the strongest gods in the Universe and with our powers united, we can help contain anything. Even the symptoms of something as strong as your mating. You’re not in a Fieren, yet, but your body is obviously too overwhelmed to handle even the weakest of mating symptoms.”

  “You’re the three strongest Gods. I know you’re the voice of Fate, Cy. So that makes you Existence, Time, and Fate. Don’t treat me like I’m dumb, I know that means you’re the leviathans of the Universe.”

  Zexistr smiles at me, looking boyishly charming with those dimples framing his smile. “Well, not the leviathans, but I can’t deny you’re good for the ego nonetheless.”

  Cy rolls his eyes and slaps his hand against his forehead. “Great, if Zen were h
ere, he’d be dying to kill me, too.” He turns to Ianthen. “This is not my fault, you hear me? I have nothing to do with this.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Zexistr ignores Ianthen and Cy, stepping closer. “It’s going to hurt, as you know. We’re hitting you with a hell of a lot of power—”

  “How much power are we talking?”

  Zexistr looks like he doesn’t want to answer, but Keiros steps forward and does so for him. “One, maybe two nuclear reactors’ worth.” I’m in the middle of sputtering when he continues. “I understand your friend here had to go through a lesser version at one point. She was fine after that, sort of.”

  Dyletri stares accusingly at Vedlyl. “I still wish you had fucking told me.”

  “It was not your R’ma’s wish that I tell you at the time,” Vedlyl calmly replies, not even turning to look at him.

  “Ismini . . . how much pain are we talking?” I ask.

  Ismini gives me a sympathetic look. “Not as much as you were feeling when you woke up. Not having your R’mann around hurts more.”

  I nod, but Ismini isn’t quite done.

  “Eve . . . I need you healthy. And our wedding party is a week from now. I can’t do it without you there. Please?”

  Alrighty, then. That settles it. I wasn’t awake for Ismini’s “wedding night.” Everyone else was there to help her get ready, except me. So fine, I’ll allow the three brothers to work their mojo on me if it means I can get out of the damn bed. “Fine. Let’s do this. But I get to kick each and every one of you in the cojones once it’s over. Only fair and all.”

  Zexistr throws his head back and laughs. Even Keiros seems amused by that. Well, as amused as someone who seems stuck-up can be. Cyake, on the other hand, is glaring at me.

  He’s the only one of those three that knows I meant my threat.

  “The shit I do for my friends,” he grumbles.

  He moves around the side of the bed and comes to a stop on my left side. Keiros comes around the right, and Sol stares at him unblinking as she slowly inches off the bed.

  Does she not see the murderous intent in Ianthen’s white eyes?

  Both brothers kneel, each placing their hands on my arms. I jump as Zexistr sits on the end of the bed and grabs onto my ankles.