Ryze Series: Books 1 & 2

by N. Isabelle Blanco

  Was. She’s no longer capable.

  And that is why I hate myself. Because the moment I no longer wanted to be controlled was the day my superior powers broke free of her grasp forever.

  The reality is that I’ve spent three-millennia mourning a female that died sixteen-thousand-years ago. A female whose name I don’t know. I have spent three-thousand-years obsessed and guilt ridden because the day Maivera got control of me is all my fault.

  That single moment of doubt had been all about not walking away from my new family. My daughter and her mother. A single moment where I wished I had not fallen in love with someone else.

  That moment cost me everything.

  And that human female that became collateral? I have no idea the exact details of how she died but my mother confirmed she was consumed by the Fieren.

  What no one will let me see is how. Keiros has blocked me from peering that far back in time. He thinks I’ll kill myself if I see the human’s last moments.

  They all do.

  They aren’t wrong. I know I will.

  “Selfish. All of them.” My feverish whispers seem to echo in the small alcove.

  None of them want to die so they don’t want me to end the existence of this physical plane. We would all live on in the spiritual plane, but no one wants to leave the physical one. They’re all enjoying life in flesh-and-blood bodies too much.

  Bastards.

  “If you don’t fucking give her back to me soon,” I tell the Fates, knowing they can hear me. Knowing that Cyake can hear me. “I’ll end everything anyway. I swear that to you.” My aura, the same color of my eyes, bursts to life around me with that vow.

  That’s the thing about us primal beings. When we swear something, we become bound to the Universe to see it through. No matter the outcome.

  There’s a small twinge of pity for my daughter, who will also be killed, and yet I cannot help it. My obsession has long taken full control. I am nothing. Can be nothing. Not without that woman.

  It was understood that the Universe would never let me bond or mate to anyone. Too dangerous. An encoded insurance policy, if you will.

  But the decision must have only applied to my body, because my fucking heart is sick with loss for that human I rejected.

  I swear I can almost scent her sixteen-thousand years later. Can still see her large, dark eyes focused on me, that demonic hunger in her gaze. Can feel her long, dark brown, silky hair in my fists.

  That one fleeting taste I took that day when I almost lost control, my tongue slithering along the golden skin of her neck . . .

  I still remember how she would look at me like she wanted to fucking eat me.

  The primal reaction I seemed to cause in her was so against her human nature. She once confessed to me that I made her feel like an animal. Like something more than what she was born to be.

  Gods. Fucking. Damn. It. I can’t even place a name to my obsession. Not a real one, anyway. Back then, I’d given her a nickname since I couldn’t know her real name, and it’s one that has haunted me all these years.

  “I fucking miss you, Nima,” I groan into the empty air around me. She’d hated every time I called her small in the ancient language, yet I’d refuse to stop doing so. She had been small.

  Small.

  Mouth-watering.

  There had just been something about her, from the moment I caught that first whiff of her scent, that enslaved me.

  Not enough to stop you from doubting. Had you never doubted, Maivera would have never won.

  Footsteps echo two seconds before a pair of black boots appear in front of me. I don’t even need to look up to know it’s one of my brothers. “Tell me you found her.”

  Hades sighs. “Finding her isn’t the problem, fort’em. Finding out why she won’t show herself to you, or why you can’t see a likeness of her anywhere in our minds, is.”

  I tilt my head back to look up at my younger brother. Hades. The middle child of my father’s second pair of triplets. Crius was born first, then he. Lucifer was the last.

  Just like Cyake, Keiros, and I, they are all identical, although their eyes are different.

  Hades’ black eyes stare down at me with sympathy.

  “The Watcher is the only one that can tell me when I’ll get my Nima back,” I say.

  “She is.”

  “And yet she doesn’t deem me worthy of acknowledgement,” I growl, hating this female that stands in the way of me finding my woman. Why? Why will she not help me? Why will she not show herself to me?

  Why in the fuck has she found a way to block me from seeing her within the minds of others?

  Five-hundred-years before the Dixieme Eductu, this female came on the scene, has influenced the destinies of thousands, if not millions, and yet I’ve never been able to see her in anyone’s mind.

  How the fuck does someone, anyone, hide themselves so thoroughly?

  Again, why the fuck has she chosen to do so?

  I am the only being in the entirety of existence who has not crossed paths with that female or ever seen her.

  Why? Why? Why?

  I flash to my feet despite my painful, never-ending erection. “Where did you last see her?” I will find you, Watcher. You will give me the information I need. I swear that, too.

  Hades steps back as my aura flares because of my silent oath, and his wide, black eyes land on mine. As if he knows what I just did. “She was in Hell visiting Lucifer.”

  I’m gone before he can say anything else, ready to strangle my youngest brother for information, if I must.

  Whoever this Watcher truly is, she’s running out of time.

  I’m coming for you, you fucking bitch. You will deny me no longer. You will give me what I need.

  And after that? I might punish her like no one has ever been punished for making me chase her this long.

  CHAPTER 13

  – Renentr. The Underworld

  ZENIEL

  A fter arriving in Renentr, I stand outside the Sivigh, hearing agonized screams echoing through the entrance to the underworld. The screams die off abruptly the moment I flash into the Chamber of Souls.

  The creature that was screaming is dangling from chains and resembles exactly what it is: a rotting corpse. Apparently, it’s also no longer capable of much sound. Its breathing is stilted and its chest barely moves.

  Twitches ride its limbs in spasms, and dark brown blood oozes out of every inch on it, dripping onto the floor in hot, hissing puddles. The chains around its wrists and ankles glow white with pure, holy energy.

  The fist that goes flying at it, however, is covered in silver and black.

  The draugar’s skeletal face crumbles inward. It won’t be enough to finish it. Not yet. But Crius is obviously determined to drive the creature to the brink before pushing it over and ending it. Another fist lands, another loud crunch sounds out through the Abideos.

  I tilt my head, admiring the abuse.

  The draugars originated within the deepest part of Renentr and gave birth to the Norse mythological creature of the same name. They’re vile, and the only reason Crius puts up with them is because they’re useful.

  As long as they obey his rules and guard the lowest pits—and by extension, the most dangerous prisoners housed in Renentr—he allows them to exist.

  The draugar currently getting a piece of its back stripped off has obviously disobeyed one of the rules. I can’t focus on which one since all of its evil acts are on full attack against my frontal lobe.

  Shit, the only reason Mavrak hasn’t crumbled into his usual hysterics is because the fucker’s too busy purring in delight at the carnage Crius is dishing out.

  One rotting piece of flesh falls to the floor, landing inside the hissing blood. It disintegrates slowly, gurgles rising along with the stench of decayed flesh being cooked. Another piece joins the first.

  The smell of smoke drifts to me. I pull my attention away from the show long enough to look at the one responsible for the bu
tchery.

  Crius is wearing a black turtleneck and leather breeches. His usual leather trench coat is nowhere to be seen. The sleeves of his turtleneck are rolled up to his elbows, the black scars on his arms visible as they flex with every movement.

  He walks around to the front of the creature and proceeds to carve into it all over again.

  I have to admit that this was not the scene I expected to find upon hearing the screams at the entrance to Renentr, but seeing such an evil creature being punished this way is doing wonders for my issues.

  I don’t want to like the sight of such punishment being handed out . . . but the darkness inside me does. It sighs with utter satisfaction as a third piece of flesh falls with a splat. Drops of blood fly up in the air. I step back, watching them land in front of my boot, small spots that boil as they try to burn through the floor.

  “Is that thing even still alive?” I ask.

  Crius pauses to take a drag of the dark brown cig he’s holding. “Of course. This fucker doesn’t die until I say he does. Which is never. He’ll suffer eternally for what he’s done.”

  He walks away from the draugar long enough to stop before a small, velvet-covered table. He discards the knife he was using and reaches for a holy dagger. The inscriptions on it and the blade glow with white light.

  Technically, the being holding it shouldn’t be able to even go near the knife. Crius is anything but holy. As evidenced by the torture going on before me.

  Yet darkness isn’t the only thing locked inside Crius. His other half is in there, battling to break free, still hidden from the world but strong enough to flood Crius with some form of purity.

  “What did it do?” I ask.

  Crius walks back to the creature. The blade hasn’t even touched its flesh, and already it’s begun reacting to the added white energy. It thrashes in earnest, broken sounds managing to escape even though its face is turned inward.

  Crius slides the blade into the draugar’s back and exhales a puff of smoke as it convulses. “He was trading information with my enemies.”

  Punishable, yes, but nothing new. Within all the underworlds, treachery abounds. Those type of crimes happen every day, and are usually left to the higher-ups to punish. “And you’re the one punishing him, why?”

  “You mean aside from my need to carve into something?” Crius walks around the creature again, stabbing it in the side with the blade. Sliding the blade out, he places it between the draugar’s neck and shoulder, and sinks home.

  I almost feel bad for the poor creature.

  It goes into a seizure, its body pulling on the chains as it jerks frantically. The holy light glows inside it, leaking out of the exposed cavities on the creature’s chest. What it’s experiencing is the equivalent of a human being exposed to three-hundred-thousand volts of electricity.

  I feel the temperature in the chamber rising as more pieces of flesh begin to cook.

  “Yeah, aside from that.”

  “It’s the nature of the information it was trading. That’s why this piece of shit will suffer the worst I can subject it to for the rest of eternity.” This is only the beginning. There are levels within Renentr that thrive on agony, bloodshed, violation, and misery.

  There’s no doubt where Crius is sending the draugar to next.

  Looking away from the creature, I focus on Crius, searching his grid. Images, colors, and emotions flicker across my mind, all proof of what’s really behind Crius’s mood.

  Now the carnage make sense. I didn’t condemn it at first, but now I definitely have no beef with what Crius is up to. “Do you know who he was speaking about Dimithinia to?”

  “Of course. Some lower minion from the mines of southeast Eren. I will follow its trail to the next one, and the next, till I find which Aviraji asshole is trying to find info about her.”

  In my mind, there’s no questioning who will be at the top of the chain. It isn’t necessary.

  Eren is the demon dimension, one three times the size of Jupiter. The different factions of demonology live there, including the war Erencei my father once ruled over—the kingdom I forsook. A place so large is always ripe for malice, and many of the mythical low lives of old make their home there.

  It’s possible that this is a coincidence, because the order to gather information about Dimithinia could have come from anyone, but hearing the name of my father’s birthplace sets off an alarm in my gut.

  “You will keep me up to date with what you find,” I say. Not a request, nor a demand, either. Just a simple statement of fact.

  Crius nods stiffly. “Of course. Now, I’m busy here, in case you haven’t noticed. What did you come for? Because I’m starting to regret allowing you fucks free entry.”

  A roll of my eyes, that’s all I can muster for the God of the Underworld. “Stop being so melodramatic. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t urgent.”

  With a snap of his fingers, Crius makes the prisoner, its remains, and the table with the blades disappear. The blood on his hands is gone the next instant, and his coat appears on his shoulders in a swirl of black smoke.

  “I’m serious. I’m starting to become aggravated. One more of you storm in here today, and I will shove my foot up your asses.”

  I don’t even bother to ask who else has been here. “I need you to come with me to visit your brother in Hell. He has something that I need in his possession.”

  “What could he possibly have that you would risk going into his hell in your currently weak state?”

  In a flash, I appear before Crius and stare him in the eye. “A soul. One that I need to punish. More than that, I need you to appease me in this. I’m having a hard time keeping my inner asshole from tearing you a new one.”

  “Me? What the fuck? I haven’t done anything selfish in—” Crius’s eyes widen. He staggers back one step and his expression melts into realization.

  I barely resist the urge to scoff. “Why are you doing this to her? Because of Cilpera?”

  “Don’t mention that bitch to me.”

  “You’re making one female suffer because of what some bitch did thousands of years ago.” I watch as rage clouds Crius’s eyes. It’s there one moment, then gone the next, replaced by that blank mask Crius wears so well.

  “Because of that bitch, two of my brothers and I were ripped apart and put back together as monsters. Reincarnated into lives we would never have chosen.”

  He doesn’t have to elaborate any further. What became the fall of him and his two brothers is common knowledge among the gods.

  A demoness, Cilpera, became the first Goddess of Deceit by seducing the three holiest brothers in existence and leading them to their deaths. As punishment for the things they did in her name, each of them was reborn as the opposite of what they once were.

  Love, Honor, Light.

  All three were warped and forced to become the lords of the first three Underworlds—Renentr, Hades, and Hell.

  And Cilpera made herself the self-proclaimed queen of the war Erencei. If the order to find out information about Dimithinia came from my father’s people, it means that Cilpera is most likely the one after said information.

  “Is Dimithinia truly . . . bothered without me?” Crius asks.

  “Try hurt. That defines it better.”

  Crius glares at me, not appreciating my honesty one bit. “As if you’re any better. You haven’t gone back because of this need for vengeance, I see. There’s a newly awakened immortal that is suffering without her R’mann.”

  It’s my turn to stagger backwards. Denial tries to rise in my throat. It dies halfway out of my mouth as shock replaces everything.

  “Wha—how . . . She’s awake?”

  Crius’s eyes widen as they follow me. “Oh, shit. You didn’t know.”

  She woke up and I wasn’t there.

  My baby is going through Gods know what and I haven’t been by her side.

  How could nobody have told me? Damn it, I commanded them all to find me when it happened!


  Crius flashes to me and grabs onto my upper arms, his hands biting through the leather jacket I’m wearing.

  “Sit down. Sit the fuck down.” He shoves me onto his throne and holds me down by the shoulders. “Committing suicide isn’t going to help her, you ass.”

  I clench my jaw as the roar in my head blasts through. “I know that, dick.”

  “I’m talking to the thing inside you.”

  “He doesn’t listen to common sense.” Which is true. Mavrak is raging in two separate directions, one half demanding the vengeance it craves, and the other demanding Evesse.

  Mine. She’s mine. Give her to me. I own her.

  For a few short seconds, there’s a moment of peace. Of unity. I can’t blink as the rightness of that feeling slides into place. There’s no denying what both sides of me are claiming.

  We are in perfect agreement.

  The moment is shattered when I see Evesse in my mind. The bellows build back up, the sound staggering.

  “I need that soul, Crius. Please. Once I take out some of this rage on it, I can go back for her.”

  I never plead. Ever.

  Crius obviously knows this. “All right. Let’s go. It’s about time I gave Lux a visit anyway.”

  “Don’t call him that when we get there. I need him to agree to give me that fucking soul,” I say seconds before Crius sighs and flashes us out of Renentr.

  The infamous smell of sulfur assaults my nostrils. Screams and laughs drift up to us from afar. Crius’s footsteps echo behind me. I spare him a glance as I dust my shoulder off. “Was it necessary to fling me into the damned wall?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. That was an accident.” He said it so calmly that I almost believe him.

  Almost.

  “Bullshit.” Rolling my shoulders, I look around us.

  Hell truly does resemble the inner crust of the Earth, complete with stone, dust, and areas full of boiling lava. The narrow tunnel we are in is devoid of any flames or magma though. The only light illuminating our way is the glow of our respective auras.