“You weren’t chosen to be the hero of this story, my Eklektos,” Erastos told her. He took another step forward, stopping in front of her. “The truth is…”
“Don’t say it,” Rose whispered, as knots of dread twisted in her stomach.
“The truth is,” Erastos said, “you were chosen to be the villain.” Before she could react, he reached out and touched the Stone of the Eklektos that hung around her neck. The red glow faded the moment his fingers touched the Stone.
Shadows poured out of the red stone, like swirling wisps of black smoke.
Rose fell to her knees, gasping for breath, as shadows closed around her.
“You say you never trusted me,” he stated. “Yet, you wore my amulet.”
Rose gasped as she fought against the shadows restraining her, squeezing her, like ropes tied too tight. “It helped me save them. I just wanted to save them.”
“Yes, but it came with a price,” Erastos told her. “Now, it’s time to pay.”
Rose could no longer see anything but those shadows. She couldn’t hear anything but whispers—disembodied whispers of people who were crying out to her, begging her for help. They were in terrible pain. She felt it. She felt their pain.
“And I regret to inform you,” he said, “they’re all going to die, anyway.”
Rose didn’t hear that. She didn’t hear anything—except those whispers.
Those terrible, heartbreaking whispers. Incessant. Needful. Desperate.
Rose needed to help them. All of them. She needed to end their pain.
But she couldn’t remember how. The information was there. Rose knew it was. She could feel it, buried somewhere deep within her mind, under an entire lifetime of information. There was a solution there—a way to alleviate their pain.
“Rose?”
A familiar voice broke through the whispers—a low, accented voice that she knew very well. She tried to move, to see. But the shadows held her too tight.
A terrible sound followed his voice—the sound of ripping and tearing.
Then, she smelled the blood.
Familiar, powerful blood.
Rose screamed, and a burst of red energy exploded from within her. The shadows that restrained her broke, and the Stone of Eklektos shattered and fell.
Erastos turned to watch her, blood dripping from his hand, as she raced to Kallias’s side. Rose scooped him up in her arms, sobbing, as she saw the hole in his chest. She picked up the bloodied heart on the floor and shoved it into the hole. Flickers of light shot outward from her hand, as she tried to force his heart to beat, as she tried to force life back into his body. She begged him to react. She begged him to bite her, to heal, to come back to life. One more time. One…more.
“Light doesn’t defy fate, my Eklektos,” Erastos said. “He’s meant to die.”
Rose thought she heard a scream. A shrill, desperate sound that rang with unbearable pain. Maybe it was her own scream. She didn’t know. She didn’t care.
Darkness enclosed around her. Cold, deep, and shapeless, like her dream.
A familiar voice cooed in her ear. “Darling,” she sighed, “look at me.”
Rose looked up, blinking away the tears, trying to see through the watery haze that clouded her eyes. Her swollen, tear-soaked eyes widened, as she found Alana kneeling beside her. She opened her mouth, but only sobs escaped her lips.
Alana wore a thin, white dress that clung to her delicate curves and rode up around her thighs, revealing her soft, creamy-white skin. She tilted her head to the side, her pale blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “Rose, my darling,” she sighed, pursing her lips sympathetically, “you’re in so much pain, aren’t you?”
Rose nodded slowly, tears spilling over her cheeks, reddening her skin.
“You want it to stop,” Alana said, leaning closer. “You need it to stop.”
The elegant, sensual scent of Alana’s lotion filled Rose’s senses when she leaned closer. Rose watched the shadows that swirled around Alana’s body. They were like black ink washing away in water, swirling into nothingness. It was as if Alana were made of those shadows. Yet, she looked real, as she knelt beside Rose.
“There’s no shame in it, love,” Alana murmured. “No one could handle the kind of pain you’ve endured.” Alana lifted her hand and wiped the tears from Rose’s eyes, only for more to take their place. Rose instantly shivered—because Alana’s touch felt impossibly cold, like the deepest, darkest depth of a hole. Alana tucked a lock of hair behind Rose’s ear. “I can end your pain, if you want me to.”
Rose didn’t need to consider the consequences or the future because she saw no future. She saw only pain—only the swell of a tsunami, looming over her, waiting to drown her forevermore. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please. Make it stop.”
“I will, love,” Alana murmured. She traced Rose’s cheek with her thumb. “I’ll make it all stop. All you have to do is surrender. Surrender to the Darkness.”
Rose felt it, just like in her nightmare—Darkness pulling her, tugging her.
She didn’t resist. Not this time.
She didn’t even try.
She simply…surrendered.
—
Erastos watched Rose’s transformation with cold fascination. It was such a horrific, nightmarish sight that anyone else would’ve probably screamed in fear.
But Erastos wasn’t anyone else. He was a high priest, and he wasn’t afraid of his Goddess. He’d been preparing for this day for ten thousand years, after all.
As always, Rose’s eyes changed first. The red light faded from her eyes—leaving only shadows. Only darkness. Those shadows overtook her gaze, turning it black and abysmal. Then, Rose opened her mouth, and shadows poured out of it, swirling around her, changing her appearance. It wasn’t a drastic change. Rose, Darkness, and Light all shared certain features, after all. But Rose, at least, looked human—when her eyes weren’t glowing, at least. Darkness looked like a monster.
More shadow than person, her appearance was unnerving and terrifying.
Everything that was once red became black, and everything that was once solid and tangible became ethereal and intangible—captivating swirls of darkness.
The shadowy creature reached out and touched Kallias’s face. She closed his eyes for him, shadows swirling around her fingers, as they lingered on his skin.
Darkness whispered something in Ancient Greek, speaking to Kallias in his own language and dialect. A wish for peace, a promise to see him again soon—things Darkness often said to people when she came to collect them. Only when she finished did she rise to her feet and turn to face the one who’d murdered him.
Erastos immediately fell to his knees, lowering his gaze to the floor. “As your servant,” he recited, like a public prayer, “my goddess, I offer myself to you.”
Darkness rolled her black, shadow-filled eyes. “My servant?” she snarled, her voice dark and visceral. “How dare you blame me for what you’ve become?”
His pale blue eyes shifted up toward her, suddenly wide with fear. “I only did what had to be done,” he stammered. “According to the prophecies, you…”
“The prophecies,” she scoffed. Not only was the goddess not impressed; she looked downright annoyed. “And Light wonders why I hate religious-types.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “I’ve served you for ten thousand years.”
“No, Erastos,” Darkness growled. “You’ve served Fate. Not me. And if you knew me as well as you think you do, you’d know I’m not a fan. Light adheres to Fate. Light submits to it. I submit to nothing—certainly not something so cruel.”
Erastos leaned back, startled by the dark rage in her voice. “I thought…”
“That I’d thank you?” she said, brow up. “Yeah, that much was obvious.”
He tilted his head, his blonde hair falling to the side. “The Eklektos kept you balanced with Light. The only way to fulfill the prophecy was to destroy her.”
“And so you did.
Quite thoroughly, might I add,” Darkness sighed. Her words were velvety soft, when she cooed, “I suppose I do owe you something.”
Erastos jumped back, as she tried to touch his face with a shadowy hand.
“Oh, so he is capable of emotion, still,” Darkness laughed. “Surprising.”
Erastos stared warily at the shadows that danced around her outstretched hand, afraid they’d touch his skin. “The shadows destroy everything they touch.”
“If I choose it, yes,” she said. “Again, priest—you thought I’d be happy?” The shadows stretched outward, forming a claw. “That you hurt people I loved?”
Erastos scrambled backward, just in time to avoid her dangerous claw.
A small smile curled at the corners of her lips. That smile—more so than the color of her eyes or the color of her hair—was the one thing that distinguished her from Rose. That smile was terrifying and dangerous—and totally unlike Rose.
“Run,” Darkness whispered.
Despite his ghastly, most likely starved state, despite the fact that up until tonight, he’d shown no semblance of humanity—Erastos ran, as fast as he could.
Darkness watched as the shadowy claw reshaped itself into a less startling shape—that of a (mostly) normal hand. “You’ll die, either way,” she murmured.
An involuntary smile curved at her lips, as a pleasant, familiar sensation skittered across her skin, but that smile faded, as she remembered that she didn’t look like Rose, anymore. Not entirely. She turned, just as she flung open the door.
Silence stretched between them for the first few moments, as Kara froze in the door. Her face twisted in horror, but her gaze never left Rose’s black eyes.
The silence was interrupted by a yell from Erik, as he rushed past them.
Darkness didn’t look at him, immediately, because she was too paralyzed by the tears glistening in Kara’s light blue eyes. But then, Erik began to sob freely.
There were other vampires in the hall, but they ran the moment Erik lost control of his power, as he accidentally projected waves of emotion toward them.
Kara didn’t run, though. The emotion she felt already was so intense that she barely noticed the pain Erik projected her way. She dropped her weapon and slumped back against the wall, as defeat crashed over her, exhausting her muscles.
Darkness watched with a pained expression as Erik wept. Then, she took a slow, cautious step toward him and reached out to touch his shoulder. He knelt in the floor beside Kallias, and she needed only to reach out a little more to absorb his pain. But just before her fingers could brush his shoulder, he jumped back.
He stared at her with wet, bright green eyes. “What the hell?” he said, his brows furrowing. He squinted, as a lock of blonde hair fell into his face. “Rose?”
She held out her hand, shadows swirling around it. “I can take your pain.”
He glanced down at her hand, horrified by the moving shadows. “What?”
“Don’t,” Kara said. Her voice was so soft, so defeated. “That isn’t Rose.”
Darkness looked at Kara, the shadows in her eyes swirling a little faster.
Erik frowned, as he glanced back and forth between Kara and the eerie, shadowy creature. “Does,” he said, still hoarse from crying, “Rose have a twin?”
“Kara,” Darkness murmured. Her brows creased with pain. She crossed the space between them. Shadows danced around her, when she moved, and Kara couldn’t help but find it mesmerizing to watch. “You recognize me, don’t you?”
Kara didn’t move. Not even when the dark creature neared her. “Yes.”
“I’ve known you for so long,” Darkness said, “and in so many ways.”
“No,” Kara said, her voice startlingly cold. “That was Rose.” Her icy blue eyes narrowed. “Rose knew me in so many ways, but you—you’re not Rose.”
“Who is she, then?” Erik said, confused. “And what happened to Rose?”
It was hard to read emotions in such strange, terrifying features, but Kara was sure that she’d sensed a twinge of pain, as the dark creature frowned at her.
“I just want Rose,” Kara said, her voice softer, pleading. “Bring her back.”
“I can’t,” Darkness said. Her brows creased with sympathy when she saw a few tears escape Kara’s eyes, wetting her fair cheeks. “Rose is gone. I’m sorry.”
Kara shook her head, her tears flowing faster. She grasped the creature’s shadowy hand, holding it tightly. “You did it before. You can do it again. Please!”
Darkness glanced down at their joined hands, watching the shadows slide over Kara’s skin—shadows that were capable of erasing her very existence. With a sad sigh, Darkness met Kara’s tear-filled gaze. “Last time, I was protecting Rose from herself,” she explained. “This time was different. She’d already given up.”
“No,” Kara said, her lips trembling. “She wouldn’t. Rose never gives up.”
Erik’s voice cracked, as he cried, “What is going on?” He pinned the dark creature with an accusatory glare. “Did you kill her? Did you kill…” He couldn’t finish, so he just pointed at Kallias, instead. A sob escaped his lips. “Was it you?”
Darkness glanced back at him. “Of course I didn’t kill Rose. It’s not even physically possible,” she scoffed. Her shadowy gaze shifted toward Kallias, and a sad sigh fell from her mouth. “I didn’t kill him, either. I haven’t even started yet.”
Erik’s brows furrowed. “Started what?”
Darkness didn’t answer. She simply headed toward the door. She paused, just long enough to look at Kara. “I suppose this is goodbye, Kara Unnarsdóttir.”
Kara looked away, avoiding her gaze, as tears poured down her cheeks.
Princess Myrinne jerked open the door, just as Darkness turned to leave. As she made eye-contact with those terrifying, shadow-filled eyes, she gasped and fell to her knees. She pressed a shaky hand against her chest, revealing the tattoo.
Darkness rolled those shadow-filled eyes of hers. “Great. More bowing.”
Princess Myrinne’s pale blue gaze shifted up, and she blinked in surprise.
Darkness stepped around the princess, leaving her kneeling in the hall.
“Huh,” the princess said. “I assumed it was just Rose who didn’t like it.”
Princess Myrinne climbed to her feet and froze, as she made eye-contact with eyes that were colder than ice itself. She cringed beneath Kara’s furious gaze.
“Get out,” Kara growled. When Princess Myrinne opened her mouth to argue, Kara picked up her axe and stepped toward the ancient vampire. “Get out.”
The princess held up both hands to placate Kara. “I’m upset, too, okay?”
“Upset?” Kara said. She took another step toward the princess. “Is that what you think I am? Upset?” Her voice was such a low growl, by this point, that even the ancient princess was intimidated by it. “You think you know how I feel?”
“You might be a little more upset than I am,” Princess Myrinne admitted. Her pale blue gaze darted toward the battle-axe in Kara’s hand. “Kara, think about what you’re doing. I’m ten thousand years old. I can kill faster than you can blink.”
“Prove it,” Kara said, shocking the princess. “What are you waiting for?”
Princess Myrinne frowned in surprise, as she noticed the tears glistening in Kara’s eyes. “Kara,” she sighed, her voice softer than usual, “you have to stop.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Kara snarled. “Either fight me or get out.”
“I didn’t want this to happen,” Princess Myrinne tried to explain. “I tried to prevent it. That’s why I saved her friend. That’s why I watched her so closely. Last night, when we saved Kallias, I thought… I’d hoped that we’d prevented it.”
At the mention of Kallias, Erik looked up at them. “What are you talking about?” he asked, exhaustion and grief pulling at his features. “What is going on?”
Princess Myrinne glanced at Erik, and her chest tightened at the sight
of his tears. She didn’t know much about Erik—or his relationship to Kallias. In all of the years she’d studied the prophecies, she’d forgotten there were actual people involved—not just events. “It was always supposed to happen this way, according to the prophecies,” she said sadly. “I just didn’t know when it would happen.”
“What?!” Erik snapped, louder than before. “What the hell happened?”
Princess Myrinne winced a little, as his power manipulated her emotions. “The Lion will awaken the Dragon, and it will be his last roar that brings her fire.”
“Lions? Dragons?” Erik snarled, his power clearly unstable, at this point. “There are no lions or dragons in here! What the hell are you even talking about?”
“They’re symbols, Erik,” Kara explained, her own voice tired and pained. “It’s cryptic—so that only certain people would understand.” Her glistening, light blue eyes shifted toward the princess. Kara sighed. “I’m familiar with the tactic.”
Princess Myrinne nodded. “Dragons are often associated with the gods.”
“Gods?” Erik repeated. He turned to Kara. “What is she talking about?”
Guilt washed over Kara’s features, combining with her pain, to create an expression of pure agony. “That creature we just saw—it was one of their gods.”
“The,” Princess Myrinne corrected. “Darkness and Light are…the God.”
“She’s the head of their pantheon,” Kara confessed to him, “apparently.”
“Light is the Creator,” the princess added. “Darkness is the Destroyer.”
He glanced back and forth between them, a plethora of emotions passing over his face—first disbelief, then confusion, then shock, then…rage. He whirled on Kara. “This was your secret? This is what you hid from Rose? From all of us?”
Kara spread out her arms, crying freely now. “I wanted to protect her.”
“Yeah, well. You failed,” Erik snarled. “And now, I’ve lost two friends.”
Kara squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quell the flood of tears. “I know.”
Princess Myrinne watched Kara, stunned to see so much emotion in the mischievous warrior. “It was meant to happen,” she told Erik, surprising herself by actually defending the warrior. “Kallias was the one who awoke Rose’s power, in the first place. She tapped into it to save him. So, it had to be him—his death.”
The Reign of Darkness Page 66