by Jaci Miller
The mark of death—burnt in flesh.
Surrounded by death and destruction a moment of clarity came to her. She’d assumed the mark of death was a harbinger signaling the end times—first in fire, then in blood, and finally in flesh. A symbol marking the resurrection of the ancient dark and the destruction of the world by either it or the Arcanists. But what if instead of a sign of death it was one of hope.
A rebirth of life through sacrifice.
A mark symbolizing a destiny written for only one.
Her fingers grazed the seared flesh and she winced.
She knew now what she must do.
As she pulled herself upright a voice which had been silent for weeks, sprang up in her mind.
Dane. Don’t.
Rafe stood on the other side of the flame-laden fissure his green eyes full of love and desperation. She walked to the edge ignoring the heat from the flames. Through the fire, she smiled at him and her eyes filled with tears.
His voice was soft in her mind. You can’t.
I have to.
There must be another way.
Dane shook her head.
Her heart thumped eagerly in her chest as it yearned for the one it was bound to. You must let me go. It’s the only way. Closing her eyes, she envisioned his face and pulled him close in her mind pressing her lips against his. She could taste his sweat and hear the way his heart pounded rhythmically in his chest, matching her own. They would always be one half of the other. Through time and space, they were one.
Dane, please!
Opening her eyes, she stared at him across the fissure the light from the flames danced across his handsome face and for a moment—
I love you.
His face crumpled. Please don’t leave me.
She smiled at him and placed her hand over her heart. I will always be with you.
Without a backward glance, she ran toward the remnants of the old mill burning in the distance. Her heart ached for him the further away she got, but she kept moving toward her destiny.
As she neared the edge of the chasm the earth beneath her feet trembled and tossed her to the ground.
The roar that followed was deafening.
Daemon shrieks filled the air, and she covered her ears as the crescendo of the chorus became unbearable.
There was little left of the mill besides a pile of rubble teetering on the edge of a gaping hole. Smoke filled her lungs as she struggled to her feet and wiped the sweat from her brow. The fire was excruciatingly hot.
There was a shift in the energy around her and the ancient magic in her blood responded, throbbing out a warning.
Something was coming. Something dark and ancient and born from the pits of hell.
Moments later the fires of the chasm separated as something moved within them.
Taking a step back she observed as the prophecy came to pass and the ancient dark, trapped for billions of centuries under the earth’s core, appeared.
First, clawed hands the size of tables grasped the edge. Curved horns embedded into both sides of a hairless head appeared next. Two yellow slits where the eyes should be, shone in the firelight as they peered over the edge. Its face was a plain mask without a nose and its mouth was sewn together by pieces of thick skin.
Dane backed up further as the ancient dark dragged its body over the edge. Thick decaying skin stretched taut over a muscular human frame. It wore nothing but a black cloak tied loosely over its shoulders and its manhood was non-existent. A genderless entity and the last of its kind with no way to produce another.
Its only instinct was survival.
It stood at the edge of the chasm on strong bent legs ending in curved black hooves and looked down on Dane. Thick saliva dripped from its mouth. Although its face did not reflect any expression, Dane sensed it mocked her.
An unexpected pain rifled through her head, and she clutched her temples.
The beast’s voice reared up in her mind.
You have betrayed the one who is bound to me.
She struggled to stay conscious as waves of pain ripped through her. Stumbling back, she bent over and wretched. Her eyes closed as waves of nausea rolled through her. Through the pain, she searched her mind for the ancient magic that would stifle the connection and allow her to control her interaction with the creature.
A white wave of ancient energy swelled and coursed through her blood. As it rose the pain ransacking her body subsided, and she opened her eyes with a renewed clarity.
You both underestimated me and assumed my weakness, my anger, would be enough to pull me into your darkness. But you were wrong.
Its rattling laughter filled her mind.
Wrong? You are nothing to me, nothing more than a lingering reminder of a long-dead bloodline. I do not seek to understand your kind, nor do I grieve for the death of the one I bore. He was weak as all humans are, a species unable to function without emotions, ambitions, and betrayal. Like those who tried to defeat me before, you too will perish under my wrath. Your kind took my freedom and destroyed my world and for that, I will take yours.
Stretching its arms wide it pulled the ax from where it was strapped to its back. Heaving the heavy blade up it advanced toward where she stood.
Black, sinister clouds rolled overhead as a thunderclap tore through the sky and the moon disappeared. Sheets of water cascaded from the dark heavens as the storm unleashed its fury. The air was filled with the hiss from the flames as they were doused, and a sooty fog rolled from the ashes.
As the beast drew near Dane’s warrior magic erupted, and she attacked with fury throwing energy balls at its massive size. Her intention, death.
The sky flashed with green light as the elemental energy seared through its skin opening gashes that streamed black blood. The ancient dark’s face contorted, and it lumbered faster toward her.
She pulled her family sword from the sheath, the blade singing with the power of her ancestors. The green energy pulsed up and down its blade as she raised it high and swung it toward the beast.
Their blades met and the sound of clashing metal rang out.
Green sparks flew from her sword.
The ancient magic gave the weapon strength and swiftness, and she moved the blade deftly. Avoiding the ax blade, she swung her sword in a graceful arc and connected with the soft, decaying flesh of the beast’s arm. It howled and staggered backward as the blade singed its skin.
Its ax swung again, and she moved promptly to the left, but while the blade missed the handle of the ax caught her neatly in the side. The force of the blow sent her flying, and she slammed into the wet ground gasping for breath.
The ancient dark, its yellow eyes ablaze, roared.
Wiping the rain from her eyes she searched for her sword. The mud created by the downpour was thick and it pulled her into its grasp as she slogged through it toward her weapon. The ground trembled as the beast thundered toward her. Grasping the hilt, she rolled sideways just as the ancient dark’s ax sliced down. The blade just missed her head, and she scrambled to her feet. Dodging the backswing she sliced at the ancient dark’s hoofed feet as she passed.
The surrounding battle raged on.
Shouts echoed in the dark.
The rain had diminished, and the moon peeked out from behind the thick cloudbank.
She ran back toward the edge of the burning crevasse with the ancient dark in pursuit. Her hand grasped for the athame in her belt, but it wasn’t there. Desperately she looked for it.
A beam of silver light glistened from the moon and glinted off something stuck in the mud. The white bone handle of the athame protruded from the dirt just feet from where the ancient dark now stood. Its body heaved as it stomped its hooves in the soggy ground and shook the rain from its ax blade.
Something behind the beast drew her attention. It was Rafe. Some
how, he’d managed to get to this side of the breach, but daemons swarmed him, and he was trapped.
His blade dripped with blood as he swung it toward two daemons, severing their heads in succession.
As if sensing her eyes upon him, he turned.
Suddenly, she could hear Adaridge’s voice echoing in her mind.
Use the darkness, do not become it.
Moonbeams cascaded over her as the clouds parted and a strange enchanting peace cocooned her in its tranquility. A chorus of voices sang softly in her head—voices of those long forgotten. Through the chorus, she heard one voice stronger and clearer than the others.
It is time. Adaridge whispered.
The ancient dark bellowed.
And Dane knew. Their power and blood were a part of her. This was her destiny. With a renewed furor she spun in a circle as the ancient dark charged. Her sword cut deep through the flesh and into the sinew of his thighs. An enraged roar erupted as he floundered, unsteady on his legs. The ax swung, but she avoided the blow and the blade buried itself deep into the soaking wet ground.
Using her momentum and trusting her instincts she dropped the sword and darted forward. She rolled onto the ground and seized the athame from where it was lodged into the earth and turned to face the ancient dark. Hooves pounded the wet earth and its eyes glowed with what could only be described as the dregs of hell. Reflections of the prison that had caged this evil entity for billions of centuries.
Its voice reared up in her mind. It is time to die.
You first, she thought.
And then she ran.
Her legs throbbed as she sprinted. The muddy ground grasped at her boots, but she kept moving, ignoring the pain. She ran to the edge of the void where the old flour mill used to sit and from where the ancient dark had emerged.
Its laughter rang in her head as it lurched toward her.
She stood with her back to the gaping hole and lowered her stance.
The ancient dark bent so its horns were low. Like a bull and matador all in one, the black cape flew gracefully behind him as its massive hooves churned up the soft, wet ground. It charged and just as it reached her, she flipped to one side. Her body skimmed the entity as it thundered past, and she plunged the athame into its shoulder, pushing the blade in up to the hilt.
The beast howled in rage as white light exploded from the blade. Its hooves dug into the sodden earth as it tried to stop its momentum, but the wet soil crumbled underfoot.
The ancient dark plummeted over the edge carrying Dane with it, her hand clutched tight to the handle of the athame.
Chapter 41
As Dane and the ancient dark disappeared over the edge of the chasm, an explosion rocked its depths. Debris tumbled as the remaining rubble of the old mill was swallowed by the expanding sinkhole.
A chorus of unholy screams pierced the night sky and Rafe sank to his knees and covered his ears as the cacophony reverberated over the field. The daemons surrounding him fell, one by one as the evil light filling their hollow eye sockets extinguished. Like a macabre wave, they collapsed until only a pile of bones, sinew, and black blood littered the ground.
An eerie silence draped over the field.
Wiping blood and sweat from his eyes he stood. His head reeled as the first light of day escaped over the horizon. A shadowy figure came toward him through the heavy smoke furling from the rain-drenched fires. Its movement was slow and unsteady, and he raised his blade in defense.
“Rafe?”
Recognizing the voice, he lowered his sword.
Stevie appeared from the haze followed by Gabriella. Both were covered in black soot and ash, their hair matted, and faces splattered with blood.
“Are you hurt?” Rafe asked.
Both shook their heads.
Stevie’s eyes searched desperately around the area, panic rising in her voice. “Where is she, Rafe? Where is Dane? I saw her fighting the ancient dark.”
His shoulders sagged as his eyes drifted toward the vast crater that had consumed the mill. An enormous fire blazed from its dark depths and black smoke billowed up hundreds of feet into the early morning dawn.
He waited for what seemed like an eternity his heart pounding in his chest—waiting for that familiar connection. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t feel her anymore. Instead, an emptiness took the place of the emotional bond they shared, a deep void that filled him with a haunting ache.
“She’s gone,” he choked out.
“What do you mean—gone?” Stevie’s voice cracked.
“I can’t feel her anymore.”
“Try again!”
His energy reached toward the chasm as his heart searched for her but there was nothing, just emptiness. The heaviness inside became suffocating as he realized what that meant.
“Anything?” Stevie said moving in closer.
The intense smell of blood and ash swirled around her and his stomach lurched. Ignoring her question, he stared back at the fiery chasm as the ache in his heart grew heavier. He so badly wanted this nightmare to be just a bad dream and for Dane to be standing safely beside him.
The scent and sounds of death and decay, of burnt flesh, wafted all around them. A macabre requiem for the dead.
“Rafe?”
“No,” he said quietly. “Nothing.”
Stevie glanced over to Gabby who stood a few feet away. Her eyes implored the celestial for a different answer.
She folded her enormous wings back as her iridescent eyes searched the area. A shadow passed over her face as she too shook her head. “I can’t sense her anymore nor can I feel the ancient dark.”
Rafe couldn’t speak. The emotions washing through him were torturous. Beside him, Stevie’s eyes filled with tears, and she began to tremble. Exhausted and grief-stricken, they continued to stare at the billowing fire in solemn silence.
The smoke rising from the ruins attempted to block out the coming dawn, but the new day stubbornly cast an array of purple, orange, and blue hues across the early morning sky. The medley of color was a stark contrast to the bleak landscape surrounding them.
Soon, others emerged from the smoke.
Witches and immortals, the wounded and the lucky. They stood in proximity to one another staring at the raging fire, each lost in their own thoughts and mourning the loss of their own.
The prophecy had come to pass, and its end realized. The Arcanists had defeated the ancient dark but at a devastating cost. Many had lost their lives, but thankfully mankind would remain oblivious to tonight’s events. Those who carried the blood of the ancient races had prevailed.
Rafe surveyed the grounds.
The old mill was destroyed leaving nothing but a yawning blazing pit and a pile of rubble. Nothing remained to reveal its existence prior to this evening except an old concrete pillar with a brass plate inscribed with the mill’s name and the year of its founding. His eyes locked on it as it methodically swung back and forth from the one bolt still holding it in place. The sound of metal scratching on the concrete was deafening and, he closed his eyes willing it to stop, to disappear from his mind with the rest of this nightmare.
Dane had defeated the ancient dark but in turn, had given the utmost sacrifice—her life.
As that realization embedded itself in his very being blood began to roar in his ears, and the aching thump of his heart blocked out all the awful sounds around him, encasing him in its agonizing rhythm. Sweat ran down his blood-soaked skin stinging as it seeped into the wounds on his arms. Unforgiving reminders that he was still alive and still breathing alone without her.
Rooted in his misery and as the pain overwhelmed him, he hung his head, shut his eyes, and wordlessly begged the gods to release him from this suffocating prison.
An eternity seemed to pass before he felt someone squeeze his shoulder, and he heard Stevie’s vo
ice in his ear.
“Rafe, look.”
There was an unexpected excitement in her voice, and he opened his eyes. Tears blurred his vision but when they cleared, he saw what she did, and he stared in disbelief and awe.
The fire blazing in the crater was changing.
The red flames, their scorching tendrils reaching in all directions, began to turn green as the crackling transformed to a concordant hum.
The fire was morphing into something else, something otherworldly as the green energy of the Warlicians consumed it.
As the scorching flames of destruction disappeared a calmness seeped from the enormous crater and spread over the scorched earth of the property. The black smoke curling from its depths disappeared, replaced by a thick green mist that created a curtain between them and the dark abyss.
Rafe squinted into the dense fog.
His heart pounded as he sensed a presence in the swirling fog, and he tightened his grip on his sword. The strange essence came closer until a shadow emerged into the light of dawn.
The figure was familiar. Long dark hair flowed behind her as she strode with purpose toward them but there was something different about her presence. Her movements were languid and effortless, and her bright green eyes held a wisdom that had been lost to the ages.
He blinked several times unsure if what he was seeing was real?
Was Dane alive?!
She reached the battle-scarred ground where they stood before any of them could utter a word.
Every eye was transfixed on her in disbelief.
When she smiled, her jade eyes twinkled with an iridescent light. A faint lilac hue shimmered on her unblemished skin—there wasn’t a mark on her, no blood or dirt, no ash or scars.
“How?” Elyse asked, finding her voice.
Dane arched an eyebrow and tilted her head in Elyse’s direction. Without saying a word, she lifted her right arm out in front of her and opened her clenched fist.
Gabby gasped and took a step back her wings lifting into the air. Blood-soaked feathers quivered and splattered droplets on the ground around her.