Ernal collapsed on top of him and there he would extinguish, alone.
How alone had he felt in those cold nights of the dark forest after he buried his mother with frost bitten hands. He knew loneliness then. Father gone. Sisters gone. Mother gone. Only the skeletal woods for company and such silent companions were trees.
Anger rose like bile in his throat and he screamed again with little force.
He refused death in spite of his weakness. Someone would hear. Someone had to know. He could not disappear down a hole and be forgotten. Not him, never.
Inch by bloody scrabbling inch, he dragged his body forward into an open space. As the rock released him, new spikes of pain ran through his body. Spasms as if he would shake to pieces wracked his limbs. Yet, he crawled. Before his eyes lay frozen memories of people he left behind but never forgot. His personal ghosts confined inside his head offering him an eternity without peace. They wanted him with them; he wanted nothing of the sort.
Below, the well offered warmth and strength, a taste of what Warden could have, if he finished what the dragon asked of him and consumed Ernal. He knew how. Were he stronger, he wouldn't need to get so close, but crushed and weak, he couldn't chance his prey escaping.
Not that it truly could.
Ernal could never leave the bounds of his territory. Bound as any prisoner, he could not escape. Even if he dared run, Warden would find him eventually.
Blood left behind jagged smears as Warden moved.
Hurt captured every one of his limbs and offered no quarter, yet he moved. Warden moved with the knowledge his mission completed would take care of his pain. All he had to do was finish the job.
Finish the job.
What he should have done with Leviana.
The memory of her collapsed in the road appeared. He could have finished this then. Slip a blade between her ribs and stop her heart.
So simple.
He stayed his hand.
And suffered for it.
He never knew captivity before her. Never caught. Never nearly executed. All of that came with her. Life had been hard, no question, but he never dealt with such pain and suffering as since he'd met her.
The commission to take her life had been the worst he ever chose.
A strange thought struck him. What if he hadn't? If he understood it right, they were fated. If he had not taken the commission, she would still have sought him out.
He pressed his forehead to the ground.
Had he suffered this life before? Perhaps.
Leviana was the bride of the Black King. He once resided within Warden. At least once before they had lived for one another. Now he lived and she, where was she? Jalcina bore Leviana's face or something of that nature. Intertwined down to the soul, just as he was to the one called the Black King. Yet the dragon was not the Black King. Somehow attached but separate.
"How many lives have we lived?"
His voice even at a whisper bounced back off the close walls.
No one answered.
As he expected.
His legs refused to hold him as he tried to stand, hands seeking purchase above him. Whatever body Ernal possessed had been crushed when the well collapsed. Good thing he didn't need it. What he needed was the well. It resided below him, now nearly covered in rock. It glimmered in places, throwing light up to him.
Consume Ernal.
Finish what he had started by killing the avatar. He would have the strength he needed then. His wounds healed and his mind set right. All he had to do was consume his opponent.
Kendrick Takes The Souls
Kendrick watched his hands tremble and how it made the light bounce off the glass he held. Weakness invaded, but he didn't dare admit to it. Not before all the councilors of the Empire. They needed to believe him strong. Especially those who stood with him as allies. If he betrayed weakness they would reconsider their plans.
The botched execution had done nothing for their confidence in him, yet he managed to smooth it over. Warden disappeared. It didn't matter. He was one man against an Empire. He was powerless. Coming on the heels of the loss of the girl claiming to be Leviana, though the sainted Immortal was dead, had dealt a blow to his credibility. He recovered from that as well.
Nothing had gone according to plan.
Kendrick forced his hand to stillness in time to catch the glance of Councilor Sherac. The sniveling coward did little to commend himself, but he proved useful time and again when it came time to discuss new policies. Since the disappearance of the Immortal, Kendrick ensured his position as best he could by making changes there was little reason to oppose in hopes of laying the foundation for the dissolution of the Empire his father desired.
Unfortunately, no such decrees could be passed without the Black King's Seal which Leviana had taken to her grave.
He shook his head and Sherac looked away. Around them, others dined and talked, but Kendrick took part in few conversations. His choice to be reserved came from encroaching weakness and political shrewdness.
Versa's execution had been expected to do him great harm.
She gave herself up as a traitor.
Many had not known of the relationship he shared with her, so its revelation came as a surprise and a blow. If the Trusted had betrayed her position, could he have as well, came the question. No one said such aloud, but the rumors were hardly kind. Their strongest proponent, Councilor Elisah, sat a table away on a cushion, her ornate ax at her side as always.
She made no secret of her disdain for Kendrick and his policies. If she knew the things he employed to get his way, she would come at him with the blade without reservation. Perhaps he should have dared her to it.
A servant padded by and offered him food off a beaten metal tray. Waving him off, Kendrick brought his glass to his lips again careful not to stain the front of his garment.
Food did nothing. The wine in his glass did nothing. It merely reminded him how far above the assembled he was. They needed these things, even craved them. To him, they were little better than hustler's props. He fed on the stuff of true life.
They did not.
He would not mourn them when they were no longer among the living. Nalcet would wipe them out. Any who worshiped Ancel would be destroyed without mercy. He could have pitied them.
Versa would have been his beloved. He would have elevated her. He would have. She chose death. She chose the fire. She chose to leave him.
A dark voice whispered he deserved her disdain just as these others deserved his. He stole from her.
A hand dropped on his shoulder and lips pressed against his ear,
"It's time."
He rose without comment and followed the servant out into the hall, his expected guest had arrived.
In the nearby hall, a quiet scholarly man stood holding a carved box. The smooth polished stone bore every resemblance to the box belonging to the Immortal, but it was not. Nor were its contents.
"Good," Kendrick said. "Go with the servant and you will be paid."
He would be paid, of course, but he would not live to spend it. Kendrick left no one alive who could say he had any hand in treachery. He had to keep his position secure until his mission was complete.
Without looking around, he strode away with the box. Only the maker and he knew what was inside: a fake of the Black King's Seal. No one alive knew of its actual abilities, which was good. If he were trying to fool true magicians, he might have run into trouble. All he had to do was convince a room full of the gullible that he had the power to do what they expected.
Many forgot people saw exactly what they expected to see.
The Seal had power no one had exercised in hundreds of years. The Immortal had never needed it. Her word became law through her connection to the Black King. His seal was only necessary for those with no claim to power.
Such as Kendrick.
Alone in his rooms, he slid the box open to admire the handiwork his influence bought.
Set agains
t the true Seal, it would not be enough. Perhaps it was for the best that the true Seal had disappeared. There was nothing to compare his fraud against.
He caressed the stone, wishing it lived beneath his fingers.
The stone of the true Seal was skin warm to the touch. It exuded strength mere stone did not possess.
When he asked, even Nalcet was not certain of how the Seal came to be, a magical artifact with no providence. Beautiful and peerless as a flawless gem, its existence betrayed knowledge of heaven.
"Tomorrow we will do the impossible. We will destroy a matchless empire."
Shutting the box, he hid it away. As he did, his eyes fell on the vial of souls. The power sang and beckoned to him. Kendrick didn't dare answer the call. If he did, he would be destroyed, or so Nalcet said.
He trusted his Father.
Of course he did.
His departure from dinner would not go unnoticed, but he didn't intend to worry about it. Most would think he exited for a reason involving his distaste for public functions or his continued mourning of his former lover or perhaps even some important business removing him from the company of those in attendance. Let the rumors swirl. They were as important as leaves in the dredges of tea.
Anything important would be brought to him.
Kendrick woke moments before the sudden shift of power brought by Ernal's demise. The loss of another one of the city snapped across the realm with the speed of a whip crack leaving emptiness in its wake. It happened as he stared at the ceiling counting moments waiting for sleep to return. Then he knew he would not sleep anymore that night. The wave broke across him and Kendrick dragged himself from the bed to wash his face as it covered in tears.
Another gone.
Fallen in an inexorable march of the ones Kendrick failed to stop.
He wore blood for his failure.
The arrival of his Father came as no surprise. The vehemence of his anger blazing into Kendrick's mind like a comet. He had no words and no defenses. If he had done his duty, there would be no reason for this.
He deserved his father's ire. Deserved it so completely he lay on the floor and let himself weep for the passing of one who might have been his uncle. It did not matter he had never known him and in truth still knew little more than his name. It only mattered his failure led to another's death.
"Father, help me."
Nalcet's response offered nothing. Not just silence, but a disapproving far away stare conveying how the city wished he had never allowed his son to take on this mission he now appeared ill-suited for. Mentally, Kendrick clawed for recognition, some acknowledgment.
Nothing.
Emptiness.
Silence.
Nalcet removed even his presence leaving behind the memory of his anger. Kendrick, lying on the floor, stared up at the ceiling he no longer saw.
The weight of his failure crushed his heart.
As he lay, weakness covering him in a sheen of sweat, the song of the souls rose in his ears. They understood his helplessness. They offered him what he desired, the power to make his father notice him. To be powerful enough his father would adore him as his first born.
Kendrick pushed to his feet and stalked into the bedroom. The vial sat where he left it. Within the sparks of souls turned and danced as miniature stars. He could contain them.
Tracing their path with weary eyes, he took the stopper in his hand. He needed to be quick.
Already his soul salivated at the idea of consuming such prime strength. The Black King and the Immortal Queen inside him, offering him their abilities, making him greater than he had ever been.
Stop!
He felt the command more than he heard it. It jarred his bones, but he did not heed it. The stopper released with no pop and Kendrick shoved the open bottle to his lips to suck down the glimmering lights.
Kendrick knew well the sense of invasion that came from having someone else inside him without warning. Despite that knowledge, he still collapsed under the weight of sudden possession. Two new sets of thoughts crammed against his own even as power suffused his every inch. They were distinct from one another and him, so much so he became aware as they turned on him.
Leviana knew him. Her shriek vibrated off his skull and he howled.
The one he knew only as the Black King did nothing to stop her as she shredded into him. He had no reason to protect him and sided with his aggressor. Leviana tore into him with every ounce of vicious hatred. She owed him for so many slights. So many damages.
Their strength did not protect him. It was their strength trapped inside his frame.
The assault went on, stretching into fiery minutes under his skin. Kendrick could do nothing. His defenses, protective from outside of him, did nothing for something he let in.
His breath came in slow huffs, the pants of a wounded animal. He needed to release them. Returning them to the bottle was out of the question. The original spell he used to trap them was never meant to be used on the self, for good reason. Yet, he didn't dare keep them any longer. Leviana intended to destroy him. The Black King, now known to him as Vadian, did not intend to stop her.
Begging for her forgiveness would do nothing. Mercy was not a trait she shared with anyone. Knowing he had allowed Versa, once her trusted confidante, to burn for his crimes did nothing to absolve him in her eyes. Versa may well have been a betrayer, that did nothing to change how Leviana had nearly raised the woman from childhood. Her hate pulsed behind his closed eyes.
Choking, he forced himself to release them. They were not his. He did not anchor them in his body. He couldn't, not while they fought. He might as well hitch wild horses to a wagon and hope they went where he willed.
The bright white light of Leviana shot from his mouth without hesitation while the heavier presence of her beloved took its time, dragging out his suffering as it went. He expected nothing less.
They circled above him before becoming phantoms, taking all the power they offered with them. His own magic depleted from holding them in, Kendrick could hardly move. The night sky outside his window offered no sympathy, its stars staring down at him with a chill pitilessness.
Kendrick clung to the fact that Nalcet was wrong. They had not destroyed him. He might be weak as a new foal, but he was not dead. He would rise again.
He passed out there on the floor, his thoughts a jumble of plans for what he would do once he woke.
Sinda & Backaran
Sinda shifted and her city quaked. Her adherents chose to stay away from her temple in the recent days. So much seemed to be darkness and death. Their once pleasant sovereign seemed less pleasant and more fearful. If only they knew what she faced.
Ernal, their hidden brother, had suffered the same fate as comatose Wrepta. How had the cursed ones even found him when they could not? The impossibility of it stung her. He spent his life hiding from those who cared the most for him only to be cut down. She did not plan to share his fate.
Backaran sent a raven-winged messenger to her asking she meet him for conference without their greater brother.
She expected treachery. Backaran's madness was without equal and his willingness to do whatever pleased him without quarter. If he intended to do her harm, nothing would stop him. Sinda didn't have the strength. Backaran, like Nalcet, cultivated strength from his inhabitants in a way she never tried. She chose not to sup on those who came to her. For good or ill.
In these days, it might well be for ill.
She met him on the windswept world between which became less and less vibrant with each death. Wrepta's loss took away the colors. Ernal's made the wind cut. Yet they stood exposed, the shades of themselves.
"What do you want?" She asked.
"What will you do?" His question surprised her because she had not expected him to care. What difference did it make to him if she did not survive the coming onslaught? What difference did it make to him if any of them didn't survive? He'd had his fun.
"What will I do about what?"
"The coming death."
Why dance around it when they both knew the truth. Their demise came on swift wings to put an end to their supposed eternity of bliss. The time of peace and pleasure offered by Nalcet in exchange for the human souls necessary to change the world came to an end. Things might well have been changed had they not betrayed the trust of one so close to them. One she once held to her heart and called beloved.
"If death comes, I will fight it."
"And if you lose?"
"I will be consumed by it, just as our brother and sister were."
"What if there were another way," he offered.
As if there truly were another way which didn't involve bartering her soul into a further horror.
"You are offering—"
"Nalcet will fail, but we need not die. We can survive without him. Choose a deal with those who would destroy us."
"Ancel will see us all burn for what we've done."
"Even Ancel can be reasoned with. He does not want all of us."
"How would you know?"
Backaran spread his hands and the world responded with a bitter but brief rain.
Sinda narrowed her eyes.
"What have you done now, brother?"
"No more than he did to us when he deceived us," Backaran said. His eyes glittered with what Sinda saw as suppressed excitement. "He deceived us into becoming what we are. We suffered for his folly. Now I think it only fair he suffer alone for the foolishness he brought on us all."
"You are going to abandon him?"
"Yes."
"Listen to yourself. You speak of condemning our brother to death."
"Tell me you don't wish it," he mocked. "Tell me, sister. Tell me you don't wish for his death and a release from this curse of existence."
The thought of the centuries wearied her. Each of them staked out their own space, yet they came together sparingly to remember what life had been before.
Bonfires around which they created whole worlds. Lost to them forever as they could no longer be truly in the same place. They had the between but it was an empty place populated as much by their thoughts as them, conforming to the reality they hoped for and knew they could never achieve.
Ruins of Fate (Fate Circle Saga Book 3) Page 21