Enthroned by Amethysts (A Dance with Destiny Book 3)

by JK Ensley

  Apollyon fell to his knees as Musashi’s words played out in his mind. His body shook as he imagined his tiny Angel being attacked by the mighty Shogun. He saw the tears on her face, the terror in her eyes, the blood trickling over her lovely pale skin.

  “She didn’t belong here,” Musashi continued. “I was wrong in taking her. I was only trying to rectify that. I never meant to hurt her. I lost control.”

  The darkest of Prince’s tormented voice cracked and caught in his tightening throat. “She was… she was only a… only a human again?”

  “Yes,” Musashi admitted.

  “And… you hurt her?” He openly sobbed. The pain shooting through his chest was without equal. He felt dizzy. “You attacked that tiny little thing? That innocent, beautiful smile… those bright curious eyes… that delicate little girl. You hurt her?”

  “I did.” Musashi drew in a haggard breath. “But it failed. She did not don her mask. Her strength was truly gone. She was only a woman. No Angel remained within her.”

  “Then… did you stop?” He couldn’t look upon the Emperor, couldn’t bear it. “When you realized a mighty Shogun was beating a fragile little woman, did… you… stop?”

  Apollyon held his breath as he waited for the answer he must now hear, but wished with all his heart he didn’t have to.

  The Emperor of Jinn’s voice was but a tiny whisper. “No. I did not.”

  The guilt-ridden Ronin heard the devil’s sharp intake of breath, even felt it ripple through his quivering soul.

  “And the child? What of our son?”

  Musashi’s mind went back to the terrifying birth of those beautiful twin Angels, back to the very moment he first held Tenshi in his arms. He had counted them as his own, wished daily to be their father. And… he had beaten and raped and tortured their ethereal mother. The only woman who had caused his heart to swell, the one he would have sacrificed everything for. In that moment, he knew. He realized who the true demon was. His bitter tears finally took him. His lamented wails enveloped him. No longer could he answer the Prince of Hell.

  The sapphire Angel dropped his knowing head and sighed. “Very well. Speak no more. The peace your reign has brought to this realm is at an end.” Apollyon picked up the picture his beautiful wife had counted amongst her most prized possessions. “Hell is coming, Ronin. There will be no place to hide. Warn your people of the torment awaiting them with my return. Let them know why they will suffer. Give them the chance to end themselves… before I do.”

  Musashi watched through swollen blurry eyes as the darkest of Angels, wings dragging the ground behind him, walked out into the growing night and disappeared.

  He dried his eyes and called forth his generals. “Send every troop throughout the land to the four corners of Jinn. Gather every man, woman, and child. Take them to the old Shinobi village. Harm none. But do not take no for an answer. Give them time to gather all the food and weapons they may have. We will be in need of it.”

  One of his commanders approached the Emperor and knelt before him, fist over his heart.

  “Sire, what shall we say to them if they refuse?”

  “If they refuse, then let their blood be upon their own stubborn heads. Tell them the devil’s coming to their door, and… he will require nothing less… than their very soul.”

  Musashi strapped on his swords and made his way to the only people he had ever promised not to use in battle. He arrived ahead of the masses and was met by the village elders.

  Apollyon, Prince of Hell, Guardian of the pits, sapphire-winged husband of the colorful little Angel-woman the Emperor had hopelessly fallen in love with, had spent only three days upon the ninth layer of Jinn.

  Two full years would pass before Musashi heard the terrifying sound of dark wings once more.

  Chapter 34

  Mika

  (MEE-kah)

  “Milady, do not take me as rude. But, can you tell me who you are? I mean, who you were… before.” The little girl’s lavender eyes were pleading. “Who were you, Princess, when Mikage brought you to this place, and who are you now?”

  She laughed. “What a peculiar question, Mika. I was then as I am now. Just me, just Jenevier.”

  “No, that’s not true. You are not who you were when first we met. Your mind and thoughts have changed.”

  “Everyone changes with time and experience and age. It’s called growing, Mika. We all must do it or we will irrecoverably stagnate.”

  “Yes. But we grow as a person. We become more of who we were. You, Milady, change as running water. I wish to know who you were. Not who you’ve allowed yourself to become.”

  “Very well, my curious little friend. I was a child who never feared the world because I had an overly protective Guardian making sure I never stumbled, never scraped my knee.” She sort of laughed. “I saw nothing but good in everyone and everything. Evil did not exist in my world.”

  “That sounds perfectly divine,” Mika whispered, amazed.

  “Yes, it does, does it not? And so it was. Until the day that incredibly real evil I couldn’t see… walked right up and introduced itself to me proper.” She laughed then, but it was a cold sound, no joy in the hollow noise. “I had to release the child I once was. I had to become a woman, and not just any woman. I had to become justifiably wicked.”

  “What? What’s that?”

  Jenevier smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Just something I used to tell myself. You see, to be able to stand up to and face evil, you must be strong and brave. But to defeat evil, to stomp it out, to cease its being… you must be more than just strong and brave. You have to be lethal, vicious. Even more so than the evil you fight. Or else, you could never win.” She looked off into the beautiful valley before them, yet she focused on nothing except her memories. “There was no room, no safe place to hide the girl I once was. I had to release her, Mika. Or be destroyed because of her.”

  “So, you locked her away somewhere deep inside? You hid her away in your mind?”

  “No. I banished her, forever.”

  She heard the girl’s sharp intake of breath.

  I see so much of me in her. I know my words are harsh, but she must learn from my mistakes. I will open her eyes without crushing her. I only wish someone had done the same for me, showed me the same kindness.

  “One must be exceedingly careful, sweet child, lest the darkness consume them. You have heard it said… Be mindful of the company you keep. This is especially true, little one. Imagine what a person would be like if they spent every moment in the company of demons, covered in blood, extinguishing life. There’s a fine line between love and hate, good and evil, daylight and dark. It’s hard not to step upon it at times. I very nearly lost myself, Mika.”

  “But you’re not evil. I saw you when first you came here. Your radiant light was not as the sun, but it was at least as bright as a new star. Now, it dwindles. I can still catch a glimpse of it at times. Yet, its former glory has faded.”

  “Yes. You’re especially observant, little one. I am not the creature I once was. I have lost my way. I live now only to see my sons grown and strong. I can never return to my home. My wings have abandoned me… and they took my heart with them.”

  “You need magic,” Mika whispered absently.

  Jenevier laughed. “Yes, my child. I need magic. Great magic.”

  “Do not be angry with me, Milady.” Mika lowered her head. “But I have something to confess to you.”

  Jenevier took the young girl’s chin, lifted her back up to meet her loving gaze.

  “What is your confession, dear daughter of my heart?” She smiled warmly. “Was it you who stole my wings?”

  “No, Milady. But…” She paused. “I listened to your dreams. It was not by intent. I swear it.”

  Jenevier released the girl and looked back down the valley. “Those were not meant for your eyes, Mika. Never should you have to see the monsters living within my head. Stay far from me when I sleep, child. I cannot stop the drea
ms. I command them not. They rule me.”

  “Apologies. Forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive, dear one. The apology should come from me. You should never have to see the abominations that roam about unseen. You should never be forced to look upon the blood and carnage I have been witness to.”

  “I saw not those things, Milady.”

  She snapped her attention back to the bowing girl whose blackest hair now fell around to cover her face, hide her eyes. Jenevier felt a horrible pit form in the depths of her stomach.

  “What did you see, child?”

  “The Emperor,” she whispered faintly.

  The unwanted tears burned Jenevier’s inhuman eyes. Her throat closed off, choking her painfully.

  “No… not that dream. I would rather you see the demons you will never have to look upon, than to see—”

  “Than the one I once loved?” Mika interrupted.

  Jenevier could no longer speak. She wished, now more than ever, she could don her wings and fly away from the pain she could never escape. It had been nearly two years and the wounds on her soul were as raw as the day they were rent there.

  She stood, turning to flee. Strong arms embraced her, ceasing her escape. She gave in to them. Placing her head upon the broad chiseled chest, she released the tears she’d held inside since that dark night she had escaped the palace. It had been so very long ago. She wondered how the pain stayed so fresh, so unbearable.

  “I have had to live through those dreams myself, many times. I swear to you now. I will kill the man who hurt you, Naga.”

  Jenevier raised her reddened eyes to meet the glorious steel blue ones of her second born.

  “No, Daichi, mine Angel. Never harbor such hate. It will consume you.”

  “As it has you?” Tenshi’s words were only a whisper in her ear as he ran his fingers through her vibrant curls.

  “Yes, Tenshi, my son. As it has me.”

  The angelic twins held their tiny mother in their arms, as she had once done them, and let her pour out the pain she thought she’d carefully hidden from them all.

  “Mika was right, Princess,” Yui said. “You need magic.”

  Daichi scooped her trembling form up in his arms, holding to her fiercely, protectively.

  “Once again, she is broken,” Tenshi whispered. “How many times must one soul shatter before it refuses to be healed?”

  “I know a man who—”

  “No.” Daichi stopped Yui’s words with a deadly glare. “I mean you no disrespect, Master Yui. But no man, save Tenshi and me, will ever come near her again. You have given us a wonderful place to live, helped raise us since birth. Yet even you have no cause to touch this woman.”

  “Daichi, I would never—”

  “See that you do not,” Daichi snapped.

  “Come, Mama. I will lie next to you and hold the nightmares at bay.” Tenshi spoke as he took Jenevier from Daichi’s arms, carrying her toward her room. “You need your rest.”

  “Would that I knew where to go,” Daichi whispered, staring into the azure skies. “I would properly hide her. Hide her away from the whole universe.”

  “Daichi, you cannot hide her from herself. She is a strong woman,” Mika said. “She has lived through things that would have killed most men. She will survive. She always has.”

  He ignored the girl’s words, refused their comfort. He wished only to work off his anger and perhaps inflict some of his pain onto another.

  “Come, Master Yui. You have been lax in your training with me. You love me too much. Do you wish me to die in battle because you were afraid you may leave a scar upon my ethereal skin?”

  Yui answered his taunts with a mighty sword slash. Daichi barely had time to counter.

  Jenevier fell asleep with the sound of ringing blades in the distance as Tenshi rubbed her tangled curls.

  She needs magic, Mika thought.

  Chapter 35

  Ashgard

  (ASH-gahrd)

  If Vareilious had been looking for the fight of his life, Apollyon granted his wish and so much more. For the next two years, day in and day out, they were at war.

  Demons couldn’t match the strength of the Vanir. Yet the gates of hell still swung freely upon their hinges. Almost as soon as a dark one was sent back to the Underworld, it once again left the opened pits, only to rain terror down in a new place. The mighty Vanir warriors were overwhelmed—constantly dispatched to multiple layers, simultaneously.

  Toward the end of the second blood-filled year, Vareilious was locked in combat with yet another fallen Angel, when he received urgent summons. After finally dispatching the long forgotten violet-haired son of heaven, he and his legion made their way into the transporting clouds.

  What Vareilious found upon layer four, Ashgard… was nothing short of the apocalypse.

  Up until now they had fought with demons, dead men, dark Angels, and the fallen ones who liked to call themselves demigods. The demigods had once been valiant men, Vanir in the making. But they went horribly astray and now proved to be at least as strong as the dark ones.

  Yet all these were but battles—chaos in the heavens, scattered thither and yon throughout the universe. Troublesome and dangerous, yes, but nothing compared to the horror he was now witness to.

  This was… the utter systematic annihilation of a complete layer, a whole realm of creation. A hellish demolition of an entire race of people. Absolute. Morbid. Genocide.

  The rancid sweet smell of burning flesh was almost overwhelming. Screams and cries from the innocents rang through his bones, tingled within his wings. Vareilious commanded his legion disperse and cover the whole of the land. Demons were to be killed on sight. Dark Angels were to be brought to him.

  Such vast destruction didn’t seem possible. It made no sense. The scene displayed before him was more than enough proof—Jenevier was obviously not in hell with Apollyon.

  His sword was drawn but his wings hung limp as he walked toward the small house and barn behind Marlise’s tiny cottage. There was a woman, he believed, lying sprawled upon the front steps. She was on her back, head down. A demon was sitting upon her chest, devouring the flesh from within her stomach. So intent was it upon its feast, it failed to hear the Guardian’s approach.

  Grey, dead eyes of a once gentle lady were what he was looking upon when he effortlessly sliced the ravenous demon in two, only to find a smaller creature chewing upon the flesh of her cold thighs.

  The ethereal giant heard the man’s screams coming from the barn as he dispatched the second vile abomination. The old man was crawling on his belly, trying desperately to reach their little home. A much larger, older demon was enjoying himself by slicing off chunks of flesh from the dying man. Vareilious crossed blades with him, slew the vicious creature.

  But the old man had made his way out of the barn during their battle.

  Vareilious had wanted to spare the poor man that most horrid of visions. Sorrowful cries confirmed he was too late to bestow the kindness. He couldn’t bear to stand witness to this old man’s heart as it shattered before him. The warrior flew on to the little rose-covered cottage. But he couldn’t block out the broken man’s words.

  “Margy… oh, my sweet lovely Margy… I tried ta save ya, girl… I tried so hard… please forgive me, for I shan’t forgive myself,” Wynford mourned.

  Vareilious burst through the back door, wiping the tears from his majestic eyes.

  The cottage was wholly wrecked. Blood dripped down the old door frames. But it was minus a body. He flew to the next house and the next, until all of Tamar Broden had been combed and all demons slain.

  He gathered the handful of survivors in the town square. There they tended to each other as best they could. He flew off with his troops toward Moorglen and beyond.

  The wretched story played out the same in each village they entered. Vareilious’s mind was numbed with confusion, sorrow, and bitter doubt.

  “Aye, Brother, yer wings hang as low a
s mine own.” Vittorio spoke as he approached Vareilious outside the palace of Wrothdem. “This sad tale played oot on Lyra almost the same as it has here.”

  “I cannot make sense of this suicidal madness,” Vareilious mumbled. “Meeting us in the air, battling with the Vanir, attacking day and night. These are things I can understand. It is war, we war. But this… this isn’t war. This is mindless slaughter. This is deliberately calling out a direct challenge to God Himself.”

  “Aye, Brother, will ye nae stop trying tae rationalize evil? But this time, perhaps I have an answer.” Vittorio grasped his brother Vanir by the forearm as they exchanged a welcoming embrace.

  “Then share your news, Brother, for I am absent reasoning.”

  “Tell me this. What would ye do if I destroyed all ye held dear in this universe? What would ye do if I killed every single person ye loved an’ cherished?”

  “Without thought, I’d return to you in-kind, Brother. I would sacrifice my wings, my very existence, to ensure your pain matched my own,” Vareilious answered.

  “Aye, Brother, as would I.”

  Vittorio looked down at the ground where they stood. The firmament was so saturated, blood bubbled up to the edge of his soles.

  “Vareilious, old friend, what ye look upon now is proof of such a thing. She’s gone. The madness we’re now witness tae is that old dark Angel’s venomous wrath for shattered heart. We’ve lost her, Brother. Our wee Angel’s dead. I cannae feel it in my heart, nae. But what we bear witness tae here… is Apollyon’s retribution. He’s claiming his pound of flesh.”

  “You’re battle weary, Vittorio. You see blood where there is none. Never speak such within my hearing again. I yet have hope. If I lose hope… I lose everything.”

  “Aye, if hope is all ye have, then cleave tae it, old friend. Mine is gone. I lost it amongst the tangled bodies of the wee magical people. I could scarce tell the Merfolk from the Faeries. The atrocities performed upon those… I cannae…”