But in the end, she was all he had now. She was the only one who still accepted him. His father, his brother, every person who had ever known him now considered him a monster. He knew this was something an ordinary person should be bothered by. In his weaker, more private moments, he almost was. But only a brief flicker of the darkness was enough to push all of that back and remind him he was not an ordinary person. He was Kayden Burai, black dragon of the Rosinanti, the spirit and very essence of an entire world’s darkest ambitions and desires. And in those moments, he found himself grateful for her and the gifts she had bestowed upon his life.
All the injustices and indignity he had been forced to face at her hand seemed a small price to pay for finally learning who and what he is. So, while he did hate her with such scorching, unrelenting fury that his waking and sleeping hours alike were often filled with thoughts of barbarically smiting her, he selfishly loved her at the same time.
They arrived at the balcony’s rail, and he gazed out over the former land of his home, which still bore the scars of his vengeance, carved like abstract artwork from his masterful stroke. He could not stop a deeply satisfied smile of accomplishment from slowly spreading across his face. The empress turned slowly toward him, and they locked eyes.
“I have erred, my animus warrior.”
Her startling admission caught him off guard, and he nearly choked on his own breath. “I’m sorry, Mistress?” he answered back, positive he had misheard her.
She averted her cold gaze from his eyes and placed a finger upon her lips as though she were carefully crafting her next words before speaking them aloud. “I have not made proper use of your abilities, Kayden,” she said slowly yet effortlessly. “I have hidden you away, forcibly containing that which is uncontainable. I have unwittingly fostered an environment in which you have been allowed to stagnate.”
What was she saying? He had not stagnated. Not even a bit. He was more powerful than ever, more driven, the definition of dark perfection…wasn’t he?
“How could you hope to be a match for Valentean when he is out there learning through experience while you are forced to rot in here by my doing?”
A tug of indignant pride curled Kayden’s lip. Was she calling him inferior? That statement hit him harder than Valentean’s fist had in the wastes of Kahntran. It was not until he forced himself to look beneath the surface of her words did he discern their true meaning.
“Mistress,” he said slowly, carefully, “are you saying that you have a mission for me?”
That nearly invisible smile returned to Aleksandra’s fiery red lips, and Kayden’s heart began to pump his veins with blood seeped in dark magic. “Zouka has left the city on an urgent mission at my behest. Aurax still fights to regain his influence. For the time being, it is only you and I against the combined might of our foes, Kayden, as it was always meant to be.”
He felt a swell of righteous purpose bunch together in his chest, and throughout his body, the darkness sang in anticipation.
“A rebellion blossoms within our midst,” Aleksandra continued, “ushered in by the blood of my blood. I commiserate with your plight now, having faced the treacherous true face of my own wretched sibling. Even now, Seraphina rallies those who would oppose my holy mission.”
Kayden nodded in understanding, his mind already alight at the intoxicating vision of his rocks as jagged dark projectiles slamming through meager bursts of water.
“Kayden, you must weed out this rebellion; destroy it before it takes root against us. Combat the forces of which my sister seeks to make an army. Engage this false Ice Queen in my name.” His nostrils flared with an excited exhalation. “Once you have subdued her though, my animus, you must stay your hand and bring her before me.” Momentary clouds of disappointment obscured his ambition. As if sensing this, the empress continued. “I seek her prolonged existence not due to any emotional attachment but because she will be the sweet fruit that draws Valentean into our clutches. Then, my animus, you shall finally claim his head.”
Kayden could scarcely breathe. For a moment, he forgot how and almost coughed in Aleksandra’s face. Thankfully, he was able to hold in such an egregious lapse in decorum and answered her with a low bow of gratitude.
“You honor me, Mistress,” he said, holding the bow for several more seconds before standing. “I shall begin at once.”
“Excellent,” she responded, a smile now lighting her face in a manner Kayden had never known before. “Make haste, my animus, but remain in the shadows. No one must know that you still serve me. Every moment this wretched Spirit of Order continues to plan unfettered, she becomes more formidable.”
Without another word, Kayden turned from Aleksandra, striding purposely toward the chamber’s exit, nearly bouncing with maniacal glee as the artificial landscape beneath his feet passed below him in a blur. Finally, he would have his chance. Finally, he was presented with a challenge. Finally, there was an opportunity to drown his doubts in a flood of darkness that would soon wash over the Spirit of Order, consuming her in the black nightmare of his ambition.
Aleksandra watched her animus practically fly from her presence, so lost in his own shameless glee and pride that he could not see beyond the simple ruse she had employed to once more bind his loyalty. She allowed her eyes to roll back in disgust in this moment of solitude. She was not alone for long.
A sparking, sputtering haze of red erupted to life behind her. For several weeks now, this had been occurring wherever she might find herself within the labyrinthine maze of her fortress. She knew what it was, and each time it had fizzled into existence, she watched with baited breath.
Return to me, Aurax, she thought, her mind racing with contained excitement. It was not necessarily any great level of sentimentality that eagerly awaited the return of her most trusted servant. It was impatience in the face of the stagnation of her grand vision that was a direct result of his absence. Aurax was her tether to the Goddess; he was the bridge to the realm of Lokhar. It was through Aurax that her steady flow of Skirlack soldiers crossed the dimensional barrier, ready to serve her will.
While her demonic servants formed a fearsome horde, it would take no less than a legion to stand against the forces of powerful nations such as Grassan or the Karminian Empire. Without Aurax, her army was neutered. She could not assault a fortified magical force such as Grassan with an army primarily composed of Champions of The Faithful. They served her dutifully, but only fully grown Skirlack soldiers would suffice for such a mission.
The sparks increased in volume and intensity, and Aleksandra could just make out the thin, red figure slowly starting to form. She held her breath. The haze gave way to waxy, shining, red, cracked flesh and long, dark hair that cascaded down a frail frame hidden beneath a floor-length, brown robe. This was it. Finally, the hateful yellow and black spots of Aurax’s sickly eyes flared to life as though they were twin torches. Aleksandra allowed herself a slow, satisfied smile as the creature who had first imbued her with the gifts of the Goddess solidified into reality once more.
The experience must have been jarring, but Aurax did not let this register upon his face. He surveyed the room with that same stoic indifference she had admired in him as a child. It was a countenance she had worked hard to emulate over the years, folding it into her own aristocratic flair until it had come to define her. Aurax turned slowly and affixed the empress with his piercing stare. His expression softened, and he greeted her with a deep, elegant bow.
“Your Holiness,” he said with the reverence he reserved only for her. “I am pleased to stand in your presence once more.”
Aleksandra smiled a thin joyless expression of satisfaction that spread across her face like a crack amidst the surface of an otherwise solid stone. “You return to me,” she said, more observationally than anything else.
“Indeed,” he replied, rising to his full height. Aleksandra began to walk back to her skeletal seat of power, with Aurax falling one step behind her, as he always did. The
familiarity was refreshing. “I am ashamed of the amount of time my return to your side has taken, Excellency.”
“You are here now, my loyal one. That is all that matters.”
“Has production continued in my absence?” he asked, and she was happy to turn her head toward him and nod.
“The presence of mages and Skirlack strength have aided in the haste of this project. Our fleet stands nearly seventy strong.” She spoke of the combat-ready long-range airship force, Aurax’s main project, which she had seen completed while he was away. He did not verbally respond, but she could feel the waves of approval, and what passed in him for happiness spread like ripples through the air.
“And how do you fare, Mistress?” he asked her quite seriously as though there were genuine concern weighing upon his words.
She stopped as the floor slowly transitioned from lush grass to dark, chaotic pulsating tiles beneath her pristinely shined high-heeled boots. Her fingers clenched into twin fists at her side with enough force to snap steel.
“He took it from me,” she said softly, allowing genuine emotion to seep ever so slightly into her voice, breaking her monotone like rays of moonlight pouring in through a haze of clouds. “He stole from me the gift you bestowed so long ago.”
“He stole nothing, Empress,” Aurax said, stopping beside her and looking quite serious. “It was given.”
“By the Holy Mother?”
“Indeed.”
“But why?” she demanded. “Am I suddenly deemed unworthy? Am I so base that the Most Holy would rather entrust Her essence to the Shogai rather than Her own truest believer?” Anger was beginning to taint her verbiage, and a flash of blood-colored rage sparked along her eyes. Aurax calmly stared at her as the light upon her irises faded, and Aleksandra suddenly felt like an eleven-year-old child again. It was only through years of practiced poise that she was able to keep her cheeks from flushing with embarrassment.
“The Holy Mother allowed an infinitesimal shard of Her essence to pass from you and latch onto the Shogai’s soul in an effort to throw him off balance. He now feels the gift of the blaze for the first time, and I do not have to tell you, Mistress, that its power can overwhelm. The Shogai resists the Holy Mother’s divine gift and, in doing so, gives himself further and further to the purifying flame.”
“But it was mine, Aurax!”
“With never-ending scores of respect, Mistress, I must remind you that the essence of She Who Is All can never truly belong to anyone—not even you.”
He was right, she realized, and his justifications for the Goddess’s actions did make sense. While she honored and cherished the purging flames that blossomed beneath her skin, to Valentean, it would be seen as a curse, an invasive disease. He was likely to dedicate much of his time and energy to purging himself of the gifts of the Goddess, which would weaken him. Was this injustice then another powerful gift granted to her?
“Of course,” she stiffly replied, stepping beyond Aurax and moving with haste toward the Skeletal Throne. The thrilling rush of chaos could be seen coursing through the cracks that littered the exterior of the great chair. It warmed her skin like the blanketing prickle of a roaring fire.
“And the Harbinger?” he asked, clearly testing her mindset on the subject of Seraphina.
“It is being dealt with.”
“By the…Rosinanti?” he inquired, trying and failing to mask his utter disgust at Kayden’s existence.
“She shields herself from me somehow,” Aleksandra said by way of explanation. “The power of her ill-gotten magic counteracts our own. I doubt that you or I would have any true luck in locating her. Kayden, on the other hand, might prove useful in this regard.”
“I would never second-guess your judgment, Oh Most High and Holy Mistress.”
She gently turned and settled onto the throne’s hard, jagged surface. Instantly, the chaos poured into her body, strengthening her, purifying her, burning away her doubts and insecurities. “Now, Aurax, how soon can we begin rebuilding my army?”
Aurax smiled at her, showing off a mouth of pointed, yellow teeth. “It has already begun,” he replied, throwing his arms out to the side like the wings of a predatory bird.
Instantly, the room came alive with a red hue, like a silent explosion so bright that even she had to avert her eyes. As the glow subsided, the sound of movement, bestial growls, and impatient shuffling dominated the vast chamber.
Opening her eyes once more, Aleksandra nearly gasped with glee. The massive expanse of her throne chamber was filled with Skirlack demons, shoulder to shoulder, packed within by the thousands.
She gazed down at Aurax and saw no fatigue, no faltering in his eyes. Another gift. The Goddess had imbued her servant with more power, and she knew the wretched tactics once employed by their enemies to cleave him from her side would never work again.
Yellow and red eyes locked together, and no words were needed. Their horde would be assembled, their feet would thunder upon the ground, their enemies would be crushed, and Terra itself would burn in the flames of its own rebirth.
VI: Ill-Fated Journey
“Have I mentioned how monumentally bad of an idea this is?” Maura dryly asked as Valentean paced about his quarters aboard the derelict airship.
“Once or twice,” he responded, continuing to gather items into a deerskin bag. In his weaker moments, Valentean found himself agreeing with his plucky friend. Three months ago, he would have found the very notion of such a plot to be a moral outrage, but times had changed, and he could no longer afford to take such a narrow dogmatic view of the world.
“Yet you’re still going to march right into the most dangerous empire on the face of the planet in the hopes that they’re planning on offering help?”
“Second most dangerous,” Valentean added. “I’d say Aleksandrya outranks them.”
“Still, Emperor Tek is not known for his welcoming, helpful nature. Even I knew as much in Lazman. My father was arrested by Karminians and served time in their dungeons. His stories were not pleasant.”
“I have no intention of seeing the inside of any dungeon,” Valentean stated matter-of-factly, straightening the dark lenses of the goggles upon his face.
“I should at least be coming with you!” Maura pleaded, approaching him from the side, trying to make eye contact with him through the darkness that shrouded his gaze from view. “We made it to Grassan together; we can get to Karminia!”
“That’s not a good idea, Maura,” he stated, still not looking up from his work.
“Will you just stop for a second and LOOK AT ME?” she bellowed, causing Valentean’s head to shoot up in alarm.
There was silence as he tried to come up with something, anything to say in response to her outburst.
She reached forward with both hands and grabbed him by the gloves. “Valentean, what is happening to you?” she asked, a wavy edge of tremor beginning to wag her words. “What is going on behind those goggles? Please talk to me. It’s as if you came back to us after Kahntran, but…something is missing.”
Valentean stammered, unsure of how to answer her. A small voice in the back of his mind suggested the truth, but he knew he could not confide such a reality to Maura. Were he to tell her about the chaos element, she would surely overreact and underestimate his ability to harness it. She would tell the others, and they too would doubt his power and likely demand he find some way to be rid of it. That couldn’t happen. The blaze was a necessary evil. He needed it to get back to Seraphina. He needed its light to guide his path toward her. Only once she was safely nestled back in his arms would he even entertain notions of expunging it from his body…if it were even possible.
“Nothing is wrong, Maura,” he said slowly, calmly, trying to add a spark of his old smile back into his words. Her grimace showed him that he had failed in doing so. “Look, I just really want to get back to our own continent, back to Sera.”
“I know that, Valentean, but we’ve come this far by working together.�
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“I’m going alone because I think there will be trouble,” he responded, trying to keep frustration from his tone. “If this does go sour, if the emperor makes some kind of move against me, the only way out will be to transform and blast my way out.” He saw his words sinking in and understanding beginning to dawn in her eyes. “The only way I’ll be able to escape then is if I don’t have to worry about my friends being caught in the crossfire.” He tried to pull his arm from her grip, but Maura suddenly, and with great ferocity, squeezed him tighter, pulling him back to her.
The momentary jarring caused a familiar heat to begin building behind his eyes, and Valentean’s breath began to come in short frantic exhalations. No… he thought to himself over and over, knowing the danger that could ensue if Maura unknowingly stoked the flames of chaos that even now spread outward from his eyes.
“Valentean, there is more going on here than you’re letting on,” she insisted.
Within his burning mind, the chaos roared. “You need to let go of me right now,” he commanded, the edge of panic rising in his voice.
“Not until you listen to me!”
The heat spread through his veins, and a film of sweat began to ooze from the pores on his forehead. Valentean’s fists involuntarily clenched, and his teeth ground together. The fire within him had yet to feast upon the flesh of anything living, and it yearned to do so. The young Rosinanti could feel his sense of self slipping away. He was close now, so very close to unleashing the fury of his furnace heart and burning his best friend to ashes.
“Maura, this is not the time!”
“When is?” she insisted, now shouting at him.
The inferno danced along his tongue, and were it not for the safe shade of his goggles, she would be bathed in the crimson haze of his glare.
“NEVER!” he screamed with all of his world-ending fury, all the while biting back on the power within him with such incredible resolve his limbs shook.
Only a small jolt of chaotic energy lanced out along his arm, lashing from his hand onto the flesh of Maura’s palm. She yelped in alarm and jumped back, releasing him as she stared in shock down at her tingling limb. Valentean found the momentary reprieve to be all the time he needed to swallow the well of chaos and force it back down beneath the surface of his heart and mind.
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