by Anna Carven
Earth was a fountain of life. His sarien was a source of pure, precious, fragile life.
Here, everything was frozen. There was no color, no movement, no beauty. There was just darkness and stiff formality and an absence of life.
Ashrael passed the chambers of the High Council, using his ka’qui to scan the interior. They were empty, as he’d expected. The representatives of the twelve Noble Houses rarely convened. They were usually too busy building their own fortunes.
He made his way across a wide courtyard, carefully avoiding the Veronian sweepers who shivered in the cold, their thin robes doing little to protect them from Kythia’s harsh climate. Their heads were bowed and they worked in silence apart from the soft scrape of their brooms.
The Kordolians could have assigned the work to automatons, but slave labor was abundant and much cheaper. Once, Ashrael might not have given them a second thought.
Now, he was able to appreciate the wrongness of it.
He entered a garden of abstract ice sculptures, weaving unseen through the the strange, intricate figures. Then he crossed a wide ring of ice and scaled the high walls of the inner citadel.
Once he was inside, he dropped to his feet and ran the rest of the way, passing servants, guards, bots, and the occasional leashed varhund. Despite their hyper-acute hearing, even the varhund couldn’t detect him, although the skeletal grey animals turned as he passed, baring their pointed teeth and sniffing the air.
He neared the inner sanctum, which contained the royal family’s residences. It had almost been too easy to get to this point, but Ashrael wasn’t surprised. This was what he did best, and he was the best.
No wonder the Mistress had kept him under such tight control.
Ashrael entered through a back door - presumably a servant’s entrance - and drifted down a series of narrow passageways until he entered a wide living area through a discreet side door. It was lavishly furnished with wide, plush seats, sumptuous floor coverings and the furs of various Vaal beasts.
But it was cavernous, empty, and dead.
A lone servant - a Soldar - was on the chilly floor on all fours, her bare hands and knees pressed against the frigid surface. Her head was bowed and she was trembling with exhaustion, as if she’d been holding that position for an interminable amount of time. She radiated such intense hopelessness and fear that Ashrael felt she might be close to taking her own life.
What kind of perverse fucking punishment was this?
Again, Ashrael was struck by the wrongness of it all.
He paused for a moment, tempted to bring the female to her feet and tell her not to engage in this madness, but to do such a thing now would be to give away his presence.
Anyway, if all went to plan, she would be soon be free.
So he passed her by and headed for the giant Qualum doors at the end of the cavernous chamber.
Ah, shit. These were locked and probably programmed to the biological signatures of a select few.
He could unlock them with his ka’qui, but he would have to briefly unmask himself, dropping the state of qim. Keeping qim and unravelling the doors at the same time would take enormous strength, and in his already depleted state, it would be impossible for him to sustain.
Unless…
He took a deep breath and opened himself up to the bond, seeking out his sarien.
Noa, he called, his mindvoice diluted by the qim.
Ashrael? She was worried and scared. Her anxiety rippled through their bond. Are you all right?
I am fine. I don’t have much time. I need your help.
What can I do from up here? I don’t even know where you are.
Lend me your power. He’d never tried this before, but he’d sensed what Elgon and Noa had done back in his dark prison on Earth.
Okay. She didn’t hesitate, and in that moment, he loved her more than ever. She trusted him completely and unquestioningly. Perhaps sensing the danger he was in, she offered herself to him entirely.
The enormity of it slammed him in the chest like a fission missile, taking his breath away. A wretch like him didn’t deserve such trust from his Goddess.
And yet she was there with him, sweet, pure, and powerful, even though they were separated by the tyranny of space.
What do I need to do?
He took a deep breath, struggling to hold onto qim. Open your mind to me the way you did to Elgon when you lent him your power. I need to borrow just a fraction of your strength. It won’t be for long.
Like this? For her, it seemed easy. She drew him in through their bond and wrapped him in her aura, letting her trust soak into him.
Ashrael followed her lead, searching for the core of her being, trying to imitate what Elgon had done.
At the same time, he was maintaining his qim, trying to ignore the quivering slave who stood behind him on her hands and knees. Another person entered the room. He sensed her presence in the back of his mind. This one was Kordolian, a female who drifted silently across the floor and started to arrange various ornaments and soft furnishings.
She completely ignored the suffering of the Soldar female.
Ashrael forcefully shut the distraction out of his mind. As long as he maintained a state of qim, they wouldn’t be able to detect him.
Suddenly, Noa’s power surged. He dropped to his knees, overwhelmed by the intensity of it. It had changed. It was no longer sweet and light. There was a dark, seething undercurrent to it, and he recognized the influence of the Dark Planet.
She was reacting to Kythia’s mysterious power, and it was amplifying her ka’qui.
Wasting no time, Ashrael grabbed ahold of what he could and sent her ka’qui into the Qualum door, skillfully manipulating it to penetrate the locking mechanism. With the backing of Noa’s power, it was too easy to hold the qim and unravel the Qualum.
As soon as the doors unraveled, he dropped her power, a little awed and terrified at its enormity.
He had to hurry. She was untrained and unprepared for such strength. There was no telling what danger she could be in.
Ashrael?
With deep regret, he put his barriers up again before he could get sucked into her intoxicating sweetness.
Sorry, my love.
“What the…?” The newcomer looked up in alarm at the newly opened doors. The Soldar did nothing, fear radiating from her as she kept her head bowed. Ashrael ignored both of them, slipping through the doors.
He passed through a long hall of tall, glimmering mirrors. The Kordolian female followed him to the doorway but didn’t dare to cross the threshold. She spoke into her comm, summoning the guards.
Ashrael glided up a flight of winding stairs, entering a tower. The stairs ended in a wide, barren room bordered on all sides by floor-to-ceiling windows.
And in the center of the room, lying in a bath full of bitter smelling liquid, was the Empress herself.
Ashrael paused, taking a moment to study the infamous creature.
Empress Vionn lay with her head back and her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted to reveal her short fangs. Her long hair was wild and unbound, and she was whispering to herself.
“Fuck you, Ilhan, my love,” she murmured, her voice low and bitter. “Why did you leave me? May your dead, mad soul rot forever in Kaiin’s eternal hells until I join you. Fuck you, Xalikian, my sweet, beautiful son. If you ever produce offspring with one of those inferior beasts, I will find it and destroy it. You will not bring such a tainted abomination into our Universe. Fuck you, Tarak al Akkadian. I would have made you my consort, but instead, you chose to be with a filthy Human.”
Her arm was moving under the dark liquid. Her aura was a complicated mixture of lust, hatred, longing, and emptiness.
The emptiness was the most terrible of all her emotions. It threatened to consume Ashrael. It was greedy and unending, like a black hole in space.
She was pleasuring herself under the water, he realized. Disgust and horror filled him. What manner of being was this?
“I will bring all of you back to me,” she muttered, moaning softly as she sank deeper into the liquid so that only her face and neck were visible, her wild hair swirling around her like a halo of vipers. “Even if I have to kill you.”
Ashrael’s skin crawled as he moved closer to her, drawing the long dagger concealed at his back. His grip was weaker due to the qim, but it wouldn’t take much to kill this woman. Even if he was at half-strength, she’d be no match for him.
He held it behind his back, hiding it from her sight.
Still, he hesitated. He wasn’t quite sure why, but maybe it was because this was the Empress of the entire fucking Kodolian race, and this was the first time he would kill without the influence of compulsion.
Up close, Vionn was intimidating and imperfect and strangely vulnerable. Her empty aura threatened to suck in everything around it. Her arm moved faster, causing the thick liquid to splash back and forth, but she failed to gain release.
“Why did you leave me?” she whispered. Ashrael moved into place behind her and gently brought the dagger around, placing it against her neck, letting her know he was there.
She froze, then laughed softly.
He should slash her throat right now, but still he hesitated. The choice between life and death was solely in his hands.
This was new to him.
“What took you so long?” she whispered, going still.
Ashrael didn’t reply.
“I wouldn’t expect any less of Akkadian, beautiful brute that he is. He sent you, didn’t he?”
Still, Ashrael didn’t say a word. He just closed his eyes, closed his mind, and tried to shut himself away from Noa.
Because he didn’t want her to sense his emotions as he did this. Because in truth, he felt nothing. He was as cold and empty and cruel as Vionn herself.
He was an assassin, and this was what he knew best. There was no honor in his kills. His victims didn’t even get the chance to fight.
He had come here to kill the Empress. It wasn’t his place to think about the right or wrong of it.
Ashrael drew his blade across Vionn’s neck in a swift, practiced motion. Her skin split easily, and bitter blood gushed out.
In death, she laughed softly as the life drained from her, her blood mingling with the cold waters of her bath.
The floor and walls vibrated, and he heard a distant explosion; a dull, rumbling sound.
The Empress whispered something, but it was too faint for Ashrael to hear. She slipped downwards, her face disappearing under the impenetrable surface of the liquid.
Disappearing into the afterlife.
The dagger slipped from his trembling hand and fell into the bath. The qim was becoming harder and harder to sustain. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. His grasp on the qim was wavering.
Fuck. He had to get out of here, but there were still two things he had to do.
Noa. I need your power.
She opened up to him like an exotic bloom. Sensing the dangerousness of the situation, she was on standby for him, asking no questions but providing him with her full support, her presence constant and reassuring.
She would never fail him.
You have a lot of explaining to do when you return to me, Ash, she whispered.
Soon. He drew from her, and suddenly his exhaustion was lifted as her power flooded into him. It was almost too much.
It was dangerous. It was tainted by Kythia’s dark energy, and it terrified him just a little.
But he had no choice.
He turned to leave, and came face-to-face with his worst nightmare.
“You can drop the qim, child,” his Mistress purred, emerging at the top of the staircase. “I know you are there. Did you think that powerful sarien bond of yours would escape my notice?” She glided across the floor, reaching his side. “I am so pleased you have returned home, my Asha.”
Chapter Thirty
She was different. He studied her with his second sight, trying to put his finger on it. She wore the same dark hood and black robes. Underneath her robes, her features were withered and frail. She appeared no different to how he remembered her, but her power had changed. It was darker and stronger.
“I’ve been looking for you, Asha,” she whispered. She paused as she caught sight of the bath. The thick liquid had gone still, and a fine layer of frost was beginning to form across its surface. “Tch.” She shook her head, staring at the bath. If she was shocked, she didn’t show it. The Mistress never showed much of anything. “Look at what you’ve gone and done now. You’ve killed our talisman. This is going to change everything, but never mind, we will find one to replace her. Her power was waning anyway.”
That old, terrible feeling of helplessness threatened to return. Ashrael fought it with all his might. He was different now. He wasn’t a slave anymore. He was no longer a Silent One.
Dropping his qim, he channeled power into his limbs and shot forward, a throwing knife appearing in his hand. He tried to hurl it at her chest…
But he couldn’t.
“Did you think your mindbond could be broken so easily? Just because you have a sarien, it doesn’t change the fact that I own you.” She stepped in front of him, and Ashrael growled in frustration.
He couldn’t move.
“Kneel, boy,” she whispered.
Fuck you. He couldn’t talk anymore. He glared up at her with his sightless eyes, impotent anger swirling in his chest.
“Don’t be like that.” Her voice turned harsh, and power surged through her. “Know your place.”
Ashrael refused to kneel, searing pain ripping through his temples as the old, familiar shackles of the mindbond snapped back into place.
How? He didn’t remember her being this powerful - powerful enough to disrupt a bond between two sarien - but the witch had forced him down with such ease. How the fuck has she become so strong?
Alarm rippled through his bond. Noa was struggling to reach him. She shot him a burst of power, but it was wild and unfocused, reflecting her panic.
He held onto their link, trying to tap into her power again. It welled up inside him, and he fought the pain in his skull as he tried to concentrate it into a single deadly point, aiming it at the Mistress.
She laughed. “That’s stupid and you know it, Asha. You can’t do that sort of thing. We made you this way for a reason. Now kneel.”
He crashed to his knees, crying out. At least he tried to, but his cry came out as a hoarse whisper, for he no longer had a voice.
“Good child,” the Mistress said approvingly, her power surging as she bent down and placed a hand on his head. Then she took off his death mask and kissed his lips, making Ashrael want to scream. He wanted to tear her fucking head off.
But he couldn’t move.
“Come.” She rose to her full height and crooked her finger, beckoning for him to follow. “You have failed me, and you know what the punishment is for that. We will also need to do something about this newfound bond of yours. It is unacceptable for your loyalties to be divided. Perhaps the only way to release you from this sarien nonsense is for you to kill her yourself.”
No! he screamed. The mistress just laughed, her voice a dry, noiseless cackle.
Ashrael’s body moved against his will. Panicking, he tried everything he could to resist, but it was futile. At the other end of his bond, Noa was desperately calling to him.
Ashrael, she pleaded. Tell me what’s going on. I need to let the others know. They can help you.
Run, was all he said. Tell them to take you as far away as possible.
He left Noa in stunned silence as the Mistress forced him away, his body moving against his will as his mind thought up a hundred and one ways to kill her.
But those thoughts were futile, because his body was no longer under his control.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Get in,” the Mistress ordered, pointing to the person-shaped box lying on the floor. Ashrael tried to dig his heels in,
but his body was moving.
Anger and fear welled up inside him. Not the kubat. Not that… He fucking hated the box. It was the worst of all the tortures she’d inflicted upon him, for it was made of some ancient metal that completely dampened his ka’qui, cutting him off from the outside world, cutting him off from sensing his body, cutting off his second sight and his sixth sense.
Once he entered the kubat he was nothing, and there was only silence.
There was nothing worse than total, absolute silence.
“You have been led terribly astray, my child. You need some time away from the world to reflect on where you truly belong.” Power crackled around her, and the pain in his head became agonizing. It felt as if his brain were about to burst out of his skull. “Silence is cleansing, Asha, and you cannot be bonded to a sarien. I forbid it. I will keep you in the kubat until we find her, and until you come to your senses.”
No… He fought against her with all his might, but something had made her powerful, and Ashrael suspected it had to do with the hundreds of souls he sensed underneath them, Kordolian and alien alike.
The Mistress waved her hand, and the seal of the kubat slid open. He had seen the inside of this cursed thing far too many times. The Mistress had once told him it was an ancient relic left behind by the Zor, and the smooth alien face staring up at him lent truth to her theory.
The image of a Zor male was carved into the dense metal. He stared sightlessly into eternity, his regal features composed into a serene expression. The carving was incredibly detailed; the Zor was wearing an intricate headdress and his long hair was braided in a similar style to Ashrael’s. Jeweled earrings hung from his long earlobes, and across his bare chest were hundreds of metal and gemstone adornments, woven together to form an impossibly beautiful breastplate. A lavish cape surrounded him, and a long sword lay at his side.
Who are you? Ashrael had often wondered about the lost identity of this mythical being.
In ancient times, when the dead star Ithra had blazed brightly and the vast seas of the Vaal had been water, the Zor had ruled the Kordolians and made them their slaves.