Blood Stained Tranquility
Page 1
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Preview
About the Author
Also by N. Isabelle Blanco
Blood Stained Tranquility
The Rise of the Szolites - Part Two
(A Szolite Novel)
By
N. Isabelle Blanco
First published by The Writer’s Coffee Shop, 2014
Copyright © N. Isabelle Blanco, 2014
The right of N. Isabelle Blanco to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters and events in this Book – even those sharing the same name as (or based upon) real people – are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No person, brand or corporation mentioned in this Book should be taken to have endorsed this Book nor should the events surrounding them be considered in any way factual.
This book is a work of fiction and should be read as such.
Print ISBN- 978-1-61213-224-2
E-book ISBN- 978-1-61213-225-9
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the US Congress Library.
Cover image: © Depositphotos / Daniel Dunca
Cover design by: N. Isabelle Blanco
www.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/nblanco
Dedication
To anyone who ever hurt me, broke me, betrayed me, or turned their backs on me: You know who you are. Thank you. Without you breaking me, I would’ve never gotten to where I am today.
To Kelly Clarkson: Keep doing what you’re doing girl. You’re rocking it. Catch My Breath is one of the many reasons I bow to you.
“Nothing comes unbidden: where the shadow is, there is also the substance.”
–James Allen, The Mastery of Destiny
“Most beings have forgotten that there is more to life than momentary happiness. They have forgotten that in order for a sword to be forged, it must be hammered into perfection. That’s where I come in, to remind them. And trust me; by the time I’m done with them, they will wish they had stuck with the hammer.”
–Nylicia, the Watcher of Destinies.
“The bloodshed of war, the light of Integrity,
Heralding death, the two meet.
The selfish souls shall fall, Vengeance in their ashes, leaving behind only that which is right.
Robes of self-preservation shall suffocate wrath, when a circle starts on the night of light’s death.
Resurrection shall bring impossible life, divine splendor and peace with new breath.
And so it shall be, so he shall rule.
Eons will pass and be blessed,
Until the hunger of Justice rises once more, threatening to rip Vengeance from its tormented rest
and dragging Tranquility through arduous test.”
May 14, 1972–
Among the war Erencei—beings considered demons by the humans—was born a male. A male I prophesied would become a monster . . . a male with a sensitivity that would prove a deadly threat to most living beings. Especially myself.
On the eve of his twentieth birthday, Mavrak, the son of Persicutis, Goddess of Integrity, was sent back to the planet his mother had taken him from—Earth. There, he was to spend the next hundred years in the service of a father he had never met, the great war demon Sophron.
Mavrak wouldn’t make it through the first year though, let alone the next ninety nine. Faced with the atrocities of the mortal world and the animalistic greed of the war demons his father ruled over, he began to weaken. He began to go mad. When his mother was destroyed without warning or reason, Mavrak lost his last tether on reality.
Five hundred years before the Dixieme Eductu, Mavrak tore through the pre-Neolithic world, leaving scars and pushing the Gods into retaliation. He was captured and imprisoned. Sentenced to be beaten, and subjected to heinous experimental rituals that were to take place until he either died, or his rage was ripped out of him.
That was the beginning of the circle. For out of Mavrak’s torment, an opposing being would be born. The universe lives on Ying and Yang, you see? And where there is darkness, there is also the potential for light. Mavrak had to be broken in every way for Zeniel, the God of Tranquility, to emerge.
“Full circle” is one of the little laws that the Universe runs on. It pisses me the fuck off, but it’s inescapable, even for someone as omnipotent as me.
My name is Cyake, God of Divination, and, if I’m not careful, the voice of the Fates. Because of me, Mavrak, God of Vengeance, was set on a path of pure hell—one that would lead to his final destination. I’m writing this down to leave some record that I, asshole that I am, accidentally cursed an undeserving male because I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut.
I’ve been trying to atone for it ever since. And it’s the main reason I stick to being a seer. No one wants to deal with that kind of crap on their conscience. It’s bullshit.
–Cyake, God of Divination, Speaker of Prophecy
Prologue
-Renentr. The Underworld.
Sparks of color—aqua, pink, hazel, light blue and a few hints of deep red—came to life, shimmering as they traveled across smooth, black marble. Nylicia, the Watcher of Destinies, stared at the wall with her head tilted to one side. Running her finger across the reflective stone produced the effect once more.
Hmm, look at that. Even as a ghost, she still affected things. Well, she wasn’t a ghost, not precisely. Fucked-up circumstances required her to remain hidden. All she could show the Universe was a projection of herself.
For now. The wheels of Destiny were shifting once more. The higher powers were finally getting their asses in gear and doing what needed to be done. Soon, she’d be more. Soon, she’d be back.
Soon, she’d have vengeance on those that had screwed her over in the first place.
And not even Fate or Destiny could save them from her.
Hands on her hips, Nylicia turned, wondering what the hell she would have to do to get the attention she deserved. Crius’s powers were too strong for her to just flash herself into the Abideos. He needed to open the damn portal for her. She pursed her lips, and spun her head slowly to look at the Sivigh. It remained motionless, the doors to the underworld sealed.
Whe
re was Crius and that stone face of his? Why hadn’t he come to greet her yet?
She shook her head, amused at the God of the Underworld’s idiocy. She could sneak in there and castrate him, and the only thing that would get in her way was the hand he was probably using on himself.
Again.
She broke out into laughter. Nervous laughter, really, since the images in her head were kind of traumatizing. The sheer amount of masturbation she’d been forced to watch recently was disturbing, even for a bona fide voyeur such as she.
“Nylicia, your laughter is obnoxious. It’s annoying me.”
Nylicia stopped laughing and pursed her lips once more. “I was wondering when you’d realize I was here.”
She walked toward the Sivigh. It didn’t morph, merely opened and allowed her inside. Crius’s voice boomed from within the walls as she passed.
“I knew you were here the whole time.”
“So you were just ignoring me. I’m hurt.”
“No one could ever ignore you, Nylicia.”
She smiled widely, materializing into the Abideos and locking eyes with him. He was sitting on his throne, the insolence pouring off him making her raise an eyebrow.
“When are you going to stop being a fool?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” She took one look around the massive place.
The Aristis glowed white, illuminating the black marble walls and floor. Ugh, the black everything to be honest. It reminded her of her prison—home—whatever. The place was positively morbid, except for the Aristis—crystal-like balls with souls locked in them—that filled almost every niche she could see. She took in the thousands of glowing orbs, her eyes landing on a few that would become very important in the coming months. An exceptionally bright one on the far left seemed to call out to her. As if it knew its time to be reborn was coming.
Eyebrow still raised, she glanced at the empty dais in front of Crius and made damn sure he could see the look on her face. Everyone knew which Aristi had been kept there until a few weeks ago.
The corner of Crius’s mouth twitched. He sat up a bit straighter, leaning forward to look into her eyes.
“So much bitterness . . . who hurt you, Nylicia?”
“If you value the cock I know you don’t use, you will keep such questions to yourself.” Crius’s face clouded with rage and Nylicia smiled even wider. “Apologies. You are using it now, aren’t you? Lots of the ‘self-love’ going on. I know you’re immortal, but how are you not chaffed by now? I am so curious.”
“Ho—what . . .”
His sputtering was enough to make her smirk. Embarrassing a human? So fun. Embarrassing a god? Priceless. “I see everything that goes on in your dreams, Crius, and your waking moments as well.”
She wasn’t at all ashamed about the lack of privacy she afforded him. The dreams of almost every creature in the Universe lay visible to her. As long as they were useful to the final cause, all she had to do was focus on them and everything was bared for her to see.
Anyone. Anywhere.
Even the Aviraji.
Yes, “dangerous” was her middle name. She was very proud of that fact. That’s right, baby. Crius’s glare remained focused on her.
She sighed. “If it makes you feel any better, I really can’t control it. And I can promise you that you are much more in control than Ianthen. His dreams are honestly starting to frighten me. I’m too innocent to witness such things. Truly I am.”
Crius ran a hand down his face, his nostrils flaring slightly. He seemed to be praying for patience. Nylicia wished him luck with that. She really did.
He threw her a hard look. “Why are you here?”
“I need the Aristi holding Atarya’s powers.”
Crius shot out of his seat. “Justice? Why?”
Nylicia stared at her nails, feeling sorry for him. Normally, he was more astute than this. It truly was sad how out of whack his brain was.
She looked back up at him. “Can you really not guess?”
He continued to glare at her. “Who is absorbing them?”
“Not Dimithinia of Maleksoraniel, I can assure you. If it was, I’d be advising you to run very, very far.”
“I’ve done nothing to her!”
“Keep lying to yourself.”
Dimithinia’s soul had been with him for countless millennia after her death at the beginning of the Dixieme Eductu. He’d spent more time with that soul when it was in its Aristi than with any creature he’d ever encountered. Not even his brothers saw him as much. He had even taken it out into the world with him, showing her soul the wonders of time as it passed.
That is, until she’d been brought back to life. He’d been studiously ignoring her since.
“Open the Otificas and give it to me,” she said, deciding to let him exist in his little bubble of denial. For a little while longer anyway. Time was running out for Mr. Celibate.
Crius shook his head, glaring up at the ceiling. He motioned for her to follow him, flashing with her out of the main area of the Abideos and appearing in front of two massive doors.
Beyond the doors lay the Otificas, the most guarded chamber in all of Renentr. It was the Chamber of Powers. The only way in? Have Crius open it for you. Or kill him. The chamber was as much a part of him as his own powers.
Nylicia had actually entertained the idea once or twice after he’d begun hiding from Dimithinia. Unfortunately, the bastard was too useful to dispose of.
Le sigh, as the humans said.
The two black, marble doors that blocked their way were almost twenty feet tall each. Together, measured across, they were much longer than that. An intricate design that looked like thick, gold branches stretched across them, intertwining and covering the doors like a web.
“Who is getting them?” Crius asked again, waving his hand and causing the invisible energy protecting the entrance to dissipate.
The branches came to life, filling the darkened hall with a rough scraping sound as they twisted away from the doors. Once clear, they swung inward on their own, and beyond them lay another long, dark hallway.
They flashed into the chamber together. The walls there did not glow white. They wouldn’t. The Aristi housed inside were not filled with souls, but with cosmic powers that shone in different colors—colors that flared, waiting to be set free. Crius walked up to an Aristi that glowed bright red and Nylicia smirked as he brought it down.
She wouldn’t be able to take it from him as it was solid, and in her current form, sadly, she was not. But she did have enough energy to transport it to her actual location.
Crius scowled when he saw it disappear out of his hand. “Damn it, Nylicia. Who?”
“Evesse Salazar.” She smirked anew at his startled expression. “She is destined to become the next Goddess of Justice. She alone can save Zeniel from the hell he is trapped in. She can gain control of the beast that lies within him. Mavrak will not be tamed any other way. You know what they say, leading a man by his cock and all that.”
Crius looked shocked. “Another prophexia? Why didn’t you say something?”
Nylicia laughed, turning to leave him. “Crius, darling, they’re all prophexias. It’s merely a matter of when and where. I have some prophexis in the works, too. Sexy mofos, as they say on Earth. Can’t wait to introduce you. On another note, I also need the powers of Flux. It’s time for Dyletri to make good on that name I gave him so long ago.”
“Xinthnatia’s powers?” Nylicia could see the wheels turning once more behind Crius’s gorgeous, pupilless, silver eyes. “The Handler of Change. That’s why you gave Salicyar the name Dyletri.”
“Yup.”
“Those are going to Ismini Harrovnian, aren’t they?”
There go his powers of observation.
“You bet your hot ass they are.”
Chapter 1
“Evesse . . . Evesse . . . wake up. Please Eve, please . . . you need to come back to me .
. .”
In the space between darkness and a world Evesse could barely sense, a voice leaked through. Hearing it sent awareness racing through her synapses, a current that she could feel throughout her mind.
She tried to raise her arm. Tried to touch her head.
Nothing. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her limbs. There was nothing but her consciousness. She was aware. Nothing more.
Why? What was going on? Where was she? She racked her mind, going full-blown street sweeper on it. The last thing she remembered, she’d been with Ismini in the back of a minivan. No. No wait. They’d been dragged into the desert, and then thrown into a vortex of sheer energy that had torn them apart.
Holy shit, I’m dead.
She heard the words, recognized her voice within the thought.
Dead. She was supposed to be dead. Was she? If she was, how was she aware? Was she a ghost or something?
Oh, God.
Just as panic started to set in, memories rushed forth. The last few weeks of her life clicked into place. Then it was gone. And then, with brutal force, it all came back again. She remembered the blue skin and black teeth of Enteax. The leathery beige skin of his partner, Lisrn. They had kidnapped her along with Ismini, and taken them to Arizona to sacrifice Ismini to the Higher Fates.
Ismini.
Fuck. Where was Ismini? Her best friend had been thrown into the vortex with her. Evesse clearly remembered those bastards going through with the sacrifice. She remembered the blinding light surrounding them, Ismini’s shocked scream, and then the white-hot pain of her body being ripped to shreds.
The memories kept coming, each one hitting her just a little harder. Almost as if the fuckers were rushing into her head, slamming through her skull, and throwing a welcome home party for all their pain-filled friends.