by Ciara Graves
“Rudarius? You knew he would come?” I asked, confused.
“We sensed his rising. We tried time and again to warn the others, but they let themselves become infected with greed for power.” She glared over the wall. “They have reaped what they have sown, but the evil is still out there, and it must be stopped.”
I turned my back on her, sensing Rudarius close at hand, trying to push back into my mind. But it wasn’t only him. The freedom of not being tied down had such a pull, I wanted to run from whatever destiny she or anyone else believed I had. I wanted to be free of it all.
“Rudarius turned me,” I heard myself admit. “I’m no longer a dark fae. I’m not… I’m not pure.”
“And you think this diminishes what’s inside you?” She stood before me again, without even seeing her move. “He has planted evil inside you, yes, but that does not mean you will not overcome it. You are good, Seneca. You are strong in your own right. Do not let his voice influence you.”
“Too late,” I whispered then clamped my lips shut.
Gently, she cupped my cheek in her hand and sighed. “My child, you have much to learn of the world, of yourself. Alas, I cannot help you in that regard. You must find out on your own.”
And here I’d been hoping for her to say something like, hey, we can banish that evil inside you. No problem. Let’s get Rudarius’s taint out of you for good, make you some rings, and send you off to kill him.
She smiled as if reading my mind.
I hung my head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m the right person for this job.”
“You are the last remaining of the Sa’ren fae. I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”
“And if I can’t beat… him?” I said belatedly, almost calling myself out for how my thoughts had been lately. “If I can’t win?”
She tilted her head. “Then the world as you know it is over and all will be lost.”
“Great. No pressure.”
“None of our people asked to be what they were,” she informed me. “Destiny did. Fate did. It handpicked us to be those who walked in the shadows instead of always in the light. We were the ones chosen to keep the balance, and it must be restored. Rudarius has only been able to gain this much strength because of the sins committed on this day.” She waved her hand toward the battlefield where everyone had remained frozen in time. “Darkness does not mean evil, Seneca, no matter what Draven or Macron fear.”
“You know of Draven?”
“I do. I know the love you hold for each other. You must hold onto it with everything you have. It is what will save you in the end.”
I was tempted to argue with her, but then the world around us shifted. “What’s happening?”
“You are waking up. Close your eyes. I will see you soon.”
I did as she said and when I opened them, I looked at what remained of a stone ceiling. Canvas covered the openings. Whatever I lay on was only made soft by a pile of furs. I was on a stone floor with walls around me, well sort of. Most had fallen in. Fires burned in braziers, and as I sat up, I spotted Macron speaking quietly with three figures. All three wore masks covering everything but their eyes.
“Macron?” My voice came out scratchy, and a second later the pain hit me. I muttered curses and sank back to the furs.
Macron joined me at my side, the three figures directly behind him. One of them was the woman. I could tell by her eyes.
“Welcome back. We made it.”
“What are you?” I asked the Sa’ren fae over Macron’s shoulder. There was no way they were living, not this long in this desolate place.
“Shades of our former selves,” the woman told me. “We have remained for one purpose.”
“To see the forges restored,” the man to her right said as he bowed his head. “Welcome, Seneca, last of the Sa’ren.”
“No names, huh?”
The three fae exchanged a solemn glance then the woman replied, “We have since lost our names. They are of no consequence now.”
That sounded horribly depressing. I sat up with Macron’s help and checked the wound at my shoulder, then the ones at my side. There was no sign of poison, and the injuries appeared several days old, not like they were inflicted hours ago. “You healed us?”
“You were both very near to death. We used what little power remains within these walls,” the woman explained. “I’m afraid you cannot rest anymore. Come, we will take you to the forge.”
With much cursing and grunting, I was on my feet and limped along, next two Macron, as the three shades guided us through a maze of ruined corridors and rooms. The ceiling was missing in most cases, as were walls, but I knew what this was. The So’run hadn’t just banished the Sa’ren. They removed the entire castle as if to wipe its existence from Otherworld completely. Tapestries hung on the walls, decaying and shredded. Braziers of rusted metal lit our path, but here I noticed the trees that had grown through the floor and vines were coming over the walls, through every crack they could find. Oddly, the vines were green with life. The only place in this entire realm where anything of worth could grow.
But she said they were here for one purpose. Once the forge was restored, they would disappear for good. Nothing would remain of them. Nothing except me. Anything living I assumed would die away with them.
“The forge,” I asked as we walked, “how do I restore it?”
“Forges,” she corrected me. “Carefully and with great focus and power,” the woman replied, not slowing.
Okay, then. Forges. “And they’ll just what, craft rings that control my power?”
A furious hiss threw me off, and I stumbled over my feet until Macron righted me with a questioning look. I waved him off, muttering it was nothing.
“Something like that, yes.” The woman sounded amused, obviously not realizing what just happened inside my head. Probably for the best.
“But what will they do exactly? My brother had a ring that could bring about the night. Why wasn’t he like me?”
“Before they banished us, the So’run seized our rings and stole our power for their own. They took what they wanted then saw the remainder destroyed. Here, our power dwindled. To make new rings and bring ourselves back to Otherworld would have taken all we had left. It would have killed us in the end.” The woman had stopped now and waited for me to catch up to her. “We knew we had to keep this place alive for another. One who would restore our line in Otherworld.”
“You gave up your chance to escape on the off chance I made it here?” I asked, alarmed. “Why would you risk it? And if that’s true, then why have I felt strong here?”
The woman’s eyes crinkled. “Those of us who remained combined our power into a beacon of sorts, so when you came, you would be able to find us. That is what has made you feel stronger. But the longer you are here, the more this world will drain you, too, as it has Macron.” She leaned in closer as she added, “And we risk it because despite what you believe, you are a queen in the making. You will lead a great army against Rudarius. And you will defeat him.”
The amount of faith she had in me was staggering. And I hated it. Macron asked again if I was alright and I muttered something in reply. In my head, I raged at this woman who assumed I was their what, hero? The one who would save everybody? I told her Rudarius turned me and she brushed it off like it was nothing.
We walked for another few minutes then went under a large archway of stone. Though I was pissed off at the woman and destiny or fate, or whatever had decided to ruin my life, the sight before me silenced every angry voice inside my head.
“Shit,” I whispered, unable to say anything else.
I never grew up on stories of the fae forges so had no idea what to expect. What stood before me was not even close to what I imagined. The forges were massive, four altogether. They stood at least twenty feet high with billows that had to be worked by pull chains and pulleys. There were channels for water to put the fires out, dry now, and a set of tracks overhead, where cart
s would dump the metal into the top of the forge to be melted.
“I’m supposed to get that working again?” I finally managed to ask. “How? I’m not a blacksmith.”
“You don’t have to be. The rings are forged using our power. Clear your mind and concentrate,” the woman said as if that was the easiest thing in the world to do.
All I had to do was silence my own voice of dissent which was getting louder by the second, silence Rudarius who taunted me with visions of a future almost in my grasp. And dampen my guilt and fear that I was letting down the only man I ever loved.
Clear my mind, right.
Macron backed away to give me space.
I walked toward the forge and began to try the impossible.
Chapter 12
Draven
The arguing had been going on for hours. I drained another goblet of blood and slammed it down on the table to break through the shouting.
Lysa was the only one to turn and stare at me. She looked as pissed off as I was.
Once the four vampire leaders arrived, she gathered them together then brought me in. There’d been yelling at first, but she could hold her own. That and they seemed to trust what she saw. We were able to have a civil conversation for the most part as I filled them in on everything. My throat was raw from the many times I’d gone through the events in Otherworld and how Seneca was involved in all of this. Then we got to the part where she’d been turned by Rudarius, and they’d been shouting ever since. How could they trust her? Why wasn’t she here? Was she with Rudarius? On and on it went, and I was beyond whatever patience I might’ve had when this night started.
To make matters worse, before they all arrived, I sensed Seneca was in danger. Those monsters had come back and this time, her despair and her understanding that she might not make it crashed into me so hard I’d ended up on the floor, shouting her name. Shane had fetched Lysa, but there was no way for her to reach Seneca for me. The realm Macron took her too was beyond Lysa’s abilities.
As the yelling grew louder, I snarled loudly and banged my fists on the table. “Enough, already. I’ve told you everything I can. If you can’t find a way to pull your heads out of your asses, then I’m finished here.” I glared at the four leaders, then nodded to Lysa. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I must go. You know where to find me if you choose to join me, Lysa.”
“Draven, wait,” she ordered, and I stilled. “You cannot face Rudarius without their aid.”
“I don’t have time to wait around as they argue like children.”
“Children, are we?” Petra, leader of the Night Lurkers coven, pushed back from her chair and stood, tapping her long, black nails on the table. Her white-blond hair was drawn back in two severe braids that left her face gaunt and fearsome at the same time. She bared her fangs at me. “I have a solid fifty years on you.”
“Wow, really?” I mocked. “Fifty years, huh? And tell me, what have you done in those fifty that I have not? What have you suffered through for the sake of your clan?” I threw my chair into the wall behind me, and it shattered. I bellowed, “Nothing. And now, when Rudarius has an army on our doorstep, you continue to bicker.”
Petra huffed, but Lysa looked ready to slap her for being so ridiculous.
“We might not have been captured,” Carson chimed in with a sneer, “but we know well enough what he’s capable of. Which is why we all should be running the opposite direction.”
“As you did from Otherworld.”
His dark hand gripped the silver head of his cane, shaped in the form of a reaper. His coven was the Death Rogues. They were going to all be joining death soon enough if he didn’t make up his mind. “Are you calling me and mine cowards, Draven?” He tilted his head, and the firelight caught the tattoos on his bald head.
“I’m saying you can’t outrun him, not again.”
“I beg to differ. Besides. Why would he want to wipe us all out? We’re his kin.”
“You think he gives a shit? He’ll kill you if you don’t stand with him. He’s not just going to let you live.” I glanced at the other end of the table.
Wendall, the ruler of the Death Rejects, sat with one booted foot on the table while endlessly shuffling a deck of cards back and forth in his hands. He hardly said anything the whole time.
“Wendall? Where do you stand?”
“Ah, you know me, Draven,” he said as he winked. “I’m always looking for a good fight.”
“You can’t be serious,” Petra snarled.
He shrugged. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me you all haven’t been bored these last few decades?”
“Not all of us have a death wish,” Petra shot back.
Wendall set the deck of cards down, then spread them out on the table. “Pick a card, sweets.”
Petra’s eyes narrowed to slits as she hissed. With one swipe of her arm, the cards went flying, while Wendall picked casually at his teeth, watching her. “You never know when to take anything seriously, do you?”
He flattened his hands on the table and stood, staring her down. “If I’d been in charge back then, I would’ve stayed and fought alongside the Bleeding Crowns. But I wasn’t. Now that I am, it’s about high time we deal with our own shit, don’t you think?”
“Rudarius is not our problem,” Carson argued, smashing his cane into the floor.
“You’re wrong.”
We turned as one to the last vampire leader at the end of the table. His long grey hair flowed over his shoulders, and his red eyes had faded over the years, tinging them a strange pinkish grey. His off-white suit was out of place in this mountain fortress, but he wore it well all the same. Nolan was one of the oldest vampires in the world. Older, even, than Rudarius. His coven, House of Night, was one of the originals to be formed in Otherworld.
Over the years, their numbers dwindled, and Nolan no longer sought to add to their numbers. When Rudarius first began assimilating weaker covens, Nolan’s children pleaded with him to flee and take refuge in the human world. He did so, but as I studied the wrinkles on his aged face, all I saw now was an old man suffering from years of guilt.
“Nolan,” Carson said, but the older vampire held up his hand, and Carson ground his teeth.
“Rudarius is our problem. We created him. We, all the covens, we knew he was dangerous. Knew he hated the fae.” Nolan stood to his full height, towering over me even, and turned those greyish eyes toward the ceiling. “We let him build an army behind his walls, and now that army is going to be our doom.”
“You’re saying there’s no hope?” Lysa asked, confused.
“I’m saying I will stand beside Draven and fight the bastard head-on, as we should have done all those years ago.” Nolan walked around the table to where I stood and held out his hand. “Whether we live or die, at least I can say this time I fought.”
I took his hand and gave him a firm shake. “Thank you, Nolan.”
“You can’t be serious,” Petra said, aghast. “Draven doesn’t even have a coven standing behind him. They all refused to come.”
“That was their choice. I won’t make them fight.” I shrugged. “Besides, I never claimed to be the leader of anything anymore. None of that matters. Stopping Rudarius does.”
“I’m with ya,” Wendall said, bowing dramatically. “As is the rest of my coven. We’ve been itching for a good fight.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
“And mine,” Lysa chimed in with a grin as Vince nodded solemnly over her shoulder. “But you already knew that.”
“Have you lost your minds?” Petra looked at the four of us, dumbfounded. “Rudarius will slaughter you all. You can’t win this fight against him, not after everything he’s told us. He’s using the fae for gods’ sakes. And the mages. Who knows what he’s able to do now?”
“No one’s making you fight,” Lysa pointed out.
“I stand with Petra.” Carson pushed to his feet, his cane tapping loudly on the floor as he strode toward me. “And I will not s
tand behind a coven-less bastard whose own people won’t even follow him in a time of need.”
I hissed quietly, closing the very small distance between us, but I never got the chance to say anything in reply.
“Maybe not all of us,” Nathaniel announced as he entered the throne room, “but we are here, and we are a part of Draven. He is our leader, whether he wants to be or not.” He bowed to me and stood to the side as the rest of those who came from the asylum walked in, one after the other.
Shane walked alongside them. “Yeah, not originally one of them, but I’ll follow this jackass anywhere.” He winked as he said it.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Looks like a coven to me,” Nolan said calmly. “You were saying, Carson?”
“Twenty-odd vampires do not make a coven,” he stormed. “And it does not impress me, at all. You will never be like the rest of us, you hear me?”
“Never said I wanted to be.”
The air became thick as the tension rose with his anger. “I do not trust you, a vampire branded by Rudarius, and I certainly do not trust this dark fae you speak of—Seneca. Perhaps it would be best if we sent her back to hell ourselves and save us the trouble later, when this all falls on your heads and crushes you.”
I snatched his cane, smashed it over the end of the table, and aimed the sharp end at Carson’s heart as I shoved him against the table without ever giving him a chance to protect himself.
Every vampire in the room stilled, not daring to move as I held his life in my hands.
“If you touch Seneca,” I said with a hiss, “if I so much as hear a whisper you are planning to harm her, I will tear you to pieces. Rudarius will be the least of your worries.”
Carson worked his jaw, eyes dancing wildly around the room. “You’re mad, all of you.”
“Never said I wasn’t.”
“She’ll turn on you. She’s one of his pets. She will be the death of you all.”