Chapter 8

• They waved goodbye to the city of Fen and thanked their hospitality. Everything changed, everything she had believed in. Atlas isn’t who he seems to be—the good Father that wanted peace and nothing more. He created chaos, and one thing clings in her thoughts; Dark.
• She remembers Verenia calling him out. But this wasn’t the Dark she knows now—Zed. This was Asher, the first Dragon created alongside her. And when he failed, Atlas found a replacement, someone willing to do what was asked of him.
• What did Asher tell him to make him imprison all these Gods?
• “Where did your mind go?” Kaelith snaps his fingers.
• “I was thinking of what Verenia showed me. It was a lot…” she mumbles.
• He holds his chin. “Why don’t you ask him?”
• “Atlas?” She raises her eyebrows. “It’s not like I can just speak to him. Also, it feels wrong to just… expose him like that.”
• “What if he already knows that you have knowledge of what he did?” he says.
• “Then why isn’t he…” She looks up again, trying to get a glimpse of him, or maybe see Dark. She sighs, a part of her feels relief.
• “Do you miss him?” he asks.
• “Who? Atlas?” she says, bewildered.
• “N—no,” he whispers, looking down. “That other Dragon.”
• “Dark?” She tilts her head. “I…” She tries to find the right words, lie if she has to, but she isn’t sure how she is supposed to feel. “Yes,” she admits. “Do you miss that woman… Soriene?”
• He grimaces. “Me and her… we aren’t like that.”
• “You mean a couple?” she asks him.
• “Yeah. We occasionally have fun, if you know what I mean.” He winks at her and she feels flustered all of a sudden.
• Sensual desires—something she had given up a long time ago. But now, they become stronger by each day she stays in the mortal world. “I—I haven’t…”
• “Right. It must have been a while, for you,” he teases. “But before… you and Dark—”
• “Enough,” she stops him. “It isn’t a memory I’m fond of,” she admits. She remembers when she and Dark shared a night together, how she hid it from Aryan, how she lied and never told him.
• Kaelith stands there, a piece of him wondering what goes through her mind as she stays silent, her thoughts in disarray.
• “Then, let’s get that Dragon fast, so you can get to your Paradise… to your mate,” he growls.
• —***—
• A town filled with decay. Rot clings to the air. The streets are narrow, flooded with muddy water. Buildings are in ruins. People are afraid, gathered along the street—hollow gazes staring back at the abyss. Others beg for money, or even food.
• She wants to help, provide them with what they need. As she tries to reach, Kaelith prevents her.
• “But why—”
• “You ask why?” he sneers. “I’ll show you.” He stretches his arm, and as he does, the man that was on his knees pleading, now holds a knife aiming for his throat. Kaelith is agile, his movement is hard to track with a naked eye.
• He takes hold of the man’s arm, and with one hit he forces the blade to drop. The next kick lands on the man’s stomach, making him snap in two.
• Kaelith takes a few steps back—his eyes filled with rage. “This is who you were wanting to help. Half the town is filled with these wretched things,” he says. “You also said you didn’t want to… connect,” he mocks her.
• “That’s—”
• Leona notices that they are being surrounded. Five men covering their faces are circling them, holding their sharp daggers. Kaelith quickly grabs her, gripping her tight, his back against her own.
• He unsheathes his sword—the blade glistering—holding it with both hands. Leona’s fingers curl into tight fists, and from within, raging fire pulsates.
• “What do we have here?” A man slowly walks toward them. “The Embermarked will be pleased.”
• “Who?” she whispers, thinking this must be another group of people she isn’t aware of.
• The man lunges first.
• Kaelith moves before she blinks, twisting around. His blade flashes and the first attacker collapses. Another swings from the side. Kaelith parries, steps in, and knocks the man down with the hilt of his sword.
• Three remain, circling tighter.
• Leona raises her hands, heat crawling up her arms.
• A sharp whistle cuts through the clash.
• A figure darts out of the trees—a young man with a shaved sidecut and a long metal staff strapped across his back. He swings it free with a flick; the weapon splits in half, revealing twin hooked blades connected by a chain.
• “Kaelith!” he shouts.
• “Lyn?” Kaelith’s eyes widen.
• Another attacker pushes the prince, but Lyn catches his wrist. He spins, kicking the man down.
• “What are you doing here?!” Kaelith exclaims.
• “Saving you, of course!” Lyn teases him.
• Two men remain—one rushing Kaelith, the other turning his eyes on Leona.
• She lifts her palms. Heat surges—she is ready to unleash her full power.
• “Is that—” Lyn mumbles in awe.
• Leona releases.
• But nothing.
• The fire collapses into sparks. Her breath catches. She panics, as the man closes in.
• The unexpected happens—Lyn steps between them. He blocks the blow, but barely. His hands tremble, the attacker slips past him, slicing across his side.
• “Lyn!” Kaelith whimpers, rushing to his side. But Leona remains there, frozen, unable to move or do something.
• Kaelith takes down the last attacker with a brutal, swift cut, sending him crashing into the dirt.
• He goes on his knees, shaking him. “Keep your eyes open!”
• Leona stares at her hands… “Useless.”
• She failed. And Lyn paid the price for it.