I stopped syphoning, fearing that I might deplete his energy levels and weaken him. He frowned slightly and leaned against his desk, and I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. I brushed my fingers over his cheek, and he leaned into my touch. I spread my palm out for him to rest his face against as he looked down at the drawing.
“And after you were born, Azazel was unhinged,” I concluded in a low voice.
“My father had already smelled the danger. There had been a few assassination attempts against her, but he could never prove it was Azazel. After my mother died, my father told everyone that I had died with her. He knew that I’d grow up to be a powerful Druid, with both his and my mother’s blood coursing through my veins. He knew Azazel would try to kill me before I’d even reached my first birthday.
“Soon afterward, Azazel became more brazen and started eliminating his opponents, amassing armies and sending them out for hostile takeovers of neighboring sectors. The Druid alliance grew weak, and my father knew that he wouldn’t be able to defeat him on his own. A year later, he was forced off his own planet, out of the kingdom. He smuggled me out and retreated farther to the south, where the new breed of Destroyers had not yet advanced. It was then that he started looking for Oracles and found Elissa. That’s how we got this mansion. That’s how I wound up here, isolated from everyone.”
My soul ached, and all I could think of were ways of making him happy, of bringing some kind of joy back into his life—the kind he’d felt with Elissa, the closest person Draven had had to a mother as a child.
“My father kept a secret from everyone,” he added, looking at me in a way that made me want to curl up in his arms and never let him go. “I’m surprised that the Nevertide Oracle hasn’t told Azazel about me yet. Although he’s bound to find out sooner or later. I’m out now. Someone will see me. He’ll put two and two together.”
“There’s a reason why you’ve been alone and hidden here for so long,” I said. “You are the most powerful weapon against Azazel. My brother, my friends, they’re here to help. But I know, deep in my heart, that you’ll be the one to vanquish him.”
He pulled me closer, placing the drawing behind him. I left the book on the desk along with the other two sketches, bending forward enough for my hair to brush over his jaw and for me to hear him take a deep breath against the line of my neck. His nose touched my skin, and the sheer contact sent shivers down my spine.
I straightened my back and cupped his face in my hands. I could feel his golden energy flowing through me again, and it surprised me, as I wasn’t syphoning. Yet somehow Draven was feeding me without me having to use my sentry ability. I stared at him in shock, and he responded with a warm smile, while his life force washed over me.
“I didn’t know I could do this either,” he said.
“This is amazing.”
He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close enough for my body to mold against his, my softness surrendering to his hard, massive frame. I felt tiny in his embrace but sheltered from everything. His steely eyes were hooded, ready to change the direction our conversation was headed.
“I reckon we were somehow made for each other, Serena,” he quipped, a smirk twisting his lips.
I was speechless, unable to express how blissful it felt to be so close to him. How I dreaded the possibility of never seeing him again. I shook the thought away and kissed him.
His lips parted, welcoming me home. It was soft and hot and tender. I tasted him slowly, enjoying every second of him. I opened myself up, projecting my own emotions onto him. It took him a while to realize what was happening. As our souls became connected, I understood that my sentry nature clicked differently with his Druid abilities.
It wasn’t just that he was making me syphon off him. I was somehow feeding him with my energy as well, in a bond that we had never experienced before. Judging by what we felt, the array of golds and soft pinks and dashes of yellow, neither of us had expected this to happen. We were basically syphoning off each other, and it felt extraordinary.
He deepened our kiss and tightened his grip on me, his fingers reaching under my shirt and clutching my hips. I moaned against his mouth and ran my hands through his tousled hair before I found his broad, muscular shoulders and arms.
Draven’s groan echoed in my chest as our kiss grew more and more intense. His hands reached further up under my shirt, slowly moving toward the front of my ribcage. His thumb and index fingers pressed gently into my flesh, and I squirmed against him.
“How did we come to this?” he whispered against my mouth.
My lips throbbed, demanding more.
“I don’t know, Draven, but I don’t want it to stop,” I gasped.
My body trembled against his, and he stilled for a moment, looking me in the eyes as I tried to catch my breath. My mind was switched off.
“Are you cold?” he asked, concerned.
I shook my head, losing myself in his steely gaze.
“I think it’s all because of you,” I managed to say before he smiled and captured my mouth in another brain-smashing kiss. I let go completely, as his thumbs moved higher still, setting my soul on fire.
A knock on the door crashed into us like thunder. It startled me, and I took a step back, remembering where I was and what I was supposed to be doing.
Books. I’m looking for books.
We stared at each other. He was gorgeous, his hair disheveled and his lips almost begging for my return. I felt flushed and unable to focus.
The second knock tore a sigh out of his chest as he turned his head toward it.
“What is it?” he called out, irritation dripping from his voice.
I couldn’t help but grin.
Phoenix
The Daughter and I had been searching through the top floor of the west wing for several hours. We started from the banquet hall, where several cabinets and drawers seemed like reasonable hiding places for the swamp witches’ third book.
She wore a white linen dress that accentuated her alabaster skin, reddish pink hair, and cherry lips. The way she crinkled her nose every time she had to blow dust off a surface was endearing, tearing a smile from me without exception.
I made myself busy with one of the cabinets while she rummaged through the cutlery drawers. I’d spent the last hour trying to explain what grief felt like, getting nothing but confused frowns from her. No matter how prosaic I got with my descriptions, it didn’t seem to faze her much.
“Phoenix, I had a dream last night,” she changed the subject. “Or at least I think it was a dream.”
“Oh? Tell me about it.”
She stood up straight, hands in a drawer. I could hear the silverware clinking beneath her fingers.
“I saw my sisters.”
I stilled, a wave of dread instantly crashing into me. I tried hard to keep a straight face.
“They came to see me, all seven of them. Well, I think it was them. It was dark and misty, and I could only see their shadows. Seven shadows.”
I nodded and waited for her to continue. White heat sizzled in my throat. I carefully counted my breaths, struggling to not show her how terrified the prospect of her sisters made me, particularly after they’d swayed me into stabbing myself.
“Did they say anything?” I asked and heard my voice tremble.
“They whispered. They said I am the only one who can save Eritopia. But that salvation will come with a cost. They said I must be willing to sacrifice myself for this.”
I nearly lost my balance as I gripped the side of the cabinet.
This can’t be real.
“It was just a bad dream.” I put on a reassuring smile. “A bad dream. That’s all.”
I wasn’t fooling anyone, not even the Daughter. She walked across the hall until she stood inches away from me. I took a step back, as if fearing that if she got any closer, she could smell the fear on me. If she’d been a sentry, she would have seen the acid yellow cloud brewing a storm in my chest.
/> “What sacrifice did they mean, though?” the Daughter asked.
She’d become an expert in asking the most difficult questions. I wondered whether I’d made life that difficult for my parents. They must have put up with a lot like this from me when I was a kid and they told me that I was going to live much longer than most people. The first time I’d come across the concept of death, I’d had so many questions about it.
Finding myself on the receiving end this time was no walk in the park.
How do I explain death to her?
“It’s death. Giving up your own life to save countless others. That’s the kind of sacrifice your sisters would mean. I’m surprised they’d bother to intervene in anything related to Eritopia. The last time we asked for their help, they told us to get lost and took the Druid’s eyesight.” I figured blunt clarity was the best way to go. The Daughter had yet to distinguish nuances.
“What is death, really? What does it involve?” she asked.
I cringed a little, dreading the answer. I’d hated the answer my parents had given me. I had rejected it altogether, unwilling to accept that some of my friends would be gone before my first century. The grief was unbearable, even for a young sentry like me, a creature much more aware of the way the world worked. The Daughter was even more innocent.
Her brow furrowed as she looked at me. I remembered then that she was finely tuned to what I was feeling, so there was no way for me to really hide anything from her.
Let’s see you talk your way out of this one, you charmer.
I took a deep breath as my chest decompressed from a heavy sigh. I took her hand and pulled her closer to me. Barely an inch was left between us as I lifted her palm up to my face, her fingers gently grazing the stubble along my jawline. I leaned my face into her touch and welcomed the warmth it generated deep in my chest.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she tilted her head. Her violet eyes sizzled with a dizzying array of emotions. I recognized affection, joy, pleasure…and a tint of desire emanating from her.
“How are you doing this?” I croaked, unable to stop myself from taking it all in.
The Daughter shrugged, her innocent expression further driving me off the edge. “I don’t know. I just feel like I can make you feel what I feel. Can you feel me?”
“Yes,” I smiled. “All of you. Bliss.”
I bent forward and took her in my arms and nuzzled the delicate curve between her long neck and shoulder. I breathed her in, drunk on her scent, a delightful mixture of lilies and the sea. She sighed, her palm resting on my face.
“Can you feel this?” I asked, my voice low and raspy.
As much as I tried to keep my desire under control, I couldn’t. The chain reactions shook me to my core. But I had to explain death to her. I had to teach her. I had to make her understand the concept of loss. I couldn’t let her give in to her sisters. They were cruel and unforgiving. She had to know.
“Yes,” she sighed, trembling.
I raised my head to see her expression. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, begging to be kissed.
“Imagine that you wouldn’t be able to feel any of this ever again,” I said gently.
I ran my fingers down her face, tracing the contour of her jaw until I reached her lower lip. Her breath hitched as she softened against me, arching her back.
Keep it together.
“Imagine that you can never touch or be touched again. That you can never see me—or any of this world—again.”
Her eyes widened, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. Her nostrils flared, and I watched as tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks. With each minute that passed, her devastation became more evident, and I could feel her grief.
It poured through me, rippling within my chest until I felt a tear leave my eye. Whatever she felt, I felt.
I did it.
I got my point across, and the Daughter was now faced with the prospect of an end to all of this. She hated it. She rejected it. Just like little Phoenix when his parents told him he’d outlive his human friends.
The Daughter was unable to stop the wave of emotions washing over her. I took it all in. The grief. The pain. The sadness. She sobbed as I held her, her head resting against my chest.
“I don’t want to die. I don’t want you to die. I don’t want to feel like this ever, not even hypothetically!” she cried, and I tightened my grip on her, running my fingers through her silky hair.
“Nice use of the word ‘hypothetically.’” I smiled, and she broke down even further, shuddering against my body and tearing me apart.
“It’s okay, it was probably just a bad dream,” I whispered.
I didn’t want her gone either. The invisible string that tied our hearts to one another would be severed, and I’d end as well. I’d only just found her.
“I don’t like death,” she whimpered between hiccups.
Her suffering was raw and genuine, and it broke me down. I had to stop it.
“You’re a Daughter of Eritopia. Death is not for you.”
“But why would my sisters want me dead?”
“It was just a bad dream. You said so yourself.” My gaze found hers. “Listen to me. It was just a bad dream.”
“Don’t leave me.”
Why would I ever leave you?
“I won’t.”
Why would I ever part from the one creature who brings a purpose into my life without me even asking?
“Don’t die,” she pleaded.
“I won’t.”
Why would I ever die, when every fiber in my body only draws me closer to you, pushing me to live?
“It was just a bad dream,” she finally conceded.
Phoenix
We stood like that for a while longer, long enough for her tears to subside.
I felt her relax in my arms and relished every second I got to be so close to her.
Eventually she took a step back, wiped her tears, and took a deep breath. I smiled at her and looked around, realizing we’d pretty much finished searching the banquet hall.
The solution to our problem, as interconnected beings in this world, was to eliminate Azazel’s threat. Finding the third book and retrieving Sverik was part of the process.
I was ready to do anything to keep the Daughter here, with me.
“Do you think the ancient wards might know something about the book?” I wondered out loud.
Her face lit up, and she beamed at me.
“That is a great idea! Why didn’t I think of it?” She closed her eyes.
A moment passed before she gasped and looked at the double doors leading outside. “Let’s go,” she said, then took my hand and pulled me out of the banquet hall.
We ran up the stairs, then turned left and reached the far end of the corridor, where the ladder leading to the attic extended to the open hatch above. She climbed up, and I followed. She walked toward the middle of the attic room, looking left and right until she found what she was looking for.
She pulled an old chest from underneath a pile of dusty carpets. It was an old traveler’s chest, made of wood with a metal frame, the sides covered in snakeskin. The lock on it was massive but rusty.
“I don’t think there’s a key,” I said.
“We need to open it. The wards have spoken,” she replied.
I nodded, then searched for something with which to break the lock. I found a hammer, forgotten in a tool box by the wall and swung it down with all my strength. It rattled the lock, but it didn’t open. I hit it again and again and again, but still it didn’t budge.
“It should’ve opened by now,” I said, out of breath.
“This is strange,” the Daughter said. She got down on her knees.
I joined her, and we both got a better look at the lock. I wiped some of the dust and dry dirt off to reveal the fine filigree details in elegant swirls and floral motifs. This was no ordinary lock.
The Daughter sighed and closed her eyes again. I figu
red she was reaching out to the wards again.
“It’s been sealed with magic,” she said, then looked at me.
“Whose magic? Draven’s father, maybe?”
“No, the wards.” She pursed her lips.
“And they couldn’t say so before I started pounding on it with a hammer?”
“Well, they’re not very good at communicating.” She smiled sheepishly. “For centuries, no one has spoken to them, so they’re still getting used to me being able to see and talk to them. There are many secrets in this mansion, many of which the wards have also forgotten, including this chest.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there’s a key to this lock made with ancient magic, but they can’t find it. They don’t remember where they put it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. I looked around, hoping there were some wards around to hear me. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shouted at them.
“It’s… It’s all right,” the Daughter said.
She bent forward to get a closer look at the lock again.
“It’s a shame you can’t see them now. They’re shuffling around, apologizing profusely.” She giggled. “They’re old, Phoenix. They’re old souls who never left this world and were repurposed by ancient magic to serve as wards for my sisters’ spells. They don’t remember everything anymore. They’ve been around for so long.”
“Great. So they’re basically everybody’s great-grandmother!” I quipped.
The Daughter passed her fingers over the lock, her head cocked to one side, as if listening for something.
“It’s okay, Phoenix. I think I can open it.”