I felt my gut clench, knowing that leaving this way would do nothing but infuriate Landen. Yet he was the one that left me behind, wasn’t he? That feeling failed to hinder me as Justus approached the gray passages of Esterious. He bypassed the ones that I traveled through, the ones that were as large as doorways and led to the safe places within this dark dimension. Instead, he halted just past them, at a point that I doubted many travelers could see. The gray haze was no bigger than a baseball and was just above his six-foot-four stance.
He vaguely bothered to glance over his shoulder at me before he raised his head and exalted himself upward into the haze that could in no shape or form allow his body in.
I was wrong. As if it were welcoming Justus home, the haze expanded and a dark mist absorbed him.
Now, any reasonable person would have stopped in their tracks and turned back to find help, someone that could tell me without a doubt that the passage before me was safe. But I’m not reasonable. For some unknown, wacked out reason, a carnal maternal instinct had seized my soul.
I followed his lead, gazed up at the haze, and thrust myself upward. When the haze opened, I felt a tepid fog reach out for me and pull me forward at an unprecedented speed. Unlike the other passages, this was not one step between dimensions. It felt like I was caught in an ominous undertow. Breath was not possible for those brief few seconds.
Before I knew it, I was falling, fast and hard, to a stone floor a hundred feet below. I should have thought to stop myself, send my energy downward to give me some kind of landing barrier, but I was too astonished that I was falling to think rationally.
A mere two feet before I landed, I felt strong arms clasp around me. Justus. He didn’t even bother to meet my eyes. Instead, he set me down like a wayward toddler, then went about his task at hand, which apparently involved a blade that would make any soul quiver with fear.
I knew this room. It was the one I’d watched Livingston die in. It was the one we’d saved Preston from. The one that I’d faced Drake alone for the first time within. The distant memories slammed into my mind, allowing me to see how close, yet far away that night was from this day. So much had happened, and very little of it could be considered a blessing—especially since the universe seemed hell-bent on throwing curveball after curveball at me.
I angled my gaze to stare at my latest curveball. Justus was standing over an all too familiar coffin: Adonia’s. His hands caressed the glass that contained the body of his fallen lover. At that moment, I was beyond happy to have my insights on hiatus. I despised grief. It always fired off unruly thoughts of doom in my mind. All the what ifs and dread of the day I would have to say my own goodbyes, whether it was me leaving this world once and for all or someone else. What ifs were poison to me. My mind was my enemy as my body became swamped with emotions that no soul should be forced to feel.
Right as I stood and began a somber walk toward him, his hands which were flat on the glass managed to break it into a million pieces. The dark-haired girl with ivory skin looked as if she were cascaded beneath an array of diamonds. She was so pristine that I halfway expected her to take a gasping breath.
Within the next beat, Justus raised his blade and with both hands drove it into her core. I gasped, forgetting that she was not merely sleeping. Justus bolted back as if he were expecting a reaction. Seconds ticked by, then he charged forward and pulled his blade out, only to stab her heart this time. With this strike, not only did she gasp, but the wound in her core began to saturate her white gown with crimson.
Justus stepped back, glancing to me as if to ensure I was behind him, then pulled yet another blade from his boot. It was far more modest than the last one he had used, but still just as deadly.
What happened next was beyond reason. She began to laugh. A deep, dark, sinister laugh echoed from her lips and ricocheted across the stone walls. Wicked words in a hastened whisper began to leave her lips as her laugh ceased. I was sure I would understand them if I could hear them clearly.
I stepped forward, but Justus held his hand back. Adonia rose from her coffin, then glanced to the blade in her heart before she half-heartedly pulled it from her flesh.
“I’m heartbroken, Justus, truly,” she said with a rasp.
He sneered. “I told you I would have the last laugh, lover.”
She glanced down to her stomach and gently reached to the oozing blood there. “You missed,” she said with a sinful smile. “Your seed is mine. My sovereign is everlasting.”
“I didn’t miss,” he said with obvious disdain. “Do you feel it, love? Do you feel the poison in your heart? In your vacant womb?”
Her eyes grew wide with a mix of rage and obvious fear. At that moment, black veins began to snake across her body, aging her at a speed that was beyond reason, far past the point that would have brought her to the age she would be today, if she were alive.
She screamed out as her hands began to turn to ash. With her last words, I could have sworn I heard her say, “I’ve been forsaken—claim another.” Her last words never made it out, though. Her entire body turned to ash and melted into the satin pillows she was perched upon.
Justus wasted no time. From his pocket he pulled a bottle and sprinkled clear water across the ashes. After a few whispered words from him, the remains erupted into flames, then vanished from sight, leaving only the table that had held his past lover.
“Time to go,” he said to me.
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him, determined not to move from this spot, not until I understood why the first love story I’d heard about Chara—spoken by my father, mind you—ended this way.
“Did you just kill a child in front of me?”
Wrath was easing into my veins, pushing aside rational emotions such as fear or remorse.
“No child of mine had taken seed in her, or anyone for that matter. I will vow to that. She had my essence. Therefore, she had yours.”
Obviously, he was still under the illusion I was some kind of cosmic Goddess. “Do you have any idea the strife you caused this family by coming here years ago? By dying here? Do you realize that Beth has been a prisoner here? That because she was, Drake grew up in this hell, brainwashed from day one into loving my image?”
“I was there. Were you?”
My energy flared out at him, causing him to sway backward. He was strong, stronger than I thought; that blow should have landed him on the ground.
“I felt my father’s unyielding grief when he told me the tragic story of you and Adonia, how he was there when you came to bring her home. How she missed her father and went home to see him against your will—how they killed you and the fate of Beth and Adonia went unknown. Marc and Chrispin grew up without a mother because of you.”
“Because of me, their father was alive to conceive them. Because of me, his sons were born and led to you and yours. I did as I was told.”
“By whom?”
“You, Sovereign.”
“Get over yourself. Are you telling me that you never loved this woman? That my father and everyone else was fooled by you? Manipulated by you?”
“Do I look like someone that would bed a mirrored soul?”
I knew that terminology, vaguely. Landen had told me about it a few days ago. Apparently, those souls were entrapped by master Escorts. Shells of what they were before. Something I doubted any child of Alamos’ would endure. He was too strong in the way of magic. I knew he could have protected Adonia from such a fate.
“I have no idea what you look like. I don’t get you.”
He stepped dominantly forward. “She was bred to bring destruction to your existence when every other way failed. You see, the sovereign you must bring to death never allows one course of action to decide his fate. Adonia was told who to seduce and when. I stole this woman’s affections from Livingston. Coldheartedly, in fact. I went knife-to-knife with Livingston over the likes of this mirror for one purpose: to protect him from producing a child with her.” He took in my awe
struck expression, showing no shame for his actions.
“It wasn’t hard. All I had to do was tell this worthless servant that I was a First. That my visions had promised me an eternal right of royalty. That I could not hold her unless her soul was strong enough to hold me through that course of time. She dropped Livingston as fast as lightning.”
“This woman was behind a beacon for Livingston? Is that what you’re telling me?” I will grant you that I hadn’t had the time to completely comprehend the heritage of Landen’s world, but I knew one thing: dating was not their style. They only went after the ‘one.’
“The Rampart Warriors rarely seek a beacon. Most of them dodge them with haste. They would not dare tempt fate and bring cosmic karma to their doorstep.”
“What the hell are you talking about? According to you, my father is one, as well as Landen’s—and furthermore, your timeline is off. My father was there when you claimed this woman, but long gone before that tragic night of your death. How did you and Livingston overcome your strife? How could Beth openly defend this woman, leave her infant sons behind to rescue an old lover of her soul mate?”
“Not all women drink from the well of jealousy, Sovereign.”
“You want to bet on that?”
He smirked. “Adonia came after Livingston when we were barely seventeen. Livingston was possessed by her essence; she was drugging him with the perfume she wore. I made my move. Made sure he saw it, saw her response. We fought. Nearly to the death. Jason stood between us. In the end, each of us convinced Livingston that she was toying with him, manipulating him. He agreed to wait until his soul called him to find someone. He swore to me if his beacon led to her, he would end my life the moment after he brought her home.”
“It led to Beth,” I said, almost to myself.
He bowed as if he were accepting applause.
“You just told me Rampart Warriors do not seek soul mates.”
“Most, yes. Some, though, have no choice. They feel a burn. The worst pain you could fathom. It is a fated call, meaning that the life of a Rampart has asked them to leave the borders they felt called to defend to create more defenders. Those warriors know that the women they are called to will no doubt bring forth the next generation of warriors, that they will continue to defend our world.”
“So it’s not rare?”
“Apparently not for the Chambers and Haywood bloodlines. Most that feel pulled away do not do so until they are staring the age of thirty in the eye. Imagine the upset this world felt when myself, Jason, Ashten, and Livingston all backed away with a fevering burn at the infant age of twenty. This world knew then that war was imminent.”
“Is that when you decided to tell my father of my fate? When he swore not to conceive me?” I said, still jaded that he would accuse the noblest man I had ever known of such a thing.
“I told him that when we were twelve, then again at fifteen. By then, he was already called to the role of a Rampart Warrior…by then, it was easy to speak such words.”
“Words he forgot.”
Justus smirked as his deep gray eyes narrowed on me. “It is my understanding that women have a way of making you forget your convictions. Some with a mere glance.”
He was making my head spin. I felt like the floor was moving, even though I was standing still. None of this made sense to me, but deep down I felt a withering voice begging me to listen to it. To understand all of this.
“I still see no need for warriors in Chara.”
“You live in the safe haven of the warriors’ personal homes. Do you honestly think that you would see war from your front porch? Or even hear whispers of its approach?”
“You don’t have to be a smart ass.”
He adjusted his stance, clearly holding back his anger. “Then let me be blunt, Sovereign. When you walked through the gates of Chara for the first time, you did nothing less than ensure the end of time. With nothing more than a glance, you had seized the heart of the most powerful warrior known to live—and you didn’t stop there. Within a month’s time, you pulled more warriors from the line and led them to lovers. You created a pattern, a warning. Surely, you have felt the honor the world gives you. Surely, you have noticed how their gaze, when aimed at you, reflects nothing but humbleness. They are seeking salvation. Salvation that will not come if the war within you remains.”
“The war within me ceased with the last trial. I’m at peace.”
“No. The war of your soul and ego has just begun.” His eyes glided slowly across my body. “It’s time to wake up, Sovereign. Because if you do not, you will never ascend to the life plan before you.”
Before I could respond, the air in the room grew frigid; it was a cold that I knew all too well. The shadows across the wall began to move, and sadistic whispers echoed around us.
Justus stood at attention, immediately moving to protect me, but before he reached me ash wings invaded my line of sight. Donalt. I never saw his face clearly, but I would know him anywhere. No reflex in existence could have been fast enough to move out of his way. I felt his hand on my stomach. I felt ice soar through me and my breath leave. Something sprayed across my face, and the instant it did Donalt vanished along with the cold, the whispers, the evil I felt in the room.
For a few seconds, I managed to stand, but then the room began to slide at awkward angles around me. The next thing I felt was the stone floor, the next thing I saw was darkness.
It was quiet, so quiet. Then out of the vast darkness, I saw something. A small, vague light. I walked forward, trying to reach it, trying to find my way back to consciousness.
Within that light, I saw something familiar: Aella, or rather me. Only now the image was reflecting bright blue eyes. The last time I was knocked out cold by Donalt, I faced an image of myself, along with an image of Nathaniel—I left that deep dream with a curse. A curse of changing the weather with the slightest emotion. I wasn’t going back down that road again, especially since I’d just recently overcome that.
I recoiled, moved further into the darkness. I would not openly accept that curse—any curse— again.
My image with blue eyes moved forward, and though she gave me no words, she invaded my mind with knowledge. With images of Justus at every age.
The images didn’t stop there. They started to reflect another world, another voice. I saw a woman with ivory skin and dark auburn hair. She was silent but strong. The scent of warm honey encased me. Her lips never moved, but I clearly heard, “Listen to your First, my precious Fated.”
Part of me wanted to stay and understand this, figure out who she was or what she meant with the words I heard her speak, but then a bigger part of me said to run, said that this was a trick. That part won. I was not going back to the pain I had escaped. I was furious that I was ever put through that in the first place.
I ran into the darkness, and all at once my eyes flew open with a gasp.
Where the hell am I?
It looked like a bar, some kind of tavern. I was in a dark corner in a round booth whose cushions were torn and tattered. It smelled sour. If that weren’t odd enough, the black robe over me surely was. I was dressed to be in public in Esterious, hidden behind a tent of clothing.
This tavern was full of people, mostly men, but there were a few women in here that looked like they had seen better days for sure. It was almost like I was sucked back in time to the 1800s, Esterious style.
“Sleep well, Sovereign?” Justus said in a hushed voice.
That was when I noticed his arm around me, when I realized I was leaning into him. I jolted away and on instinct pushed the hood on my head back, but he stopped me from revealing my face.
“Where am I?” I breathed.
“Underground.” He nodded wryly to the bartender who noticed my abrupt movement.
My eyes dodged away from her, trying to understand how I was in Esterious, how I was hearing laughter, seeing people at ease in this dark, secluded room. There was even some kind of game going in the corn
er that looked like a cross between pool and golf. It was clear by the crowd around the four players that heavy bets were placed on the game that was in play.
A waitress that was showing way too much cleavage came to the table where we sat. She filled the glass in front of Justus and leered at me.
Justus threw what looked and smelled like a bar of lye soap toward her. “We’ll take that privacy now,” he said sinfully to her.
She seemed disappointed as she picked up the bar of soap, but she never said a word as she pulled a tin door across the front of our table, locking me in a makeshift stinky box with Justus.
I could hear whistles and catcalls from the other side of the thin wall, but that was soon stifled as the most horrible music in creation began to play. I could not even fathom a word to describe it.
“Get me out of here,” I said in a harsh whisper as the walls seemed to close in around me.
“If you had left when I told you to, we would be in Chara by now. But no, you wanted a history lesson. So now we are stuck here until he gives up his hunt.”
I grasped my stomach with my arms, remembering Donalt’s touch. I felt disgusting because of it. I wanted the hottest shower in existence to remove not only his memory, but the cold I could still feel in my core.
“What did he do to me?”
“He cast a net. It’s not going to matter in a few days’ time,” he promised, with little effort in his tone.
“A net to do what? Trap me?”
“Trap your offspring. He must be lost in the delusion that you are not as close to his defeat as you surely are. That, or he has confidence that your ego will win your internal war.”
“I told you I won that war. Are you telling me that he cursed any children I may have?” I asked as a sick nausea absorbed me. I was years away from that life change, but the threat of what Justus had said would stop me cold from ever even considering having a family of my own.