It always takes a second or two to feel the effects of the energy, which is why Escorts are known for taking more than their fair share. As the energy absorbed into the core of my soul, I seized. Something was wrong.
I realized that my senses never betrayed me, and they hadn’t failed me tonight. Beyond the caramel, there was the distinct aroma of mint. That cool, refreshing scent was too powerful to ever be masked. Especially to me.
A warm, humming sensation reached through every shred of my soul, causing a sigh that had not left my lips in an eternity. A flash of fever raced across my skin before I could tell myself to be furious and demand that my soul despise the sensation it was greedily absorbing as if it were the essence of life itself.
Mazing manifested at my side right then.
“Glory,” she said quietly, looking into my wide eyes. I’m sure they were a mix of colors right now; a deep auburn with a ring of emerald green, and of course a warm glow of honey behind them. Each color represented a sensation. The auburn was the base, the green was a sign of rest or peace, and the glow was a reflection of being fed. Surely, the green was confusing her. I hadn’t felt peace in eons.
“Why?” I swallowed. “They are crossing lines.”
She inhaled deeply, trying to see what had left me bothered. Nothing ever left me this twisted. Well, one person did. And he was the source of my fading trepidation.
Mazing flushed with anger. “If that is not the lowest of all lows. Ass. That’s what he is: an Ass. The whole stock of em.”
“I dare him,” I seethed as my soul finally decided to listen to me and back out of its euphoric state.
All sovereigns could sense their lines at all times. Wherever Xavier was right now, he knew he’d lost a few of his warriors. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that the sovereign that carried the aroma of mint now also knew this Escort had perished. And he knew exactly who could have accomplished a task such as this with little to no effort, which also meant he now knew exactly where I was. Not good.
Chapter Two
Every soul has a beginning. A creator. Beyond the one that created us all. My Creator found me on my deathbed. A deathbed that I laid in at the human age of eighteen.
My mother was insane. I never knew my father. My mother had said that I didn’t know him because an evil spirit had left her with his seed, which in turn bore me. And because of that, she was beyond crazy. I doubted she ever adored me or even wanted me. More than once, she tried to drown me when I was too young to fight back. Something always stopped her. When I became ill, no medicine was ever given to my vessel. Food itself was rarely given to me. My mother stayed in a constant state of fast and believed I should, too, so I could repent for my birth.
My world was dying, as they all do from time to time. War had pushed both humanity and nature into nothingness. Disease was rampant. Almost as if the divine had planned such a thing, I became ill. Very ill.
Camps were set up to heal those that they could. Vaccines were given, and the strongest managed to live to die another day.
My mother refused to take me to any healer. She said the evil I was had brought our world to the brink of its demise. I knew if I did not flee from her that her insane mind would convince her to kill me before long.
I all but crawled to the camp that was three miles from our home; shack, rather.
Healers found me at their doorstep in the middle of a raging storm. I passed out before they were able to pull me in.
When I woke on a pallet of blankets on the floor, I saw a beautiful man above me. His eyes looked like the ocean, with white clouds passing within their refection. His skin was so pure. Even though it was clear he was aged he seemed flawless, perfect.
He was not who had captured my gaze, though. It was the boy that was my age behind him that had Jet-black hair and eyes that were like diamonds were fixed on me. Power and strength emanated through every inch of his body. From his broad shoulders to his lean warrior stance, there was a presence about him that refused to be ignored. The world vanished as I gazed into his being. The sweet, clean, powerful aroma of mint flooded through my soul, allowing me to feel the true desire for life for the first time ever.
I don’t know how long we stared at each other—it felt like an eternity. All I remember is my mother charging into the healer’s camp with a man she worshiped with. She had him carry me away, and as she did the image of the man and the boy vanished, leaving me to believe that they were an illusion of my sickness.
My mother cursed my very soul as we left, and the haunting alarms of our world rang out. We were being invaded. Our end was imminent, but she did not care to let me die without hearing her scorning words once more. She told me the end was my fault. That children and men alike would now perish because I had forsaken her.
They carried me to the nearest hilltop. Night was born in the core of the day. My mother lay behind me, chanting a prayer, offering me up as a sacrifice to the doom that was lurking.
She told me over and over to repent. To clear my mind and ask to be forgiven for my birth.
I did no such thing. Instead, I thought of those eyes that were a deep metallic grey with shards of light piercing through them. Those lips that curved into a disbelieving smile as his gaze took away all my pain. I imagined how they would feel against mine, how his arms would feel around me. I imagined a life where my mother's insanity could not reach me, could no longer cause me harm. With my last breath, my mind committed sins that would have surely put my mother in her grave if she had heard them. Yet, that is where we are all headed anyway.
A blinding light broke through the horizon and everything it touched absorbed into the great cosmos.
The next thing I remember was the Creator. He was there when I awoke. He was at my side for days, maybe years to come, silently teaching me.
When my hate for my mother was a distant memory, I met the seven sovereigns, all male.
The Earth provides everything that a soul needs, and sometimes more. Their purpose was to hinder the emotions that weaken the soul. It was an honorable purpose that never should have been challenged, but obviously an eternity of peace and equality was far too boring for the seven at my side.
By mere accident, one of the seven pulled too much energy one fateful day and when he did, he felt a rush of power. He felt knowledge. He decided that he didn’t want to be equal with anyone, not even our Creator. The war was born then. The death of our reality began. Instead of taking what was overwhelming for the souls to feel, we took more than our share.
Seven deadly emotions belong to the reign of the sovereigns: anger, grief, fear, shock, trepidation, obsessiveness, and exaltation. I know exaltation seems odd, it’s not the ‘Oh, I’m so happy emotion;’ it’s the winning the lottery emotion. Sounds great, doesn’t it? But what is not great is the fall once that emotion leaves. The soul is an instant addict and will search endlessly for it once more. Not finding it sends the soul plummeting into despair. Whoever said that there was no such thing as too much of a good thing had clearly never felt that emotion. Souls mistake exaltation for bliss, the one emotion we were all meant to feel constantly but rarely do.
Seven emotions, and eight of us. I was the youngest original, so clearly I had no say. Vade, the soul that emanated the aroma of mint—the soul that was my fever, at one time my rush, divided his reign with me. His emotion was anger. And with anger, there is a mass of other emotions. Wrath and rage, to name a few. Those were emotions that I knew all too well, emotions that any abused child knows very well. Wouldn’t my mother be proud of me now? Not.
A power struggle began. The sovereign Escorts began to invoke the emotion in their charge, each trying to grow their lines to the point where they could claim supremacy over all emotions. Some even took human roles so they could not only consume the emotion the moment it was created, but also ensure that the emotion had reason to be manifested. It was quite horrible, actually.
That war was the catalyst that landed me and my First here. Ma
zing was lured in by lust. Because she was captured, the only act that could be played was war between my line and Xavier’s. But my line was young. Our numbers could not even begin to match Xavier’s. Beyond that, I’d taken a stand against Vade, my rush. I told him that together we held the majority and we should sway all originals back to the life our Creator had envisioned for us. He vehemently disagreed. Therefore, I could not count on his line for any defense.
Vade had zero sympathy for Mazing. He often stated her birth into my line had divided us.
That was foolish. He was just jealous. Her birth proved I was a sovereign, not a chosen fever for him, the oldest and said to be the favorite of our Creator. Vade, the great stoic King of Anger. Vade, the boy that I had met at my deathbed, the boy that I thought was everything at one time.
I took the only course of action I could live—or rather die—with. I went to Xavier’s throne and offered a compromise. Offered that the line of war would not be drawn—that we could end this misunderstanding without any loss. I proposed a dual, one that only Xavier and I would fight in. Dying fighting seemed to be honorable enough for me. And if I did so, Xavier would not have to worry about any backlash from my line, or others for that matter. He could easily state he was defending himself if he were ever challenged.
Xavier despised Vade, so I knew the odds were in my favor. The divide between Vade and me had not been broadcast to anyone at that time. It was too new. In fact, I remember still having Vade’s scent all over me as I approached Xavier’s throne with my challenge.
Of course, Xavier wanted to bargain with me. He asked me to become his fever, at least to portray that for one millennium. He knew that would weaken Vade to the point where he could be overtaken. Sovereigns were highly territorial. I refused to be bartered as property to Vade—or anyone else for that matter. I declined.
Instead, I left the challenge of the dual on the table and added that I would disburse my line, meaning that no one, not even Vade, could control the souls I left behind. They would not be able to control them simply because upon my release, they would forget my existence, their heritage.
This was a win for both Xavier and me. He would not worry about my Escorts returning to Vade—a sovereign’s energy that had my essence laced within his—and I would know that the fate my line blindly chose would not be their end, that they were set free to live out human lives as they wished.
Xavier’s only counter was that both Mazing and I take our own lives as we bowed at his feet. No dual. Just a simple submission.
Everything and everyone can pass through the cycle of death. It is just harder to kill some. There were only a select number of ways to kill any sovereign, and suicide was one of them.
My line came to mind as I knelt down. Souls in my care. Souls that were divine to me. They deserved their freedom, and I would be damned if Mazing, my First, faced death alone.
At least Xavier was a gentleman about it. A poison glass of red wine was given to each of us. A swift, painless death. One that should have released us in the same manner that we had released our line.
I should be at a slumber party right now, braiding hair and painting nails, not taking up residence within the Veil with the Reaper as one of my closest confidants. But who has any say in this universe? Not this sovereign, that’s for sure.
The fact that Vade’s scent and Xavier’s were one and the same in the Escort I’d just ended meant one thing: they were working together now.
Vade had crossed the mark. He’d ignored every plea in our final argument and joined ranks with the other sovereigns, which meant my death was in vain, that the one line—mine—that could have restored the sovereigns to their purpose had been disbursed and their sovereign was imprisoned within the Veil.
I’d always thought that because my line had fallen, that great King of Anger would have come to his senses and taken a stand. But I suppose I was not there to influence his thoughts any longer.
My being ached for the souls of the universe. Grieved for the demise that was surely aimed at them. Soon, that darkness I’d just pulled from that infected vessel would consume their reality.
I stared into the dark forest, still feeling the sensation of Vade’s energy within my soul. Wrath. Yeah, I owned that emotion. It was vibrating my very being at the moment.
I couldn’t even tell you how long we had been here. How long or how many chances Vade had to find me.
At first, I assumed he was enraged and busy killing off Xavier’s line, then I assumed he was searching each and every dimension for my human form, that finally he would search the Veil, ask for a conference with the Reaper. Find me.
When the time for each of those acts to transpire had come and passed, only one conclusion could be made: he had another one bringing him fever. I was nothing but a lost memory of a forgotten world our Creator had borne me into.
That made killing Escorts that tried to invade this Fall all the more pleasurable. I may not be alive, but I would be damned if I let them reach their ultimate goal: to rule both realities, to create a feast of darkness. Too much of a good thing was bad. I didn’t care what they said.
Vade’s line had never reached this point. Knowing that his was the strongest, the one line that could reach this Fall with little effort, always led me to believe that meant he was in some way fighting or forming fruitful alliances with the others.
That hope was dead now. Surely as dead as I was.
I caught the sway of the distant trees and tensed as I breathed deeply.
“This one is all yours, Glory,” Mazing bit out as the aroma of crisp mint penetrated the air.
She vanished, not to leave me alone, but to spread the aroma of warm honey that we were known for in every direction, confusing the prey that was now in my sights.
I vanished and appeared again behind numerous trees, finally settling on a branch just above my next kill. The core of my soul was at war within itself. Half of me screaming No, this is wrong. The other demanding that justice was due. Seeing Vade’s image in my mind, feeling his tantalizing touch race across my skin was not helping matters. One side yearned for loyalty to that memory. The other saw a new girl under his flesh.
This was business. I finally forced myself to believe that. The Fall could not be penetrated—by anyone. I didn’t make this choice. Vade did, apparently long ago.
As the moonlight touched the Escort’s face, a sharp pain tore through me. It was Rasp, Vade’s First. Might as well have been Vade himself. When I killed Rasp, it would take Vade down for some time. The loss of energy would not easily be reversed. Well deserved, the dark part of me thought. Not Rasp’s fault, the kinder side of me argued back.
Rasp was always kind to me. Not warm, just kind. He had served as a guard of mine before my status was clearly acknowledged. Knowing that you were about to end a soul that had vowed to protect yours was not an easy sensation to swallow.
In my mind’s mid-argument, I jumped down, landing just before all six-foot-five of Rasp. His shoulders were as wide as my body was long. Well, maybe not as wide, but close enough. His body was toned, sleek, lean muscles over every inch of his perfectly sculpted warrior vessel. His eyes were like deep ice, not as intense as Vade’s, but damn near close. The dark hair and mesmerizing image was apparent not only within him, but everyone in Vade's prodigious line. Walking heartbreakers, that’s what they were.
Before he could utter a word, my hand pierced through his gut, grasping his soul. He didn’t moan, flinch, or fall to his knees as the others had done instantly. No surprise there. Strong line. Strong sire. My intent was not to kill. Not this time.
I peered up at him. “Long time.”
He smirked, glancing down at my arm, then to my eyes. “Sovereign.”
“I see that time has not stolen your memory,” I said as I gripped his soul tighter. “This is the part where I kill you.”
He offered no fight whatsoever. He knew me all too well. “Remember that if you ever come near my Fall again.” I squeezed
him tighter. “Give Vade my best.” And with that, I thrust him upward with every ounce of my power. Instantly, he was out of sight.
It would be decades before he or Vade were even close to out of my mind.
The lingering scent of mint encased my skin. Before I could stop myself, I brought my hands to my face and breathed in deeply, feeling rage-filled tears threatening to spill from the edges of my eyes.
Mazing manifested at my side and let her hand rest on my shoulder. I could not bear for her to see me fall apart, not now or ever. I vanished and appeared in my quarters, the highest floor of the Cathedral.
I leaned forward on the banister of my stone balcony and breathed in and out heavily, mentally screaming at myself every time a moment from my past fought to surface. Vade was not going to get to me again. I would be damned.
Just as I caught my breath and settled my thoughts, I saw a warm light ease across the room behind me. I should have known this was coming.
Chapter Three
I straightened my stance as I held my gaze on The Fall before me. All these years, all this time, time that was endless, had now been marked. I thought I was over my past. Over the childish war that was fought. That I had my own little corner of this vast universe. One job and one soul beyond my own to protect. But I was a fool. The war was fated to find me here. My one little job had now become the last line of defense for The Fall and the twin reality behind its powerful wall of energy.
I could not singlehandedly stop Vade’s line. If I did, eventually I would stop myself. Too much of his essence was within mine. I wonder where one goes when they die when they are already dead? Was that even possible? I suppose I should offer that musing to the Reaper, glean his thoughts on the matter.