Page 85 of A Kiss From Death (Oath of Vengeance #1)

M y knees threaten to buckle at the reflection staring back at me. I don’t even recognize the woman in front of me. It’s me, but it’s also a fighter. A warrior. A symbol of perseverance and defiance.

I’ve never felt more beautiful and powerful in my life.

“Des…” I breathe.

Smacking my arm, she warns, “Nope, I told you, no crying. You’ll ruin my masterpiece, and I’m not humble enough to refrain from saying this is my best work to date. So keep it together for the both of us, because I did not just slave away for hours for nothing.” She harrumphs.

No words could describe the immense pride I have at the outfit Des has created. It’s truly a work of art, hands down the most beautiful thing I have ever laid witness to. It embodies every emotion I feel, and I feel unstoppable.

I glide my hands down the material, snaking through my fingers like liquid gold mixed with an airy embrace, sending chills down my spine. I don’t know how she got him to help, but Hade is woven into every inch of the outfit.

The night sky stares back at me, glittering and swirling in a hypnotizing madness gloved to my body. When Des told me Hade gifted her a portion of his shadow magic as a material to weave and work into the very fiber of my Blessing Ceremony outfit, my ass about hit the floor.

I had no idea one could even give away a chunk of their magic.

Des told me it is not something she has ever seen anyone do, but it is possible.

It can be painful, like losing a part of your very being, a limb.

For most, it could be draining and detrimental, but Des assured me Hade is one of the strongest Magicals in all of Lunaria.

His magical reserves are practically endless.

To him, it would feel like losing a single hair from his head.

Each detail is hand woven and designed to utter perfection. The entire outfit floats about like a fluid wave, swirling around me in a veil of sparkling obsidian. Long, tapered, wispy sleeves drape to the floor like torn, shadowed fabric.

The bodice is made from sparkling black shadows, woven together to make a lacey pattern over my chest and stomach, letting parts of my skin shine through.

A waterfall of black fabric swooshes out from the bottom of the bodice, layered with shadow magic to create a wave-like flowing mass around me.

They fall to the floor but float just an inch above, slithering like restless snakes.

There’s a slit on each side where each leg slips through, almost all the way up to my hip bone, where a sheet of fabric drapes between them.

Every inch of the dress glitters like a million stars. I feel safe and protected with him wrapped around me, as if he’s actually here.

A long, black shadow-infused veil drags behind me on the floor, attached to my long black curls that cascade down my back.

Des used her Luster magic to paint my eyes dark and glittery to match my dress, making my steel-forged eyes glow in harsh contrast. My porcelain skin glitters subtly, making my glittering black lips stand out like the dead.

To finish the look, Des marked the center of my forehead with an abstract, black glittering moon and star symbol.

If the night sky was a person, I would be her, and I feel like I could take over the world in this outfit.

“Oh, one last thing.” She reaches into my vanity, pulling out a dainty black necklace. The air whooshes from my lungs. I haven’t worn it in a week, and my neck has felt naked without it.

Standing behind me, she drapes the dagger necklace over my front and easily clasps it at the back, letting it flow down my cleavage. Now, the outfit feels whole, having both the men who saved me with me.

“I thought you said no crying,” I scold playfully.

Biting her quivering lip, she shakes her finger at me. “I said you couldn’t cry. I never made any promises about myself. Now, give me a spin and let mama see her masterpiece in its full glory.”

Giggling, I twirl for her as she smiles and dabs the tears from her happy weeping eyes. The material floats like waves crashing against a cove with no rhyme or reason, just shadows slithering around me.

“Perfection,” she chokes out and scoops me into a hug.

Pulling away, I kiss her forehead and thank her for working her magic on me once again.

She tries to fluff my dress for the eighth time, even though it’s already perfect.

“Stop fussing over me and go, or you’re not gonna have enough time to get yourself ready for the ceremony.

” She looks me up and down, ready to protest, but I shove her towards the door.

“I look perfect. Now go before I shove you out the door myself. ”

Throwing a playful glare over her shoulder, she disappears out the door and down the hall. As soon as the door shuts, I let out one, long breath as nerves and anticipation take over.

Looking at the clock, I note I have exactly twenty minutes until Hade promised to collect me from my room for the ceremony, which is enough time to conduct my plan. I silently slip out into the hallway, towards the one place I’ve been dying to visit, born from pure curiosity and unease.

It won’t help me now, but I’m still dying to know if it’s still there and what it could be. As I approach the hidden library, my heart threatens to rip from my chest to the floor.

I stop at the door, apparently not thinking this plan through when I realize I’m locked out without Hade.

One of the tendrils of Hade’s magic woven into my dress slithers up, wrapping around the handle and pushing it open.

The door recognizes his magical signature; it opens with ease, allowing me access.

My lungs deflate as the anxiety buzzing under my skin dissipates a fraction, but not completely. Walking through the door, it closes behind me, and I take in the dark, empty space riddled with old and new books.

Getting onto my hands and knees, I knock on each wooden floorboard, listening to any that sound hollow beneath. After ten minutes of crawling around, I stop dead in my tracks when one knock vibrates with a different tune, as if there’s a pocket beneath it.

Wedging my nails in the crack, I pry the floorboard up, and my eyes widen when I note a single leather bound book placed within.

The birthday gift the journals mentioned.

Carefully, I snatch it out of the cavity and stride over to the worn leather chair Hade favors. Settling into the indent he’s made, I drag my finger across the weathered cover .

“The Tale of Gods,” I whisper, dragging my finger over each letter of the title.

A fable book? Why would a book of fables be so important to hide within the floorboards, only to be found when the time is right? Seeing as it’s covered in dust and cobwebs, I conclude it was never found or retrieved until now.

Why was the mother referenced in the journals so intent on this gift? Did she leave a special note hidden within? Is it a family heirloom passed down through the generations? I try not to be discouraged, but I’m slightly disappointed in my findings.

Even though the Crucible is over, the riddle the Empress gave us has been sitting at the forefront of my brain, nagging me to find the answer. It feels too important to ignore, even now, when it won’t save me from anything except my annoyingly overbearing need to know the answer.

My curiosity gets the best of me, and I open to page one, reading over the table of contents. Family Tree, Creation, Checks and Balances, Legacy, Recorded Powers, and finally, The Corruption of Dark Magic .

Opening it to the section titled Creation , I start reading.

The creation of a god is set forth long before one is birthed into power. It is a complex and widely unknown system created by Mother Nature herself and is up to her sole discretion. No one knows why she chooses who she does, only the patterns of her maternal giftings.

Every five thousand years, god blood runs true in one person of her choosing. A drop of it runs through their very veins, starting from birth, and grows with them over time. Mother Nature will test her new subject with trials and tribulations, studying their decisions and moral compass.

If they pass each of her trials, in their sixteenth year of life, exactly five thousand years after the previous blessing, she will bless them with the ability to become one of the ruling gods.

Their full magical abilities will bloom in that year, granting them immortality and the official knowledge of their new title .

Each god is widely known to be stronger and more powerful than the last, as Mother Nature herself has become pickier over the years, stringent on only turning out perfection.

The hierarchy of gods govern in a faraway land called Ouranos that has never been studied due to its classified and unattainable nature.

There is no knowledge of where this land sits, or what it entails.

No one is perfect, even Mother Nature herself, and as such, there may be unprecedented times when a faulty god is chosen and starts as something almighty and pure but turns towards evil temptation. While this is rare and few and far between, it is not entirely ruled out.

Gods are born from raw power, and as such, crave the very being that make them up. They are picked to strive and be the best, and being the best means having an abundance of power to manipulate and rule over the mortals.

While Mother Nature creates and molds her gods, she does not govern them. They are to be perfect children, and fall into a hierarchy best fit to mold and support the mortals in their need for endless guidance.

When a new god emerges, they are to mentor under the wing of the current top god and take over as the superior god with their abundance of raw power, as they will always be gifted with more power than the last. The gods are ever evolving, learning from past endeavors and remaining superior above all else.

They are to guide and mold society to success, each god handpicked to support in each role needed to mold society into a working, unbreakable system.

My mind whirls with this new information, an uneasiness settling deep in the pit of my stomach.

Is this really a fable, or is there some truth behind the text?

Deciding to dig further, I flip to the front of the book, looking over the family tree.

My finger drags down each name, all branching to fill the page until I get to the last recorded god.

Airestol Stacardi.

Looking at the date etched next to his name, I do the math and notice he was blessed into an immortal five thousand and four years ago.

Under his name is a blank space that should have been filled out four years ago, marking a new god’s emergence.

The line sits empty and waiting, as if forgotten over time .

Maybe they forgot to fill it out. Maybe it truly is a fable. Maybe the new god did not pass the tests. Or maybe this text was transcribed and has not been updated in a long time.

I go to flip to the next section, curious to dive into the world of the gods, but then my attention catches on the clock on the wall, and I curse under my breath.

I have exactly two minutes before Hade knocks impatiently at my door; if I know anything about him, it’s that he is always punctual and hates being late.

I quickly stuff the book back under the floor, shoving the boards back down for a later date, and rush out of the room like my feet are on fire. My dress swooshes aggressively as if the shadows are agitated at me, or maybe they are just missing their daddy.

Collecting the moving abundance of material in each fist, I rush down the last hallway into my room just in time to catch my breath and fix my rogue frizzy curls poking out from under my veil from running so fast.

Just as I’m satisfied with the woman staring back at me in the mirror, I hear a steady three knocks on the other side of my door, and my heart flutters with anticipation.

Striding over to my door, I take one deep, steadying breath and swing it open, just for all the air to whoosh out of my lungs in less than a second.

I consciously try to hold my jaw firmly shut from the devastatingly handsome man standing opposite me. Hade is dressed to the nines in an immaculate white suit, the opposite of me in every way. His usual all black getup is gone to the wind, and frankly, he’s never looked better.

Don’t get me wrong, his fighting uniform does things to me no sane woman could survive, but seeing him in a simple, bright white suit paired with accents of black has me on the verge of a real life heart attack.

His dark eye swirls with malice while his light eye seems to brighten when paired with the suit, and I cannot take my eyes off him .

Gulping slowly, he looks me over from head to toe at an excruciatingly slow pace that has my pulse hammering in my neck. “ My gods , Nyxi.” He drops to his knees in front of me, my eyes about to bulge out of my goddamn head.

This man, this beast, this powerful killing machine, is on his knees before me as if I am his sole god to worship.

“You are magnificent, dream ,” he whispers to himself.

I try to reach forward, attempting to pull him back to his feet, but he only snatches my hand and places the softest kiss on my skin.

“I’m exactly where I belong, worshiping at the altar of the goddess who has blessed me with viewing privileges of the rarest piece of art in all of Lunaria.

Fuck that, in the entire universe. I would pray at your feet for the rest of my days if it meant I never had to take my eyes off you. ”

I think I might just die right here and now, because nothing could ever top the high I am riding, and I’m afraid nothing ever will.