Page 16 of Above (Darkness Reigns #1)

Despite my best efforts, my fingers froze when I got to my undergarments.

The general’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smirk—like father, like son.

With a nod, he encouraged me on. I slid out of my panties first, my breasts always far more of an insecurity.

When I straightened and reached for the clasp between my shoulder blades, another set of fingers were there first.

“Allow me,” he whispered into my ear, his breath hot and smelling of whiskey. I stilled, a swirl of panic turning my stomach. With a quick flick of his fingers, I was bare. “Enjoy the well. I know I’ll enjoy watching your filthy body float to the top.”

Azazel Altair didn’t deserve my tears. I knew that. Yet I couldn’t stop my eyes from watering as I put distance between us and walked towards the stars’ essence, my toes touching the thick, syrupy liquid.

I wouldn’t cry. I couldn’t cry.

Slowly, I entered the icy cold well of essence, descending the ramp with as much dignity as I could muster.

Though I knew what the essence would do, I was not positive what fears I would experience and how exactly I would need to face them.

Every step forward brought me deeper. Closer to the dread below.

When my shoulders were covered, I took one final breath in and leapt forward, the thick liquid practically sucking me under. Squeezing my eyes shut, I welcomed the stars and their trials. I was walking away with shadow magic either way.

“Hello, Nova Tershetta.”

The voice was unsettling. Or was it many voices? A collective hiss that rattled my bones and made my skin itch.

“We are many, but we are one. Everything special about you comes from us, dear one. You are made by our will and you will be unmade just the same.”

At that point, I was completely unaware of my body or my surroundings. I felt like I was a floating soul, my consciousness exploring the universe amongst the stars as they spoke to me. Fear evaded me, though I was surely disconcerted. It was not darkness that surrounded me now, but pure light.

“Tell us, Nova Tershetta, where does your darkness lie?”

“Nova?” The sound of Celeste’s voice had my soul crashing back down into my body. All at once I was in my childhood home, daylight streaming through the windows of the kitchen. And there was my sister. On the floor. Bleeding. Dying. Crying. Screaming. “Nova!”

I tried to run to her, but I never got closer, no matter how badly my chest burned and how heavy my breaths came.

“Nova, please, stop! Stop killing me!” Celeste’s screams became gurgles just as black liquid—haya—poured out of her mouth. Her eyes. Her ears. Her nose. It drowned her.

“Do you know how much she despises you? How deeply her distaste for your kind runs? Your sister has no love for us. But for you she has hatred.”

Just then, Celeste stilled. Suddenly, she was upright, her beautiful, stormy eyes on me.

“You have done nothing but ruin our lives for twenty-five years. Every single one of our hardships are your fault. If we could kill you ourselves we would. You are a monster!” Her screams echoed off the kitchen ceiling, signaling a kind of emptiness that did not exist in the real world.

The knowledge that this was all fake, a hoax, didn’t stop me from falling to my knees and screaming into the void that abruptly wrapped around me.

“We see who you are.”

A line began to form, each man and woman I had once robbed or attacked or used staring at me with dead eyes. A lineup of my every sin.

“You’re a monster, aren’t you?”

“Please,” Dad’s voice was broken as he begged. He was on the ground, his chair nowhere to be seen, his hands cupping Mama’s bruised, bloody, and lifeless face. “Why did you take her from me, Nova?”

“Or are you worse? Perhaps you are weak.”

All three of my family members appeared right in front of me, their skin sagging and spotted, wrinkled with age. Their bones frail and their mouths trembling.

“Goodbye, Nova.” Their voices mingled, each of them collapsing. I screamed and shrieked. I begged and pleaded. I watched my family die. Again and again, the stars showed me their passing. Faster each time.

“No, we see you for what you are above all else.”

“And what is that?” I asked them, my knees giving out. I did not hit hard ground though, instead, I floated. Weightless as I seemed to twist and turn.

“You, Nova Tershetta, are a catalyst.”

My head broke the surface, my feet suddenly finding solid rock beneath. I gasped, my lungs feeling as if they might burst. Before me crouched Iblis Altair, his head cocked to the side and his nose scrunched.

“Four minutes and two seconds,” he stated plainly.

My eyes widened, realization hitting me.

I completed the shadow ritual.

Far quicker than I had entered, I began to exit the well, propelling myself forward with adrenaline as the horrifying images appeared beneath my lids with each blink.

Across my skin, the essence of the stars beaded and dripped, cascading down my body.

But, just like the text had warned, a burning commenced.

Daring to peek down, I watched as some of the liquid began to smoke and sizzle on my arm, not moving, but instead seeping into me as it boiled.

It went from glowing silver to pitch black, painting my skin in swirls and wisps that mirrored the shadows of smoke in the sky.

I grunted as more of my body surfaced, shadow magic scarring the skin from the tips of my fingers, up my arms, below my collar bones, around my breasts, and down my sternum, meeting between my ribs where it tapered off.

A similar sensation traveled down my spine, and I couldn’t help but let out an involuntary hiss of pain.

The second my thighs left the water, I felt more skin burn, until I was standing before the general, my legs on fire down to my toes and my body shaking from the cold paired with the lingering fear.

It was said that your shadow magic was measured by how much of your body was covered with the black swirls. If that was the case, I was decently powerful.

“Welcome to Elite Academy, Nova Tershetta,” General Altair boomed, letting his voice command the authority that was slipping from him as the whispers erupted behind us.

The general accepted a thick black cloak from the man on his left, which he deftly placed around me, securing it at my collarbones and making sure it covered my nude body. Then, he grabbed one of the masks.

Mostly black, but bearing some silver accents, the elite mask was practically a trademark.

It sported only two holes for the eyes, no other feature etched onto it.

General Altair held it to my face, magic flooding the air as the mask seemed to suction onto me.

Whereas the cloak that mirrored the night itself was soft and comforting, the mask was cold and constricting. As if it held me in its grasp.

Motioning towards his left, General Altair turned away and faced the group of awaiting shaytan. I was no longer of much interest, apparently. So I took my place along the northern edge of the well, my heart beating a frantic rhythm as the pain and terror caught up to the joy and adrenaline.

I had the shadows.

I watched my family die.

I felt my skin boil.

I was threatened by a core family member.

“Who will be our next brave volunteer?” the general asked.

Immediately, Talon Zade pushed forward. This time, no questions were asked and no doubts offered.

The Altairs knew the Zades. “I am sure your mother is very proud of you, Talon.” Iblis Altair turned to his right, where the woman stood, her smile tight as she stared at Talon.

Ah, so the core family leader of the academy this quarter would be the Zade matriarch.

“You may undress and enter the well. Good luck.”

Talon was far quicker than I was to remove his clothing, not so much as hesitating to push down his undergarments and begin his walk forward.

Watching him was a reminder of how much more training not only core families received, but anyone born from shaytan.

They began work immediately, and that showed in the way his muscles rippled and magic danced around him. He was honed for this.

Within seconds, Talon was diving down, time seeming to slow as he fought whatever fears plagued him.

Had they been this silent when I was under?

It was so quiet I wondered if anyone was even breathing.

In my head, I tried to count out the seconds.

It took me over four minutes. No doubt he would be faster.

But how fast? Were the core families growing stronger or weaker? Was it even possible to best them?

My questions were answered as Talon burst free of the essence, his breaths coming even and his eyes determined.

He didn’t even look unsettled. His steps were large and intentional, only a few of them needed to get him out.

I watched in awe as the silver drips boiled and burned into him as they had me.

The difference came in the sheer amount of skin covered.

Talon’s marks began at his collarbones and swirled down across the entirety of his body.

Despite myself, I even checked his cock.

Yes, shadows marred him there, too. Ouch.

“Three minutes and ten seconds!” General Altair exclaimed.

The Zade woman clapped, bouncing and smiling as who must be her son was awarded his own cape and mask. Soon Talon was at my side, his form larger than mine but no more foreboding. I was just as much a weapon as him. I had to be.

“Congratulations,” he whispered, his head tilting my way.

I ignored him, not trying to fall for any core family tricks.

Instead I watched as ten more people were given the shadows, each bearing less marks than Talon.

The eleventh was when things began to take a turn.

He was under for mere seconds before bubbles formed where he had dove down, followed quickly by his body rising lifelessly.

As expected, more startled gasps flooded the area, made even worse when the body was tugged back under and never resurfaced.

The Otarn girl with the black hair and perpetual frown went next, not even hesitating when the general asked who would volunteer.

Followed by the two core boys that had accompanied Azazel Altair.

Then the girl I believed to be Talon’s sister.

All four lived, each faster than most and covered in shadow marks.

A staggering amount of deaths occurred, at least another forty not being deemed worthy. After the third body floated up, I felt myself becoming desensitized by the loss.

One by one, people undressed, entered the well, and fought their fears. Again and again. Over and over. Until we were a group of about one hundred and twenty elite trainees. On the other side stood one lone man. A boy, really. Especially when we considered how long we would live.

Azazel Altair looked smug as his father ordered him to undress.

He was slower than the others, taking his sweet time to tug off his leathers.

His shoes were kicked to the side, his undergarments flicked off.

Just like many of the others, he was toned in the way only someone with a lifetime of training could be.

But there was an oddity about him. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.

“Good luck, my son. Make me proud.”

“Always,” Altair responded before entering the well and practically being tugged below.

His body was there one moment and gone the next, the ripples in the essence disappearing just as quickly as he had.

And, though I expected it, he was up in half the time it took me.

His head soared out of the essence, the silver liquid nearly matching his pale hair and bright eyes.

His steps out of the well were more like leaps, but we all were still awarded enough time to be shocked as the marks began to paint his skin.

From his jaw down, Altair was quickly being covered in black.

Not much of his almost translucent skin was left once the essence boiled and scarred its way onto him.

“Two minutes exactly. It seems we have a new record.”