Page 104

PRINCE DOMAN

M y eyes flick open in the same bed I’ve awoken in for so many decades.

This time it’s different. Adriana is next to me, and she’s in my mind.

I breathe in, tasting her scent, and my cock stirs in response. I rise from the bed, and my triad awakens with me, two sets of colored eyes staring back at me where yesterday there was flint grey.

Now they are complete.

Now they are ready.

I don my battle robe, cinching my belt around my waist. The familiar weight of my Orb-Blade hilt makes my fingers twitch. The Orb glows in anticipation.

I stride out of the bedroom and into the cockpit before I activate my blade.

My triad stays back, sensing I want a moment alone to look out at the endless expanse of space.

I balance my blade on the back of my wrist, the length of it humming with blue-black energy as the Orb in the hilt glows in long, rhythmic pulses as if it has its own heartbeat.

My blade was handed down to me by my father, the Emperor. He told me it was the blade that cut down General Asmod, when my father and his triad were fighting for their lives in the Arena of the Gods. He cut down the Old Ways and took the throne.

Now my blade has a hunger for Asmod’s lineage. I will kill the General’s son. The only thing that can kill a God is another God, and when I cut him down, his devotees will fall in line.

I rested only an hour. Enough to refresh myself. My parents will have learned of Fay’s disappearing—but they haven’t sent me any news regarding it. That’s good. They are keeping her escape secret, just as we predicted.

On my radar, there are countless Reavers at a respectful distance. An honor guard, and one that I had planned to use to pick up Adriana’s escape pod when I sent her away before shifting into the heart of darkness. My lips curl back as I know she is right.

I can’t trust my parents with my Mate. Not when they would use her against me to keep me from facing Obsidian.

And all the Reavers in the universe can’t stop me from Orb-Shifting.

My triad’s heavy boots announce them before they enter the cockpit. They’re dressed for battle, in the free-flowing robes that allow for ease of movement.

“Open holo-vid,” orders Gallien to the ship’s AI. As it flickers up, he glances to me. “Obsidian is addressing his people. And the universe.”

The stars are obscured by the holo-vid which shows Obsidian on his black throne, above the sands of his coliseum. This message is not just to us—but broadcasted to the universe.

The intelligence services on Colossus must be scrambling, generals conferring and setting up meetings to understand why the War-God has ended his assault and returned to his home planet. The video feed is authenticated—there’s no AI illusion here. It’s transmitting base reality.

He sits, straight-backed and monstrous, on his black throne overlooking the sands.

Shirtless, his muscled flesh is marred by nuclear burns and the black oil that his twisted heart pumps through his veins.

His hard features are warped by his wounds, his teeth sharp and glistening ivory, and he is clad in only a loincloth of furs.

He is as he was found, on the Godsforsaken planet he should have rotted on for eternity.

On his lap, the hilt of his Orb-Blade rests, ready to be activated. The Orb pulses in rhythm with my own, each eager to be the one that drinks of life-blood.

“I have been challenged,” he snarls, wolf-like and intense.

Across the universe, homes are tuning in, trillions of eyes glued to their holo-vid projectors.

“I accept. This is the ancient ways of our species. I have led you into countless battles. You have all branded yourselves in my likeness. Listen to me now. If I am slain, do not avenge me. Throw down your swords and surrender, for if I die, Fate itself has forsaken us.” His lips curl back, in the most horrific way.

“But I will not be slain, my legions. And when I take the crown prince’s head, next we march on Colossus for his fathers. ”

There is a roar in response. We can’t see them from this angle, but the stands of the arena are packed with his soldiers. When I cut their God down, they will surround me, and they will bow to me, just as Obsidian will bow as he falls to his knees dripping blood.

“I welcome you, Prince Doman. Come to my domain. Come, and die.” The holo-vid feed cuts off, leaving us looking out at the infinite stars.

On the Reaver’s flight map, I see the blinking icons of my honor guard closing in.

They will bet too slow to stop me.

All the ships in the Aurelian fleet can’t stop me from Orb-Shifting, and with his pregnant Mate following the same coordinates, Obsidian has no option but to bring me safely to him. With a practiced flick of my fingers, I start up the long-dormant drive.

It hasn’t been activated since the Rift started to drown our ships in darkness, and now I’m trusting our greatest enemy to guide us through oblivion.

My watch buzzes, and I bring it to my ear. Cal’s voice greets me. “I’ve got the preliminary coordinates. We’ll refine once he sends the rest.” I can hear him swallow over the feed. He might live in a world of his own, but he knows how dangerous this is going to be for me and my triad.

Our Orb-Drives hum to life, and the authenticated coms-link request blinks red. I answer instantly.

Obsidian wastes no time. His hard voice rattles off coordinates. Gallien punches them in as Titus white-knuckles the hilt of his blade. My heart is steady, my mind clear.

I smell her scent an instant before her feet patter in. Deactivating my blade, I turn, wrapping her up in my embrace as reality blinks out of existence.

Together, we are plunged into the place between worlds.

The white glow of my Reaver’s interior disappears, and I am left in space holding my Mate, my battle-brothers surrounding me. Then the stars blink out, one by one, until I am in endless nothingness, clutching her tight against me.

The poisonous thought infects my mind—has Obsidian’s control of the Rift become so great that he could pluck Fay from the darkness and leave us in oblivion forever?

As Adriana’s terror washes over me, I push out all cowardice. I radiate my calm to her in waves to reassure her.

There is no room for doubt. I open my mouth to breathe, but there is no air or need for it here. The smell of her is gone, then my battle-brothers blink out of existence, one by one, and there is only darkness, darkness and my own awareness.

Even in this place, I can feel them, the four auras of my triad and my Mate, raging against the night.

But it’s not perfectly dark. There’s a blue-black glow, and I wonder at where it’s coming from before my blade returns, phantom lips curling back against where my teeth should be as the bones of skeletal hand curl around the hilt.

My flesh materializes, and hers, and Titus and Gallien blink back into existence at the same time as our Reaver reappears.

Instead of endless stars through the viewing glass, the black stone walls rise up. We’re on Obsidious now, in the heart of the Fanatics, and we only get out of here by spilling the blood of their God.

I am in the Arena of Blood, my Reaver touched down as soft as if I had piloted it myself on the black sands. The stealth ship shimmers as reality bends around it. He brought my brother safely, along with his Mate.

The stands are packed with silent, staring triads of Aurelians who look down at my ship with venom. Their black brands mar their ivory skin, each of them pledging their undying loyalty to their God.

From a hundred feet above, the black shadow dives from his throne. He lands with a dull thud, then stands to his full height across the arena, waiting for my triad to come out and challenge him.

“I will not fail. Not with you in my mind, Adriana. Not with your Bond giving me strength.” I speak to her, but my eyes are locked with the twin black pools of oblivion that stare at me from across the obsidian sands.

I can feel her terror. She can’t control it, and it seeps out, poisonous.

Not even my own Mate thinks I can cut down the War-God.

Blade in my hand, my triad in battle formation, we exit the Reaver.

I test the ground, feeling the give of the thirsting sands.

There is no wind, and the heavy, ancient sun casts a pall of heat.

My triad forms in battle stance, facing him down from across the black sands.

I can see each grain, my senses hyper-focused by the Bond.

But he is Bonded as well.

Obsidian paces, his head turned to watch me as he strides back and forth. There is no anger in his twisted visage, no hate in his cold black eyes. The crowd is silent. Feverish eyes witness their God. The packed masses of branded warriors in black togas fade into the background.

The hush. The coolness. The perfect silence. My life has been leading to this moment, from when my forefathers handed me my blade. It was always coming to this. I dove into my fate, but the rivers would have brought me here, across from him, had I fought my destiny.

I ready myself to kill, to die. I find my perfect blankness, the battle-calm honed since Academy.

I find it, and my triad’s auras match mine, glacial, but I grit my teeth as the ice splinters. I’m infected by her. Her terror frays at my resolve.

I have more to lose than my life. My future with her depends on my blade, but I can’t back down now. I can end this war in a single blow, end the slaughter, end the slow death of my people as we are ground into dust.

Obsidian stops dead center across the arena. “It was always going to be this way,” he states. The scars from the nuclear blast ruin his once-perfect ivory skin, and his heart pumps black blood through his cursed veins.

His blade activates. The three hums of my triad’s Orb-Blades respond. From the corner of my eye, I see the pulse of my own Orb in the hilt of my blade. It’s eager. It drank of Scorp-blood, then the blood of my brothers, branded Aurelians falling before my blade.

Now it hungers to sate itself in the heart-blood of the War-God himself.

I don’t need to look to my left and right to feel my battle-brothers. They are ready, and so am I.

In unison, we charge.