Page 20 of Darkness Births the Stars #1

“No.” The scream building inside me emerged as a whisper, the power pressing me down too oppressive to allow it to escape. Panic surged up within me. I had to make him look at them, see how beautiful they were, how much potential there was in my ideas…

“If you don’t destroy them, I will.”

The images the Allfather sent to me were a horrifying array of pain and fire, once elegant shapes twisting in endless torment. The sight of my beloved creations writhing in agony was more than I could bear.

“Destroy them, Belekoroz.” The Allfather’s voice in my head was relentless. “Or they will burn.”

I raged and screamed against the order, but there was no mercy.

In the end, I gathered all of them around me.

Silvestri lay his massive head on my lap, while the smaller of his brethren pressed against his mighty flank.

They remained calm as my shadows crept into the cave, used to the touch of my magic.

I scratched the spot beneath Silvestri’s curved horn like I had done countless times.

A deep rumble went through his body, his eyes closing in bliss.

The shadows grew darker, their movements more purposeful. I acted swiftly, knowing my resolve could falter at any moment. They did not deserve to suffer for my weakness when I had already condemned them with my disobedience.

One sharp gesture. The cracking sound of dozens of necks snapping.

A shudder went through Silvestri’s great body, his golden eyes flaring open in sudden pain before dimming forever. The look in them seared itself into my memory. Disbelief. Betrayal. He had trusted me, and I had failed him.

The taste of blood on my tongue. My teeth had sharpened to fangs, shredding my lower lip to stifle any sound of anguish. I focused on the pain, letting it wash over me until it drowned out everything else .

The Allfather bestowed one final touch upon me as he left me among the broken bodies of my dragons. His voice resounded in my head, a cold, unyielding presence. “I wish this had not been necessary, Belekoroz,” he said. “That you could simply do what is expected of you.”

Then why, I wanted to scream, the words stuck in my throat like broken glass, choking me, did you create me this way?

It was Aramaz who found me.

Standing in front of a pyre, where I had dragged the bodies to burn them, strands of Fire magic flowing effortlessly to my hands, fueled by my hate and fury.

The flames roared, casting flickering shadows on the icy ground, their heat a stark contrast to the cold emptiness within me.

No tears wet my face. My heart was an aching void, beating out of sheer stubbornness.

To be fair, this wasn’t the first time my brother had visited me.

Over the years, he had repeatedly tried to lure me to the city he and the other Aurea had built, cautioning me against my acts of rebellion.

I always declined. A weak part of me took pleasure in knowing he cared enough to seek me out, but my anger—kept alive by the suspicion that his visits were motivated by pity—always won.

“Come with me, brother,” Aramaz said, stepping up beside me, though he was wise enough not to touch me. “It is not good for you to remain here alone.”

His words forced a bitter laugh from my lips. “To rule the Darkness is to be alone,” I said. A simple truth I had foolishly forgotten.

“He should not have destroyed your dragons.”

Surprise cut through my misery at my brother’s comment.

Censure of our Maker’s decision from his most glorious child was not something I had expected to hear.

I took him in: the King of Aron-Lyr, pristine as ever, dressed all in white, his long golden hair and blue eyes the only things standing out in the snow.

All the power in this world had been granted to him, yet he could not face me, that bright gaze fixed on the flames before us.

“Or at least he shouldn’t have forced you to do it yourself,” he added, his voice gentle.

I scoffed. “And who would have done it then? You?” If one thing was certain about my brother, it was his inability to make hard decisions, to do what was necessary. I was the best example of that.

Those blue eyes finally met mine, so open, so honest that it made something inside me clench. “Yes, if it would have lessened your pain,” Aramaz said. And I believed him.

That was the thing with my brother. Despite all the jealousy, all the resentment I felt toward him, there were moments of understanding—sparks of light amid the darkness.

Perhaps that was why I could never fully extinguish the love I felt for him. Sometimes it only made me hate him even more.

“Come to Lyrheim with me,” Aramaz said, his eyes holding a fragile hope.

I longed to shake off the reassuring hand on my shoulder, to snarl at him to leave me be, to shatter his hope into a thousand pieces. Yet the warmth of his touch, his cursed compassion that I did not ask for, that I did not need… It seeped into my very being.

I knew it would change nothing. Even at the center of the Home of Light, amid my brethren, I would remain alone. Still, I had my moments of foolish hope, too. Perhaps one day I would make the others see. Perhaps one day they would understand.

“Fine,” I answered. “I will come with you.”