Page 79 of Darkness Births the Stars #1

Sensing the king’s dwindling patience, my fellow Aurea left quietly besides a bit of grumbling. I pushed back my chair, the legs scraping against the marble floor with a harsh sound.

“You stay, brother,” Aramaz ordered, his voice a low growl. His tone softened slightly as he added, “You too, Baradaz.”

I lingered by the table, strangely uncomfortable, my eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them.

Aramaz had taken my side, was once again defending me against the scorn of the others, yet his unbending posture and the way his powers still hung heavy in the air told me it was not so simple.

Baradaz clearly shared my unease, her face pale and worried, her gaze fixed on the king’s back.

Aramaz’s voice was rough with barely controlled emotion when he finally spoke. “Did you do it on purpose?”

His words made me frown in confusion. “But you just said…”

“I didn’t talk with the Allfather.” My brother wheeled around, his face contorted with a rage I had rarely seen. “What if he ordered us to destroy the Humans? Let’s hope he doesn’t intervene in our matters and his attention stays on his own realm.”

I stared at him in utter shock. It had all been a clever ruse.

His every word and action carefully chosen to let our brethren believe he had orders directly from our Maker.

I never thought my self-righteous brother capable of such deception, especially for my sake.

Especially when I had only ever repaid him with scorn and—my gaze shot to Baradaz—a betrayal of the worst kind.

Why couldn’t he see how incredibly foolish his belief in me was? Even if I tried, I always failed. Too easily tempted. Too weak.

“So you lied for me? How generous.” A sudden, irrational anger turned my voice into a mocking drawl. “Oh, I should probably be grateful, then.”

The flash of power throwing me into the nearest wall didn’t come unexpectedly. No, part of me reveled in it. In the fury on Aramaz’s face as he crossed the room and grabbed the collar of my tunic to bring my face close to his.

“Do you think I enjoy having to cover up your sins, brother?” he snarled. “How would you have liked to be forced to destroy the Humans? Like your dragons all those years ago?”

The reminder of the last time I had openly defied the Allfather’s wishes sat ill with me. Again, I was powerless. Depending solely on the mercy of others.

“So that’s it,” I provoked Aramaz. I wanted him to erupt, wanted to tear down this cursed facade of virtue he always cloaked himself in. “You can’t make the hard decisions. Some things never change.”

The fist around my collar tightened, nearly choking me. An icy glint entered those bright blue eyes, so close to mine. “Believe me, I can make hard decisions when necessary,” he said, his power burning my skin.

The tension between us crackled like lightning, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved anger. I could feel the heat of his rage, the weight of his disappointment pressing down on me. Yet beneath it all, there was a flicker of fear—fear of what I had done, and what I might do next.

“Aramaz.”

Baradaz’s voice was soft; still, it made my brother relent at once.

She had rushed over to us, placing a restraining hand on his arm.

Aramaz released me and stepped back, his magic subdued, though anger still clouded his face.

Silver eyes met mine, a hard look in them, as I leaned against the wall, catching my breath.

“Stop it. Now.” Baradaz’s mind-voice was harsh, our connection icily controlled, hiding her true emotions.

“You were less eager to defend me than he was,” I accused her.

“What are you doing every time you venture into the Other alone, Belekoroz?” she asked aloud. Aramaz moved to her side, both of them looking at me with identical expressions of disappointment and sorrow. Rage awakened inside me, so enormous it drowned me.

“You don’t trust me,” I forced out through clenched teeth.

“How can I when you keep so many secrets from me?” Baradaz stepped closer, a desperate light in her eyes, her emotions a sudden storm in our bond after her silence .

“You think they are right.”

I had sometimes contemplated telling her the truth—that I believed Chaos could be as valuable as Order if used correctly. I had thought of sharing my dreams with her, my visions. Not anymore. Not like this. Like an accused begging for forgiveness.

“No. I want to understand. If you could just tell me — ”

“Afraid you tangled too much with the dark, my queen? Afraid you allowed it to corrupt you as well?” I interrupted her, letting all my anger, all my bitterness rage through our connection.

The words were a weapon, meant to wound.

I was not willing to listen to her plead with me as if she had any right to my secrets.

She had been an amusing distraction. Nothing more.

Baradaz flinched underneath the onslaught, but did not relent. “Belekoroz, please.” She bridged the gap between us, her hand coming up to touch my arm—

“Baradaz.”

Only to freeze when my brother said her name. Her gaze flitted to him, an anxious expression on her face. Then, she returned to his side, her eyes downcast.

They were talking mind to mind. It was obvious in their tense stance, in the swift looks they exchanged.

It felt like a betrayal. I didn’t care that I had done the same with her countless times.

This reminder that Aramaz had a bond with her, a bond beyond duty, fueled my resentment into a storm.

When it came down to it, Baradaz was choosing my brother. And not me.

Seeing them together, I was tempted to throw the truth in Aramaz’s face—that I had fucked his betrothed and she had loved every moment. The words burned on my tongue, yearning to break free. How easy it would be to hurt them both.

Baradaz stared at me, her eyes wide and fearful, as she caught on to the anger raging through me. Only a day ago she had looked at me with desire, sometimes even tenderness.

No, I decided, I would not reveal our secret.

It would only prove them all right, would prove I was a failure, that I was always to blame.

Still, I could no longer endure their presence.

Calling in my shadows, I let them flow around me, as tightly controlled as my voice as I addressed the king and queen.

“You know what? I will spare you from having to make this hard decision, brother, and free you from my bothersome presence.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I am resigning from the Council.”

Baradaz gasped. “Belekoroz, wait…”

Aramaz, though, just watched me with a cold, unreadable expression. “That might be best for the time being,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. It seemed I had finally found the limit of his patience. And of mine.

As I turned to leave, Baradaz’s magic reached out one last time, a desperate plea that mirrored my own anguish. It pierced through me, tempting me to return, to lose myself in her and consider begging for forgiveness.

I shut her out without remorse. My mind transformed into an impenetrable fortress, every gate slamming closed, every connection between us severed with cruel finality. I had allowed this cursed weakness for my brother’s bride to rule me for far too long.

The north awaited me with its endless plains of ice and snow, a vast expanse of white that stretched to the horizon.

I welcomed the bite of the cold into my skin, shifting into corporeal form earlier than necessary, relishing the way the physical strain cleared my head as I trudged through the snowdrifts toward my goal.

This was the first part of Aron-Lyr I had ever seen, and perhaps that was why it felt so familiar.

Or maybe it was the harsh, unforgiving landscape that resonated with my own nature, making me feel at home in a way few places could.

Here, in this frozen wasteland, I found a strange sense of peace. Here I could forget.

My stronghold was hidden deep within the unnamed mountains of the north, a secret I had kept even from Baradaz.

They loomed above me, their jagged peaks piercing the sky, shrouded in a perpetual veil of snow and ice.

It was not uncommon for the Aurea to have dwellings outside of Lyrheim; most of us spent time in our own domains.

But I knew my activities would attract unwanted scrutiny from the Council, those short-sighted fools who saw danger in every shadow.

Cold amusement stirred within me as I imagined Sha’am’s reaction to the glowing veins of Chaos that marked the dark stone where a great iron door guarded the entrance to my underground fortress.

I stood before it, summoning my power, the shadows around me swelling from a faint whisper to a menacing storm of pure darkness.

It wouldn’t be long now. Those inside knew their master’s magic well.

A giant opened the gate for me.

Unlike many other Anima, Galator, the most powerful spirit serving me, had never seen any use for a fair form.

He valued strength over beauty, immense muscles bulging as he pushed open the great doors.

His head nearly touched the ceiling as he stepped outside, clad in warm furs over a simple dark tunic.

The only remotely attractive feature in his rough-hewn face were his eyes.

A warm brown, they glowed beneath coarse, dark hair.

“My lord,” he said, with a growl like falling stones, his large, square teeth flashing in a rare smile. “It is good to have you back. ”

I had been so focused on the mission to destroy the Kritak—and on my beautiful companion—that I had neglected my people in the north. It was time to correct that oversight.

Galator’s gaze flitted past me before I could greet him, another growl rumbling through him, the sound full of threat. His eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon with a predator’s intensity. “Someone followed you, my lord,” he said, reaching for the great war hammer at his side.

At his words, my heart clenched with a sudden foolish hope. Could it be? Had she decided to follow me? I eagerly searched the snow-filled air for a flash of red, cursing myself for my persisting weakness.

But it was not Baradaz’s dainty features and distinctive hair that emerged from the cold.

Instead, a tall figure appeared, completely clad in thick furs, a heavy sack slung over their shoulder.

Noticing our presence, they halted and lowered their cowl, revealing familiar golden-green eyes that glinted with determination.

“Lord Belekoroz.” Masir sank to one knee in front of me, the snow crunching beneath him. “I have come to pledge my allegiance to you.” His voice carried a hoarse note, and there was a nearly feverish expression on his handsome face.

I stared at him, stunned. The Anima had chosen freely which Aurea to serve after being sent to Aron-Lyr, so it was rare for one to change their allegiance.

I could not recall anyone having done so in the last century, since fiery Evanna had left Khiraz’s services for Zamani, the Aurea of Fire better suited to her nature.

Sweet triumph sizzled through my veins as the implications of Masir’s defection from M’tar’s forge sank in.

My careful planning had paid off. And gained me a valuable ally.

The Anima, his eyes gleaming with defiance and hope, reached for the sack he had brought. “I do not come empty-handed,” he declared, his voice rich with promise.

With a dramatic flourish, he opened the sack, revealing a chest brimming with lyr -stones. They pulsed with a soft, ethereal light, casting a mesmerizing glow on the snow. A wild, unrestrained laugh escaped me at the sight.

Oh, this changed things. This changed things, indeed.

I bent down, clasped Masir’s hands, and pulled him up. “Rise, Masir, my friend,” I said. “We have a lot of work to do.”