Page 34 of Demonic Division (The Sundering Duet #1)

34

Dagny

Though I fall asleep peacefully, my dreams are anything but. As soon as I close my eyes, I’m thrust into a terrifying nightmare of blood and death and sorrow. Of a war I had never seen or experienced but one I know in my heart all the same. The visions are hard to make out at first, blurred at the edges and blinking in and out of focus. But eventually, I’m able to make out the scene in front of me, and my stomach flips with horror.

Great winged bodies line the tundra for as far as the eye can see, their skin lifeless and gray and coated with horrible gashes oozing blue-black blood. It stains the ground, covering the ice in a sea of blood, of terror and death. And at the center of it all is a demon, his great white wings pumping the air as he screams a battle cry to the heavens.

Glowing fissures spread across his skin, beaming with the same brilliance as the sun, the same intensity as the light shining in his golden eyes. Long white hair flows from his scalp down past his shoulders and back, the thick waves partially obscuring the twin spiraling golden horns protruding from his forehead .

Abaddon.

I’m not sure how I know it's him—only that it is. The thing in my chest thrums violently at the knowledge, demanding I go to him, touch him. Bond with him.

I blink, and the vision fractures, changing into something much darker and distorted. Now, Abaddon is no longer in the sky but lying on the ground, writhing in pain. His magnificent wings are strapped to his body, held in place by a thin golden wire coiling around his body like a serpent. It splits him into six even pieces, then tightens, digging deep into his flesh and drawing an anguished howl from his blood-drenched lips. My chest aches at the sight, and my own scream joins his in the nether as red-hot pain flares through my veins, boiling me from the inside.

It burns and burns and burns, yet I can’t take my eyes off the powerful demon being split by that strange golden wire. I can’t comprehend what’s happening—only that it’s wrong and I’d do anything in my power to stop it.

I bolt upright, my heart pounding and sweat beading across my brow. I blink rapidly, focusing on taking even breaths through my nose as the walls of Cyprien’s burrow come back into focus.

It’s not real. Not real. None of it was real.

I say this over and over, though it does nothing to ease the rapid beating of my heart nor the aching pit of dread in my gut. I close my eyes as panic tightens its fist around my windpipe, flips my stomach, and threatens to expel what little food I’ve managed to consume.

Something is wrong.

I’m about to get up and rush to the window—for what, I’m not sure—when Cyprien’s hand reaches up, wrapping tightly around my throat .

“What’s wrong, little one?” he asks, yellow eyes glinting playfully in the dark. “You ready for more?”

His hand trails teasingly down my arm, but when I don’t respond, the smirk is wiped from his face. He snaps upright, following my line of sight as a deep frown creases his brow. “What is it, bunny?”

“Nothing,” I whisper, shaking my head even as that pit of dread grows. “Just a bad dream…”

Cyprien scours my face, his frown never wavering. “Do you want to talk about it?”

An image of that bloodied battlefield flashes in my mind, and I immediately shake my head. His frown deepens, but he doesn't push the issue. Instead, he curls his arm around my stomach and hauls me back down to the furs, his grip tightening around my middle as he peppers kisses along my shoulders and spine.

“I’ll keep you safe, bunny,” he promises, his tone revered hush. “I’ll protect you from anything—even your bad dreams.”

I nod, a small smile creeping across my face despite everything. “That’s a nice thought, Cyppy…”

If only it were true.

By the following morning, Kaebl still hasn't returned. I can tell by the narrowed brows on Lir and Roark’s faces that the demons are beginning to worry about their leader, but none attempt to verbalize it. Instead, we all stay cuddled in Cyprien’s blanket fortress, basking in the pleasure of the bond and doing our best to ignore the strange menacing energy swirling in the air.

It’s nothing palpable—just a feeling that started late last night—right when I awoke from my nightmare. Ever since, it’s been growing in strength, threatening to burst the happy little bubble me and the demons have created here.

A faraway cry pierces the air, and I snap upright, my eyes going wide as I peer through the opening of the burrow. The piece of sky I’m able to see through the opening in Cyprien’s window looks clear—devoid of threats—but I can’t shake the feeling something is horribly, terribly wrong.

“What is it?” Lir asks, sapphire eyes narrowing on the horizon. “What do you see?”

I shake my head. “I don’t… I thought I heard something…”

Roark shifts onto his forearm, his nostrils flaring as he scents the air. “I didn’t hear anything… nothing smells off, either.”

I continue staring out the window, that sense of dread shuddering down my spine. “Something’s wrong . I don’t know what—but I know it is .”

Instead of arguing, Lir, Roark, and Cyprien snap to their feet, claws and fangs elongating in tandem as they stalk toward the opening. Lir is the first to pass through, followed by Roark, but when Cyprien attempts to follow, Lir holds an arm out, blocking his way.

“Someone needs to stay with Dagny,” Lir announces. “If something is wrong, someone needs to keep her safe.”

Cyprien nods, retreating to the corner of the burrow with me in tow. He crouches down, pulling me square onto his lap as his arms fold around my stomach, holding me in place. “You’ll call if you need me?”

Lir nods, his mouth set in a serious line. “We’re just going to check the perimeter. I’m sure it’s nothing…” But ev en as he says the words, I can tell he doesn’t believe them. Shaking his head, he turns on his heel, gesturing for Roark to follow him. Lir jumps onto the window ledge, his great blue wings materializing from the shadows. They beat the air once, twice, and Lir jumps into the sky, allowing the violent wind to take him high into the atmosphere.

Roark does the same, looking back over his shoulder before launching into the void. I watch as their powerful forms disappear over the horizon, that pit of dread hardening with each passing moment.

“Cyprien… what’s happening?”

His grip tightens, claws digging lightly into my skin, but he refuses to answer. I turn my head over my shoulder, surprised to find the usually cheerful demon with an expression of distress.

Sensing my gaze, he tries to fix his mouth into a smile, but it ends up looking more like a grimace. I reach a hand up to his face, and Cyprien’s eyes close as he leans into my touch, some of the worry easing from between his brows.

“Is it that Slaine guy?” I whisper, scared of the answer but needing to know it all the same. “Is that why Kaebl hasn’t come back? Why Lir and Roark are so worried?”

Cyprien’s eyes gaze out the window, his mouth setting into a serious line. “I hope not… but something tells me it is.”

“Is it really that bad?”

He nods. “Catastrophic.”

I follow his gaze out the window, the memory of M’s words pushing to the forefront of my mind. “Maybe it’s for the best… if it’s the only way to stop Kaebl from resurrecting Abaddon…”

Cyprien’s grip tightens on my hips, and in the next second, I’m being spun around to face him. His palms travel to my shoulders, and he uses his leverage to shake me several times. I gaze into his wild yellow eyes, not understanding what could have caused such rage.

“Who told you that?” he demands, gripping my shoulders and shaking me hard. “Was it M?”

My throat dries as he continues shaking me violently, and for the life of me, I can’t make any words exit my mouth. Luckily, I don’t need to. The next moment, a massive crash breaks the air, shaking the walls of Cyprien’s room and calling his attention to the window and the massive clawed hand reaching over the ledge.

He’s on his feet and across the room before I can blink, his powerful muscles shuddering as he hauls the creature over the ledge. A horrible squelching noise fills the air as Kaebl drops to the ground, spewing thick, dark blood across Cyprien’s carefully placed furs. His golden eyes blink up at the ceiling aimlessly, his chest rising and falling rapidly with quick, shuddering breaths. All across his arms and torso, more dark blood oozes onto the ground, pooling around the demon lord like a halo.

Without thought, I rush toward him, crouching in the puddle of blood by his head as Cyprien carefully unfolds his broken wings.

“Gods, what happened?” Cyprien demands, pressing his palm to the gaping hole in Kaebl’s left wing. A faint yellow light pulses to life beneath his hand, slowly pulling the shredded edges of the membrane back together. Kaebl winces as Cyprien moves to the protruding bone near his shoulder blade, sweat beading across his brow as he attempts to mend it.

Kaebl reaches up, attempting to bat Cyprien away, but the arm falls limply back to the ground. There’s a pool of blood now, spreading out in every direction on the floor, touching the walls. My eyes flit over the horrible wounds on Kaebl’s torso, and I know Cyprien alone will not be able to save him.

The thought should make me happy—maybe even give me some relief—but when I look at the dying golden light in his eyes, I’m filled with anguish.

Unwittingly, my hands trail over the worst of the wounds, hovering just above the mutilated flesh. A pleasant warmth builds in my chest, spreading through my veins to my hands and pooling at the tips of my fingers. Just like with Roark, a faint silver light pulses to life as the heat leaves my skin, traveling into Kaebl’s and mending the oozing wounds.

Cyprien and I work in tandem, stopping only when the worst of the injuries are healed and the pool of blood ceases to grow. My head swims as I sit back on my heels, and I have to brace against the floor as the room threatens to spin out from under me.

“Whoa, bunny,” Cyprien murmurs, reaching a hand out to hold me up. “Easy. We don’t want a repeat of last time.”

I nod, blinking rapidly as the vertigo eases. I take a few deep breaths, raising my head when I’m sure I’m not going to slump to the floor. “I’m good. Just a little dizzy.” I turn my attention back toward Kaebl, my hands reaching out to the small wounds peppering his forearms. Before I make contact, a pair of clawed hands snap up, catching my hands in one of his calloused ones.

Kaebl’s golden eyes blink up at me, his palm tightening around mine as a deep growl builds in his chest. Dagny… how did you ? —

“We don’t have time to talk about that.” Cyprien interrupts, his worried eyes finding mine before settling on Kaebl. “What the hell happened?”

Slaine… Kaebl’s voice dims as his eyes lower, the fissures in his skin pulsing weakly. He’s here… his army… it’s over…

Cyprien shakes his head, horror filling his bright yellow eyes. “ No… ”

I grip Cyprien’s arm, calling his attention back to me. “Lir and Roark are out there…”

At my words, Kaebl pushes onto his forearms, his muscles shuddering violently as he attempts to stand. I have to help them.

“You’re in no position to do shit,” Cyprien snaps, turning his worried eyes toward the window. “Gods, what do we do?”

Instead of following Cyprien’s gaze, Kaebl continues to stare at me, his golden eyes glowing molten—filled with an emotion I couldn’t begin to place.

Cyprien. Take Dagny down to the dungeon.

“What? Why?”

Kaebl narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t take them off me. If the castle falls, it’s the best place for her to be.

He just shakes his head. “If it falls, she’ll be buried down there.”

Better than Slaine finding her. A quick death is better than the torture Slaine would put her through if he discovered her.

Cyprien’s grip tightens around my arm, and he pulls me toward him possessively. “You’re putting her down there to die ?”

He turns his gaze onto Cyprien, the muscle in the side of his jaw ticking. Yes.

“You can’t fucking do that!”

There is no hope for her, Cyprien! His voice roars into our minds. I’ve seen the size of his army. Unless we were able to reverse the sundering, there was no way to defeat them. There never was.

With a grimace, Kaebl pushes upright, his battered wing creaking with the movement. His expression hardens as he looks deep into Cyprien’s eyes, and when he speaks, his voice is absent of any emotion. Do the right thing, Cyprien. Give her a good death.

“I won’t,” Cyprien snarls, his claws digging deep into my skin. “I can’t .”

You will.

Just as he finishes speaking, a high-pitched war cry breaks the air, and Cyprien’s head whips toward the window as an ironic smile tips Kaebl’s lips. It’s time, Cyprien. Make your choice.

Cyprien turns back to me, desperation shining in his glowing yellow eyes. “ Bunny, ” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “Dagny… I’m so sorry…”

My throat constricts, and try as I might, I can’t make any words come out. I can’t plead, or argue, or even tell him Kaebl is wrong. I don’t know nearly enough about this world or my supposed powers to help anyone. To help myself. Hopelessness settles in the pit of my stomach, corroding my insides with despair. But even still, a part of me wants to fight, to live despite the odds.

“You can’t put me down there again,” I say, cursing the shake in my voice. “There has to be something we can do. There has to be a way.”

I look out the window, my chest tightening at the sight of hundreds of tiny black dots lining the horizon—Slaine’s soldiers—and some of the fight in my veins dies.

How on earth could five demons and a half-human girl fight that kind of force?

Seeing what I have, Kaebl struggles to a stand, pressing a bloodied palm against the walls to balance. He gazes at me one last time, and the sadness in his golden eyes causes my chest to ache.

Take her, Cyprien. Now. Before it’s too late.

Cyprien looks toward Kaebl, then the approaching soldier over the horizon, his mouth settling into a hard line. Without a word, he hauls me to my feet, his powerful palm wrapping like a vise around my forearm as he pulls me toward the exit.

And by the expression on his face, I know what his decision is.

I’m going back to the dungeons.

To die.