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Chapter Twenty

VICTOR

The blinding rays produced by Carcerem’s sun threatened to blister my eyeballs.

My ramshackle team stood beneath her judgmental gaze.

The acrid breeze did little to cool our sizzling flesh, sweat trickling down our faces.

Had I been in the mortal realm, I’d likely be a pile of ash right now.

While I was no youngling, even my resistance to the sun’s effects would have been tested by the intense rays.

Thank the gods, my sensitivity to the sun didn’t seem to be a problem since I’d arrived.

Restless energy hummed under my skin, and I fought the urge to tug at my restrictive torque. Fatigue pulled at my limbs. I’d slept little last night, though Runa had no such qualms, the curvy sorceress resting peacefully in my arms.

I hadn’t slept beside a female in…well, ever.

With Runa at my side, every noise seemed amplified.

Every fluttering shadow was a demon to be slayed.

I was the only thing standing between her and the monsters.

The key to my future was a fragile creature, despite her incredible gifts.

It was unsettling, knowing my fate resided in her slim hands.

Hands that had held tight to me late into the night.

As if she feared I’d vanish while she slept.

Her unconscious behavior made me wonder who she’d lost. Who had slipped through her fingers?

Could it have been a mate or lover?

At the thought, my fangs burned beneath my gums. A furious snarl formed in the back of my throat. I swallowed against the sensation, gliding my tongue over my teeth.

I’d need to control these urges lest they make me sloppy in the battle today.

Once I was free of this uncivilized realm, I’d no doubt they’d disappear.

Whatever was happening between me and the sorceress was temporary, at best. I had a life to reclaim and vengeance to enact.

Females were a distraction I didn’t need nor desire.

I gripped the sword I held. None of my informants had a clue what this day might bring. All I knew was every prisoner was armed.

Despite the well-balanced blade I’d claimed, I felt unprepared for what awaited. It was a disturbing sensation, to say the least. Back in the mortal world, I’d been two steps ahead of everyone I encountered. Well, except for one.

Horns blared as King Idris strode to the front of his royal pavilion.

His queen trailed behind him. Costly metals adorned his garments.

Carcerem’s crown of golden branches circled his spiky silver hair.

The queen wore a daintier version with her lavender mane set into braided coils around her head.

Tiny jewels decorated her gown, reflecting the sunlight.

Together, they presented an envious display of wealth.

“Good citizens of Carcerem,” Idris boomed, using magic to project his voice, “welcome to span two of the Fallen Trials.”

Applause and cheering erupted.

“Yesterday, our repentant criminals faced the judgment of our great kingdom’s lands.

Today, they will encounter her people in their various forms. After all, it is the inhabitants of Carcerem who are her heart and soul.

That heart is multi-faceted, both with darkness and light.

This challenge will consist of three parts.

First, our competitors will face the realm’s darker side. ”

Idris lifted his hands as his queen placed a steadying palm on his shoulder.

A blinding surge of golden light burst from his form, flooding the space.

Energy lashed against my skin like a thousand fiery tongues—painful, yet not unbearable.

I planted my feet, standing firm against the onslaught while others collapsed to their knees.

Runa’s soft groan of discomfort rang in my ears. Though she clutched her hand to her chest, wavering, she managed to stay on her feet.

From deep inside of me, some dark voice purred in approval. Fierce female.

Before us, pillars of sand emerged from the ground, one for each contestant. Those pillars trembled and shook. The writhing masses began to solidify, forming arms, legs, and heads.

“What the flark is this nonsense?” Drazen shouted.

Long hair hung over the shoulders of the sandy figure before me. His proportions took on the shape of a formidable male with an aristocratic edge. Chin held high, he appraised me down his upturned nose. In one hand, he clutched a sword. An exact copy of the one I held in my own.

I raised my free hand, swiping a trickle of sweat from my brow. The king’s creation mirrored the motion.

“Seven hells. They’re us,” Drazen gasped, hopping on one foot, staring as his sandy replica mimicked the movement.

“We’re to fight ourselves?” Runa turned to me, her jaw gaping in disbelief.

Horns blew. The flamboyant king thrust his glowing hands into the air. The torque around my neck heated, the restraint deactivating.

“People of Carcerem. Let the trials begin.”

With those words, the sandy figures charged, angry snarls roaring from their inhuman lips. I raised my blade just in time to block the strike from my doppelg?nger. The power of his hit rang up my arm. His strength was impressive—as it should be since he was supposed to be me.

“This is madness,” Runa shouted, blocking a well-aimed kick from her twin.

A weapon made of sand, yet no less deadly, zinged past my cheek. I ducked and spun, barely missing the tip of my assailant’s blade. He was good. I’d give him that.

Still, there was nobody in this world with my kind of skill—except me. Idris had no hope of duplicating my level of experience. Muscles flexed across my shoulders. I shot forward and thrust my sword into the creature’s heart.

There, it stuck.

While the abomination smiled at me, I heaved on the sword’s hilt. My supernatural strength did little to extract my blade.

The sand creature waggled his index finger at me as though I were an errant child. To my bemusement, the bastard grasped the blade of the sword and pulled my weapon from his chest. Before I could retreat, his unyielding fist connected with my jaw.

Pain erupted, and my head spun.

Runa stumbled backward as well. Panting, she turned to me. Blood trickled from her brow. “She knows my every move before I make it.”

“Same,” I uttered, then looked up. “Duck!”

“ Argh !” Kronk flew over heads, his massive form hurled by his mirror-self.

Runa glanced at me and blinked, her cheeks pale. “That’s a first.”

I bet. The only creature strong enough to toss Kronk like a stone skipping across water was…Kronk.

I eyed the creature before me, the sandy devil doing the same. He canted his head, a dark smirk flirting upon his lips. His stony eyes flicked in Runa’s direction, and his smirk became a devious grin .

With little warning, the demon before me lunged for Runa. It figured the bastard would seek to destroy the only thing I valued in this infernal kingdom. It was what I would have done. Our mirror selves knew our weaknesses and intended to exploit them.

In turn, Runa’s assailant turned her back on the sorceress and spun to engage her brothers.

“Runa,” Drazen huffed when the abomination jumped on his back, pounding him with her fists. “Make her stop.”

“Stop her yourself,” the sorceress shouted, dodging a slice of my doppelg?nger’s sword. “I’ve got problems of my own.”

Purple energy glowed in Runa’s palms. She clapped her hands, and suddenly, six of her stood before her attacker. Unlike the creature Idris made of sand, these were picture-perfect versions of the sorceress.

I scrubbed my eyes. Which of them did I defend?

All six of her images took a fighting stance, flicking their fingers. In unison, they taunted my replica, saying, “Bring it, bula-hole. Give me your best shot.”

Just as confused as I was, my double chopped and hacked through the first mirage, then the second. The moment he prepared to slice into Runa Number Three, his head tumbled free of his body. Defeated, the fake Victor returned to its origins, that of a pile of sand.

Behind the mound of debris, Thorne Darkwing stood with a broad smile on his face.

“My ladies,” he offered Runa and her projected selves a courtly bow, then darted away.

With another clap of her hands, the sorceress dissolved her illusion, leaving one of her. Well, one original and one composed of sand.

Manipulative bastard. It would take more than that for Thorne to weasel his way into the sorceress’s good graces. I turned to her to confirm as much, only to find her smiling at the shifter’s retreating form. Before I could remind her of where her loyalties lay, Kronk’s hoarse bellow rang out.

“Runa, my sister. Forgive me,” Kronk cried.

Across the ground, a sandy replica of Runa’s head rolled before stopping at our feet.

The flesh and blood Runa gaped at me, swallowing with an audible gulp. “That is disturbing in so many ways.”

“I had no choice.” Kronk staggered to her side, wrapping her in a hug and hoisting her up.

She grunted in her brother’s tight grip. “Forgiven.”

“Release her, Kronk. Before you break her as well,” I ordered.

The athos let go of his sister, dropping her to the ground where she wobbled before straightening.

“What do you think?” Drazen joined us, gesturing to his mirror-self, whose sandy proportions were now frozen in place. The heat of the infernus’s flames had turned it to glass. “Quite the work of art, if I do say so myself. Maybe Idris will let me keep him.”

“Fates forbid we have to deal with two of you,” Runa snapped.

Around us, several of the competitors continued to struggle against their sandy selves. I noted quite a few had fallen in the battle.

Horns blared.

The signal, while a relief, also stirred a new wave of dread. It was time for the second phase of the trial. I heaved a growling sigh, muttering to my team, “Here we go. Be prepared for anything.”