Page 36

Chapter 36

A Celebration of Blood

O rodyte cast a soft glow on the marble steps, the path growing steadily steeper as they continued down into the earth. Sylzenya fumbled her hand over the sword’s hilt, practicing a quick grasp while trying to remember Kharis’ instruction on how to use power like a Dynami.

Distrathrus still hadn’t spoken into her mind since Aretta’s Willow. The dark barrier hadn’t been erected, her power flowing through her with ease, her goddess’ heartbeat loud and clear.

He was expecting them.

And as they walked deeper into the earth, she couldn’t help but imagine him waiting for them down in the mines. He’d be sitting on his throne, an evil, cruel smile on his crooked face. Monsters surrounding him, all evil, no light.

Sylzenya took a shaky breath.

Elnok’s warm hand intertwined with hers.

No one spoke. It felt as if anything they said from now on would be heard by him, used by him, taken by him. And yet, the silence felt far more deadly than any word they could’ve spoken to one another.

“Sylzenya?” a familiar feminine voice said, echoing along the walls.

Heart stopping, Sylzenya halted. Straight black hair catching the orodyte’s light, Nyla’s amber eyes shimmering against her pale skin. Her Kreena robe was ripped to the seams. Blood was splattered everywhere and her arm was bleeding onto the steps.

“ Nyla? ”

“Fuck,” Elnok muttered.

“What happened?” Sylzenya meant to step forward but Kharis and Elnok held her back.

A trap. This had to be a trap. But her friend was hurt—badly.

Nyla stood before them, shaking. “So much blood. It isn’t stopping, Sylzenya, so much blood…”

Her eyes rolled back. Sylzenya lunged forward.

“ No, ” Kharis demanded.

“She’s hurt, ” Sylzenya said.

“It’s what he wants.”

But Nyla was about to fall down the steep stairs.

Freeing herself from Kharis and Elnok, Sylzenya ran forward and caught her friend.

“What happened?” Sylzenya asked.

“A celebration,” her friend whispered.

Her eyes distant.

Clouded.

Vines crashed through the ceiling. Nyla gripped Sylzenya’s shoulders. Sylzenya tried to break away, but she wasn’t fast enough; roots and vines wrapped around her, digging into her skin.

“ Syl! ” Elnok yelled, lunging for her.

But more vines and roots launched out of the ceiling, grabbing Elnok and Kharis.

“He’s been expecting you three,” Nyla said, a wide smile on her mouth.

“ Nyla! Listen to me, you’re not yoursel?—”

Vines wrapped around her mouth, digging into the sides of her lips.

“Follow me,” Nyla commanded.

Vines bit into her flesh, cuts and scrapes blooming with blood. The vines moved in response to Nyla’s silent commands, forcing Sylzenya down the stairs. Elnok and Kharis followed, their grunts echoing along the stone walls. Sylzenya turned the corner with Nyla, and then light flooded a large, open cavern.

Massive clear orodytes lined the walls, ceilings, and floor like the stained glass in the temple. Falling from the ceiling were large wispy roots. More small clear orodytes dotted the deep brown branches, twinkling like stars.

The legends had been a lie.

Orodyte was still produced here.

Underneath the roots stood a tall orodyte pedestal, something large, dark, and pulsing sitting atop it. It thrummed rhythmically, a heart bleeding on stone.

Distrathrus’ heart.

Dark liquid dripped down the large piece of orodyte, pooling into a moat filled with glowing, golden liquid– Aretta’s blood . A sudden urgency rushed through her veins. It was right there, the thing she needed to spear through with her sword, and then everything would be done.

Distrathrus would be dead.

Clank.

Sylzenya jumped. A Dynami stood next to the heart, a large, glowing hammer in his hand. Muscles rippling, he swung the hammer down onto a table attached to the pedestal, another loud clank ripping through the cavern.

Sylzenya’s breath caught.

On the table was a yellow orodyte.

Another loud clank and the hammer shattered with the orodyte. The gold liquid spilled off the table and into the moat, gurgling and hissing as the pieces of stone and steel disappeared into its depths.

“Ah, Nyla, thank you for welcoming our long-awaited guests,” Distrathrus announced as he stood.

In the center of the strange cavern was a long golden table. Countless wine glasses littered its surface, chairs lined the table…

Filled with people.

Distrathrus’ pale skin shone in the dimly lit cavern, his white robe etched with gold and splattered with wine—or maybe it was blood. Long, white hair fell to his waist, his straight nose seeming to bend in the stark shadow and light. His yellow, severe eyes pierced into her.

Welcome home, he whispered into her mind.

Sylzenya shivered, biting her tongue so hard she tasted metal.

“Dynameis,” Distrathrus said, “would you please remove their weapons? This is a celebration, after all. No need for more bloodshed.”

Elnok and Kharis cursed. Sylzenya closed her eyes, trying to connect to the vines.

But the barrier had returned, taller than before—thicker. No cracks were in its surface.No heartbeat thrummed through her body.

This had been a mistake.

Three Dynameis approached, each of them wearing bright glowing orodytes on their chest plates. One by one, they took their weapons, Sylzenya’s sword last. Desperation laced her veins as she lunged for it, only for the vines to pierce her wrists, hips, and thighs.

“Perfect.” Distrathrus smiled. “Nyla, if you could escort them to their seats? Except for Elnok, of course. Dynameis, you may restrain him.”

Elnok fought against the men as the vines released him, but the warriors were too fast and strong. Without his whip, Elnok was outmatched. Sylzenya’s stomach dropped at the realization.

“Sylzenya, I think you’ll be happy to see who I invited to join us tonight.” He said.

Sylzenya frantically searched the table; it was filled with Kreenas, each one with clouded vision and a gaping mouth. But it wasn’t until she turned her gaze to the two seats placed on either side of Distrathrus that she lurched forward. A woman with long ash-colored hair and dark eyes, and a man with a strong chin and her same deep blue eyes.

Her mother and father.

“ Sylzenya— ” her mother began, but Distrathrus shushed her. She obeyed.

The vines unraveled as Sylzenya and Kharis fell into their chairs. She made to stand up, Kharis following her, but Distrathrus raised his hand, halting them.

“Look a bit more closely, Sylzenya and Kharis.”

Dynameis stood behind her parents, each of them holding a glass vial filled with black liquid.

Distrathrus’ blood.

She turned to Kharis, his face losing all color.

“I’ve kept my word, your parents are in good health. I’d hate for that to change.”

Nyla sat down next to Sylzenya, her twisted smile never leaving her mouth as Distrathrus continued. “Now that everyone is finally here, let’s get onto the celebration, shall we?”

He began pouring wine into empty glasses.

“What celebration?” Sylzenya asked, her parents trembling as they stared at their wine glasses.

“Oh yes, we practiced this, didn’t we, Theraden?” Distrathrus looked to her father. “Why don’t you tell Sylzenya what’s happening tonight, hm?”

Throat bobbing, her father turned to her, fear riddling his eyes. “Tonight—” he stopped, turning to Distrathrus. The god smiled, clapping her father’s shoulder. Her father winced. Sylzenya clenched her fists.

“What have you done to them?” Sylzenya demanded.

Distrathrus held a finger to his lips, the Dynameis with the blood vials stepping closer to her parents in response. Sylzenya scraped her nails along the table.

“Tonight, Sylzenya,” her father turned back to her, his mouth trembling, “Distrathrus will use our goddess’ power through a Kreena to free himself.” Sweat beaded down his face as he glanced at Distrathrus. “And you’re to be the one to do so. A great, wonderful honor.”

Distrathrus continued pouring the wine. “See? A celebratory night indeed!”

“I won’t do it,” Sylzenya stated.

Distrathrus’ smile vanished. “Sylzenya, this is your great purpose, the one I’ve been preparing you for ever since your parents left you at my temple’s steps. Remember that, Theraden? How she begged to go with you but you made her stay. With me ?”

Her father’s lips curled.

“Don’t you dare speak to him like that,” her mother hissed.

Quickly, one of the Dynameis took her shoulder, uncorking the vial.

“ No! ” Sylzenya shouted, her heart deflating as she turned to Distrathrus, hating how he’d already placed so much power over her. “Please, leave them alone.”

He smiled, motioning the Dynami to stand down.

She gulped. “Distrathrus?—”

“ Your Grace ,” he interrupted.

One of the Dynameis stepped to her father, uncorking the bottle. Her father trembled, leaning away. Sylzenya stopped, digging her fingernails into her palm.

“Your… Grace.” The words grated out of her throat. Painful and sharp.

The Dynami stepped back.

She shoved the anger down.

Brute strength was gone. Now, all that was left was tact.

While he can use his blood to stop your power, you can do the same to him, although in lesser measure.

It explained what happened back in the Willow Grove when her and Elnok had escaped—she had dulled Distrathrus’ power, the control he had over the Kreenas and Dynameis in the grove, allowing her to get to her willow tree and use her power. She hadn’t stopped his control entirely, but rather, she’d disrupted it with her own demands.

She’d taken them into her own control.

Glancing over at Elnok, she hoped he would catch on to the distraction she was about to pull. Elnok furrowed his brow at her, but she looked away before Distrathrus could take notice.

Straightening her posture, she laced her hands on the table, willing each Kreena to turn their head and stare at her hands as a test.

They did.

“Your Grace, I met your sister, Aretta,” Sylzenya said.

He continued pouring. “And how is she?”

“Dead.”

The wine poured over the glass, spilling onto the table. “Yet another reason to celebrate.”

“You loved her. Deeply.”

He continued pouring, the wine dripping onto the floor.

“She betrayed me, Sylzenya. You know this, as did she. I never harbored any love for her.”

She knew what she needed to say—what she needed to bring to light. And if her plan worked, then she’d command the Dynameis to release Elnok, buying him time to slip out of their grips and grab the sword.

She’d have to keep Distrathrus’ undivided attention on herself for as long as she could.

“And yet, love is why this all started in the first place,” Sylzenya replied, “You were jealous of her humans, how she took one as her lover.”

Her parents and Kharis stared at her warily, but Sylzenya remained poised.

“She was a traitor, ” he shouted, yellow eyes flaring.

“You loved her. More than just as your sister.” She paused, breaths shaking. “You two were lovers. Intimate.”

The wine poured onto the floor, splashing at his feet.

Perfect.

She continued, “But she loved her creation more than you. She treated you poorly, Your Grace. She treated you like scum of the earth when all you wanted was her love.”

He stopped pouring, mouth trembling. “She told you the truth.”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “How you two were one and then split—brother and sister, lover and lover. And then, one of her humans and one of your monsters killed each other. How she should’ve treated you differently—better. She regretted it. And both of us,” Sylzenya pointed to herself and Kharis, “told her she treated you wrongly.”

Furrowing his brow, Distrathrus set down the pitcher, tapping his fingers on the table. “And what did she say?”

Sylzenya gulped, not daring to glance at Elnok in case Distrathus noticed. By the looks of the Kreenas, their hands hanging limp by their sides and their eyes wandering, her plan was working.

“That she had no other choice,” Sylzenya said, “because she seemed to believe neither of you could fix what was broken through anything but war.”

“It’s the only way.”

“Not always, Your Grace.”

Distrathrus cackled, staring at the ceiling. Sylzenya couldn’t stop herself as she glanced at Elnok.

He’d escaped.

The Dynameis were swaying, hands at their sides, their gazes empty and wandering as Elnok silently moved through the shadows. He was mere feet away from the Dynami holding their weapons when he turned, finding her eyes, mouthing for her to keep going.

Maintaining her steady breathing, she looked back to Distrathrus.

“And what is it you propose, Sylzenya?”

“You could change the will of your creation,” she said, her words slow, trying to buy what time she could, “have them treat humanity with neutrality, and we can do the same. We could live in harmony as it was always meant to be.”

His laughter stopped, smile falling from his face. “How intriguing.”

Standing up, he walked around the table, stopping behind her, his cold hands gripping her shoulders. She refused to flinch, needing to play this all the way through—needing Elnok to grab the damn sword.

“You were right,” Sylzenya said, willing her hands not to shake. “This is my home, and we can make it a home for your creation as well.”

His breath brushed her ear as a bead of sweat trailed down her back.

“You sound just like my sister,” he whispered, gripping her tighter, “right before she betrayed me.”

Her stomach dropped as Distrathrus rushed for Elnok. Without thinking, she stood to stop him, but her body halted of its own accord. She tried moving her leg forward, but it wouldn’t.

Panic gripped her chest.

What was happening?

Distrathrus grabbed Elnok by his hair just as his hand brushed the hilt of the sword. Pulling his head back, Distrathrus commanded the Dynameis to aid him. They raced to his side, holding Elnok down by his shoulders.

“You must think me simple, Sylzenya,” Distrathrus shouted, turning to face her, eyes wild, his smile unnerving. “Just as you can feel when I’m limiting your power, I feel when you’re limiting mine. I know your mind’s been poisoned away from me. I’ve seen it, felt it. This bastard of a thief and my whore of a sister have done it to you thoroughly.”

Sylzenya tried to speak, but her tongue refused to move, her mouth sealed shut.

Distrathrus kept smiling as he turned back to Elnok. “You’ve been a thorn in my side long enough, Prince Elnok Rogdul of Vutror.”

Elnok grinned. “Strange. I feel the exact same way about you.”

Distrathrus yanked Elnok’s hair back further. Elnok winced. Sylzenya tried to yell, but it was useless.

“How about we duel to solve this problem?” Distrathrus suggested.

“Duel? With swords?” Elnok asked. “Not very god-like of you.”

“I could snap your neck and have it be done with, but you deserve something a bit more… exciting .” He leaned in close, running his nose up Elnok’s cheek, the sight causing the hair on Sylzenya’s neck to rise. “I want your blood to decorate mine and Sylzenya’s home. I want it to stain and serve as a reminder for what happens to those who try to take that which is mine .”

Elnok seethed. “It won’t be my blood on this floor.”

Distrathrus smiled. “Dynameis, bring us some weapons. Seems this celebration will call for blood after all.”

“Let me use Sylzenya’s sword,” Elnok argued. “What’s the point in a duel if there’s no real chance of killing you?”

The god smirked. “Your confidence is… endearing.”

“Or perhaps I’m wildly naive.”

“Perhaps you are.” The god raised a brow. “You may use the sword my sister cursed to kill me.” He turned to Sylzenya. “We’ll do it right here so everyone can watch.”

Panic seized her, but she couldn’t do anything. Not even her body shook in fear for what was about to take place. She’d never witnessed Distrathrus’ sword abilities, but he was confident.

That worried her greatly.

A Dynami with clouded eyes approached Distrathrus, offering a sword glowing fresh with orodyte serum.

“It’s not for me,” he smiled, pointing to Sylzenya, “it’s for her.”

Her stomach dropped.

“You said you wanted to duel me,” Elnok retorted.

“And you will, through her.” Distrathrus grinned wider. “Sylzenya, take the sword.”

Sylzenya tried fighting against it, but she was no longer her own, only her thoughts and her pain stayed with her. The barrier didn’t just stand between her and her power any longer—it prevented any connection with herself . It wasn’t so much a barrier, but a large endless pool, and she was drowning in it.

Power and pain rushed up her arm as she took the sword, its cold hilt like ice in her hand.

“Very good, Sylzenya,” Distrathrus said as he approached her, “You see, the closer you are to my heart—my beautiful piece of flesh resting atop the orodyte pedestal—the more effectively I can control you. A little secret I purposely kept from my sister.” He paused, stroking a piece of hair behind her ear, “Now, let’s show Elnok why you’re mine .”