Page 37

Chapter 37

Sacrifice

S ylzenya’s hands moved without her wishing it, her body stolen from her. Perhaps it’d never been hers to begin with, being born in a kingdom where she would be destined to be given to Aretta’s temple.

Given to Distrathrus.

It all felt strangely poetic, the way she gripped the cold, sword’s hilt in her hand instead of dirt caught underneath her nails. A strange mockery of her life that the person who hadn’t sought to control her, hadn’t asked anything more of her besides to be who she was, failures and all, now stood across from her with a glowing sword in his hand. Sweat beaded down his face, shouting at Distrathrus that he refused to fight her.

But Elnok was going to finally learn what she always knew to be true: Distrathrus—the High One—played by his own rules. There would be no stopping him.

Aretta’s vision had been wrong.

Distrathrus’ laugh echoed. “If you wish to kill me, Elnok Rogdul, then you’ll have to start with her.”

“ Coward, ” Elnok shouted, “Too afraid to fight your own battles, god of chaos?”

There was no time to prepare herself for what happened next. Pain shot through her legs as she sprinted forward, sword aimed for Elnok’s chest as she lunged for him. But Elnok was a far more skilled swordsman than her and Distrathrus.

He dodged her attack, but he didn’t counter.

“Syl, you need to snap out of it,” Elnok begged.

Body surging with power, she lunged again, this time for his neck. He parried, sliding a foot behind him as he caught her weight. Yellow light clashed as he spun under her sword, grabbing her shoulder from behind.

Sylzenya didn’t miss the growl reverberating through Distrathrus. She could feel it in her veins, the grip of Distrathrus’ blood turning into ice; realization thrummed through her.

His true form was exposed, and Elnok was proving more deadly than he’d thought.

He was afraid.

Her lips finally undid themselves. “I need you to hurt me. Once you do, use the sword to kill his heart.”

“ No. You can stop this,” Elnok said.

Before she could argue, her mouth sealed itself again. She gripped his wrist, and in one smooth movement, she whipped him over her shoulder. Elnok grunted, stone cracking underneath the force of his body. Blood ran down his arm, her nails biting into his skin.

Elnok spun, an outstretched leg colliding with both of hers. She tumbled, metal scratching stone as her sword clattered to the floor. Elnok jumped on top of her, gripping both her arms as he pinned her to the ground.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he panted, “so you better get your act together and regain control from this weakling of a god.”

Hot fire stoked in her chest as she pushed against him, the anger coming from elsewhere—from Distrathrus.

But Elnok held her fast.

A voice, deep and guttural, released from her throat, “Your days were numbered the day you entered my kingdom, Elnok Rogdul.”

Elnok’s eyes widened as her goddess’ power transformed, no longer golden light but black flames. Veins turning dark as ink, Sylzenya launched Elnok off of her. He flew through the air, sword still in hand as he slammed into the cavern wall. Orodyte crumbled from above as he slid to the ground.

She wanted to retch.

“Up, Sylzenya,” Distrathrus commanded from behind her, “I’ve had enough of his insolence.”

His control wrapped around her like vines. Gripping her sword so tight her knuckles cracked and bled, she stalked towards Elnok. He was still slumped to the ground, his head bleeding.

She tried fighting against Distrathrus’ barrier, the pool of blood she was drowning in, no longer able to find purchase within herself.

Get up, she thought, trying her best to shout it at him. Get up, Elnok!

He turned his gaze to her, sorrow filling his face.

No, she shouted into the void. Get up! Please, dear gods, get the fuck up!

Teeth clenched, Elnok slowly rose to his feet.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he breathed.

Her lips loosened as she screamed, “Stop acting like a prince and think like a godsdamn thief. Do what needs to be done.”

“ No .”

“You’re the better fighter,” she yelled. “Stop letting me get the upper hand and end this. End me, if you have to. Think about your people, about Orym?—”

Her mouth closed again. She cursed herself. Distrathrus was doing this on purpose; he was allowing her to say the words he knew would keep Elnok in this fight. Digging deep into herself, she fought for her body—fought for the golden power to overtake his blood and flow through her veins. She clenched her jaw, pain slicing into her back, down her spine, and up her neck, cracking into her head.

She drowned further still, yellow glowing eyes staring into hers.

You’re mine.

She launched forward.

Metal against metal screeched in her ears. Elnok’s pale green eyes filled with anguish as he pushed against her. She stared at him, pleading with her own eyes—he needed to end this. To end her.

Hope ignited in her stomach as she stumbled back.

He jabbed. She parried. He spun with a quick slice to her thigh, but she caught it before it could touch her. Elnok was gaining ground, his movements growing faster, his sword close to finding its mark. He was going to do it. Sylzenya begged it from him, that he might kill her if it meant Distrathrus would finally be defeated.

Elnok parried one of her blows and, instead of dodging, he crashed into her, pinning her to the ground with the sword at her throat.

Do it. Please. Release me from this hell.

Elnok growled, “Do you really want me to hurt your most powerful Kreena, Distrathrus?”

A dark laugh filled the cavern as Sylzenya’s tongue loosened.

“Do you wish to kill the one you love, little thief?”

Elnok’s grip faltered.

No.

Sylzenya tried to stop herself, but it was too late. Elnok's moment of hesitation was all Distrathrus—all Sylzenya—needed.

She drove her sword into Elnok's stomach.

“ No! ” Sylzenya screamed, her mouth now free.

“ Elnok! ” Kharis’ yell came from somewhere behind.

Blood filled Elnok’s mouth, dribbling from his lips as he fell. Sylzenya scrambled to her knees, her body her own again, bile rising in her throat. Her blade protruded out of his back, red blood dripping onto the clear orodyte floor.

“Syl—” he breathed, grabbing her hand, “Sylzenya.”

“No, no, no,” she repeated endlessly as she gripped his head, his hand, her eyes telling her the truth but her heart denying it. She hadn’t stabbed him. Elnok wasn’t dying. This was just a nightmare she would wake up from, and he would be next to her, fast asleep and perfectly healthy.

She hadn’t killed him.

“I—” he choked, fingers squeezing hers. “You need to end this.”

“You said we’d do this together, remember?” Sylzenya sobbed. “So you can’t die. Just— Just stay with me, alright? Please, stay with me.”

He coughed up blood, his hand sliding up her face.

“Sylzenya, I love you.”

His hand fell limp, his gold signet ring slipping from his finger, tumbling across the clear orodyte floor, mingling with his blood before falling into a thin crack.

For life there is a price, and only in pain is it made whole. Your choice has been made, and so your consequence is set in blood and stone.

Tears welled in her eyes as she gripped his face.

Her fault. This was all her fault.

A long shadow consumed her as a spindly hand settled on her shoulder.

“See, little thief?” Distrathrus grated, “She was always mine to keep, yours to lose.”

Red filled Sylzenya’s vision as she grabbed the sword out of Elnok’s hand—the sword Aretta cursed to kill Distrathrus—and spun around, shoving it into the god’s stomach.

Suddenly, her body became rigid. Tears stopped running down her face as she stood, her hands still gripping the sword, the pale-faced, yellow-eyed god of chaos staring at her—smiling.

“Wrong body, I’m afraid,” he hissed, yanking the sword out and dropping it. No blood ran into his white robes.

“ Save him, ” Sylzenya yelled. “If you ever truly cared about me, then you’d let him live.”

“My sister said the very same thing when I killed her human lover,” he snarled.

“ You’re out of your godsdamn mind. ”

“No, Sylzenya.” He gripped her jaw, pain cracking along her mouth, “ I am a god. ”

Rage and hatred swirled in her mouth as she spat her blood on his twisted face.

He took a deep breath, wiping it off, “We’re celebrating tonight, remember? You’re going to resurrect my true form while our little prince-turned-thief decorates our home with his blood. Now, let’s not waste any more time.”

He grabbed her arm. Elnok’s breaths were nothing but wet gurgles, but she couldn’t escape the god’s grasp.

She’d failed Elnok, Kharis, Nyla, her parents, her people… she’d failed everyone.

Distrathrus forced her to her knees before his altar.

“Now,” Distrathrus hissed into her ear, “place your hands in Aretta’s blood, and create life. ”

Tears clung to her face as she took in a deep breath, willing herself to fight—but there was nothing left to hold onto.

It was over.

She released the breath, shoulders slumped and hands dipping into the gold liquid surrounding the altar.

“But there’s no soil,” she whispered.

“You won’t be needing it.”

Power ignited in her veins, that of Aretta breathing life again, but it wasn’t the same.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Distrathrus’ heart thrummed through her, dark and heavy. His claws ripped into her mind, in her limbs, moving through her veins. He was using her as he always had.

As he always would.

“ Sylzenya! ”

She looked up. Nyla’s amber stare found hers, the cloudiness in her gaze drifting in and out of focus. Dried blood trailed down her face, her body hunched over as she kneeled with all the other Kreenas before the altar, circling it.

“He’s going to kill us!” she screamed.

“ Silence, ” Distrathrus commanded. “Create life, all of you.”

Suddenly, a bright yellow light flooded the cavern, the vat of orodyte serum blinding like the sun. All the power he’d collected over the centuries, stored at this altar, was now being used to resurrect him.

Every Kreena screamed, their shouts echoing off the walls as blood poured out of their backs and onto the ground.

Sylzenya’s heart stopped.

She wasn’t going to just help resurrect Distrathrus’ body through the orodyte serum—she was going to be extracting every Kreena’s power with it.

Blood for blood.

Life for life.

“All life comes with pain,” Distrathrus whispered into Sylzenya’s ear. “And with it, a sacrifice of great price. But that’s what these Kreenas have been made for, their power enough to help you push my sister’s blood into my heart. Just enough to form my true body to what it once was.” He slipped a piece of her hair behind her ear. “But while they’ll die, you’ll live. And don’t worry, Sylzenya, I’ll help you forget all these people. All this death. Even the scar on your back. I’ll give you a blissful life by my side, as I always promised. No more pain ever again.”

No more pain.

She could forget… he would help her forget. No memory of all the horrors she’d committed. No more pain slicing down her back. No more pain plaguing her. No more memories of the lives she’d stolen. No more slow torment blooming in her heart, twisting around her like vines, swallowing her whole. All her life she’d been in pain.

She didn’t want it anymore.

She ignored Nyla’s desperate cry, silently hating herself for it. Distrathrus would make her do this one way or another, and she was his anyways. Diving deeper into the pain, she let herself drown, allowing Distrathrus complete control. Sparks of light bloomed from the orodyte serum, but she found no beauty in it.

All she saw was death.

The liquid crawled out of the moat slithering like a river of snakes up the sides of the pedestal, and flowing into the large exposed heart.

Pain sliced into her back, and she screamed. The heartbeat of Distrathrus’ bloodied flesh boomed louder. More orodyte serum flooded upward, through the crevices of the stone, covering the altar more and more until it and Distrathrus’ beating heart glowed with power.

Kreenas all around her cried out in agony.

She glanced towards Nyla. Light leaked from her friend’s hands, her skin turning paler and paler, cheeks turning hollow and blood dribbling from her mouth.

“You will forget all of this,” Distrathrus whispered, “I promise.”

The amber in Nyla’s eyes turned white and lifeless?—

A loud crack sounded, Distrathrus’ cold grip leaving her as he fell to the floor. A gold shield clanked to the ground.

The shield Aretta had crafted for Kharis.

Sylzenya no longer drowned.

The orodyte serum stalled. Pulling back from the pedestal, Sylzenya splashed her hands out of the moat. The Kreenas’ screams ceased, replaced with heavy breathing and cries of relief.

“ Hurry ,” Kharis said as he gripped Sylzenya’s arms.

She wobbled to her feet, clutching Kharis as he helped her walk towards Elnok, the cursed sword lying next to him.

“ Shit , Dyna—” But Kharis couldn’t finish his thought.

Glowing figures appeared before them, tackling Kharis and shoving Sylzenya away. Too weak to fight back, she crumpled to the floor, her back aching and bleeding.

Elnok’s pale eyes found hers, his blood pooling around him. He moved his mouth, forming words she couldn’t hear. She reached for him–

“ Sylzenya, ” Distrathrus shouted, “I’m done with these delays.”

Body turning rigid, Sylzenya stumbled back to the pedestal, placing her palms back in the orodyte serum, the power within her reconnecting to it. She tried yanking her hands away, but it was no use.

A flash of motion, then, “ Get away from her! ”

Sword still embedded in his stomach, Elnok jumped in front of her. He staked the cursed sword through Distrathrus’ neck.

The god fell, Elnok on top of him.

“ Elnok! ” she shouted.

He looked to her.

“End this,” he cried, pulling the sword out of the god and spinning it to her on the floor.

Her fingers shook as she gripped the hilt.

“You’re more powerful than him, Syl. He’s nothing without you, that’s why he needs you.”

Distrathrus’ spindly fingers gripped Elnok’s throat. He sputtered blood, his eyes closing shut as he scratched at the god’s hands.

“Why won’t you just die? ” the god yelled, ripping out the sword in Elnok’s stomach.

Distrathrus smiled as Elnok’s blood poured over him.

Head reeling, Sylzenya’s fear transformed into rage.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Aretta’s heartbeat . She looked up. The roots hanging from the ceiling… they were from a willow.

Sylzenya’s first willow.