Page 17 of Scorching the Alien Empire (The Klendathian Cycle #7)
“That’s totally not creepy or anything,” I snap, forcing a sneer as I meet his blazing blue eyes.
Vexius tilts his head, his lips curling into a sharp-fanged smirk. “I wonder,” he drawls, his voice laced with sadistic curiosity, “what color is your blood, War Chieftainess?”
He leans in slightly, his towering frame casting me in shadow. His gaze devours me, like I’m a shiny new crayon he wants to splatter over the walls.
“Perhaps I should see for myself,” he murmurs, as though savoring the thought.
“Try it,” I bite out, forcing steel into my tone despite the pounding of my heart, “and you’ll be jerking off to the sight of your own blood—”
“Vexius!” A muffled shout cuts through the tension from a nearby door. “Leave us now, and return to your duties.”
The change in Vexius is instant and unnerving. He straightens as if yanked by invisible strings, his fiery eyes dimming to vacant, mechanical blue.
“At once, Elder Ignixis,” he intones, his voice returning to its dead monotone.
Without another word or glance, he turns sharply on his heel and strides down the corridor, each heavy step fading into the distance.
My knees nearly buckle as relief floods through me. My breathing slows, though my heart continues to race. Todd stirs lightly against me, offering a small, comforting warmth.
That was too close.
My hand trembles as I push a stray lock of hair from my face. I need a panic button straight to Dracoth because screw being sliced up by that psycho.
With a long exhale that could rival Dracoth’s wind-tunnel snoring, I attempt to regain some composure. Not helped by the fact, beyond this door awaits the creepy Ignixis. Somehow, I have to convince the rude prick to teach me the sacred words.
Talk about leaping from the frying pan straight into the fire.
But I won’t take no for an answer! I’m Arawnoth’s blessed daughter, and I’ll make him proud of me!
The fears still clawing at my mind are reduced to fragile ash as I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and step through the indistinct entrance with a defiant smirk twisting my lips.
Inside, Ignixis sits cross-legged on the black marble floor, eyes closed, his runic hands resting on his knees.
The steady rise and fall of his chest match the hypnotic rhythm of his breathing.
Around him, faint jade smoke curls lazily through the air, like witches’ fingers beckoning me toward shared madness.
The bitter, moldy scent of bloodroot assaults my senses, but I can’t help myself.
I inhale deeply, craving more of the intoxicating fire that blazes through my lungs and spreads into my mind like a whisper of Arawnoth’s love.
My heart hammers against my chest, in time with the frantic drumbeat blaring from a nearby shimmering blue holographic terminal.
Green haze filters my vision, and a manic laugh threatens to escape my lips, remembering Vexius’s words—now they seem almost poetic.
“What are you doing, Ignixis?” I sneer, staring down at the absurd contradiction before me: a nightmarish goth monk posed in serene meditation, surrounded by glowing blue terminals, oval medical pods, and a jumble of alien machinery I can’t begin to name.
“Trying to astral project into the women’s bathroom?”
“Mura-Tok,” Ignixis replies, his ancient voice heavy with irritation. His eyes remain closed, and the disdain in his tone is as disappointing as a rejected credit card. “You interrupt me to spurt inane nonsense? I assumed even your kind could recall that my people’s females are gone.”
Such a rude prick!
His words sting like a slap on the ass from Dracoth. My teeth and hands clench, the psychotic murder drugs fueling a dangerous, animalistic urge to lunge at him.
“I remember,” I growl, struggling to leash my temper. “Haven’t you heard of a joke—”
“What brings you here?” he interrupts, slicing through my words like a blade. “If you’re looking for the kitchens, I’m afraid your sense of smell is as feeble as your restraint.”
“Listen, you fucking—”
His eyes snap open, blazing like molten emeralds, and the air shifts. The mist spilling from his gaze mingles with the green smoke curling up from the golden brazier before him, painting the room in surreal, otherworldly hues.
“ Fucking ,” he echoes sharply. The teasing tone he sometimes displays now a faded memory. “Your human Englandish slang for mating, if I recall?”
His gaze narrows, twisting his runic face into a canvas of barely contained menace. My skin crawls with what feels like the legs of a thousand skittering mini-Todds.
“Well, kind of—”
“Vulgar and disgusting, that’s what it is!” Ignixis roars with sudden fury.
He jabs a wizened, rune-marked finger toward me, his bony hand trembling with disdain. “Your pathetic lust oozes from your every pore. I can smell it—taste it. It’s vile, lingering in the air, tainting Arawnoth’s divine blood with its foulness.”
“Wh... what?” I stammer, instinctively clamping my legs together, feeling utterly exposed and violated by his words. A flush of shame rises, threatening to turn my face as red as Dracoth’s.
“I don’t have to stand here and take this crap from some creepy old dickhead!”
A smirk, twisted and smug, spreads across his lined face as he tilts his head, watching me like a raven studying a wriggling worm.
I whirl around, fury bubbling beneath the surface, and storm toward the exit. Only Dracoth’s muted bond holds me back, preventing me from turning Ignixis into a moldy, bloodroot-scented sandwich with my godlike powers.
Each step I take away from him feels heavier, my teeth grinding as his shrill, half-mad laughter echoes behind me, haunting my every footfall.
The sound cuts deeper than I expect, dredging up memories of cruel jeers and whispered taunts from boarding school.
It twists my stomach, a sickening knot forming as long-buried emotions resurface.
The swirling green mist grows thicker, and the heat of Arawnoth’s brand seared into my chest flares. My pace slows as an oppressive wave of humiliation crashes over me.
“No,” I whisper, almost inaudibly, my fingers brushing against the intricate, burning runes etched along my neck and upper body.
The word gains strength as it escapes my lips. I stop, and with a sudden surge of fury, I spin around. The mist parts as my voice cuts through the air. “No! I’m not leaving until you teach me the sacred words of Arawnoth!”
Ignixis’s laughter dies abruptly, like a cellphone with its battery ripped out. His smirk vanishes as he rises from the floor with surprising fluidity, his black robes billowing like the ashes of the dead caught in a howling gale.
“Is this another one of your human jokes? ” he snarls, his voice resonating with raw power. “Do you think our sacred knowledge is the plaything of children!”
My breath catches, my body trembling as dread creeps into my chest. He looms over me like a monstrous black-red vulture sizing up a meal, his form fragile yet terrifyingly immense.
But I force myself to meet his blazing emerald stare, not with rage, but with unwavering courage.
“I’m not a child,” I murmur, my voice steady even as my gaze flickers, momentarily distant.
“Do not disassociate to mask your terror, child! ” Ignixis hisses, his hand shooting out to grasp my jaw sharply, forcing me to meet his piercing gaze. “Look at me!”
His eyes burn like twin emerald suns, searing through me, exposing every corner of my soul. I swear I can see the embers of his runes glowing red-hot, their heat prickling my skin—but maybe that’s just the bloodroot fumes messing with my head.
“You cannot hide the fear in your heart from me,” Ignixis growls, his fanged sneer dripping with contempt. “What’s the matter? Why don’t you call on the Gods to stop me? Succumb to your impotent human rage. Lash out. Crush me, as you did before.”
He laughs mockingly, his face mere inches from mine, the stench of his breath mingling with the spittle that sprays as he speaks. It wafts over me like the noxious fumes of an undead dragon. Yet, I have no fear. Only the acceptance of death or the sacred words of Arawnoth remain.
“Please, teach me the sacred words.” I ask, my voice steady as I lock eyes with his manic, otherworldly gaze.
His grin widens, grotesque and cruel. “Oh, dear,” he sneers, his tone dripping with mock pity. “Without Dracoth nearby you can’t use the Gods gift, can you?” He lifts a massive, gnarled hand, its shadow falling over my face. “A helpless little creature, fumbling in shadows it doesn’t understand.”
His amusement vanishes as his tone shifts, boiling into seething rage. “The notion of your kind learning our ways sickens me!” he spits, his words dripping with venom. “It is an abomination!”
With an ominous click , his claws extend, long and razor-sharp, catching the eerie green glow of the fumes and the flickering brazier. The runes on his face seem to pulse, a sinister heartbeat echoing in the silence.
But I refuse to flinch.
“I’m not afraid. My soul belongs to Arawnoth’s flames,” I declare, my voice steady and resolute. My gaze doesn’t waver, locked onto his blazing eyes.
The air between us is thick, almost suffocating, with the emerald tendrils of psychotic murder-drug fumes coiling like serpents around us.
Time warps under the surreal haze of bloodroot-induced mania, yet somehow, I stand unshaken.
How I’ve reached this strange place of peace and acceptance is a mystery to me.
With a sudden, sharp snap, Ignixis retracts his claws. A faint smile curves his blackened lips.
“Well, well,” he murmurs, inclining his bald, rune-etched head with a slow, deliberate grace.
His long fingers reach down, brushing Todd with an unexpected gentleness.
“You surprise me, blessed daughter. To wield such restraint while Arawnoth’s fury scorches your veins.
.. impressive. Even faced with pain and death, your devotion burns—brighter than I imagined. A feat I believed beyond you.”