Page 15 of Shadows Ascend (Remnant Archives #2)

“ Y ou didn’t see that one coming?” The deadly whisper hissed through my lips. “That’s your excuse?”

Shea regarded me with a simple tilt of his head and a tapping of his rings on his glass. “Yes.”

Emon’s hand tightened on my thigh, whether he felt my muscles coil or the initial movement I did not know but his hold wasn't enough to stop me.

Plucking the silver knife hidden within my boot, I threw it with a snarl.

A flashing silver blur that split the fine china elegantly placed before Shea.

The blade vibrated from the force of my throw, its lethal edges already buried halfway within the table before my mother released her gasp.

“Remnant Dark,” she hissed, staring at me in shock. I did not look at her, I only saw Shea in my rage.

The slapping of my palms on the table was harsh as I leaned in, baring my teeth. “Did you see that coming, death god?” I purred dangerously. I could practically hear Xi, muttering trouble was coming with this tone, when all my words came out as feral questions.

Shea’s eyes drifted up from the blade, his smile widening the further they rose. “Of course. You are half your mother after all.”

My nails dug into the table, stopping myself from throwing another blade, “And what are you then? Care to take a look at your own reflection or are you afraid of what you will see?” I nodded to the silver dagger, seeing my own snarl on its deadly edge even from here.

“Because I can tell you what I see. I see an arrogant, self centered, and callous god who has lost touch with his own emotions after living a lonely life with only power to keep him company.”

The air stilled around us, the star dust paused its descent, and even my mother and Emon seemed to not breathe.

Shea’s eyes flared bright green, penetrating with their intensity, “All I need to see, daughter, is a way to make sure you survive,” he seethed. “And if this is the role I must play, where I am the villain to you, then I will.”

I snarled, pushing away from the table, hating the fact that what he said made me feel something different than pure rage.

“And your solution for me to survive was what exactly? Send me to The Well of Souls to obtain the lilin, the souls of my friends, and those of my people to rectify your wrongs?”

Plucking the blade from the table as if it hadn’t been deeply embedded, he twirled it over his fingers, the blade pinging against his numerous rings. “Yes.”

Folding my arms, I bit back another angry retort knowing it would not get me anywhere and settled a leveled look on my mother, cold anger still evident in my voice, “And you have seen that I need to bring Emon with me? Can I not leave him and Riella here, where they can be safe?”

Emon growled, rapping his own claws on the table, sending dishes rattling, “That’s not fucking happening, little umbra.”

My mother looked between us, her lips pressed together before she spoke, “If you leave them both here you will not win over the lilin at The Well.”

A whirl of bright shooting stars flew over our heads, illuminating my growing darkened expression. “How long does Emon have?

Shea’s eyes held mine, never wavering, "Days. "

My heart pounded in my chest, the tightness creeping. "How long does it take to reach The Well of Souls?"

"Days," he shrugged. "You will need to leave by tomorrow if you plan on making it to The Well before the sleep overcomes him."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from exploding, the blood welling inside my mouth. "And what of Ethereal, you said Emon was his host. What has happened to him?"

Shea’s brow rose. "What happened to him was you , daughter."

I stilled, a sinking panic pitting deep in my stomach, the race of my heart now a fierce sprint. Deirdre’s taunting words rung all too loudly in my mind.

“They will have no future with you because you will destroy whatever is left of it…you already have."

"What do you mean?" my voice shook, fear quickly replacing my rage.

The death god observed me thoughtfully before he grunted with self affirmation,waving his hand to create a swirling cloud of shadow that circled above the table forming a black orb. “What I mean…is this.” He nodded towards the mass with both pride and sympathy.

Emon reached out, trailing his hand through the shadows with a deep frown. “These are the shadows from when you saved me,” he growled softly, his hair falling over his brow as he glanced back at me questioningly.

Tearing my gaze from him, I studied the weaves with a deep sense of foreboding, the tightness in my chest growing. "Yes, it’s a replica of the shadows I created to stop Ethereal from crossing into the gateway to the Sanguine,” I said slowly.

Shea hummed, stroking his fingers across his lips in thought.

"Indeed it is daughter…a new shadow weave that I have never seen before.

Shadows that don't just stop or deflect an enemy but strips them of their very soul and locks it away. What you created was a prison or a weapon that separates a soul from its physical body.” He tilted his head and I shivered at the intensity of the cold calculated look glittering in his eyes.

It was a look that told of future dark plans.

“Fortunately for your shifter,” Shea continued, “he had two souls to give and Ethereal was the one stripped from him. My nephew is now free and irrevocably trapped in those shadows—until he learns how to escape them, that is,” he smirked an d a brief flash of shadow delivered my silver blade back in front of me, resting next to the butter knife like it belonged there, “I'll be ashamed to call him my nephew if he does not soon enough. "

"We are no longer bound?" Emon’s hand shook slightly as he trailed it through the shadows again, his hushed tone full of disbelief and uncertainty.

“Yes,” Shea said with a shrug. “I do believe that was what you always wanted, correct shifter king?”

“Shea,” my mother murmured, drawing the death god’s attention with a frown.

“What have I done now?” he sighed, looking back towards us, trying to understand.

Emon ignored them, his gaze never leaving the shadows, his profile strong and unwavering, his golden eyes losing their playful twinkle.

“Emon,” I said softly, my trembling hand falling on his shoulder, my heart breaking while my parents whispered heatedly in the background. Their attention drawn away from us.

“He really is gone,” Emon whispered, more to himself than in answer to me. His hands curled into fists, the claws breaking his skin and causing tiny beads of blood to drip down onto the fine tablecloth.

I could not breathe. I had done this…it was just like before. In my attempt to play the hero I also destroyed what mattered most. “Emon, I am so sorry. I didn’t know…goddess, I am sorry,” I choked.

“He’s right, you know. I always did want to be free of him.” Emon’s deep rich voice said flatly in my mind not even hearing my words. A sudden bark of dark laughter burst from him, and my hand tightened on his muscular shoulder. “Of course he would be gone when I need him the most,” he sneered.

I could not stop the tear that fell down my face. The cycles of his loss rapidly dictated his mood while he struggled to come to terms with the panther being gone.

Sobering, he ran a ragged hand through his hair, “I hate the silence,” he whispered.

I could not stop the trembling, my breathing short, and my hand fell from his shoulder, my body collapsing into the seat with defeat. I really was a monster. “I’m sorry, Emon.”

A frown pinched his features before he moved so quickly that I found my watering eyes drowning in his fierce stare, I could see nothing else but those pools of golden light.

“Stop,” Emon said soothingly, reaching for my trembling hands, swirling his thumbs rapidly over them, breathing slowly in and out, reminding me to do the same.

“Stop, my little umbra, I see these thoughts, I know these thoughts. You are not a monster Remnant Dark, you are my soulmate, Riella’s mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a goddess.

You are everything you need to be and more—but never, ever, ever, a monster.

” His hair fell between his eyes and he dropped his forehead to mine, drawing another ragged breath, “If anything this is my fault for being so afraid of my damn power. If I had learned how to control it then maybe none of this would have happened.”

Shea sniffed behind us. "That's an understatement."

Ignoring him, I shook my head, devastation still cutting up my heart for what I had done. "Shifter…I saw that power, it opened up the sky, it tore through the universe. You wouldn't have prevented anything but you most certainly would have destroyed everything."

He smiled sadly at me, sweeping my hair back, a bit of brightness returning. "Then thank the goddess, you were there to save me. How many times is that now?”

I smiled sadly through watery eyes, “I’ve lost count, shifter.”

“Four,” Shea growled across the table like a child that was being denied attention.

It helped though, to shove my grief aside and refocus on the loathing I felt for the being that was my father. I gave my mother a questioning look, seeing that she was rubbing her temples muttering to herself.

“How do you even live with him?” I asked her and Emon snickered next to me.

She lifted her hands from her face, folding them neatly back in front of her and gave me a playful smile, “Why do you think I left him the first time?” she said laughingly.

Despite myself, I laughed with her, the sound of it lifting the darkened mood and the stifling grief.

Shea looked between us, his brows pulled together creating a small v on his flawless beauty as if he had never seen the sight of his soulmate and daughter laughing together.

And once upon a time, we always did–--those memories so far buried in pain and loss that they were difficult to recall.

Emon’s thumb swirled over my hand, “Fucking beautiful,” he purred, “goddess help me there is no symphony that could ever be composed that is more beautiful than the sound of your laugh Remnant Dark, and it cures the silence.”