Page 5 of Stars in Umbra (The Sable Riders #8)

A Sacred Inferno

RINA

A fter the ceremony, the mood shifted from hushed reverence to joyous celebration.

The energy was electric, a palpable hum that vibrated through the air under adjacent canopies draped with cascades of fragrant wisteria and twinkling light vines.

The space was decorated as a tribute to vintage-inspired romance, a perfect fusion of classic elegance and celestial wonder.

Beneath this floral canopy, a vibrant tapestry of platters was spread out, as silent servers glided through the area with trays of crystalline flutes and glowing cocktails.

The drinks were a spectacle in themselves, shifting in color from a soft, ethereal blue to a dynamic magenta with every subtle temperature change.

Guests clinked glasses in a delicate chorus, as they sampled herbed canapés.

The murmur of conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter, filled the air as they mixed, either as old friends reconnecting or making new acquaintances.

The aural backdrop was a lush soundscape of orchestral love themes, remixed with a modern, celestial twist by Mirage, the official wedding DJ.

It was a beautiful mingling of cultures and species, a true union of terrestrial and astral beings.

The Sacrans, with their skin and clothes woven from pure light, sipped drinks beside earthy merchants and Riders in their stark formal blacks.

Immortal demi-gods, weathered war heroes, seasoned diplomats, and humble farmers, toasted one another beneath the endless twinkle of orbs that hovered over the tables.

These sun shifted in hue from soft, buttery gold to a rich, deep violet as the sky surrendered to twilight.

Yet through all the diverse beauty and electric energy, the couple, Ki’Remi and Issa, remained an island unto themselves.

They mingled with their guests, exchanging greetings and smiles.

Nevertheless, their eyes were a magnet for each other, always finding their way back in a silent, meaningful exchange.

Their bond was the real heart of the evening, a calm, radiant anchor in the swirling sea of celebration.

As the pre-dinner drinks lingered, Rina found herself in a fascinating conversation, riveted by Issa’s father.

The infamous Sacran demi-god, General Zephyr Astraeus D’Leqan, stood with one hand curled around a goblet of violet wine, the other gesturing as he spoke.

His posture was regal, his timbred voice sonorous and inviting as he shared how battles in the highest dome of Sivania were waged.

Though his silver hair flowed in thick braids down his back, there was nothing aged about him.

He exuded an immortal essence that never faded. His eyes, the color of storm-swept skies, carried centuries of memory and judgment.

‘War on Sacra,’ he rasped, ‘is not pursued for territory or treasure. It is contended for balance. For order. For ancestral reckoning.’

Fascinated, Rina’s brows lifted over the edge of her champagne flute as he continued.

‘Our soldiers are born of the crucibles, temples woven with sentient infernos. We are not merely trained in tactics, but in prophecy and spiritual synchronization. Each warrior is tethered to a flame-guardian spirit, an echo of one of the ancient celestial beasts who keep Sacra in alignment with the cosmic laws. Before we march to battle, we fast for seven days, enter the Caelastrum, and submit our intentions to the Judicator’s Flame.

If our cause is unworthy, the blaze won’t burn.

And if it does,’ he smiled, ‘Then the skies part for us.’

Sheba blinked. ‘You let fire decide if you’re allowed to engage?’

‘We don’t permit the sacred inferno dictate our actions,’ he murmured. ‘Still, we listen to it. Because combat without purpose is madness. Sacra has no room for mad gods.’

Rina sipped her drink, eyes gleaming. ‘So, how do you end a war?’

Zephyr tilted his head. ‘We return to the Caelastrum. If the fire is extinguished when we enter, the conflict is over. Those who continue to fight after that are considered Fallen. Exiled. Severed from the line of light.’

The soldier in Rina uttered a soft whistle of admiration laced with curiosity. ‘No wonder Issa carries herself like a blade wrapped in a star.’

Zephyr chuckled, the sound like distant thunder. ‘She was born in an astral body.’

Then he leaned closer to Rina, his gaze penetrating. ‘So is someone who is either meaningful to you, or about to be.’

A shudder went through her as his echoing, yet prophetic, words reverberated through her spirit.

She arched a brow as the General nodded, his eyes dancing as if he knew a secret she was not privy to.

‘What does that mean?’ she asked, speaking more to herself than him, but he’d already turned away to continue regaling his audience with more Sacran lore.

She was left flummoxed until she felt the fervor of a scorching stare run over her skin, crawling over her shoulder, down her back.

She sliced her eyes across the tent, heat-seeking, then her heart jolted, her chest clenching.

The source of the fever was staring at her with eyes so molten she flinched at their searing.

He stood with Mirage and Kage Sable, hand loose at his side, the other holding a tumbler of dark amber.

Kage was smoking a cigar, which he waved about, lost in a rousing discussion with the Rider’s synth-AI.

However, the third person in the group was focused on her; his unusual eyes, in shades of gray and gold, were mesmerizing.

His features were a sculpted surface, his aura still, unmoving yet at the same time devouring. Heavens above, he was beautiful. His honey-burnished skin was lined with jewel piercings at the temple, his beard neat, those lips, so lush.

Rina took a jagged inhale, her insides trembling, unable to move.

She was not the kind of woman who froze, not in a firefight, nor at a negotiating table packed with the galaxy’s fiercest rebel leaders.

Not even the time she’d had a knife at her neck during a recent mission in the Blue Marshes of Galicia.

Damn , this man had her by the throat as his gaze trailed along her nape, in an elemental, primal undoing of her spirit and soul.

He didn’t wink, smile, or even give much as a twitch. Still, she couldn’t stop feeling like she’d been marked, and now, her knees began to buckle.

Yet she couldn’t refrain from returning the stare.

Her eyes fell to the close-cut jacket that clung to his torso like a second skin, to the sculpted lines of his thighs, thick and honed beneath tailored obsidian. He was temptation forged into muscle and discipline.

His eyes burned with the coiled precision of a predator locking onto its mark.

However, she sensed hidden within that feral grace was a ruthless current of dominance that simmered just under the surface, like thunder in the bones of the earth.

The warrior in her recognized the cunning of a killer, and the patience of a sniper who wore silence like a blade and menace like skin.

The lethality in him slid and slipped around his aura. Rina saw it then, he would protect with savagery, but only if you’d earned the right.

His loyalty wasn’t a gift.

It was a vow, blood-bound, weathered by war, and held together by scars.

This was no mere man.

This was a weapon sheathed in flesh.

A hunter. A reaper.

Fokk .

She was a breath from dropping to her knees, throat dry, heat pooling, her pussy clenching, not out of submission, but out of a hunger that matched his.

She pulsed head to toe with one desperate, aching need: to be wrecked by him.

She wet her lips and glanced away, pulse erratic.

‘Get a grip,’ she muttered to herself. ‘He hasn’t even said a word to you.’

Yet.

She shivered because of the way he eyed her.

It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’.

It was ‘when’.

Under the star-drenched canopy of Dunia’s fertile highlands, the sit-down reception exploded into a raucous, radiant celebration.

The guests were served at tables set beneath massive silk tents, ivory as comet sails, billowing in the breeze and glowing from within.

The dinner was an elegant affair, as invitees were treated to stunning floral arrangements that sat at the table side.

The settings consisted of flutes filled with lilac liqueur, and the food was presented on plates of white and gold.

The long, feasting surfaces groaned under the burden of seafood, succulent steaks, and roasted meats.

They rested alongside roasted vegetable skewers and carved tropical fruit, all paired with a selection of fine wines.

Floating trays of glittering desserts appeared, shimmering like stardust.

The air was perfumed with the scent of flamed, sugared spice and flower wine.

Iridescent orbs floated among the rafters like small moons, changing color to match the beat of the tunes that thrummed through the soil.

Children shrieked with joy as they ran barefoot over the grass.

Dodging between the dancers who packed the floor beneath the central pavilion.

Mirage kept pumping up the music as her holo-cam drones zipped overhead, capturing the revelry.

Gorgeousness dripped everywhere one gazed, as did the incredible, immortal glamour uncommon on Pegasi.

Seated at her designated seat, Rina tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at a group of Sacran guests.

She stared at their skin, which pulsed with light, flowing up their veins with a golden illumination.

‘These demi-gods’ beauty is blowing my mind,’ she murmured to Sheba, raising her glass of fizzing lemonade-laced champagne, ‘They take the word glow to another level.’

Sheba leaned closer. ‘Are they true immortals or is that just excellent moisturizer?’

‘They are pure deities, believe it or not,’ Rina replied dryly.

‘Issa’s family is from one of the Most High’s lineages of the Seventh Heaven.

From the ethereal city of Sivania. Those glittering beauties over there?

’ She angled her chalice in their direction.

‘They’re upper-order emissaries. Their luminous skin is one of the side effects of their celestial DNA, which contains enhanced photosynthetic dermal reflectivity. ’

Sheba squinted. ‘Stop. That sounds like bullshit.’