Page 2 of Zepharali: Lord of the East Winds (Lords of the Wind Book 3)

One Day Before….

Lazaar Chazin

“Protect our lord! Get him to the tunnels!” Lazaar’s guardian, Oleksandr, barked orders at his people gathering weapons and getting into fighting formations Lazaar had never seen.

He was gripped hard behind his neck and held down by five men who’d been his closest confidants, ones he called friends. They had him bowed over so far his head was practically between his knees.

“I cannot close the portal! Hold your battle positions!” Oleksandr ran beside him while yelling commands Lazaar didn’t understand.

Yet he’d reigned over this world for almost one thousand years.

“You all have been trained for this day! Make haste!”

Trained…when?

Lazaar had never trained for anything besides his studies and mastering his magic abilities in the Shadow Realm.

“Let me up!” he insisted, pulling at the restraints on his arms and shoulders.

Heat blasted his face. Actual flames were being hurled by hideous creatures. An army that had somehow entered his peaceful world through a hole in the sky.

Hellfire thrown by demons rained down around them.

Lazaar had been taught that demonic beings were evil and confined to the Underworld.

An ear-deafening explosion that ripped through his world made him slam his hands over his ears. It struck hard enough to sear his lavish land to ruins.

This attack must be the will of the gods.

Lazaar had favor with them and hoped they’d show mercy.

He’d been chosen at birth to be a leader of these humble people when he came of age.

He was their lord and loved them as much as they loved him and his humility and need to provide.

The elders told him stories of how he’d been born with a power inside him his people revered. His mother had died giving birth to him, and his father had died days later of heartbreak.

Lazaar had been given these gifts by the gods as an apology for being born and then orphaned. And he’d used his abilities to live and love the people of this tiny, barren realm Oleksandr called Earth.

“What’s happening, Olek?”

Lazaar was achieving what he’d been sent to do. To love and provide care. His magic was one of beauty.

He didn’t understand why they were being attacked. What offenses did the gods think they’d committed?

These hideous creatures with fur, fangs, and claws were clearly demons because they were strong and vicious and were tearing through the small cottages and markets as if the structures were made of paper.

Pale-faced men in tattered black gowns flashed around so fast Lazaar couldn’t keep up with the blurs. His people were using weapons and fighting formidably with the skills of warriors, while Lazaar was being forced to run like a coward.

He cried out in agony as one of his favorite teachers fell from his wounds after he’d leapt in front of a fireball to shield him.

It should’ve been the other way around.

Lazaar was confused and terrified. He couldn’t use his magic to help because he was still being dragged by too many forearms.

And it wasn’t as if he knew any defensive spells.

He closed his eyes against the carnage that had been his beautiful paradise. Sturdy columns and homes were shattered or leveled.

Lazaar could only see his feet and what he was trampling over.

The graphite-colored foliage that’d taken him years to grow was destroyed in seconds. The smoke-velvet trees that grew only in his shadow were chopped down with bladelike claws.

Gods, no.

It wasn’t long before his specially blended maroon succulents decorating the main square succumbed to the raining fire and became nothing more than ash.

Miles of shimmering black landscapes and marble statues of their deities were demolished.

Before Lazaar was shoved toward a dark passageway, he craned his neck and saw a menacing woman in a crimson-colored cloak who appeared to be orchestrating it all.

Her face was an angry mask, with vantablack eyes and fingertips the color of coal.

She made direct eye contact with him, and with Lazaar’s enhanced abilities, he heard her whispering in a language he’d never learned, one that sent shivers down his spine.

“Wait! Who is that woman, and where are we fleeing to?”

Lazaar didn’t know where else there was to go. They were alone in this realm. If they left it, heaven only knew what awaited them in the void.

Perhaps worse than what they were battling inside.

“This is madness! Someone, please tell me what’s happening.”

“They cannot stop fighting, my lord, and there’s no time to explain why. I must get you to safety first,” Oleksandr insisted while keeping a close eye on the melee. “I wish I’d had more time to explain your bloodline, my lord, but I can rectify that if we live past the next minutes.”

“What?” Lazaar hollered at anyone who would listen. “I will not leave Myst. I need to find her!”

“Myst will follow wherever you go,” his guardian reassured him.

Lazaar took a forced breath of putrid, smoke-filled air while his handlers increased their pace.

A towering tree exploded and fell before them, forcing him to dive for cover.

A red-eyed demon—or whatever in the gods they were—charged at Lazaar, and before Oleksandr could react, Myst dove through the darkness, her massive wings spread to their full length, and caught the monster in her large talons.

She soared back into the sky, dodging the raining hell before dropping her catch from a lethal height.

Lazaar was hefted back to his feet and shoved through a door hidden within a hill. Steep stairs descended several floors before the pathway leveled out.

“Your people will survive if you do, my lord. Now, go!”

Oleksandr yelled at him to run, and he did, leaving behind the sounds of battle and bloodshed.