Page 7 of Zepharali: Lord of the East Winds (Lords of the Wind Book 3)

Lazaar

Tir Scáthanna ~ Land of Three Suns

Lazaar slammed into the ground like a ten-ton boulder.

A second later, Oleksandr landed beside him with a painful grunt, and even Myst squawked and flailed in the sky until she got her bearings.

The side of his head throbbed from the impact, frustration, and annoyance. He got to his feet, his legs trembling as he realized he was standing on foreign ground.

“What is this? Where are we? Olek, what in the gods’ name is going on?” Lazaar fired off questions before his guardian even lifted his face out of the bright green grass.

“Give me a minute, lord.” Oleksandr gasped, squinting through the thick canopy of trees.

Lazaar turned in so many directions he felt sick to his stomach.

With labored breaths, he inhaled fresh air that smelled sweet like honey, unlike his shadowed world with its monotone landscape and smoky air.

All he knew was that he was no longer in the Earth Realm. There, the single sun had been a blinding ball of gas that burned too hot for him—an apparent descendant of a fire lord—to look at.

In this world, the multiple suns shone like liquid gold in the indigo sky, almost welcoming the gazes of their admirers.

Creatures of all kinds were full of curiosity and scampered around his feet with their twitching bushy tails.

Lazaar didn’t know where the sweet songs and tweets of joy came from until he gazed high into the trees and saw birds of every hue staring back at him.

It was the setting of the fairy tales he’d been told as a young lord.

It was beautiful. But it was not his home!

“Olek, get up,” he ordered.

Panic flooded Lazaar’s brain while rage unfurled in his chest. Once again, his life and fate were being decided for him. He hadn’t asked to come here, well, to be thrown here, teleported, or whatever. Wherever here was.

As he waited for Oleksandr to get his wits about him, he focused on the strange sensations roaring through his core. Raw power and heat he’d never experienced and hadn’t known he possessed.

Lazaar was apparently far more powerful than he’d been led to believe, but he’d been cast away to a world that engaged the strongest, most evil part of him.

His vampire.

Lazaar took a deep breath, then another, but no number of extended exhalations calmed him.

He made his way—each step he took was like trudging through mud—to where his guardian stared over the side of the mountain at the largest mass of water Lazaar had ever seen.

Lazaar could see for miles in all directions. The world stretched, taunting him that no matter how far he ran, there was no end.

“The Mother and Titan of Spring have sent you to Tir Scáthanna, the Land of Three Suns, my lord. Ruled by the East Titan.” Oleksandr sighed. “This is where the Mother and the Vampire King believe you will be safest, where your good side, your father’s side, will reign supreme over the wicked passed to you from your mother.”

Titan of the East? Three suns.

“Come here, young master.” Oleksandr waved him over. “Look, I mean truly gaze on this land.”

“I’m looking, and it’s making me angry. I’m on a mountain over a hundred thousand feet in the sky.”

“We did make false claims that you were born an orphan.”

Lazaar didn’t believe it, not with how awful he felt.

“But we did not lie to you about the world. We harbored you from it. We disguised it in tall tales and stories you enjoyed around a bonfire.”

“But why?” he shouted, feeling like a betrayed fool.

Oleksandr touched his shoulder. “Because if you would’ve known that these places were real—the Arctic World, the Autumn Realm, or the Protective Phoenix Vale where Myst is from—you would have insisted on seeing them for yourself.”

“Of course I would. If I’m truly a direct descendant of the fire lord, the prince of a world, and a—what’d you call me?—tribrid, I should’ve been received in those worlds with an announcement and welcomed. I’ve done nothing evil to be denied that honor!”

Lazaar turned away. He didn’t even want to look at his guardian’s face lest he yell again, maybe even strike out. The urge was growing with each passing second. Now that he was away from Chessuven, he could feel darkness trying to saturate his blood.

The rage and thirst poisoning his insides had tripled since he landed and left him unable to think straight.

Myst. Myst, where are you?

His raptor hovered above him, using her camouflage to not alert Tir Scáthanna to their presence. At least not yet. Since Lazaar was supposed to be some great evil, he may not receive the welcome he wanted.

One thing Lazaar knew for sure was that he had to ignore the vampire nestled deep inside him.

Lazaar raced to the other side of the cliff—or blinked there because it only took seconds.

No matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t outrun his rage.

He plopped down, unable to believe all he saw.

Instead of massive oceans and waterfalls on this side, cobblestone streets winded past quaint cottages, each unique with magical blooms of rare flowers in their lawns and spilling from their open windows, growing before his very eyes.

He gaped at the thatched homes with intricate carvings etched in their wood walls deep inside hollowed tree trunks.

People of all ages and even species mingled in bustling markets with shops selling everything under the many suns, from exotic fruits to colorful clothes to enchanted trinkets.

“Olek, get over here, now,” he hollered.

His guardian had to see this.

The Shadow Realm he’d ruled was a drab, depressing world created by Hades himself compared to this.

A fountain with water glistening like diamonds sat at the heart of the community. Musicians and performers kept the large crowds entertained.

Their joy and laughter were so robust he could hear it from where he stood.

The village was huge and went on for many miles, its mystical atmosphere almost a comfort to his wounded soul. It was a place Lazaar would’ve loved to visit under different circumstances.

“I’m here, lord,” Oleksandr panted.

Who or what lives in that monstrosity way over there?

Lazaar pointed to a grand castle that sat in the far east. With his enhanced vision, he could see marble stone walls adorned with elaborate murals of the gods and goddesses.

“What is that?”

“It must be the titan’s grounds. And those are solar panels all over the roof. They allow—”

Before he could ask Oleksandr how he knew all this, Lazaar’s heart rate soared, and his unwanted fangs dropped for the first time and nicked his bottom lip.

A colossal man leading a large pack of admirers fawning over him emitted a warm powder-blue aura so overwhelming it made Lazaar’s knees buckle.

The man stood with unparalleled majesty and power, with a body that must’ve been designed by Aphrodite. Long, thick, honey-wheat braids hung past his delectable—

Oh gods. Lazaar groaned.

The giant appeared to possess immense strength but exhibited a gentle demeanor with the people he touched.

The more he accepted kisses and gifts from passersby with that blinding smile, the angrier Lazaar got.

Jealousy burned like flames in his core, gripping him in its clutches, while his hunger roared to the forefront and took over his rational mind.

He didn’t realize he was trying to run until he felt Myst’s sharp talons clutching his biceps.

“Don’t let him go, Myst, hold him!” Oleksandr begged, trying but failing to direct Lazaar’s attention elsewhere.

His stomach caved in on itself as a throbbing started between his thighs and slowly worked its way up to his…

“Uggh, Olek. I don’t like this,” he gurgled around the sharp fangs. “Make it stop!”

“Hold steady, lord. The hunger will pass when he’s gone.”

“I want to leave this place. It’s poisoning me.” Lazaar trembled, the ground shaking hard enough to make the air shimmer and the critters and birds scurry in a frenzy. “I need to go home! This place is trying to kill me!”

“He is Zepharali Cavaliere, the Titan of the East Wind,” Oleksandr hurried to confess while Myst kept him immobile. “He is your beloved.”

Nooo! His heart screamed. Lazaar wanted nothing to do with his vampire side.

“Calm him, Myst. If you can.”

Not even his protector could stop the feelings gnawing through his core.

“I need to get to him,” Lazaar roared. “I want to eat him!”

“Your bite or advance on him will be seen as an attack.”

“I don’t care!” Lazaar yelled.

“Lord! The Titan of the East wields the Sun Strike. A weapon forged by the god who controls the sky fire. And if that is not enough.” Oleksandr cupped his cheeks, trying to redirect his gaze.

“Tir Scáthanna possesses the most fearsome fighting legion of titanesses in all the worlds, commanded by his oldest heir. We are intruders, and you are a lord from the dark worlds. She will show you no mercy.”

Zepharali—Lazaar thought his name was delicious—paused suddenly and turned in their direction. He gazed into the mountains with eyes that gleamed with flaming orbs as if he knew something was off in his realm.

Lazaar held his breath when they looked dead at each other.

“He’s sending his wind, my lord. We have to move now,” Oleksandr gritted. “Myst, counter the titan’s heat waves until I can formulate a plan.”

Myst shielded and camouflaged them with one massive wing and used the other to throw the hot wind back the way it came.

Lazaar’s eyes went wide when the handsome titan soared into the sky, a long royal-blue robe leaving a trail of golden light behind him.