Warrior of the Drowned Empire (Drowned Empire #6)

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

RHYAN

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

That’s the first thing I realize as I come to, alone in the woods. I can’t fucking breathe. And yet, somehow, I’m still alive. I’m still alive. My chest is moving. But I’m not breathing. This is something else, something dark.

I can feel it. Feel the lack. The lack of my beating heart. Of the air flowing through my lungs. Of the blood pumping through my veins. All that kept me alive. All that made me mortal. And all that made me me . None of it’s here. None of it’s happening. Gods. Nothing about this is right. It’s like I’m pretending to breathe. Pretending to be alive. Pretending I’m human. Pretending … I’m not a monster.

But I am. At least, I’m about to be.

Anything else I do is a lie. A cowardly way to avoid the truth. Every breath is a myth, and every rise and fall of my chest is a falsehood.

So I stop. I stop all of it. I make my chest remain still. I stop breathing. I stop moving. I don’t even blink. Don’t even flinch. And seconds go by, and then a minute. And then another. And I’m still not breathing. Still not moving. And it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t fucking hurt. It should. I should be in agony, I should be desperate, in pain and gasping for breath.

But I’m not. I don’t need any of it. And that—that is fucking with my head more than anything else ever could.

Because not breathing feels the same to me as breathing. Not breathing feels just as natural.

And why wouldn’t it? I’m forsaken. I’m not natural. Not anymore. And I never will be again.

The finality of it all snaps me from my frozen state and I rake my fingers across my face, nails cutting through my skin, pushing through my hair. When that’s not enough I’m punching myself in the chest, and the shoulders. Anywhere I can reach just to fucking feel something, to make myself breathe, or sigh, or gasp. Anything.

But I can’t.

Already, I’ve forgotten. I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Forgotten what it’s like to need to. But how? How is that already gone? No. No. It can’t be. Not yet. I’m not dead yet.

I try to stick out my chest, but that’s all I do. I’m not … I’m not breathing.

Suddenly, I can feel the panic rising up inside me. A hurricane brewing in my belly. The need to run, to hide, to scream, to cry.

I’m not alive. Not alive. Not alive.

But I’m not dead. I’m forsaken. In between.

Turning.

I can still feel it behind my eyes. The sensation of hot, wet, burning tears is there. I know it is. But it’s just a memory—the ghost of what I once felt. Like a lost limb that I swear I still have. I don’t cry. I can’t. I don’t … I don’t think akadim do that. Don’t think they have the right emotions. Or heart.

Or soul.

Sunset’s approaching. The sky is a vibrant purple and blue. As I gaze out, I can see the sun is a shimmer of gold on the horizon through the trees.

Fuck. Fuck.

I have minutes. Minutes before I finish the transformation. Before my body elongates. Before my fangs descend, my nails stretch into claws. Minutes before I’ll no longer be me. It’ll be quick. I’ve seen it happen. I know that much.

And then a tear does fall. One single tear. Perhaps my last. Because I don’t want to be gone. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be … one of them.

Right at that moment, I remember Garrett. The fear in his eyes. The horror of when he realized he was forsaken. That he would change. That he would lose himself and become a monster. I remember what he said, the desperation in his voice.

Let me die as myself. While I’m still me. While I still feel. While I still love.

I had to kill him. Had to stop the threat. But in the end, even killing him hadn’t been enough. Because he’d still turned. He’d become the monster we’d spent years training to kill.

I still see it. Still see his face in my dreams. In my nightmares. I can’t forget. How he changed, how he was different when I found him again. When I fought him as an akadim in the wild at the Bamarian border. It wasn’t him anymore. He wasn’t Garrett. He wasn’t my best friend.

He remembered who he was though, remembered me. But that was it. He had no soul. He had no heart, only colorless, empty memories of our friendship, of a life that he had twisted. And the things he’d done as an akadim … The people he’d hurt …

Gods. Gods!

That’s going to be me. Unless I can act fast. Unless I find a way to end myself. But what kills a forsaken? Garrett had still been breathing before he died. Why? Why not me? Was less of his soul taken? Or is it just because I’m too close to the transformation?

I don’t know what to do. If I can’t breathe, I can’t drown. I can’t suffocate.

Can I stab myself in the stomach?

Can I even find a fucking weapon?

I kick at the silver moontree in front me. I’m barefoot. Naked. And despite that fact, despite losing all of my strength, all of my magic from being stripped, when I kick this tree, it moves. This tree with its thick silver trunk deeply embedded into the ground, the tree that’s hundreds of years old bends to my will.

My strength, it’s already too much.

Then, there it is, between the trees, in the dying sun. I see a flash of fiery, beautiful, red hair.

Batavia red.

Lyriana.

No. NO!

I have to get away from her. I have to run. Because I’m almost done. Almost a monster. And if she’s near me, and if I hurt her …

Suddenly, my gums are on fire and everything inside of me starts to burn. My skin is stretching, my bones are aching. The fangs are filling my mouth as the sky darkens. It’s happening. It’s happening.

And I can’t stop it. Can’t do anything to stop it.

Except die. Except get away from her, get away from the girl I love. I have to put distance between us. All the distance I can muster.

It’s all I can do. The only way I can stop the threat.

Stop myself from doing the one thing that will destroy my soul again.

“ Rakame .” Her voice is in the air, smooth and ethereal. Beautiful. Ancient and new.

“Ly–Ly—” Fuck. My mouth is so dry, I can barely speak. And I don’t know how anymore. My teeth are foreign to me. My jaw feels disfigured. “Lyr,” I finally gasp, forcing out the word. “ Mekara. ”

“Rhyan,” she says and steps out from behind the tree.

“No!” I yell, backing away. “Don’t! Get out of here. Get away from me!” But as I look at her, truly look at her, I’m suddenly on my knees, my hands opening and closing into helpless fists as her light shines. She’s alive, and beautiful, and glowing. And my heart’s breaking. She’s too full of life. Too full of love and beauty, and all that’s good in this world—all that was good in mine. She’s too bright. And it’s not glowing just from her chest. From the Valalumir inside her. It’s everywhere, it’s under her skin. And it’s too fucking bright.

Brighter than the brightest star in Heaven. Brighter than the sun.

“Lyr, please,” I cry. I can’t see her face, not with the light she exudes. I wish I could. Gods, I wish I could gaze upon her one last time. Alive. With these eyes. “Please. Kill me. Kill me before I’m a monster. Before I change. Before I hurt you.”

“No,” she says. “Rhyan. Look at me. Rhyan, look. I am not Lyriana.”

And it’s at that moment I obey and gaze upon her face, and see her beauty. Her otherworldly beauty. The beauty of a Goddess.

“Not Lyriana, yet,” she says.

“Asherah?” Her name rolls off my tongue with ease, and for a moment, I almost swear I can breathe again. That my chest rises and falls, that blood flows through my veins.

But in the end, it doesn’t. I’m still forsaken.

She steps forward, her body glowing, still too bright. Something like an aura of red flames encircles her. She doesn’t even seem real. She definitely doesn’t belong in this world. She never did.

“Can you kill me?” I ask. “Can you end this?”

“No,” she says sadly. “I cannot. Even if I had the power. Even if I had physical form, I would not. You are of Auriel. Eternal. A Guardian. My love. You are the vessel of his soul, and you are his future, as much as he is your past. You are connected. You are not him. But I love you as if you were. I could never harm you.”

I shake my head. “Please? Please! If you love me, then you must. You must find a way. I’m dangerous. To you. To her . To your future. I’m dangerous to everyone.”

“No. You are not. For you’re not gone.”

“Not gone!” I cry. “Where am I then if not here? My soul? I’m forsaken! My soul was torn from my body. Eaten. Destroyed!”

“It’s not gone,” she says. “Of course, it’s not. Never. It can never be gone. Not truly.”

Nothing new was ever created. Nothing ever destroyed.

But I fear those are just words from the Valya. Just words written by men who fear death and pray for eternity—the eternity we once had, the eternity we lost when we fell.

I shake my head. “If I’m lost, then,” I say dully, and rise to my feet, my legs shaking. “Can … ?” I step forward. “Can you help me find the pieces? Can you heal me?” And for a moment, something like hope shudders through me with the tiniest spark, and I remember our past together so fucking clearly. An eternity flashes in my mind. I remember meeting Asherah, losing her, being captured and her finding me, saving me—saving Auriel.

But she frowns, and shakes her head. Her eyes water. “I cannot heal you. I am sorry.”

“Fuck.” My voice breaks. “What is this then? Why am I seeing you? What are you doing here?”

“Because you called out to me in your heart. Because you needed someone. Because you’re alone. I’m here because you’re dying. And because I’m sorry for it.”

At this I do cry. Falling to my knees, to my hands. I’m on all fours, primal, naked. Broken like an abandoned child. As angry and scared and helpless as the soul we tore from Shiviel centuries ago.

Somehow, the human part of me is winning, fighting back. Desperately going for its final breath. Clawing at life. The sobs are racking my body. My chest hurts and I don’t know if it’s because I’m crying too hard, or because I can feel the absence of my soul and it’s killing me. Actually fucking killing me. Nothing has ever hurt worse than this, than the missing of my soul, of my essence. My humanity.

“Get up,” she commands. “Sit with me.” She kneels beside me, her arms outstretched.

I do as she says and sit, and she moves closer to me, wrapping her arms around me. But not really. She’s not really here. I feel her somehow, but not physically. She’s spirit only. Light. Maybe less, maybe nothing more than an illusion. A dream to comfort me in my final moments. But even if that’s all this is, I’ll take it. I let my head fall against her chest. Pretending it’s real. Pretending I feel her.

“You’ll hold me?” I ask, already calmer.

“Of course I’ll hold you. I’ll always hold you, Rakame .”

“Will you stay with me while I’m still Rhyan? Until I’m not? Until the end?” I ask.

“Until the end,” she says.

I wrap my arms around her, through her. Truthfully, I’m holding myself. I’m still sobbing. But my tears have stopped. And so have my breaths. The sky is darkening. Nearly black. The sun is gone. There’s a foul, cold chill in the air. Far too cold for spring. My last sunset, my last view of the sun, my last time feeling. This really is the end.

“Where is she?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “Where’s Lyr? Is she …” My stomach knots. And then this is what becomes the worst pain of my life, worse than the missing of my soul. Missing her. “Is she safe?”

“She’s safe,” Asherah says, her translucent fingers running through my hair, smoothing down my tear-streaked face. “She was sent away.”

“Was she captured?” I ask, already afraid my father has her, or our new fucking Emperor.

“No. No man of the Empire holds her now. She was sent away by a higher power. Away from you.”

Away from me.

I close my eyes, my head falling forward. Of course. Because I’m the threat. Because I wouldn’t stay away from her dead or alive. Because she wouldn’t stay away from me. I can already see it. She would have come for me. She would have called on Rakashonim to heal me. She was trying to get to my side back there, trying to reach me. And it was good she didn’t. It would’ve killed her. And if somehow that didn’t, then once I changed, I would kill her. And I can’t live with that horror.

Gods, I want Lyriana. I miss her. I need her. I want to see her. I want to kiss her and hold her, and hug her. I want to plunge inside her, and fuck her until I forget. I want to talk to her and taste her and lay in her arms and weep. And most of all, I need her to hold me.

But she’s safe. And that’s all that matters. She’s away from me. My Lyr. My partner. My love. My soulmate. She can’t get to me now.

“Thank the Gods,” I croak.

A harsh wind blows, and Asherah’s form fades, almost like she’s a light flickering out.

“I’m sorry,” Asherah says. “I came to be with you. So you wouldn’t be alone. But I cannot hold this form any longer. I’m not supposed to come here anymore. Not when the other part of me still lives.”

“I know.”

“Rhyan, you’ll forget soon, forget what makes you, you. You’ll forget a lot from your life, not the details, not the history, but the meaning. The way things felt. You’ll forget what was important. Yet, if you can remember anything, remember this. Don’t give up.”

Don’t give up? But it’s already too late.

“Remember. Ani janam ra ,” she says.

And she’s gone.

And I scream.

Because it’s agony. Because I’m dying. Because I’m changing. Because my body is expanding and growing and I can see the tears in my skin, and feel myself ripping apart. A monster is cutting through me, becoming me. I can feel my jaw swelling and my fangs cut through my tongue and my chest is pushing itself out and out and out. Like I’m searching. Searching for my soul. Growing big enough to fit something that feels infinite back inside me.

But it’s gone. And I’m empty.

It’s too late. My body’s on fire. And it’s dying.

No.

It’s dead. As am I.

I already know it before I look down at myself, at my destroyed, and newly made form.

I’m akadim.

And I’m alone.

I rise, and everything looks clearer. I can see in the dark, as if it were day. There’s no light. But I don’t need it anymore. Everything looks different, because I’m seeing the trees from a new height. The ground is farther away than I remember. The sky is closer.

“Don’t give up,” says a voice in the air. It was familiar until a moment ago.

But now, I can’t … can’t remember. Can’t remember who spoke to me. Can’t remember who was here. Whose touch still feels like a ghost on my skin.

I just remember a girl. A girl with hair that shone red in the sun. A girl with gold specks in her eyes. A girl who’s too far away for me to reach. A girl who causes an ache and a hunger to burn inside me. I want to find her.

“Don’t give up,” the voice says again.

I growl. Because I find her voice grating. And I’m hungry. I am so fucking hungry. More hungry than I’ve ever been. And all at once, I feel it. The need to feed, the need to hunt. I need blood. I need life. I want to eat. I want to drink. And I want to fuck.

I stalk through the forest, and I find a deer. It’s dead before it knows it. And Gods. The blood makes me feel alive. Makes me want more. But I’m not satisfied. It only makes my hunger deepen. I can already tell from this feeling that I will never feel satisfied.

I scent the air, my sense of smell unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I can detect everything now, every note. I can smell the ocean in the distance, the salt in the air, the fish in the sea. The nearby droppings of a deer, and another rabbit. I can smell the ants, the worms, the earth. Everything.

But there’s something else. Something I want far more. Something I hunger for with a burning, bleeding desire.

There’s a girl nearby. A mage. In her twenties. I can tell all of this from her scent. And I want her. I need her. I must feed.

Because by the forsaken Gods, I’m starving.

Before I know it, I’m running, scenting her in the air. Smelling jasmine and incense. Something familiar. Something feminine. I’m fast, and getting faster, moving quickly, seeing more life, smelling more scents, getting closer, and closer.

Jasmine.

Incense.

Blood.

Sweat.

I turn the corner, burst through the trees into a clearing, lit in the faint moonlight. And there she is. All alone. Dark hair and dark eyes.

I growl, my nostrils flaring.

“Stop,” she commands.

“No.” I lick my lips, slide my tongue around the sharpness of my fangs.

But there’s something strange about her. She’s powerful. Magic.

Doesn’t matter. Magic can’t touch me. I remember that much.

“On your knees,” I say.

She chuckles. “Funny. I was about to tell you the same.”

Then I see it, a bright orange light glowing behind her. Something awakens in the back of my mind.

Orange light. It meant something. It was important. But I can’t … can’t remember.

It doesn’t matter now. I rush forward, determined.

And the light blinds me.

“You will serve me,” she says. “And in return, I will protect you, and I will provide for you.”

“Don’t need protection,” I roar, and continue forward, my eyes closed. I’ll still kill her. Even if I can’t see her.

But then I black out. My knees hit the ground with a sharp thud, and I open my eyes. From here, I can see directly into hers. And they’re more familiar.

“I know you,” I say.

“You remember?” she asks, pulling out something silver. It glints and shines against the moontrees.

I do. And I don’t. But at that moment, I have a vague memory of wanting to die. Of a girl. Of red hair and the sun. And a need. A need to end it all.

I’m so confused. Maybe this is for the best. Maybe this sword will end my life. End my hunger. And in the back of my mind, I think there was a reason for it. A purpose.

But as she moves the metal closer, I see it’s not a sword. Not a blade, not even a weapon. It’s a collar, with a crystal in the center.

She extends her finger. It’s covered in a metal nail, one sharp enough to cut, and I watch hungrily as she slices the nail through her skin, letting her blood bubble and drip into the stone. My stomach rumbles.

“Now you,” she says.

I cannot for the life of me understand why I listen. Why I don’t reach out and lick the beads of blood, or bite down on her arm. But I hold out my hand, and she cuts me. Mixing our blood together. The crystal is glowing, red. Bright red. I vaguely recall armor. Kashonim. Sharing power and strength. And then it’s around my neck.

I shake my head in frustration. “I knew your name. I know I did. Why can’t I remember?”

“You’re still new. Still recovering from the transition. It’s disorienting at first, but your memories will return in time. I’ll help you when they do. I’ll help you sort through them, because I know you.”

I nod, reassured. “What do I call you?”

She smiles, and places a crown on her head. “Ereshya.”