Chapter 13 Mortal Wound
SOUNDTRACK: Heavy is the Crown by Arcane, Mike Shinoda, and Emily Armstrong
~ MELEK ~
The world disappeared. The darkness. The men. The shouts. All of it. Nothing registered but my increasingly rasping breath, and the drum of my heart inside my skull.
My son was dying. And there wasn’t a single fucking thing I could do to save him.
I observed the surge of the Nephilim, the roars, the impending frenzy with a surreal detachment—my body certain I’d just seen my son murdered, my heart broken, my mind racing.
Deep within, a small, quiet voice whispered caution and comfort. But I could barely hear it over the—
“THE KING IS DEAD!”
The shout, when it came—from one of the Advisors on the stage—was met with a frenetic roar.
I dropped to my knees, only barely aware of Yilan’s warm grip on my shoulder and arm.
“It’s not true, Melek. It can’t be. He can’t be—”
The Nephilim—my people—frenzied. Their bodies swelled. Their bellows of joy or protest echoing like animal roars until the very air shook.
No. Please…
Like ants over a carcass, the men of my kind surged to the stage, covering the stairways, descending on the Advisors and Gall’s body in a sickening wave of death and fury that no one could survive. Even if Gall wasn’t already dead, they’d tear him limb from limb.
A Nephilim ruler had to be brutal. Had to be strong. Had to be fierce…
“Melek—” Yilan gasped in my ear.
I shook my head. “They have no mercy. If he’s not already—”
The word caught in my throat.
Yilan gave a quiet sob and the surge of tight, screaming pain in my throat was so intense, it spilled my tears.
“Dear God, no. Please… my boy… please, save my boy.”
“Melek, Jann is there. He’ll help!”
“He can’t fight this,” I said, my voice a high, reeling croak as I swept one hand towards the chaotic melee below us. Men were already dying down there. Animalistic snarls, wet tearing, curses, shouts, the slap of skin on skin—screams of mortal pain.
I dropped my head into my hands and prayed as I never had before, begging God for a miracle, for power, for something that could change this and bring back my son. Anything.
“CEASE.”
I fought the sudden sensation coursing in my veins to obey. Snarled against a force that wanted to bend my spine in obeisance—
“Melek—look!”
I snapped my head up and my jaw went slack.
The frenzy had stopped. Every Nephilim in the Coliseum stood frozen—some in comical poses, mid-blow or fall. But that wasn’t what dropped my jaw.
High overhead, standing in the air, stood Lucifer. Glowing with power and malicious delight—and he held Istral against his chest.
She wore a long, flowing white gown that put me in mind of a nightdress. She, too, was frozen, but apparently in fear, her eyes wide pools, arms pinned to her sides by Lucifer’s grip, and her feet kicking weakly in the air.
“I can’t leave you alone even for one night?” he roared, though his eyes gleamed as if he thoroughly enjoyed himself. “I can’t allow my grandson one evening of freedom without you killing him?”
The tiny spark of hope I’d had began to die. But Yilan gripped my shoulder and shook.
“Do you forget who gave him his power? Do you forget who owns you?!” Lucifer roared.
The Coliseum snapped back to life, the Nephilim falling apart, sprawling, dropping each other, dropping to their knees, or cowering as Lucifer’s eyes glowed.
Yilan trembled, her eyes locked on Istral.
“Perhaps this is precisely what we all needed,” Lucifer sighed, as if he were the long-suffering parent. “Perhaps after this, you’ll remember who truly holds the power here. Calm yourselves, my sons, and grandsons, and descendants. Calm yourselves, Nephilim. Watch… and remember.”
He blinked out of existence in the sky—Istral as well. Yilan and I both gasped, but before we could do more than inhale, there was disruption on the stage, and that eerie light emanating from Lucifer appeared again.
With short, sharp instructions, he cleared the stage until all that remained were the Advisors, who—at his command—carried Gall’s limp body to the front where every seat in the Coliseum could see it.
Jann’s face was lined, ragged.
Istral shrieked when she saw Gall, and struggled against Lucifer’s grip on her. But he only laughed.
“Don’t worry, sweet girl. You’re about to have your chance—watch closely, Neph. Watch close and remember: Power, true power over death and life, is mine—and I can impart it however I choose.”
Gripping Istral at her shoulders, he turned her to face him and leaned down until their noses almost touched.
She struggled and wept, pleading for Gall.
Lucifer gave her a small shake, and his gaze sharpened. “If you really want to help your mate, if you really want to see him safe and empowered, you’ll stop weeping and listen.”
Istral froze, eyes wide, once again entranced as she had been down in the ritual chamber.
My stomach turned.
“Very good, now, listen…” Every able body in the Coliseum swayed closer as Lucifer leaned into her ear. We couldn’t hear a word, but Istral’s eyes widened further, and she began to tremble.
“What is he doing?!” Yilan hissed. Neither of us moved.
Then Istral’s head snapped sideways to look at Lucifer as he straightened again, nodding, his smile smug.
“You are the queen of our people—the first in generations,” he said.
I would have sworn he whispered to her, but his voice carried throughout the Coliseum.
“...and you carry the heir of my line. As a reward, I give you my power. Power over life. Power over death. Power over whatsoever you choose. Your mate lies dead… but his life is in your hands.”
He stared at Istral, who blinked. Her lips moved and Yilan twitched, but we gripped each other.
“Are you ready?”
Istral nodded, then Lucifer released her.
The moment his hands left her, she threw herself across the stage to slide to Gall’s side, weeping and crying, calling for him.
I felt Yilan convulse, and saw tears track her cheeks as surely as mine.
We held each other, watching the most precious person in her world, grieve for the most precious person in mine.
Please, God—
“Live!” Istral cried. “Please, Gall, breathe. I’m here. I’m back. I won’t leave again, I promise! Please, come back!”
She grabbed him by the clasp of his cape, and tried to shake him, but he was so large, and she was so small, she only succeeded in nudging him so his head tipped and his one, remaining open eye stared dully at the audience.
That thick bolt protruding from the other eye-socket, and painting his cheek and neck in the red of his lifeblood.
I couldn’t breathe.
Yilan openly wept.
Istral placed her hand on his hair and dropped her head to his chest, throwing herself over him. “I’m here now, Gall! I’ll never leave you—please… please. Come back.”
The sob that tore from her was so broken, so clawing, I felt the pain of it in my chest. Yilan staggered to her feet, and I followed her, ready to say to hell with all of this.
To let her shroud us and fly in there, pick up the weeping Istral and simply fly away, as far away as it took to never have to see any of these bastards again.
Especially the Fallen.
And yet… how far was far enough to avoid an immortal?
Defeat. Painful, undeniable defeat churned in my guts.
He was going to win. This sick bastard who’d turned and twisted and perverted the world since the dawn of time, who’d denied God Himself, was going to win.
It was so fucking unfair.
Yilan cried for her sister, and for Gall. She cried for the injustice, and the pain. I felt her give in to the grief and fear and rage that ran in her veins.
But I felt only numb.
Dead.
My son is dead…
Then Lucifer appeared, a gentle hand on Istral’s shoulder, leaning over her where she sprawled on Gall’s body. Yilan tensed. I gathered her in, nodding.
If we couldn’t win, we’d go down showing that asshole—
Istral jerked up, her eyes back on Lucifer. He placed one hand over hers on Gall’s head, cupping that warrior’s length that told the world Gall had made his first kill years earlier, which was impossible, then taking her other hand, twining their fingers, and laying that on Gall’s chest.
I wanted to vomit, watching him whisper in Istral’s ear.
But her tears stopped.
She still trembled, but she nodded, and then Lucifer was gone.
Crying and still shaking, Istral looked down at Gall, her eyes so sad—but then she began to whisper words I couldn’t hear.
The air in the coliseum… shifted.
“What is she doing?” Yilan breathed.
I didn’t know. Couldn’t answer. “We should go get her out of here,” I muttered, cursing myself for not listening and refusing to let Yilan steal her away earlier. Cursing myself for not simply taking Gall and—
The arrow that had stuck grotesquely from Gall’s eye-socket tipped, and clattered to the stage, the sound of it hitting the boards echoing through the Coliseum as if it were amplified.
There was a collective gasp from the watching Nephilim, and a rumble of curious, terrified voices.
But though Istral’s eyes widened, it wasn’t with fear. Her lips moved even faster. She leaned over Gall, speaking directly to him, her hands white-knuckled and arms shaking.
Then, as she shook him, her whispers growing more frantic, as we all leaned forward, transfixed… Gall convulsed.
I sucked in a breath and Yilan actually yelped.
A moment later, Istral cried out with joy. Gall sat up and looked around, confused.
Then he saw her, and a strange call broke in his throat. He grabbed for her, pulling her to him—and she went willingly, her white dress now marred by the blood smeared all over him—but neither of them cared.
“It can’t be,” Yilan breathed. “It can’t. Lucifer doesn’t save lives.”
A roiling unease churned in my stomach, but Yilan and I stood together, gaping, as Gall scrambled to his feet awkwardly because he wouldn’t let go of Istral, who clung just as tightly to him.
When he was upright, he swayed and she steadied him. Then she said something to him and smiled, and he looked out into the crowd of the Coliseum, his eyes wide.
Both eyes.
Blood covered most of his face and half his chest, it smeared the sleeves of his shirt, and left trails and spatter on the stage.
But Gall was whole, and alive.
Then, as the Coliseum began to rock with excited babble, Gall took Istral’s face in his hands and kissed her.
And the Nephilim roared.
When the pair broke apart, Gall looked at the Nephilim, now cheering and roaring, pumping fists and jumping up and down, chanting his name.
Gall didn’t see Lucifer behind him, glowing, raising hands, an expression of ecstatic bliss on his face as the Nephilim worshipped.
But when he tried to draw Istral away, he was met by the Fallen, smiling, eyes glazed with perverted delight, who placed hands on both of them and leaned down like a kind uncle.
“You see, Gall?” Lucifer intoned. “You see the power of your queen? Do you see her, Nephilim?!” He shouted to the Coliseum, which erupted with roars and shouts so deep, the stone walls shivered.
“This is the power that leads you! This is the power that is mine to give, and I give to this pair—my Grandson and his Mate. Your king and queen. Never doubt, Nephilim, that when you stand in their presence, you stand in the presence of my power. The power over life and death. The power of the immortal! Watch and see, Nephilim! Watch that power take the continent, and the world—watch your immortal king!”
My stomach churned with queasy unease, as Lucifer nodded to receive the adoration of the Nephilim masses, then turned Gall and Istral away and led them off the stage.
As they went, we watched helpless, while Gall tearfully clung to Istral with one arm, and Lucifer with the other. Istral gazed only at Gall, ignoring the darkness that walked alongside him.
Then Lucifer murmured something to Gall, and he lifted his head to look past her towards the crowd, just before they disappeared. He raised a single hand in a gesture of childish delight, and the Nephilim responded—chanting his name until the entire arena shook.
‘We have to get out of here,’ Yilan breathed in my head.
I nodded, so stunned, my knees threatened to give way, but I stomped my feet under the cover of the Nephilim roars, then wrapped her in my arms as she shrouded us, and launched from that wall.
I couldn’t resist flying towards the stage, trying to catch a glimpse of Gall—but he was gone, behind the curtains with Lucifer and Istral. Instead, I saw Jann, standing at the side of the stage, utterly still. Gaping in the direction in which the threesome had disappeared.