28. Warring Blood
Chapter 28
Warring Blood
D esperation.
Sylzenya thought she’d experienced it before, like the time she begged her father to take her away from the temple, or the time when her and Nyla evaded priestesses as they sneaked back to their rooms after her sexual escapade with Westley, or even the time when the High One— Distrathrus —had ordered her to create ten willows in one day and she had been close to failure.
But desperation wasn’t a single flower struggling to bloom. No, desperation was a hurricane. Rain, wind, and chaos billowing everywhere, threatening to uproot ancient trees and send them toppling onto unsuspecting homes. Desperation was crawling through a deserted plain, mouth parched, only to discover the oasis was a mirage.
Sylzenya had never been desperate until now.
She’d left Elnok dying.
From poison.
In a tree.
Godsdamnit.
And now, she needed to somehow cut open Kharis’ skin—the most well-trained warrior in all of Estea—and dump orodyte serum into his blood. If she was going to save Elnok and, hopefully, the entire continent, then Kharis needed to be woken from his poisoned stupor.
The thought sent her exhausted head spinning.
Flames from the campfire cast dancing shadows on the surrounding trees. Quickly, she hid behind one, its drooping limbs smelling of rot and sulfur. She crinkled her nose, forcing a cough to stay inside her throat.
Ignoring the sharp scuttles of insects, she maneuvered behind a bush, orodyte serum in one hand, sword in the other. She counted three Dynameis, all sitting on a log, the man in the center sporting Kharis’ golden hair and tight topknot. Strange. She’d assumed Kharis would return with an entire battalion.
She snarled her lip. It was a message for her—Distrathrus saw her as his own. Malleable. Under his control.
Closing her eyes, she placed a palm to the earth, her other hand upturned towards the trees. She breathed in her power, feeling the way it connected to the roots beneath her feet and the rotting leaves of the cursed forest; her body became one with it all.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Distrathrus’ barrier was gone. Aretta’s power flowed freely.
Hope lit her chest. Whatever had happened when she’d fought the arachnis had broken Distrathrus’ hold.
Elnok had been right.
She was stronger.
Rubbing her thumb along the compass, she closed her eyes.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Gold light erupted from her palm, wrapping around her wrists and her shoulders, the sharp sting along her back opening and blood dripping. She gritted her teeth, placing all her focus into the roots writhing underneath the ground.
But what if she was stealing a life from somewhere in Druenia?
She silenced the thought as quickly as it came. There wasn’t time to consider how she might be stealing a village’s only source of fresh water. She couldn’t linger on the sickness she might be sowing into a piece of soil in Druenia.
How far I’ve fallen.
But she was human, not a hero. Choices stood before her: to save the one or to save the many. Even if a part of her was disgusted by her decision, she chose the former. She chose to be selfish.
Eyes steady on the Dynameis, she clenched her fist.
Roots illuminated with yellow sparks sprung from the ground.
The Dynameis jumped up, but they weren’t fast enough, not even with their glowing orodytes. Power surged through her veins as she grappled all of them, slamming them back onto the log.
Elnok would make it to Aretta’s Willow.
She’d make sure of it.
She approached the men. Tilting her head, the roots tightened around their arms and legs, their eyes widening as they found her. But then she stopped. The Dynami with blonde hair looked nothing like Kharis. In fact, Kharis wasn’t here.
Cold steel bit into the back of her neck.
“Impressive work, but I think you missed one.” Kharis’ voice said from behind, his sword pinching the skin.
Sylzenya’s mind was lost to exhaustion and desperation, so she smiled wide.
“I can fix that,” she replied, the roots writhing underneath her feet.
Clenching her fist, the roots shot up.
Kharis successfully dodged, landing on a branch a single story up from the ground. The orodyte on his chest plate—a larger stone than most—glowed bright.
Power against power.
He dropped to the earth, swinging two glowing swords. “Where’s our prince, Sylzenya? He can’t have gone far, not with how injured he seems to be and how protective you’ve become of him.”
“Kharis,” Sylzenya started, holding her hands at eye-level, “I only want to help you.”
“Interesting, because that’s what I was going to tell you.”
He charged for her. Quickly, she erected a wall of roots. He slammed into them, cursing as he used his glowing sword to cut through them. Stumbling back, Sylzenya gripped her sword and orodyte serum vial, commanding the vines to capture Kharis as he walked through them.
He swung his two swords in consecutive arcs, like a waterwheel of power, slicing the roots down until they were nubs. Sylzenya summoned more roots, but his speed outmatched hers.
Shit.
There was a reason Kharis was considered the best Dynami in Estean history. Why did she think she could beat him?
Elnok.
He was going to die, might already be dead…
No. She wouldn’t let that happen— couldn’t . A fresh hurricane raged through her limbs as she urged her power into the dying trees surrounding them. They fought against her, their energy far more difficult to connect to than the lively roots underneath the ground. Still, she drew the trees down, five of them bending precariously over Kharis.
“Distrathrus has you under his control, but you don’t have to give in,” Sylzenya yelled, the Dynami slicing away at her upturned roots.
“There’s no one else I would rather serve. You used to understand this.” He smiled, his veins glowing a bright yellow.
Sylzenya continued sending vines and roots at him, attempting to overwhelm him, but he sliced and sliced and sliced. She was slowing him down, but she needed more time before the trees obeyed her completely.
“What about Elnok’s brother?” she asked, “The man you love? Is it worth abandoning him to serve this god?”
Kharis’ smile faltered, the light in his veins flickering. “The price for life will always be pain, even if it means giving up a dream.”
“Would he give up on you?”
Kharis missed a root, the sharp point slicing through a layer of his leather armor. Wincing, he continued his fight. Sylzenya held her ground, commanding more and more roots. Pain, heavy and sharp, sliced deeper into her back.
This needed to end now .
“Does he know you’ve deserted him?” she asked.
Kharis’ power shifted. It no longer flickered, instead glowing brighter, his blades moving faster.
Shit.
Blood and sweat dripped like rain down her skin. She needed to uproot these trees and send them on top of Kharis, and she refused to give in to the pain until he was subdued.
“I’m afraid that if anyone should be questioned for their abandonment, it would be you,” Kharis replied, “You abandoned Distrathrus at his most important moment. You abandoned your decade of work because an outlander showed up in your life and convinced you of his lies.” His eyes softened, the light dimming, “I understand the temptation. I know exactly how you’ve felt, but you need to learn as I have that they aren’t worth it in the end.”
Flames billowed along her cut, harsh and unrelenting.
Just one more moment, and the trees would smother him.
One more moment.
“Consider my words carefully,” he continued, “Do you truly believe Elnok will forgive you? After learning of all you’ve done to his land? His people? The man isn’t dull. He wants the medicine to cure his friend, and he knows he can’t make it through this forest without someone with power by his side.”
Curling her hands into fists, she ignored his words. Instead, she forced more roots out of the ground, willing the trees to bend and bend and bend.
“Why waste your time with a man who sees you as a means to an end when you have a god—a father —who sees you for everything you are?”
All at once, Distrathrus’ dark barrier slammed down on her, breaking her away from the roots and trees.
Her goddess’ heartbeat ceased.
Aretta’s power vanished from her fingertips.
Sylzenya, why won’t you listen to reason? Distrathrus’ cold voice slithered along her spine.
“ No, ” she gasped, but it was too late.
The earth’s song faded, the roots falling limp as she crumpled to her knees. Skin slick and head pounding, Sylzenya dropped the orodyte serum and sword, the vial hitting a sharp rock and shattering—her only way of turning Kharis… gone.
The lack of Dynami reinforcements, her access to her power… it’d given her the confidence to try and beat Kharis.
A trap, and she fell right into it.
She hadn’t overcome Distrathrus’ hold.
He’d only allowed her to think it.
The thief is nearly gone, he whispered into her mind. You’ll thank me one day for such a mercy.
“ Don’t you dare touch him, ” she shouted.
Distrathrus’ blood pushed further into her body. Yelling, she gripped her head, her back burning and mind throbbing. Kharis stopped spinning his swords, sheathing them as he approached her.
I can’t stand to see you get hurt any longer. Let Kharis bring you home. This fight can be done once and for all.
“ You are not my home,” Sylzenya whimpered.
If not me, then who?
“I-I-” Sylzenya couldn’t find words.
There were none to say, because she had no answer.
Where will you go after you find my sister’s tree? With the thief to heal his friend?
Cold tears fell down her weary face.
You weren’t made for his world. You weren’t made for my sister’s either. You were made for mine, always mine.
Kharis grabbed her throat. Sylzenya struggled, but his strength outmatched hers as he slammed her to the ground. She cried out, dirt and gravel wedging into her open cut, burying into her skin.
Even with Aretta’s blood in her veins, she couldn’t beat them.
She would never be strong enough.
Distrathrus was right. She was his, had been before she’d been dedicated to the temple, and had been since she’d been born on this side of Lhaal Forest. Her destiny had been carved into orodyte. Land scorched, rivers desolate, people dead—she’d done it alongside the other acolytes and Kreenas. No amount of good deeds could change it. Distrathrus had been her master, and she’d trusted him— loved him. She’d trusted and loved a monster so much so she let him turn her into one.
Digging into his leather armor, Kharis pulled out a clear glass vial full of black liquid.
Distrathrus’ blood.
“ No, ” she gasped, ripping at his skin, “Please, don’t do this. Please. ”
“It’s going to be alright, Sylzenya.” He popped the vial open. “You’ll feel much better after your body partakes in more of his blood. I promise.”
Struggling against his hold, Sylzenya pushed and clawed, but he wouldn’t budge. Her power had been spent, her head throbbing in pain, her back engulfed in flames, and now, her transformation would be complete.
She’d belong to Distrathrus mind, body, and soul.
Memories flooded through her as Kharis steadied the vial over her cut: the times when her and her father would watch butterflies flutter among the flowers in early spring, her mother’s bright hazel eyes as she taught her how to knead dough and pour wine, and those lazy summer nights when the three of them sat around a fire and stared at the treetops until the sun rose.
Pale green eyes flashed through her vision. Elnok’s touch as he traced her hips with his calloused fingers, his warm breaths caressing her ear, his musky earth and worn leather scent reminding her of home.
A crack in the dark barrier. A thin film of gold power slipped through.
Thump.
Thump.
Quiet and faint, her goddess’ heartbeat slowly swelled.
Kharis’ orodyte glowed brighter and brighter, his fingers digging so deep he drew blood as he started to tip the vial. Thoughts jumbling, heart racing, and throat gasping for air, Sylzenya closed her eyes.
She thought of Elnok’s smile.
I’m with you until the very end of this, Sylzenya.
Thump.
Thump.
Her mind stilled, focusing on the single crack through the barrier; the single source of power running through her veins.
I promise.
Thump.
Clenching her fists and teeth, she searched underneath her, calling upon a single root—any of them.
None responded.
I promise.
Thump.
The thin crack in Distrathrus’ barrier grew wider, power spilling over. She called upon the roots again, breathing through her blood and veins, sending her power deep into the earth.
She needed to push more, to concentrate more, to feel more . This new plan forming in her head was a gamble, but it was all she had left. She’d made it this far, and she wouldn’t fail this time. Elnok’s life depended on it.
Another breath.
Everything will be back to normal after this, Sylzenya, Distrathrus whispered. Your power will be fully restored, and you’ll be back by my side.
A single root writhed in response.
Her breath caught.
She sent her golden light down, diving after it, encircling it, guiding it up from its home, driving up and up and up.
We’ll be together again ? —
She yelled as the root pierced clean through her upper shoulder, her blood splattering on Kharis’ face as the root continued its path and pierced into the gap in Kharis’ armor, just between his collarbone and neck.
Distrathrus’ distant yell echoed all around her, dying into the darkness. The barrier remained, but his presence was gone.
Kharis yelled, stumbling back and dropping the vial of Distrathrus’ blood. Sylzenya quickly rolled to the side, missing the vial and its contents as it spilled onto the earth.
“What-What’s happening?” he shouted, rolling on the dried forest floor, the root lodged in his flesh. “ What did you do to me? ”
“My blood is now in your blood.” Sylzenya gasped as she cautiously stood, throwing his swords out of his reach. “Both Aretta and Distrathrus’ blood live within me, and now they live in you.”
“ Traitor! ”
“You need to remember yourself. Remember your love for Vutror’s King. Remember why you were so desperate to get Elnok’s help to find Aretta’s Willow. Remember that you don’t belong to Distrathrus, but to yourself.”
He slammed a fist into the dirt. “ I serve him. I belong to him. ”
She kneeled next to him, holding him down as blood seeped from her shoulder. “Orodyte serum isn’t poison, Kharis. It’s Aretta’s blood—her power—and now it flows in your veins just as it does mine. Feel it within your own skin and blood, not through your orodyte. It’s a part of you .” Gripping his shoulder tight, she forced his eyes onto hers. “Elnok is dying. He won’t survive unless you wake up . Distrathrus is going to eliminate all of humanity. Your king—your lover—is going to die if we don’t stop him.”
“No, no —” Kharis grimaced, his face twisted in pain, the yellow light in his eyes fading and turning black. “ Tosh … no, not Tosh!”
Sylzenya ripped the orodyte from his chest. He reached for her hands, but to no avail, unable to get a firm grip on her arms as he screamed and fought with the two bloods battling for control in his body.
“Come on, Kharis,” Sylzenya begged. “Don’t let Distrathrus win. Don’t let him take our lives from us anymore than he already has.”
Kharis grabbed her arm. Sylzenya meant to rip herself away, but she stopped as his pleading gaze found hers, black clouds threatening to overtake his vision; Distrathrus’ blood threatening to overrule him.
Estea’s greatest Dynami needed Estea’s greatest Kreena to help him fight.
“ Remember ,” Sylzenya yelled, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight, “Your life is more than following orders. You can defy Distrathrus.” She gulped, tightening her grip further. “We can defy him together. We’re stronger.”
Kharis’ eyes rolled to the back of his head, his body convulsing and hand squeezing Sylzenya’s so tight she couldn’t stop the yell spilling from her lips.
Finally, he stilled, body slumped to the ground and eyes closed.
His hand slipped through hers.
“Kharis?” Sylzenya whispered, the sudden stillness causing her heart to pump loud in her ears. “Kharis… no, no, no. Please. Oh my gods ?—”
“Get up,” a low, grating voice demanded from behind. “ Now. ”
Heart lurching in her throat, Sylzenya turned. Her power had left her, and now, the three Dynameis were free, surrounding her with glowing swords and harsh stares.
She’d failed.
Two men’s deaths, bleeding from her hands.
“I said, up, ” the Dynami shouted.
But everything turned numb, her body unable to comply. Two of the Dynameis grabbed her arms and hoisted her up. No tears fell from her face as Kharis’ body lay on the dusty ground, the root covered in her blood still lodged in his skin.
Her hands had never brought life, always death.
Always, always death.
She didn’t fight as they clamped her wrists in chains?—
A flash of golden light and harsh air whipped across her face.
The cold metal chains dropped from her wrists, the three Dynameis dropping with them. Blood dripped along their necks, vacant eyes staring up at their killer.
Kharis.
He stood over them, breathing heavily, a glowing sword in hand. Sylzenya couldn’t move, her feet rooted to the ground as he turned to meet her gaze. His eyes weren’t clouded black, nor were they glowing gold. They were a deep hazel, tears streaming from them and down his face.
“Sylzenya,” Kharis whispered, his voice scratched and welling with emotion as he dropped the sword, “Where’s Elnok?”