Chapter Fifty-Four
Nicola
H ours passed before we were able to calm down Asher enough to get her inside. She was full of pent up energy, of loss and grief turned into red hot fury. Despite knowing this would eventually come, I had not expected it tonight. Had not seen this particular thread. That was what the future was, a mess of thin, shining strings that never ceased to get me turned around. fate and chance warred between them, twirling, tying, knotting, and cutting entire lines of the future. This had to have been their doing.
“We need to attack,” Asher screamed, picking up a chair and throwing it towards a wall of rock. Both the chair and the rock shattered, Asher’s seed awakened within her now. She had not fully realized what was happening, too emotionally charged by the death of Adbeel Ayad. Her grandfather. Eternity above, could she never catch a break?
I knew he would die though. Had seen it happen in a dozen different ways. Not that warning her would have done anything. Still, I felt guilty watching her break before me. Could she never have a single good moment? A secular experience of pure joy to remember?
No, apparently not.
“Asher, please,” Bellamy begged, reaching out to her. I watched as, finally, Asher slumped. Slowly, she walked to him, her head falling forward. He was forced to catch her as she crumpled into his arms, the two of them grieving the loss of someone so deeply important to them both. My eyes darted throughout the room, catching sight of the grim faces upon Bellamy’s Trusted. They were in the exact places I had seen, this future one I knew well.
Now was the right time. I felt it.
“Ash,” I said, wringing my hands as I waited for her to look my way. When she looked up, kohl ran down her cheeks and the red of her lips was smeared. Tears pooled in her eyes and her crown had fallen. It was horrible timing. Terrible. But it had to be now.
“I need to tell you something.” Everyone’s eyes bore into me, heating my skin. Kafele wrapped me into a tight hug, kissing my temple and giving me strength to say what needed to be said. I hated it. More than anything, I wished I had not been cursed with this ability. No one should know as much as I did, and as brave of a face as I often put on, I desperately wanted to fall apart and crumble too.
“Tell me,” Asher ordered, her voice firm despite her broken appearance. I tried to speak, my mouth opening but nothing substantial coming out. My best friend looked on in sympathy as she likely invaded my mind, hearing and feeling my nerves. “Show me, please. I can take it, Nicola. Urgency swarms your mind. I can sense it.”
Sighing, I nuzzled further into my husband and closed my eyes. Together, Asher and I watched the series of visions spring to life. The past kissing the present hello.
***
“Mother,” Asta said, her voice lacking the energy it once had. Stella looked over at her daughter, wishing she could free her of the torment that they both shared but not willing to lose her too.
“Is the Oracle here?” Stella asked, looking around.
“Yes, I can feel her. Her thoughts are…odd. I have never experienced anything like it. Not even on Shamay.” Stella felt her stomach drop as her daughter stepped out of the trees, facing a large river that cut through the land.
***
“From your line will be a savior, one who will not only rescue Alemthian from destruction, but Shamay as well. Her life will be the start of a series of events that will see balance restored to the universe. Both a gift and a promised doom.” The Oracle’s voice was ethereal as she spoke, her existence that of true gods. She was magnificent to Asta, who watched as what looked like threads of timelines moved both forwards and backwards in the fae’s mind. Never had a mind felt so hauntingly cluttered and foreboding, but Asta found she enjoyed being within it.
“So what must I do?” Asta asked, not seeing clearly what would be required of her. Stella remained at her daughter’s side, watching the scene with wide eyes and terror in her chest. She knew then she would soon lose her daughter. Felt it in the marrow of her bones.
“Your mother is the one who will do the majority of the work. She must remove your seed and save it for one of your descendents. A female with bravery and kindness in her heart. One who knows suffering and still wishes to dream.” The Oracle reached forward, grabbing Asta’s hand as her eyes went slightly out of focus. And when she was done, Asta began to sob, reaching her fingers down into the water and lighting it up with her silver magic. In the depths of the flowing river, images began to appear.
***
Stella paced within the blackened forest, cursing Padon. For thousands of years she had waited, and now she was somewhat confident in her choice for the seed. Zaib Ayad was a lovely princess, both brave and kind. She had not suffered much, but Stella knew there would be a great loss that would allow her to reveal herself, so maybe that was what the Oracle had truly meant all those years ago.
Padon was the only thing stopping her. The second she put the seed into the princess, Padon would likely feel the force. He was probably constantly in search of it. Wanting and waiting.
Or maybe he thought she would never give it to someone else. Maybe she would get lucky.
Sighing, she willed herself to the stunning palace upon the cliffs of Dunamis.
***
“Malcolm, look! The entire thing truly is made of gold!” Zaib said, pointing at the structure.
She had begun to feel different the last few decades since getting sick, something within her stirring. Rather than needing to speak aloud to order others, she had found herself slowly growing able to silently demand things. Often, she even heard the thoughts of others. When she first fell ill, they all thought she would die, but it seemed that she came out of the illness with newfound magic instead. Still, she was far too unsure to tell anyone about it. Anyone but her brother, that was.
She never kept secrets from Malcolm.
“Yes, it is gorgeous,” Malcolm said in awe, his arm lying lazily upon his sister’s shoulders. “I would love to live in a palace like that.”
“Too bad you were not born a fae prince instead of a demon one,” Zaib joked, nudging him with her shoulder. Malcolm did not laugh.
***
“Please, brother, please do not do this,” Zaib begged from behind the bars, her body aching from being healed after a brutal first beating. She stared at her brother in desperation, wishing she could will him to see reason. To love her like she thought he had. Like she loved him.
“She is different than the rest of us. After she got sick, she started being able to do strange things. Zaib can literally control the minds of those around her. I have seen her do it, felt her talk to me in my head. She has shown me it all,” Malcolm told Queen Mia, basking in her attention. Just as he had basked in the feel of her cunt that morning and reveled in her promises of a place at her side when she conquered. He would rule, and he would have her. Finally, something Zaib could not steal from him.
“Excellent,” the queen beamed.
***
“You are new,” Zaib murmured as a male’s face appeared beyond the door.
He was handsome, his dark gray eyes that of a stormy sky. His skin was lighter than hers, his hair a softer shade of brown. He looked horrified to see her there through the small bars on the door, though she was not sure if it was because of the cuts on her body or her nearly lifeless aura. The king and queen had taken her to the final mortal kingdom today, where she continued stealing memories of a time when demons were not the villains of Alemthian.
“I am,” he agreed, voice grave. Zaib did not have the energy to say anything else, as the runes on the walls constantly pulled all of her magic from her. She would vomit and fall over, her tongue numb and her limbs aching. There was no use in speaking when it took all her focus. Especially when this was probably just another tactic to get her to submit.
The male continued to talk, but Zaib did not hear what he said.
She wished they would just kill her already.
***
The guard’s name was Dante. He was incredibly funny. Sarcastic and dry, but that was perfect for Zaib. He constantly kept her mind off the pain. Though she remained vigilant, still unsure if her new friendship was some sort of trick. He worked for the Mounbetton’s, after all.
“How do you like the bed?” he asked her one afternoon, watching as she laid down on it and smiled. He had gotten her new clothes and playing cards, snuck her delicious food, and just yesterday brought her an actual bed. What Queen Mia called the low level room had quickly grown in comfort.
“I love it,” she said in response, pulling the silver and blue blankets around her. His smile was broad, full lips enticing. Zaib felt something in her heart, the organ thrumming to an uneasy beat.
“Can I come eat with you again?” Dante asked. Zaib nodded.
***
“Fine, we cannot contact your father, but I have coin. I can get us on a ship. Please, Zaib, at least let me try to get you out of here.” Dante was on a tangent again. Zaib did not have the energy to argue with him.
Over the months, Zaib had grown to trust Dante. In that time, Dante had lost his faith in his rulers—in his parents.
“There are no ships that sail to Eoforhild anymore. No one even knows it is called that now. I would need to portal, which would mean waiting out the poison in my body and breaking free of these blockers on my wrists.” They had discussed all of that before, but Dante was growing increasingly more unsettled. She wished she was brave enough to admit she loved him. But to tell him that was to lose him. There was no way he felt anything but pity for her. She had been too scared to check his mind when they forced him to drag her to the torture chamber they called the interrogation room. Better to remain in blissful ignorance.
“Zaib, please,” he begged again. Zaib rolled over in her bed, facing the wall instead of his heartbreakingly perfect and hopeful face.
***
“Zaib,” Dante said, his breath fanning her face. She awoke slowly, her newly healed body still aching and unfamiliar. Her eyes fluttered, catching sight of his gray ones, a smile on his face. He held up a cupcake, a single candle stuck in the blue frosting. “Happy birthday.”
“I forgot I explained those to you,” she mumbled with a grin, pushing herself up to a sitting position. He beamed down at her, moving to sit on her right.
“Well you did. Now blow out the candle and make a wish like the bizarre little demon you are,” he ordered, a laugh in his voice. Zaib laughed too, but soon she closed her eyes and wished for something she knew she could never have. As her lips puckered and air blew out through them, Zaib dreamed not of freedom, but of Dante being hers.
“What did you wish for?” he asked, his scent enveloping her. She opened her eyes, realizing how close he had gotten. And whether it was the fact that she was quickly approaching fifty years in the low level room or her own growing desperation she did not know, but Zaib leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
***
“Zaib, this cannot go on. If you refuse again then I will drag you back to Eoforhild kicking and screaming. You will not fucking rot away in here any longer!” He had been screaming for a while, pacing throughout the room. Panicking really. Zaib was unnaturally calm, though it had always been Dante that was the more fiery of the two. Still, she was too motionless.
Inside of her, the little one was the opposite.
“Dante, I have to admit something to you,” she finally said, catching his attention. He looked at her, brows furrowed. When she did not immediately speak, Dante’s eyes went wide and he rushed towards her.
“Are you unwell? Is this about you vomiting so much at the beginning of last month? I thought you said you were better!” Zaib smiled ruefully, wishing she had better news.
“I have not bled,” she said.
His brows rose, lips tilting down in a confused frown. “Yes well, that is the point of ensuring they do not torture you anymore, Zaib.”
“No. I mean I have not had my monthly bleed.” Her voice was calm. She had been stewing in this for far too long to be anything but resigned. But she watched as Dante began to understand, as horror stretched his face and reddened his cheeks.
“How late is it?” he asked, the terror in his voice and painting the air making tears well in Zaib’s eyes.
“Four months.”
***
“Okay, we can stop here for the night. Tomorrow we will be at the very edge of Isle Element and we can try to get those blockers off,” Dante said, kissing Zaib’s forehead and placing his hand firmly on her stomach. Over the last few weeks she had begun to swell, though the fae king and queen had not yet figured out she was with youngling. By the time Dante finally freed her, it was too late for them to discover the truth.
Zaib grabbed his cheeks, lifting his face to bring their lips together. He smiled into the kiss, his hands wrapping around her neck softly. “Marry me, Zaib.”
She chuckled, but without hesitation nodded. “I love you.”
As she often had been, Stella was nearby, watching the scene unfold. For the last few decades, she had watched in horror and devastation as her descendent was harmed. All the while, the sound of the Oracle’s warning to not interfere until the great loss echoed in her head. It had not happened yet. The fae had said she would feel it, and the fallen empress had not yet experienced the unequivocal sense of surety.
When she caught sight of Zaib’s brother, Malcolm, appearing within a cloud of shadows just behind the happy couple, Stella thought the time might have finally come.
***
“Please, stop!” Zaib screamed, trying to convince Malcolm to cease his relentless attacks on Dante. They were back in the low level room, but this time, she was chained to the wall, forced to watch as the love of her life was brutally beaten.
“He is a disappointment and a traitor, he must be shown no mercy,” the golden queen hissed into Malcolm’s ear, encouraging him to continue. And he did, stomping and punching at Dante until Zaib wondered how he could possibly not be tired.
When he did slow, he grabbed Dante by his collar and dragged him to her bed, dropping him halfway onto the mattress. Zaib looked into her brother’s eyes, unable to understand the darkness that lay beneath his skin. Different than the shadowy magic of the moon. No, this was an evil and wicked thing.
“Now you can watch him die and know it is all your fault,” Mia said, practically steaming from the ears. Her hand reached out, latching onto Malcolm’s sleeve and dragging him out of the room. The moment they left, Zaib was on Dante, trying to will her magic to heal him through the four brand new blockers and the poison they had force-fed her. But even when the silver sparkled to life and surrounded him, she knew it was too late.
Dante’s eyes opened, a small smile stretching his split lips and showing his bloody teeth. Even toeing death, he was perfection incarnate.
“I love you,” Zaib breathed out through her sobs. She held onto him, crying so hard her body shook. He reached up, his hand sliding across her cheek.
“I love you,” he mumbled. “And I love you , my little one. My sweet son.” His hand fell to her stomach, but instead of the glassy gray eyes that had stared into her nearly black ones, she watched a glazed and vacant gaze take over. And then the Tomorrow spoke. “Your magic is a force, a strength previously unheard of and ever reaching. As you find the light and dark, you shall see they will guide you if you dare heed their call. When you do, a prince you will lose, a prince you will gain, and a king you will hold. And when the moon paints the sky red, retribution will light fire to the realms. As promised by the true queen who defied her false destiny, when two worlds collide and history repeats, from it will come the salvation. From it, love will defeat vengeance. But if you fear what you do not know or do not understand, you might find yourself dead before you have even lived. And so the world will fall not far behind. No matter the choice you make, your reign will be the end.”
At the close of the prophecy, Dante Daniox died in the arms of his love.
***
Stella realized her mistake after she had listened in on the prophecy of the Tomorrow. Zaib Ayad had not been the one the Oracle had foreseen. No, it had been her daughter. Yes, the pair had been wrong in thinking they would birth a son. The high demon of Sun and Moon knew it even before Zaib’s screams echoed off the dungeon walls, no one around to help her as labor bore down on her. Knew it before the youngling came out completely silent, looking almost dead in her stillness.
The demon princess had grabbed onto her daughter, crying tears of joy and terror. Just as Stella had been prepared to open the heavy wooden door and free the pair, the sound of boots meeting stone came from her back, and she was forced to hide within the shadows.
Malcolm Ayad approached the door slowly, tears streaming down his cheeks. Before he opened the door, he quickly wiped them away and took a few deep breaths. Then he went inside. Stella listened as Zaib screamed at her brother to leave. As she asked him if he was proud. Begged to know if he was finally satisfied with his life. Malcolm had remained silent, listening as his sister hurled insults his way.
Stella wished she could rip the waste of space to shreds. She went to the door again, watching the scene unfold through the small bars.
When Zaib finally calmed down, her daughter sleeping through it all, Malcolm cleared his throat and spoke. “They will continue to torture and use you, and they will take the youngling. Use him against you.”
“Her,” Zaib hissed, squeezing the tiny form tighter.
“Her, sorry. They will use her against you. The best thing for you now is death.” And then Malcolm revealed a dagger, shining and sharp in the nearby light of the fire. Zaib cried out, but did not attempt to fight as her brother closed the distance between them. “I will make it quick.”
“Name her Asher!” Zaib blurted, looking up into her brother’s dark and soulless eyes. A sob slipped past her lips when he did not respond, her bravery fading just as her life would. “Name her Asher, please. Let her know that she is a blessing. That she was her mother and father’s greatest blessing.”
Malcolm said nothing as he slid the dagger across his sister’s throat. For the first time, the youngling began to wail. The demon prince spared her no glance, pushing himself to stand and then quickly leaving. When his footsteps had faded, Stella wrenched the door open and ran into the room.
The siphon spell from the drawn runes were painful, sucking the magic within her out, but Stella did not care. Did not have time to do anything but get to the dying female. She offered a quick apology, a hasty explanation following its wake. But Zaib did nothing but nod, her eyes falling to her screaming daughter as the seed attempted to heal her mortal body.
“My little blessing. My sweet Asher,” Zaib gurgled out as Stella took the seed of Mind and Soul. The princess’s body slumped, dead now in truth.
Stella faced the crying little one—Asher—and, as she held the seed near the youngling’s chest, she vowed that she would find a better ending for this one if she somehow survived.