Chapter 42
Rion-as-Oriax
For an infinite moment, the world stopped turning.
There could not be a pain greater than this.
Kyriel lay dead at his feet, brought about by his own hand.
They may not have been close. He may not have understood her.
However, nothing could erase the love of a six-year-old boy for the mother ripped from his arms. No, he may not have truly known her, but he respected her.
He understood the tragic life she had lived, and the burden of being bound to Leviathan.
They were not close, but he only wanted the best for her.
What have I done, what have I done, what have I done, what have I done…
The sorrow and burden of guilt ran so deep, he didn’t notice his father’s total incapacitation.
Kyriel had always been Leviathan’s kryptonite.
He’d been able to accept losing her, knowing she was safe beyond his reach.
Now, she was dead. It didn’t matter that Rion still looked like Oriax.
It didn’t matter who it appeared had struck the blow.
Kyriel was gone, and she’d died to save the eighth lord of Hell.
There had never been a better moment to strike, but Rion could not move. His heart was broken, and he did not know how to overcome it.
Arms wound their way around his shoulders from behind, squeezing tight. A love as pure as any a mother has for her child washed over him.
“Take it,” a voice whispered in his ear. “Take all you can, take everything if it will help. I am yours.”
He turned slowly, an involuntary motion, and looked at the woman who had raised him in his mother’s absence. A female who had risked everything to ensure his safety; who had followed him to the unfamiliar In-Between without hesitation, because it was what they both needed. Lyla.
In a more rational state, he would have shown more control, but this night, he was stripped bare. He opened his senses and drank from the love offered. While it provided strength, it lacked the ability to fix the chasm inside of him. So, amidst a moment of temporary insanity, he continued to feed.
At last, anger bloomed in his heart. Every torture at Leviathan’s hand and command flooded his mind.
A plethora of moments, feeling inadequate, of wondering why he never seemed to belong, rose to the surface.
He had to let it out, before it destroyed him.
No being on any realm could have held this inside, not for this long, and not after the events moments earlier.
Still wearing his brother’s appearance, Rion sprang from the spot he cowered. He charged at Leviathan, his skin still crackling with the power he’d collected earlier. It did not matter that his precious axe lay in the grass, for he did not need a weapon. He was the weapon.
The force of impact sent Leviathan tumbling backward, with Rion on top of him.
Without processing any of it, Rion’s hands clamped onto his father’s face.
Leviathan’s eyes flew wide open as the clouds of grief parted and he recognized the threat.
Despite the outward appearance, he’d figured out that this was not Oriax.
Power surged through Rion’s body, merging with the crackling energy on the outside.
A colossal explosion ensued, lighting up the sky as if a nuclear weapon had detonated.
The shockwave threw every being to the ground, flattened by the force.
A searing hot fire ignited on the corpse, and within seconds, Leviathan had been reduced to ash.
A few seconds of silence followed; an eerie sense of calm had fallen over the battlefield as if nobody dared move.
Slowly, one by one, warriors got to their feet.
Understanding what had just occurred was not important.
The underlying truth was plain to see. To everyone watching, Oriax had killed Leviathan.
It was the illusion they’d sought to create. They’d lived up to their end of the deal with the real Oriax, and the eighth lord was no more. Victory did not taste sweet. It was rancid like spoiled milk.
Rion’s chest heaved as he fought to consume oxygen. Now the anger had passed, he felt lost again. After a life time of pain and suffering, he didn’t know how he could ever feel whole.
He got up slowly and dusted himself off.
With a heavy heart he turned toward his two mothers, needing to see but afraid to face it.
Kyriel’s broken form, almost cleaved in two, was dominated by huge black wings, magnificent even with the sad reality they represented.
The moment she’d made the decision to go to the lower realms, her fate had been sealed. She’d never recovered from any of it.
If she had died any other way, Rion would have thought it a quiet mercy, no matter how much he wanted her to live. But, by his own hand, it was unforgivable.
His gaze lifted a little, to focus on Lyla. She lay twisted and still, one wing bent back at an unnatural angle. While most of the armies had arisen since the cataclysm, she had not. Bile rose in his throat. Had he consumed her entire life force?
No, please no. Savior, I will not survive losing both of them at my own hand. I cannot…
Rion sank to both knees and wept. Gut wrenching sobs rose from the depths of his soul.
Tobias
Tobias had witnessed it all, every moment of it.
This would break Rion. The male was unlikely to recover from the death of one mother.
To lose two at his own hand was unfathomable.
Winning the war didn’t feel so important anymore.
The price was too high, and nothing was worth the agony left in the wake of the success they had prayed for.
Tremors ravaged his Undead body as the weight of the losses and Rion’s despair attempted to crush him. He was still on his knees, unable to speak. He could not look away from Rion’s emotional breakdown, a new ache forming inside as his helplessness intensified.
He wanted to make a mind link to let Rion know he’d bore witness to it all. To reassure the male that he was not alone. Tobias lacked the energy. He couldn’t even get up, let alone speak telepathically. It was a miracle he’d managed to hold onto that last glamour.
“Tobias?” Uriel’s voice should have grounded him, but it did nothing.
He watched as Kitty materialized next to Rion, and flashed him away from the battleground.
At last, he could let go. Tobias let the last glamour fall, and crumpled to the ground.
His eyelids grew heavy, and despite an incredible effort, he couldn’t hold on any longer.
Darkness clouded his vision, and consciousness slipped away.