Chapter 8 Prince Sloth #2
Lore stirred as if troubled in her sleep.
I held on to the dwindling hope that I was wrong, that she was just some mortal who was hunting the book I was after. And that she wasn’t another victim of Xavier’s treachery.
I called upon my magic again and tried to transport us out of this realm. It answered my summons only to dissipate again.
We were well and truly trapped.
I closed my eyes, trying to piece together the best course of action.
From the howling wind beating against the cave, I guessed the storm had turned into a blizzard.
In Somnia the weather followed no normal patterns.
Snow could fall in the summer as easily as the fall and winter, dumping several feet before disappearing as suddenly.
Getting Lore healthy wouldn’t mean much if we had to go back out into the storm.
Until she woke up and we could test her abilities, there wasn’t much else for me to do tonight, and I needed to rest my body after using so much magic to restore myself.
I’d have to be mindful of exerting too much magic without any means of gaining it back from my court.
Like all Princes of Sin, my power was fueled by the sinners of my circle. Without them, I’d eventually weaken.
In the morning, I’d hunt for food and gather more firewood.
I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythmic sound of Lore’s breathing.
I had no intention of sleeping but must have dozed off.
Something prickled my senses, rousing me.
My eyes snapped open, and my hand shot out for my dagger, my fingers closing around the cool hilt.
I paused as the figure backlit by the fire slowly came into focus.
Lore laid sprawled on her side, head propped on her fist, watching me with one brow arched high.
Firelight cast her mostly in shadows but gilded her curves.
My focus traced the golden edge of her body before I realized what I was doing and wrenched my attention back to her face.
Amusement lifted the corners of her lips.
“Sorry, I’m not into knife play, Sociopath.”
My gaze narrowed. It sounded like Lore, but even though I’d only known her for a short amount of time, something felt off.
I scanned her, searching for any hint of dark magic, my senses warning me of unseen danger again.
It wasn’t medically possible for her to be healed enough to sit up or joke.
Even if I had fallen asleep, it had only been for a minute or two.
My pulse quickened and I didn’t release my grip on my weapon.
Her mouth curved wickedly as she let her attention roam over me, pausing first on the dagger, then on my tattoo, before dipping lower.
Heat flared in her eyes.
It took a moment to recall I was naked, and that she must have tossed the blanket aside when she got up, leaving me as exposed as she was.
No matter what my brothers claimed while teasing me throughout the centuries, I wasn’t modest and enjoyed taking my share of lovers, so Lore’s nudity along with mine didn’t faze me.
Love, lust, infatuation; all could be weaponized in the right hands. They were among the easiest emotions to prey on, to exploit. Which was why I avoided such trappings.
Some of the most logical beings I knew became unhinged when their loved ones were threatened.
I’d seen what happened to Pride and Gluttony when they focused more on romance than their courts. Even Wrath and Envy had been preoccupied for a time, and it almost cost them everything.
Greed had his own casual liaisons that were whispered about, but his primary focus remained on fueling his sin above all else.
And Lust… he was caught up in idiocy every other week, always lounging around my House of Sin, seeking out advice he never put into practice.
I refused to end up in such a loathsome predicament.
My affairs were simple exchanges of mutual need and release based on physical desire, not emotional entanglements. I also needed a strong mental connection above all else. If my mind wasn’t engaged, my body would never be.
Remaining single was a choice many of my sinners also made, though some decided to marry for—if not love—practical reasons and to form familial bonds.
So, as Lore leaned closer, her nakedness proudly on display, it wasn’t her body that gave me pause.
It was the soft glow of my tattoo that was unsettling.
That hadn’t happened earlier.
My attention flicked back to hers in quiet assessment.
A hungry expression crossed her face, one I couldn’t imagine her wearing in reality. Not because Lore didn’t strike me as a sexual being, but because this look spoke of darker, twisted cravings. Pain without pleasure.
Suddenly I realized my mistake.
I hadn’t enforced my own mental shields before I fell asleep, and now the land of dreams and nightmares was toying with me. Or, more specifically, the goddess who ruled over slumber was.
Nyantha had found her way into my head.
I was still asleep, trapped in a dream, aware but unable to wake.
The goddess looked like Lore but didn’t exude that undimmable sunshine she radiated.
There was an edge of darkness in this version. A twisted cruelness that felt ancient and utterly wicked.
I kept my suspicion from showing.
I knew better than to take anything at face value in Somnia.
This was the land where dreams ruled, and the goddess who presided over it toyed with those who dared to slumber in her domain.
The nightmare goddess wearing Lore’s face cocked her head, the move more animal than human.
“You don’t scare easily, do you?” she asked, never taking her predatory gaze from me.
I said nothing, knowing my body’s lack of reaction would speak for me.
There was little I truly feared.
Not from hubris, but from arming myself with knowledge.
The more mentally prepared I was for any situation, the less my emotions interfered and distracted me.
The nightmare goddess inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.
I considered using my blade on her, but I wanted to know why she’d sought me out in my dreams. It was too good an opportunity to gather information to pass up.
The second the thought crossed my mind, her eyes shot open, glowing red once before fading to Lore’s normal chocolate brown.
I sensed more than saw victory flash in her face.
The monster liked violence.
“Go ahead and stab me. See what happens.” In the next breath, the goddess pretending to be Lore straddled me, offering up her throat. “I know you want to.”
I stared at the expanse of flesh waiting for my blade. This dream felt so real. The weight of her pressed into me, her body now warm and enticing.
It was tempting.
My grip tightened on the hilt, my focus sliding from the artery pulsing gently in false Lore’s neck to her heart. The goddess hadn’t dressed, allowing my weapon complete access to her body.
Dark desire swept through me.
As if in some trance, I watched myself reach out, watched as the tip of my dagger skimmed the side of her neck, her shoulder, then lightly continued along her arm before shifting to her chest.
I ignored the way her nipples tightened as the icy metal kissed the skin between her breasts.
If Nyantha were actually straddling me now, I’d shove my dagger through her heart and be done with her. My House dagger was made from material that not even the gods could heal from. The only ones immune to its power were my brothers, the same way their blades couldn’t end me, either.
With more effort than I realized it would take, I fought against the overwhelming craving for violence and dropped my weapon.
The blade hit the ground with a defiant clatter.
I would not be manipulated by anyone or anything.
The goddess pretending to be Lore growled at my look of dismissal.
But I was bored of this nightmare.
“What do you want?” I asked.
The nightmare smiled.
“That’s a loaded question. I want vengeance. I want you to know the desperation that comes with losing your power, with being at the mercy of others.”
“Your actions put you in this position.”
She smiled, a small, cruel twist of her lips. “And you were self-righteous enough to believe you could be the judge, jury, and executioner to a god. Using a druid spell.”
“I was asked for intel. I provided it. After observing reports of every twisted thing you were doing. You want to blame someone? Start with yourself. Take accountability and maybe your brethren will hear your case.”
“Mm. Accountability is something I agree with. You used magic to escape my wards. Now I want something from you in return.”
“I—”
The goddess lunged forward, pinning my hands at my sides, her strength taking me by surprise as she locked me in place. Not many beings could cage a Prince of Sin. I wondered fleetingly if it was a subconscious fear of mine and if the nightmare goddess had plucked it from deep within my head.
I also realized too late that while this might be a nightmare, the goddess pinning me down was very real.
She leaned close enough that I felt her warm breath on my neck.
“I want your fear, princeling.”
I gave no reaction to her bastardization of my title.
The real Lore didn’t know I was royal, which validated my suspicion that this was the ruthless goddess in disguise.
“I want your nightmares served to me like a feast.”
False Lore’s tongue flickered against the pulse point in my throat.
“I want you to question that cunning mind of yours. Who is really in control now? Maybe you aren’t the hunter; maybe you’re the hunted. Is this your Trial? Is this hers? Or have the real games not even begun?”
A wave of revulsion warred with a twist of desire as she closed her lips against my skin and sucked hard enough to leave a bruise. I got hard instantly.
Before I could analyze my horrific reaction, the goddess moved again.
She snatched my dagger from where it had fallen and drove my blade up and through my ribs, puncturing one of my lungs with expert precision.
I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out as she twisted the blade, but a wet wheeze rattled deep inside me, spurring her on.
An expression of pure bliss crossed her face as she gazed down at her work and shoved again until the blade hit bone.
I turned my head to the side and coughed up blood.
How a nightmare could cause physical harm was beyond me. But this was Nyantha and even without her full power, she was still a god.
“How?” I coughed.
The nightmare knew what I was really asking.
How had the goddess usurped Lore’s body?
“She is but a vessel. I am a god. Do not ask foolish questions; it is far beneath you.”
The sadistic goddess’s eyes blazed with triumph when I said nothing. She bent down and slowly licked the blood from the corner of my mouth.
“Your defiance amuses me.” She brushed her lips against mine. “But I told you, I will have your darkest fears in payment for your visit to your realm. I’ve been waiting centuries for this. Now you’ll learn what I have; when the true nightmare begins, then we shall really have fun.”
It was the last thing I heard before the world went dark.
I thrashed as the dreams overcame my consciousness, growing darker and more twisted with each cruel new vision forced into my mind.
It felt like my fears were being confused with someone else’s memories, but I couldn’t fully distinguish the two.
My library burning, hundreds of thousands of books consumed by flames in a raging inferno that destroyed a millennium of knowledge in moments.
My court falling into chaos, traitors rising among my most trusted, voices lifted in cries of betrayal and death.
The old gods waking from their slumbers and setting their sights back on the Underworld. Or were they here, in Somnia?
War and bloodshed reigned.
Not even Wrath, the prince fueled by war, was left unscathed. Eventually, each of the courts of sin fell, turning the Seven Circles into a true vision of hell.
And throughout it all, Lore sat beside the goddess in the throne room of what could only be the Court of Fear, her eyes black as pitch, lost to the pull of the book, crafting wicked tales to amuse them all as the realms burned.
I fought to get to her and failed every time, seeing my end play out over and over in a never-ending loop of destruction.
Every dream was a new nightmare, a new way for the world to end, and I was powerless to stop it.
If this was only the beginning of what the Book of Nightmares could do, we were in for the fight of our lives.
Our odds of surviving weren’t favorable.
Fear finally sank its claws in deep and ripped into my mind, wrenching a scream from me that was immediately lost to a void as the next nightmare began.
A phantom chill slithered down my spine, leaving a trail of ice in its wake.
Shadows twisted and writhed inside my mind, hungry for my sanity, and whispers clawed at my ears.
I couldn’t tell if the noise was coming from inside my head or not.
The boundaries of what was real and what was fantasy collapsed, leaving me to drift in a world without anchor or reason.
It was the most frightening reality for someone like me; to be out of control, to have my mind shattered, and to be ruled by baser emotions.
Fear guided me deeper, to a place where light could not penetrate the darkness, and with every step into that abyss, I lost another piece of myself.
“Sweet dreams,” a cruel voice taunted, “Prince Sloth.”