Chapter 27
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A scream carved open the midnight air. The young female with hair of shimmering silver crumpled to her knees, head ripping toward the sky.
Something ancient had dragged her from the land of dreams, whispering her out of the safety of her parents’ home and into the waiting night.
The moon hung fat, heavy, low.
Foreboding.
It stared down at the youngling as much as she stared up at it.
As she locked in on the celestial body, paralysis set in. Control over her movements slipped away like stars at dawn. Her skin blazed, pressure building from the inside out.
What is happening to me? she thought, far too young to comprehend the magnitude of the moment. I need my momma.
Darkness clouded her vision, blotting out the remainder of her tender light. Because under that Goddess moon, she became an Angel of legend.
A Seer.
Another cry tore loose from the throat she no longer owned. Movement snapped into her limbs, claws reaching for her face as if she could stop the relentless race into a fate forced upon her.
Ice-blue irises rolled backward, the moon shuddering as it shifted into the future.
The world fractured, shifting from night to day as if time itself had forgotten its place. A brilliant sun devoured its counterpart. Blinking, the female brushed at the burning in her eyes.
Only to have her breath catch in her throat at the sight before her.
A male, tall and broad, astride a rearing stallion. Power exuding from his every pore—dangerous, deadly. Glowing script shone through his tunic, right above his heart, though she could not decipher the words.
Yet a strange ache lived beneath his brutality.
The world tunneled in on him, all else forgotten.
Heart thudding, she tried to turn away, tried to tear her gaze from the warrior.
Walls closed in instead.
The horse’s hooves shook the ground as he landed. And the male’s attention snared her, chilling her to the bone.
She sprinted then, fleeing his pursuit.
Hoofbeats tore up the earth behind her, while that same earth shredded the soles of her feet. Air dragged backward over her skin, and not from her frantic flight. Silver bars crashed from above—left, right, front—forcing her to duck and dodge.
All it did was slow her pace. All it did was lead her to the inevitable.
Something hard collided with her back, and she stumbled, collapsing against the ground. Rough hands spun her over. Strong legs pinned her hips.
And above her was the most brutally beautiful male she’d ever seen.
Hair in a shade darker than any other Angel—an iron gray to match his grip on her wrists—fell over his shoulders.
A strong jaw clenched tight like he was restraining himself from speaking his magic into existence.
Pure lethality threaded his every movement.
Terror thundered beneath her ribs, ice shattering through her veins.
Because his irises—the same rare shade as her own—drank her in like she was his salvation. But she knew he was her damnation.
Possession coiled around her ribs like thick, thorny vines.
“You are mine, mate.” His voice, velvet and steel, scraped against her raw nerves. “I’ll never let you go.”
Around her, more bars of silver descended. Trapping her. Caging her. A chilling cacophony accompanied them.
And all her mate did was offer a calm smile.
But then, the vision shifted, bleeding darker and more twisted.
The sky stormed. Lightning flashed, blinding the female.
When it cleared…
A battlefield, broken bodies littering the ground like they were discarded waste. Red eyes. Blue eyes. Black hair. White hair. Their race did not matter; all were glazed in death. The youngling stood among them, hands dripping in crimson, and nose filled with the scent of rot and old blood.
She looked down, screaming at the stain. Had she done this? Was this all her fault?
Nausea churned in her gut, mixing with putrid guilt.
“Help me,” a voice called out, weak and broken.
She whirled, finding a Demon with her hand outstretched. The only living creature amid so much death. The youngling didn’t know what had happened, only that she needed to do something, anything, to atone for the violence.
Without hesitation, she reached down to aid the wounded warrior.
But a hand on her shoulder yanked her backward. The female collapsed to the ground again with a pained moan.
That same male with the iron hair and scarred brow towered over her, a dark glint in his eye. In his free hand, he held a sword that dripped in the same gore that pooled beneath their feet.
“Did you do this?” she demanded, breath catching in her throat. Because if her mate had caused such chaos, it would absolve her of her sins.
“Of course. Now return to your cage before you get hurt,” he commanded, shoving her behind him and raising his weapon.
“No!” she protested, snatching for his arm.
But it was too late.
In one effortless swing, he cut down the last living soul in front of her.
A sob wracked her chest. She’d failed at the singular thing she could have done.
Silver bars spiked the ground around her once again. And before she knew it, she was locked behind a door so thick and heavy, even her forceful strikes against it made no sound to anyone outside.
“Sylaira!” a voice cried, yet the young female was so lost to her vision that she could not respond.
Her mother dropped to her knees beside her daughter, wrapping her in a loving embrace. With a gentle shake, she called out again, trying to bring her back from the brink.
The corners of the newly-formed Seer’s mouth foamed. Her jaw locked tight, as if something inside her wanted to claw its way out.
A sword weighed down her shoulders as she faced off against a horde of attackers. Tears dragged down her cheeks, blurring their forms. She didn’t want to do this.
“You must fight. Or else I will force you,” her mate snapped. His invisible claws dug into her shoulders while hate squeezed her already-injured ribs.
Why couldn’t he love her as she was? Why couldn’t he love her peaceful ways?
An ache—soul deep and crushing—swept over her. She tossed away her weapon. It would be better to die than to continue on like this.
White light coiled around her. But it wasn’t a gentle cocoon of protection.
With a twist of his hands, the male flung her back, back, back, until she landed in that same silver cage.
In her mind, he appeared. “You’ll never be free again.”
His magic held her in place, scraping against her bones even as she resisted its thrall. He forced her to watch as he slaughtered every single opponent with brutal strikes of his sword. Ruby sprayed. A metallic tang scented the air. Screams echoed in her ears.
Yet no matter how hard she tried to call upon her power, it lay dormant in her chest.
She had been abandoned by the very gifts their Goddess had given her. Instead, she’d placed Her creation in the hands of a monster.
So by the time the skirmish ended, she saw through swollen eyes.
And the emptiness in her heart only deepened as the future of a war yet to come played out before her in violent strikes of lightning.
Air inflated her lungs as she snapped her head straight again.
“You’re safe now, I’ve got you,” her mother soothed, clutching her face into her bosom. Peonies filled her nostrils, but the scent could not reach where she’d been hollowed out.
All she could do was weep.
For her body, her mind, her life were no longer her own.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the images that had been forcibly planted in her head.
No, no, no, please no, Radiant Mother, don’t let this be my power, she prayed, hoping that their deity would hear.
No answer came.
A body-wide tremble overtook her, even as the woman who gave her life held her close. Sobs tore from her chest, and she twisted her fingers into the warm nightgown that smelled like home. Even in that safe embrace, terror wove tighter and tighter around her.
“Honey, tell me what happened,” her mother gently encouraged.
But she could not speak for the force of her fear.
Soft hands cupped her cheeks and lifted her head. But she could not see through the tears.
“He’s–he’s–,” she choked out, unable to catch her breath. Her hand flew to her throat like she could wrench it open. “I’ll never be free.”
Flashes of the battlefield returned to her. Along with the wicked way her mate had smiled as he swung. She collapsed forward again, on all fours, bile rising in her stomach. Pressing her lips together, she tried to keep it down.
And failed.
The contents of her stomach heaved onto the cold ground.
“Who is he? What did you See?”
Hearing her mother give voice to her power solidified something hot and sharp in her chest. Saying it made it viscerally real. Undeniable.
She was so, so young to have had her power manifest.
And with such horror.
The youngling had thought the worst agony in existence was when her Vaela? tutor forced her to dance when she was long past exhausted.
But the truth had stormed into her life.
This was only the beginning of her pain.
Death would be a mercy compared to the future the Goddess had gifted her.
“I Saw him. He’s my mate. And there is no future where we survive.”