Chapter 40
***
Two children galloped ahead of their mother in the tall, grassy field. Her laugh chased after them, bright and carefree. She hiked up her skirts and leaped over a fallen log as they neared the forest.
Her son—his long hair tangled from the wind—picked up a fallen stick and brandished it like a sword.
His sister screamed a protest as he struck her with it.
“Vaeron, control yourself,” his mother chided, finally catching up to the two and confiscating the makeshift weapon.
“Yes, mother,” he sighed, sulking toward an orchard a short distance away. His sister galloped along beside him, poking fun at his shiny new pin bearing the House R?viel sigil. Bright blue lightning forked through shattered glass, and the words let it break ringed the edges.
“This is a sign I’m becoming a grown male,” he pointed out, dropping to the ground beneath an apple tree.
“Mother, when will I receive my first jewel?” she huffed, arms crossing.
Their mother ruffled her misty hair. “In two decades, when you are the age your brother is now. Patience, Iaoth.”
She rolled her eyes and stomped away.
The young male grinned. His sister had never possessed the propensity for the virtue, like he had. Years of combat training had honed that skill as much as any other.
Yet he still yearned for these quiet, simple moments with his family. His father—brutal and cruel—never ventured out with them.
It was a rare relief to be away from him. Though he’d never admit that to anyone. No, he couldn’t afford to show weakness or vulnerability. Not when he was the heir to House R?viel. Not when his father had plans for his unique, newly-manifested Command power.
Besides, whispers of Demons summiting the spine of Keleti to raid Angel border villages had surfaced. But here, in the country, a few days’ ride away from the base of the Skala Mountains, they were supposed to be safe.
The warmth of the sun blossomed across his skin. His mother’s laugh as Iaoth attempted to climb a low-hanging limb drew a smile to his lips. With a twist of his hands, he snaked a strand of ivory around an apple above his head and tugged it free.
His mother and sister continued their trek through the orchard to check on the rest of the autumn harvest. With their noble status, they had plenty of workers to pick the fruit once they were all fully ripe.
But the trio had been the first to survey the trees for decades, and for decades their tradition would continue.
He bit into the apple, testing its skin and taste. Sour notes danced over his tongue. Face screwed up, he tossed it away. Only for the fruit to plunk against something metallic.
In an instant, he surged to his feet.
A dark laugh greeted him. His stomach knotted. In the distance, feminine shrieks raised the hairs on the back of his neck.
“How fortunate we are to discover three powerful Angels this day,” a male spoke in the common tongue, voice thick, heavy, and guttural.
He stepped around a trunk, revealing himself.
A Demon.
Tall, broad, his sharpened teeth flashing in the sun, he was everything the youngling had been taught to both fear and hate.
Instantly, Vaeron called upon his white power, readying to protect himself.
Why didn’t I bring a weapon? he thought, heart thundering against his ribs. What use is an heir who can’t shield his own family?
Especially as the male stepped forward, a bronze sword dragging against the ground alongside him, like he didn’t even consider this Angel child a threat.
That was his greatest mistake.
Air dragged through the multicolored leaves as he sucked in a breath. On his exhale, he called on his Goddess-blessed power. “HALT.”
The Demon did, confusion digging a line between his brows. With a snarl, he fought against the thrall of magic. Sweat dripped down Vaeron’s brow as he lunged for the raider’s weapon.
The mature male battled the slender shell Vaeron had wrapped around him, inky tendrils swirling around his stilled body.
The youngling gripped the sheath at his enemy’s hip, yanking the sword free.
Shadows leaped toward him, and something insidious crawled through his veins.
The sensation caused his hold over his own magic to slip, and that was all the Demon needed to backhand him as he retreated, blade in hand.
Vaeron skidded and collapsed to the ground, stars dotting his vision.
The intruder snarled, stalking toward him.
Vaeron’s fingers closed around the hilt, palms slick with sweat. He waited one heartbeat, then another, as his enemy closed in. Countless times, he’d practiced the maneuver—but never in a moment of life or death.
Help me, Goddess, he prayed to his deity.
The Demon leaped forward, arms outstretched like he was going to throttle the heir.
And Vaeron swung.
Blood spurted as the male fell down his own blade. The edges scraped against bone. A shudder rippled through Vaeron’s arms at the sensation. Hot liquid rolled and dotted his face, slipping between his lips until hot metal replaced the sour apple’s tang.
More cries from his mother and sister split the orchard air. With trembling hands, he shoved with all his might.
The Demon wheezed as the Angel knocked him backward. On his knees, he wrapped a hand around the blade and tugged like the object hadn’t maimed him in the slightest. Another sinister laugh followed Vaeron as he hurtled toward his family, spitting out the life force of his attacker.
His sister babbled incoherently, her tiny voice drawing closer. Pumping his arms, he closed the remaining distance in five long strides.
Only to skid into a clearing with half a dozen of their enemy surrounding Iaoth and his mother.
The two closest whirled, weapons raised.
Vaeron used his powerful voice again. “FREEZE.”
But he was inexperienced, having just come into his magic. Only one fully stuck in place. The other kept use of his legs and charged.
Chaos erupted as the rest encircled for his family.
The heir’s focus narrowed on what he had to do.
Swallowing terror, shutting out doubtful thoughts, he ducked a blow from the moving raider and freed a dagger at the male’s thigh.
He sank it first into the neck of the immobilized one, then faced his second opponent, more magic available to wield with the death of the other.
Incandescence rose in his periphery as his mother called on her primary power. Shadows erupted around them as the Demons fought back in violent, vicious whips.
Vaeron’s opponent lunged, swiping the dagger down. A sting ripped across his forehead. Hot iron poured over his eye, half-blinding him.
With a growl, he stabbed back, managing to strike the male in the hip. The red-eyed male landed a harsh knee to his stomach, causing him to double over. Vaeron clutched his abdomen, wheezing. The follow-up glanced off his shoulder as he spun away.
“FREEZE!” he Commanded again.
This time, the male did. Vaeron dispatched him with a strike to the ribs, then released him to crumple to the ground.
Whirling, he found his mother engaged with three more, having felled another on her own. He raced to her side.
“Take your sister and run,” she snapped at him as he added radiant power to hers. Iaoth hid behind them both, brandishing a stick similar to the one her brother had picked up upon their entry into the orchard. She wasn’t old enough to possess a glimmer to aid them.
“I’m not leaving you,” he insisted, using his tunic to wipe the blood and sweat from his brow. But his hand shook, and the bottom of his magic well neared.
His limbs grew heavy, guilt from his lack weighing him down as much as the exhaustion from expending his power.
“You’re white as your father’s hair. You will not burn out on me, Vaeron.
You have so much life left to live. Your gift will shape the world,” she swore, allowing herself a momentary glance at her son.
She noted the crimson on his teeth, and the deep cut over his eye.
But what rested in his mouth was not the same as what dripped from above.
Horror cinched her ribs. Blood magic was common among powerful Demons, but there was nothing she could do now to help her son.
His eyes—so clear, so tortured—pleaded with her not to die.
But they both knew what was inevitable.
“I love you, Vaeron. No matter what happens, follow your heart. You have a good one, even if you have shoved it deep inside.”
She faced forward again, preparing herself for what she had to do.
“Take her. Now.”
“No! Mommy I’m not leaving you!” Iaoth screamed, clutching her skirts tighter.
Vaeron studied the strength in his mother’s posture. Seared her last words into his memory. Then, he gritted his teeth and scooped up his sister. She thrashed in his hold, knocking into the open wound on his head once again.
“I love you, mother. I will never forget you,” he said, voice thick with emotion. He handed her the blade he’d stolen from the Demon. “Take as many with you as you can. I’ll send reinforcements.”
“Go,” she insisted again.
This time, her son obeyed. Legs pounding, he fled, catching the raider he’d nearly killed limping through the trees out of the corner of his eye.
A bolt of rage forked through him while thunder clouded his judgement.
He raced his sister to a hidden tangle of bramble and placed her there. “Do not move until I return.”
“Don’t leave me, Vaeron,” she whimpered, curling in on herself. “I’m so scared.”
“Be brave, Iaoth. You are a R?viel. We do not yield. We break.” He said the words for himself as much as for her. He should have continued on, sought help, warned the others that more raiders might be coming. Done what his mother had asked and taken his sister home.
But his duty to protect his family won his internal battle.
So Vaeron tore through the trees again, finding the male nearing the ambush on his mother.
He leaped onto the intruder’s back, arms wrapping around his throat. He fell to his knees, arching his back and attempting to dislodge Vaeron.
“Do you feel me inside you, little one?” the Demon taunted, and something hot burned in the heir’s veins.
The youngling slammed his heels into the male’s hips, gripping with his legs while adjusting his hands. With a powerful wrench, he cracked the Demon’s spine.
The male went limp beneath him.
He cleared the falling body with ease, the tempo of bloodlust crescendoing. He’d tasted his first kill, and he was not satisfied. The thought struck him like a well timed blow. Shock at his actions fractured through him. He was no better than his father.
The thought didn’t have time to take root. Not when a vicious shout from his mother ripped him back to reality.
His focus sharpened on the three raiders surrounding her, trading blows of swords, shadows, and light.
Until one slipped past her defenses.
No! he thought, watching the scene unfold as if it were underwater.
Bronze buried itself to the hilt in her stomach. A wicked laugh echoed from the male who had delivered the strike. A second stepped forward and stabbed into her heart.
She locked gazes with her son for the last time, ruby spilling from the corners of her mouth.
White winked out.
As did the life from her eyes.
Time thickened. His body slowed, mind refusing to accept what he saw.
His mother went limp and collapsed forward, never to rise again.
Vaeron halted his advance, horror-struck. He hadn’t been able to save her. He hadn’t been strong enough.
The three living Demons lifted their gazes, finding him.
And he knew if he didn’t move, they’d kill him and his sister next.
He sprinted back from where he’d come, yanking Iaoth by the arm and forcing her to race alongside him. Their manor home wasn’t far, and yet each step toward it felt as though it took centuries to reach.
“Demons!” he shouted as the first field workers came into view.
That singular word was enough to spring everyone into action.
In the distance, someone yelled, “Fetch Kisst R?viel!”
Farmers gripped their hoes and axes and raced to the trees.
Finally, the young male slowed. His sister’s weight was nearly dead, tugging heavily on his arm. Her sobs broke through the haze of red and fear coating his vision.
“Where is she? Where is mommy?” she hiccuped, little chest heaving and strained.
But he couldn’t reply. He couldn’t tell her what he had witnessed. It was better if she didn’t know.
A shadow loomed over him, and he flinched, preparing to fight again, before realizing his father stood there.
Glacial irises glared down at him. “What happened? Why does your hair look like an ore of iron now?”
Someone else swept around the two males, collecting the small, sobbing youngling.
Vaeron waited until his sister was out of earshot before conveying the tale. “A group of Demons attacked us in the orchard. Mother gave her life protecting us.”
Kisst R?viel’s blow landed without hesitation, sending his son’s head whipping sideways. Tears sprang to the heir’s eyes, mixing with fresh ruby.
But he didn’t dare turn back toward his father.
To show him how badly he’d been hurt was to sentence himself to further punishment.
Instead, he remained frozen, heart thumping in his ears, and waited for the inevitable, cruel words.
The ones that would confirm what he already knew—that his mother’s death was his fault.
The head of House R?viel studied his son—bloody, wounded, and hiding the slightest tremble. His daughter's weeping reached his ears over the rest of the chaos. And the space beside him, the space his wife had always occupied, was achingly empty.
“You have failed us all, Vaeron.”
The words landed sharper than the blade that had cut his face, carving themselves into the youngling he’d never be again and peeling back the flesh of the monster he’d become.