83
Mornon
Let’s go away.
I couldn’t shake those words from my mind as I stood still at the edge of the Forest of Witches in the Kingdom of Men.
My distant gaze was on the fir trees, but through our mental connection, I was actually watching the elf assist the citizens in moving the bodies of the witches, elders, and their queen to the village.
Meanwhile, her father and brother carefully gathered the fallen soldiers and the red-haired elf.
Let’s go somewhere where we can be happy.
Why couldn’t I stop thinking about what she told me? About her pleading gaze? About us on that damn island?
About the anguish I had felt for a damned second while kissing her?
Hearing her scream in that excruciating way, as that Witch Queen whore tried to snatch her from me, had ignited a kind of anger I had never felt before.
And it had given me a shock of fear.
Fear, for fuck’s sake.
An emotion unknown to me. An emotion that should not have affected me at all.
I had been afraid of not being able to break down the witch gods’ defensive barriers in time. Of losing Nauriel.
My Nauriel.
Mine, mine, mine.
I’d told her she wouldn’t drown in my darkness, but I was the one going under. I was drowning in Nauriel, in the transcendental bond we shared.
I had deceived her from the beginning, controlled her like a puppet. I had bled for her.
And yet I was the one who was falling.
I couldn’t let that happen, damn it. I couldn’t.
Did the elf really think she could find a way to kill me? That she could succeed where even her grandmother had failed? Very well. Then I would utterly ruin her, inside and out. I would reduce her to nothing but a shadow of herself, and ultimately, she would give up.
She would give me that damn Crystal.
She would embrace my vision.
She would choose me.
As the dawn’s first light illuminated the evergreen needles on the branches, I regained control of my emotions and let the black fire engulf me.
* * *
I reappeared outside Leukós’ walls and traversed the surrounding countryside that reached the port in the gulf to the west. These cultivated areas were still unaffected by the disease that I had spread to the plantations and pastures of the outer villages.
Until now.
I moved through the ears with my arms slightly spread, my black fingers grazing the grain. When I arrived at the city walls, the golden fields, vineyards, olive groves, and orchards were burned down, the farmers’ screams echoing as I went through the city gates.
While Rubra was called the Red City of the Lands of the West, Leukós was known as the White City of the Lands of the East.
The lower part was surrounded by people’s houses, built with light stones held together by mortar.
I walked along the main road, made of white basalt blocks, arranged to create a smooth, even surface.
The market in the agora square and the shops overlooking it were already crowded with people wanting to avoid the scorching morning sun.
As soon as they saw me and the dried blood on my tunic and hand, the men who were busy with the first deals of the day fell silent, while the women around the stalls gasped and covered their mouths, murmuring prayers in their hands.
“Your Majesty?” a shocked voice called out.
Without stopping, I directed my gaze at the portico of the building where the popular assembly was held, attended by the nobles who later met with my advisors, who ultimately briefed me on the kingdom’s economic and cultural issues.
“Your Majesty!” the man with dark gray curls and a long, well-maintained beard yelled again, as he hurried down the steps with other nobles, lifting the hem of his finely made, elegantly draped light robe.
“We’ve been requesting an audience for two days without any response from your advisors,” he shouted, ignoring the risk of waking everyone in Leukós.
“They haven’t attended banquets or other events for three moons. Where are they?”
I let him babble, happy that his loud protests were drawing people out of their homes.
By the time I entered the upper part of Leukós—home to temples dedicated to non-existent deities this foolish race worshipped, along with the main public buildings, noble villas, and the royal palace—I was followed by a crowd, creating a cacophony of whispers I was repeatedly tempted to silence with a snap of my fingers.
“King Amlach!” the man leading the procession exclaimed as I ascended the grand, wide staircase toward the palace entrance.
I stopped at the first of the two landings connecting the three flights of stairs, then turned around, crossing my hands behind my back while haughtily observing the human who had dared to climb the first steps.
Slightly gasping and looking purple in the face, he gestured broadly and irritatedly at the crowded citizens at the bottom of the staircase and on the main street of the capital. “Your subjects deserve an explanation!”
I considered whether to instantly suffocate him with my mind—slowly, crushing the cartilaginous rings of his trachea one by one, watching him fold over himself with his eyes popping out of his head as air and life drained from him.
But that way, he would miss the show.
So, I simply looked down at him as if he were worth less than a slave, and, giving my voice a second, even lower, feral, distorted key, I said, “I am not your king, you stupid human.”
People jumped and appeared to step back together. Even the man on the stairs moved a few steps down.
The aphrodisiac scent of their terror forcefully entered my nostrils, galvanizing me. “I ended the lineage of the rulers of the Kingdom of Men nearly a thousand years ago, and since then, I have governed your insignificant race without either witches or elves ever sensing my power.”
“Power?” the lead-gray-haired nobleman repeated with a confused face. He looked at me with growing fear, as if he had only just noticed not only my dark clothing—unusual among the humans—but also the dried blood smeared across me. He took another step down, his voice trembling. “Who are you?”
I took a deep breath, savoring that suspenseful pause before my plan’s final act started. Then I slowly spread my arms, palms facing upwards.
Darkness emerged from the streets of Leukós, crawling over white walls and flat rooftops.
The White City’s light began to dim as clouds gathered in the sky, blocking out the sun and plunging the capital into darkness.
Shadows thickened into a fog of smoke, and humans huddled closer together along the main road.
Their terrified screams were music to my ears.
“My name is Mornon,” I said imperiously.
The mortals’ gazes grew even more frightened, as everyone knew about the Great War their ancestors had fought in.
Everyone knew who I was.
And everyone knew what my arrival signified.
“Lord of dark magic,” I continued, slowly flexing my fingers. “Creator of new species.” My monsters began to form from the darkness. “And I am your end.”
I clenched my fists, and evil was unleashed upon the capital of the Kingdom of Men.
It didn’t matter how foolishly the citizens tried to escape or hide: My beasts would chase them down and tear them apart, scattering their limbs everywhere.
I smiled subtly as I observed the houses bathing in red and blood flowing through the alleys. The smell of panic and fresh entrails spread through the suffocating air, mingling with the humans’ piercing screams and the noises of quartering.
I lowered my arms and crossed them behind my back, relishing the sound of my creatures chewing and swallowing with sadistic satisfaction.
Because I was actually the one sinking my teeth into the skin of this stupid race. The one tearing their flesh. The one chasing the people through the streets of the city where I had lived for centuries. The one playing with their guts.
I was the one devouring.
The elf had called me a black sea, and now it was time for my wave of darkness to sweep away everything.
However, as I proudly watched the brutal massacre at Leukós, I couldn’t shake the irritating and pressing need to have Nauriel by my side.