Chapter 70
The Aztia
She didn’t need to know who she was in order to know that the ugly creature before her was going to die. And that she would take his remains and dance in them once the foul man was gone.
The Aztia flung her hand towards him (the Beta, somewhere in her mind whispered) and with barely a thought, before he could utter another word or plead for his miserable life, he turned to ash.
There was a shocked expression on his cracked, blackened face for only a moment before the tempest she was wielding blew away all of his pieces.
Her Kanaliza still lay on the ground, bleeding profusely, but there was the other one to take care of first—Rigil.
For the first time, he gazed upon her with true fear on his cruel face.
Good. Let him fear her. Let him tremble before the might of the Aztia.
But she knew that he was the strongest of all the stars and had hundreds, if not thousands, of years more experience than her.
She still needed more. The connection to her Kanaliza was barely present—he would be of no help to her.
Then the Aztia remembered the object she carried in her pouch.
An object of great power.
An object of destruction.
And, oh, what beautiful destruction she would rain down upon her enemies.
With a flick of her wrist, Khollo’s Downfall floated out of her pouch and into her hand.
She could sense Rigil trying to teleport outside of the dragon’s fire, but the Aztia could feel the wards the goddess had put in place that wouldn’t allow him to escape.
He was stuck in this ring with her, staring down his death.
The Aztia gazed into the apple-sized black orb that absorbed all light around it. Neither her eyes nor the fire were reflected on its surface. Something deep down told her she should be unnerved or afraid of this, but she was beyond that now.
Smashing the orb to the ground, it shattered into hundreds of little pieces. She flung her hands out and called to the smoky void that emerged, willing it to enter her body. To give her the strength required to finish this.
A gasp parted her lips as a primordial presence filled her.
Her vision temporarily turned from red to black, and she felt claws scraping gently over her mind.
Help me, she asked it. The claws squeezed around her heart, and she doubled over in pain.
This had been a mistake; she was going to die before she could kill Rigil.
But then the pressure eased, and she was able to drag in a deep, shaky breath.
Everything seemed much clearer to her now. All emotions had fled her except for one—an exceptional glee at being free once again.
Training her vision on the Alpha, the Aztia saw he was trying to find a way through the white fire. He battered at it with his shadows, to no avail. She stalked towards him on silent feet, relishing the feeling of the ground underfoot, cool and sticky with blood.
Shadows wrapped around her wrists and ankles, nipping at any exposed skin.
Drops of her own blood speckled the Aztia’s arms, but she barely registered the pain.
With simple flicks of her wrists, the shadows broke apart.
Rigil sent more and more towards her, sharp-tipped ones aimed for her heart, but a flare of silver light forced them all to dissipate.
The Aztia continued towards her prey. Rigil looked around him for any form of escape and found none. When she was within a few feet of the Alpha, she paused.
The star dropped to his knees before her, his eyes wide with panic. “Please,” he begged. “We can discuss living together. The stars will release all the humans. Just don’t kill me.”
The Aztia cocked her head while regarding him. The being within her chuckled darkly. Kill him, it rasped. Rigil’s eyes widened further, like he had heard the other creature in her mind.
“You lost that chance, Rigil,” she said, a deeper voice accompanying her own like an underline.
“Please, Iyana—” She cut off his words by grabbing his throat in one of her hands and squeezing. He wheezed and scrambled at her wrist. Distantly, she could feel his nails and shadows digging into her flesh. But the monster inside of her was unconcerned, and so she was as well.
Rigil’s lifeforce tingled underneath her skin. It would be so easy now to simply pluck it out of him.
Take it, the monster whispered. Take it all.
So she did. Wrapping her other hand around the ouroboros charm at her neck, the Aztia siphoned all of Rigil’s magic and merged it with that of the willing sacrifice.
His fighting lessened the more she took until she was gazing upon an old man with a wrinkled face and brittle white hair.
Rigil’s mouth opened and closed as he continued to gasp for breath, but she released him and let him fall to the ground beneath her feet.
Lub dub, lub dub. She heard his heartbeat whispering in her ear. Lub…dub… Lub…
The beats stopped, and the Alpha lay still before her. A dark laughter sounded in her mind, the monster delighting in the killing.
Finish it, it growled.
Mingling all the magic she currently possessed within her small, fragile body, the Aztia focused on the stars around her. She could sense each and every one. And as the white dragon fire around her began to die down, she directed the magic out towards all of those immortal hearts, ensnaring them.
The Aztia raised her hands to the skies and ripped the stars away from the earthly realm, sending them up and up and up until they were once again twinkling balls of light within the fading sunset.
She pushed her magic outwards again to make sure she had not missed any, but the only star left in Arinem was the desiccated corpse at her feet.
A glance at the sky showed the constellations with a few notable stars missing—Rigil, Hadar, Altair.
And Scuti. The Aztia frowned but couldn’t remember why that would be upsetting.
The screaming, undulating black cloud of souls approached, then hovered before her.
Faces and hands stretched against their boundary, trying in vain to break free.
With a thought and a wave of her hand, the Aztia funneled those unfortunate enough to have been trapped in the Lurra back into their little box.
The lid closed atop them, sealing away the screaming.
Magnificent, little one, the being purred within her mind.
But another voice floated to her on the wind reminiscent of wrinkled sheets and the smell of lemons. Iyana, it said. But the name meant nothing to her. Mouse, the voice tried. It stirred some form of remembrance beneath her breast, but then those claws stroked lovingly across her mind.
Come, little one, let us go wreak havoc across the realms. For there can be no beginnings without endings.
She wanted to. Yes, was on the tip of her tongue when something wet dropped on her lip. Touching her fingers to it, she pulled them away to see blood. The Aztia dimly realized that her nose was bleeding. She was ready to dismiss this finding when her own heart stuttered in her chest.
Falling to her knees, she clutched at her shirt. That traitorous organ faltered again, and her vision became spotty.
“Iyana!” This time, she heard the shout more clearly. Turning her head, she saw a brilliant blue that pierced through the haze. Someone was touching her face gently, and the smell of copper surrounded her.
“It’s too much, Mouse,” it said. “You need to let the magic go or you’re going to die.”
I forget how fragile and fleeting these mortal bodies are. I will see you again, little one.
Then she was screaming as the dark smoke exited her body, using her mouth, her nose, her eyes. The Aztia looked towards the sky—the stars back where they belonged—and watched the inky blackness rise out of her body. Once it was finally free, she collapsed.