12. Tassarion
Tassarion
I paced under the twilight, bare feet sinking into the sand. I raised my eyes to the canopy of starlight. A twinge of pain twisted my six hearts. I couldn’t look at the stars without thinking of Manmi, Papi, Tovares, and Vitani.
Especially Vitani.
Each time I found the smallest star in the night's tapestry, I thought of my little sister, and my hearts would bleed all over again. She would have just crossed her First Millennia, finally entering the era of true angelic maturity. No longer a youngling, or even a growing wildling. She would’ve now been a full-grown female, ready to step into her own in this world.
I swallowed past the knot in my throat, unable to bear the anguish that grieved my very bones when I thought of my beloved family, and how badly I missed every one of them. Instead of breaking beneath my grief, I focused on the matchless beauty of the twinight.
My wings bowed in surrender to the majesty of the stars. The glory of the billows. The commanding terror of the mighty ocean that swelled and crashed below.
I was a mess of nerves, and I couldn’t stand it.
I grew hot, cold, then hot all over again.
I’d asked Nahomie if she’d accept a marital bond by arrangement for the full might of my crown and power for her protection. And rot me. The pretty Nalyen Seraphim had said yes.
I was in no mood to wait to seal our bond.
To make her my bride. To make her mine. So I put her back in Saundeiah’s capable hands and gave her the rest of the dawn to beautify Nahomie for this moment.
Now I waited here in the sand for the angel I was convinced could finally break Zemshaza’s rotting curse.
I took my eyes from the stars and lowered them to the ocean. This late at night, the water looked pitch-black. An absolutely humbling, yet terrifying, sight. My hands were clammy. A nervous energy hummed through my body as I listened to the crashing waves of the sea.
Behind me, Everthorn Manor rose like a menacing obelisk of ebony stone that had a shine to it like sable glass.
The manor reached high into the clouds, perched at the very end of the bedrock that ended Mortevain Island.
Long, gnarled thorns coiled around the manor, as if choking it from the outside.
And surrounding the manor on every side was a stone fence not even Taétan Giants could break through.
I loved my home.
And once upon a time, the Vainyens loved it, too.
Until we were betrayed.
After the invasion of Zemshaza and his Fallen Angels, everything in Mortevain changed.
When I escaped from the Underrealm and came home, five centuries of time had been lost. I was exiled by my own angels because of my deformities and uncontrollable rage.
Viewed as an abomination. A living curse.
I was banished to our manor, and the citizens of Mortevain never visited again.
Those who remained loyal to us were ostracized and turned into societal pariahs.
Those who opposed us now lived like kings.
I’d always vowed to unleash my vengeance on the traitor that ruined my family, my home, my entire rotting life.
He’d done well to keep himself, and his family, hidden from me.
The dawn would I arrive when I would finally discover where they were hiding on the island.
And when it came, there would be hèls to pay.
I watched how the starlight fell on the sides of the manor as I continued waiting. Word had spread like wildfire among the Nanmiess and Esprits. The souls had always been gossips, but the spirits were worse.
“Our Roi has finally found a wingmate.”
“We’re finally going to have a Roièssa!”
The whispers had gone high and low.
But this wasn’t a celebration.
I cast a glance at the black sea. I tried to feel guilty for my deception.
There wasn’t a shred to be found. I’d hunted for salvation for three centuries.
I’d finally found it by a stroke of fate thanks to my Gargorètti.
Was it wrong not to tell Nahomie the truth? Not to confess that this was a trap?
The beautiful Seraphim was no fool. She was independent.
Intelligent. A force in her own right. Sooner than later she’d uncover the real reason for this arrangement.
It wasn’t like I didn’t make it fair. She needed cover from the Empyrean and their hunting dogs.
I needed her blood to break this rotting curse.
“I curse you, Tassarion Celèstian Everthorn. I curse your blood and your bones. I curse your spirit, your soul, and your mind. You will be a monster among angels. A devil among the Hallowed. You will be hated and rejected. You will never be loved nor tolerated. All who come before you will be terrified of you. You will never be free of this curse. You will never be free of me. Only the blood and bond of a Nebulari will set you free. An impossibility that will plague you across eternity. You’re mine, Slave. And I will ruin you, forever.”
I tasted acid on my tongue. The thought of the curse triggered a revulsion in me so strong that I wanted to vomit.
I tried clearing my head, but I couldn’t.
This curse haunted me every dawn I breathed.
It danced in my veins and demanded the tax of my sanity.
This curse made me a reject among my own angels.
They refused to call me king. Scoffed at my crown.
Banished me to my manor. Angels that once loved me, their former prince, now called me a plague. A monster.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
I would do whatever it took to be rid of this disease from the Fallen that fed on my blood and blackened my soul.
Zemshaza said I needed a Nebulari. An angel harboring the power of the now-dead Ashiris Star.
A power that could unmake worlds. Realms. A power that could eradicate the curse of a Fallen King.
For three centuries, I hunted for a Nebulari every waking dawn.
Most angels across Sorellien thought them to be myth.
Legend. Stories Papis told at night to make younglings behave.
The fear that coated Zemshaza’s tongue whenever he said the word made me believe otherwise.
Nebulari were real. And they existed in hiding throughout the Ouanaviel Empyrean.
I could never be entirely certain that Nahomie was a Nebulari.
But she had blackfire, one power that could only be wielded by Seraphim of Nebulae blood, just like starfire, lightfire, and even sunfire. Believing she could be the one was a risk. A gamble I was willing to take.
A shuffling behind me told me I had company. I waited patiently by the shoreline, soaking in the humid air and the feel of warm water washing over my feet. After a moment of collecting myself, I turned to face Nahomie. I wheezed, coughing when I saw her.
Inglorious stars.
I gawked at the silver tiara interwoven with steel-blue jewels and lavender stones perched on her newly braided hair that tumbled down her spine to the sandy floor. Her braids were decorated with lavender beads that glimmered in the twinight.
Then there was her gown.
Rot.
An ebony lace bodice clung to her bust. Accentuated her curves.
Matching lace gloves covered the length of her arms past her elbows.
A velvet skirt began from the V trim at her hips, falling like a sable waterfall from her waist to the sandy floor behind her, while trimmed just above her thighs in the front, blending into even more lace that trailed down her long legs to her bare feet.
I froze.
She was a rival to the very star whose powers she possessed. As if hearing my thoughts, her blackfire surfaced, curling around her curvaceous physique like a shadowy, shimmering shawl of midnight and lavender.
I was shaking. My chest tightened, constricted by adrenaline. A hunger to possess her ruined me. I wanted nothing more than to devour her whole. To brand her into my very soul. Everything about her called to every part of me. I wanted her. Needed her.
An invisible force yanked me forward, pulling me towards her unmoving form, who was staring at me just as intently from across the beach. I gasped when I saw the same force yank her, too.
Shaken out of my nerves, I lifted a hand, beckoning my Seraphim to me. And with a smile to unmake the stars, she beamed and began walking over. Her gown trailed behind her in the sand like a midnight veil. Merciful lights, I was bewitched by every part of her being.
Behind her, I found a wall of stone watching our proceedings with pride.
Every one of my Gargorètti had surfaced from their private caves nestled deep beneath my lair to come to the beach.
They must have heard the whispers of the Nanmiess and Esprits.
Each gargoyle was gargantuan and grotesque, yet protective and loyal.
They stood in a perfect line, baring their fanged teeth as the claws of their hands and feet were buried in the sand.
Their wings were tucked tightly into their spines.
In their center sat the largest Gargorètti of them all.
My dearest friend. My advisor and protector. The one who swore himself to me by blood oath. My Gargorètti, Obsidianathèru Azmodaèn the Valiant and True.
My Obi.
I met his sparkling amber eyes and smiled. The gargoyle grinned, lowering his head in reverence from the distance where he remained. The other gargoyles followed suit, lowering their heads until Obsidian lifted his again. I turned from the witness of Gargorètti to look back at Nahomie.
I waited patiently for her, taking delight in every deliberate step she took until she came to stand in front of me.
For a moment we looked into each other’s eyes as we listened to the sound of the crashing waves.
There was a crackling energy in the air which was coated in her intoxicating, sweet redolence of vanilla, coconut, and amber.
“Look at you,” I sighed, pulling her close.
Nahomie looked up at me through pearls of amber glittering with unrestrained mischief. I could feel her flames radiating from her body. Something inside her was begging to be let loose.
Set free.
What was in this Seraphim’s blood that was this powerful?
Was she really who I thought she was?
“Wings high, Monstaru.”
She batted those long eyelashes at me.
I nearly came undone.
“Wings high, mi Phantimèssa.” I lifted a calloused hand to her velvet-soft cheek, curling a wing around her waist. “Ready to become my bride?”