Chapter 1 #2
“Who sent you?” Taryn demanded, his words slurred together as he fought against the Shadow poisoning. Every muscle in Taryn’s body began to slow. He was running out of time. Taryn glanced at the golden broach attached to the male’s chest – a gilded vulture.
It certainly wasn’t the Lucien family that sent him. Their family emblem was a serpent, not a vulture. And if those who sent this attacker claimed they knew what Taryn was, they would surely have to be eradicated.
The male smiled at Taryn through his dying haze. “The dawn of the Salamoon marks a new age,” the male croaked out. “A stolen Death. A touch of Fyre…”
The Elve’s words faded as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body void of any life in Taryn’s grasp.
Taryn dropped the male and stumbled backwards, slowly losing control of his motor skills. He couldn't think straight, unable to spare another second to ponder the male’s words. Taryn fought for clarity, losing his balance and straining to see beyond the black film coating his eyes.
He staggered down the street as fast as his body would take him and headed for the sewer hole through which he’d entered the city. He prayed to the Gods he wouldn’t pass out underground, removed the sewer lid and fell inside.
Taryn threw his room door open. He trudged to his washroom and gripped the sink, his vision blurring in spurts.
There were two hands, four hands, then two again.
When he unbuttoned his tunic, his hands felt like they were wading through mud.
Black ink branched out like veins underneath his skin from hand to elbow.
It was a miracle he had stayed conscious this long. Taryn began to wonder if he would even pass out at all.
He thought he heard yelling, perhaps a name. Footsteps came closer. Then, a voice. “You smell like shit,” said a voice, possibly Raiden. “You look like shit too. What happened?” Raiden entered the room, a mix of blonde hair and brown eyes, expression taut.
Taryn looked at himself in the mirror. Dirt caked onto his bronzed complexion, a common trait for Runean Fae.
His light brown curls clung to the sides of his face and neck from sweat, the hair covering the scar that went from his temple and down the side of his cheek.
Taryn creased his angled, dark brows as he attempted to muster control over his mind, trying everything he could to block out the darkness.
Only his glowing steel gaze stared back.
Taryn raised his shaking hand, showing Raiden the blackness that lay beneath his veins. “I was attacked by a Shadow Wielder.”
Raiden cursed, inspecting the black veins.
He relayed everything to his best friend, carefully excluding the contents of the Elven male’s words. Taryn still hadn’t had a moment to decipher them.
After Taryn was done, Raiden gave him a look of pity.
“What?”
“Eryx demanded to see you immediately. He wants to know why you took so long to return.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Taryn muttered. Resentment flared as he changed into fresh clothing.
His limbs felt like jelly, and the muscles in his legs strained to hold him upright.
The Shadow Magick had taken its toll, leaving him weak and disoriented.
Raiden helped him walk to Eryx’s office, letting Taryn lean on him for support as he staggered from the Guild manor to the outbuilding where the Guildmaster resided.
Taryn entered the building alone, hand on the walls to prop himself upright as he crossed through the familiar stone hallways. His vision was blurred in and out of focus as he paused before the oak doors.
Calm. Collected. Controlled.
He recited the words internally as he pushed the door open.
Eryx sat behind his mahogany desk, frowning as he took in Taryn’s current state. Lilac eyes narrowed as he noticed the dark patch of ink on Taryn’s hand.
“Sit,” Eryx said calmly.
Taryn stumbled to the velvet chair and sat before Eryx, taking in his cropped salt and pepper colored hair. Before Eryx could say any more, Taryn grabbed the bundle of salaroses from his pocket, now wilted, and threw them onto the desk.
“As requested.”
Eryx grabbed the wine pitcher and began to pour, the silver ring on his finger glinting from the candlelight on his desk.
“Wine?” Eryx asked. Taryn declined, grabbing a wine cup for himself.
He lifted a hand sluggishly, desperately parched, and guided a stream of water through the air into his cup from a water basin nearby.
“And what of your hand?”
Taryn recited the incident for a second time, as best as he could, still trying to fight the murkiness in his mind.
He again left out the Elven male’s word—that he knew who and what he was.
That was something not even Eryx could know, and Taryn prayed to the Gods Eryx wouldn’t see past his lies.
At the end of his recount, he confessed to wielding his lightning to get away.
Eryx closed his eyes and slammed his wine on the desk. “You did what?” He let out a bitter scoff. “We just convinced the monarchy our presence was annihilated, and you wield lightning in the city?”
Calm. Collected. Controlled.
Taryn breathed. “There weren’t any other options. I was one more hit away from going down. What would you have me do?”
Eryx abruptly rose from his chair and walked to the arched windows behind him, his back to Taryn. “I would have done anything to protect the integrity of this Guild, that's what I would have done. I trusted you, and you compromised us.”
The tattoo on Taryn’s bicep began to burn.
“I just sent two spies to enter the city for a task that needed to be delicately handled,” Eryx bit out. “Surely they will be singled out now, the Lucien's awareness of our presence now heightened, and executed for your irrational behavior.”
Taryn’s stomach sank. He had forgotten about the spies Eryx sent out. Taryn had helped prepare them to enter the city grounds for their next task. His head sank low in shame.
Eryx turned and strode back to his desk, throwing his ring at him. Taryn caught it, a questioning look on his face.
“Your irresponsibility has cost you,” Eryx said. “I’m ordering you to finish what was started. You will go back out to the capitol tomorrow and retrieve the girl we are looking for—”
“Absolutely not. I told you, I am done with your petty assignments. Haven’t I done enough alr—”
Eryx's deep laugh cut through Taryn’s refusal. The burn in Taryn’s tattooed arm flared. Taryn fought a wince, refusing to show Eryx the Oathmark affected him.
“You will do whatever I ask. You pledged your loyalty to the Guild, did you not? Are you not sworn by your Mark?”
The silence stretched between them as Taryn refused to reply. Eryx leaned back, a sly smile playing on his lips as he shook his head. “You think refusing this task cleanses you from all the blood on your hands?”
No, Taryn knew it didn’t. But he could start to try.
“Get over yourself, boy. Where was the male that was sworn to my cause?”
Right, his cause. Eryx was fighting an uphill battle, attempting to reclaim the land as it was originally named: Mrkynia.
He was the last living descendant of the old rulers, the most powerful criminal on the continent hellbent on taking his “rightful” place back on the throne after the Luciens usurped it.
It was the original reason the Guild was created, but the organization had twisted over time into something unrecognizable.
Sometimes, Taryn didn’t even think Eryx believed in his cause.
Taryn held Eryx’s stare, choosing his words carefully. “I no longer have any interest in carrying out your petty assassinations.”
“I’m not asking you to assassinate the female. I’m asking you to bring her to me, unharmed. Perhaps I’ll consider moving you up in rank after your return. Wouldn’t you like to run your own task force? It once was a dream of yours to see this Guild’s mission come to fruition.”
Taryn creased his brows at the proposal, looking down at the ring Eryx had thrown at him.
It was a simple silver ring, no engravings or gemstones.
Its purpose wasn’t vanity. It was another method of control, just as Eryx’s proposition was.
The mere fact that Eryx gave it to him was a subtle threat in itself.
Now, Eryx would use flattery and propositions to get his way, and if that didn’t work… Well, Taryn didn’t want to experience Eryx’s last resort to get him to conform.
“Fine.” Taryn gave in. Eryx’s smile grew, nodding at Taryn’s submission.
Taryn felt it then. Something within him was brewing, changing. He was teetering on the edge of a tightrope, a silver lining between good and evil. Right and wrong. All he needed was one more push.
As he left his office that night, Taryn vowed to himself he would never allow anyone else to ever control him ever again.
No matter the cost.