Chapter 65
Faster than ever before—even faster than I’d always believed possible—did I race through the shadows, and yet, my subconsciousness yelled at me to speed up more, to hurry, to reach my destination without any further delay.
But instead of finding my exit, the dark plane catapulted me out into the open.
A lance of searing incandescence had assaulted my brain all of a sudden, and my already distracted concentration had splintered into a million tiny pieces.
With brutal impact, I crashed onto a patch of grass, so hard I was certain to leave an imprint on the packed earth underneath.
External pain joined the internal one and pressed the air out of my lungs, but I didn’t permit those hurdles to strike me down, and I consumed every thread of agony to fuel my determination.
Screams only I could hear violated my senses, my vision wavered and remained blurry, but I didn’t care. There was no time to recover.
Only pure tenacity helped me to haul myself back to my feet, but another blast of anguish threatened to tear my chest apart.
Something precious, a vital element inside of me of utmost importance—severed, the sheer magnitude of the fracture clawing at my sanity.
Momentarily overwhelmed by the last couple of seconds—it couldn’t have been longer since the darkness had spat me out—I threw my head back and roared into the sky.
A flock of birds shot into the air in alarm at the primal bellow of pure rage, disrupting the peace of the dawn of night, but I ignored everything wrong with my body and also with my power, which oscillated more haphazardly by the second.
Whatever catastrophe had occurred, there would be no mercy for anyone involved. They would suffer a thousandfold, down to the very last person.
Protect. Hunt. Hurt. Kill.
Shadows sank over my vision, forcing my pupils to turn black, yet I could perceive my surroundings more clearly than ever. My magic cocooned me like an onsetting supernova of darkness, seeping from me as I shredded the chains of the ironclad control I’d enacted all my life.
This time, as I jumped back into the void, shadowwalking felt more like teleportation—although that should have been impossible for me.
Within the blink of an eye, I resurfaced in a grand hall in the middle of a gathering of fae dressed in light attire.
A sickly sweet scent attacked my nose, but underneath all, I could detect faint notes of citrus and herbs—Nayana.
She was here somewhere. Everything else was absolutely insignificant.
The chanting poisoning the air ceased, and I registered the dissonances the voices had created only when silence reigned supreme.
My magic reacted without my conscious directive as an explosion of darkness erupted with me at its center.
Panic and a symphonic score of fearful screams nourished the well of power in my core and fueled me as I thrust every single living soul except one against the wall, restraining everyone present in writhing ropes of shadow.
My instincts insisted that each of the gathered individuals posed a threat. The whole lot—no, there was one exception.
My focus zeroed in on the dais, where she was lying, her tiny body curled into a tight ball. Alive, but sobbing, and so frail and broken. Even if my insides weren’t being ripped apart by monstrous claws already, the picture of her so utterly suffering would have been enough to obliterate me.
Nayana.
My Nayana.
Mine.
The cacophony of panic faded into the background. I didn’t care about the combined magic of the moribund fae and their feeble attempts to escape the absolute dominion of my powers.
Their struggles were in vain, even though none of my reactions were conscious decisions. My head was repeating one thing in a perpetual loop, and this was the only truth located deep within my soul—I had to be at her side. Nothing else mattered.
How I’d reached her slipped my recollection.
The next memory etched into my mind was sinking to my knees, tugging her close into my arms. Her weeping didn’t cease, and I couldn’t discern if she’d noticed my arrival at all.
Her pulse fluttered way too fast, yet much too weak, each faint beat intensifying the horror circulating in my veins.
At least she was alive and safe in my protective embrace.
Alive.
A tendril disconnected from me—the one she called Adharcan, or Harc—and wound around her chest with urgency, pulsating in agitation, his tip tapping against Nayana’s cheek with a gentleness worthy of her, despite his own hysteria written all over every inch of his dark body.
With hectic desperation, I let my gaze roam over her catatonic form. That I couldn’t find any apparent injuries didn’t reassure me at all. Whatever had caused her state must be internal.
My arms tightened as I pushed desolation and utter panic into the recesses of my mind. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. Instead, I’d uphold enough strength for both of us.
“Nayana.” The tone of my voice cutting through the air was almost unrecognizable even to my own ears, ringing out deeper than usual, animalistic and feral, and I didn’t have to encounter my reflection to know that murder wasn’t only written in my soul but also all over my face.
Even though my power was still controlling everyone around us, the magic reached out to her, not to take, but to give. However, the force only met a solid wall around her Potential.
Cold shivers ran down my spine as I understood that her state had to be connected to the blockage inside her.
Yes, blocked.
Not gone.
She wasn’t dying. She wouldn’t.
Never.
I wasn’t allowing her to.
But everyone else wouldn’t be so fortunate.
“Dion.”
Finally, Nayana had noticed I was holding her; that her protector had arrived. Her defender and vindicator.
“And Harc.”
Yes, him too, I presumed.
Her sobs shredded my soul, but I had to stay strong.
My former erratic movements changed, became more purposeful. Dangerous.
Never had I been more cautious than when I lifted myself back to my feet, picking her up and cradling her like the most precious treasure in existence. After all, she was precisely that. “They hurt you. They will never do so again.”
“More so, we did Galanta a favor by weakening you, Teachtaire Ollscriosta.”
My head shot around as an ancient voice interrupted my reunion with Nayana. Lightning blasted from my eyes as I narrowed them at the speaker.
Graigh. Forefathers of light magic.
How ironic that I was able to observe a bloodline of my species’ ancestors on the dais, struggling against their restraints formed from the element opposed to theirs.
Whatever they’d spoken, whatever the meaning, was inconsequential.
The Graigh, like every other soul present, were at my mercy and as good as dead.
My bared teeth delivered a silent promise to the one who’d addressed me before I refocused my attention back to my woman.
First, my duty was to ensure she was comfortable—a task Adharcan had already claimed for himself, and he was currently grooming her hair with his tip—and then I’d deal with all her tormentors.
I’d kill them all.
For her.
As much as releasing Nayana physically repulsed me, eliminating everything that had harmed her was vital.
Compulsion ordered me to obliterate anything and anyone.
The Cuirt an Ghra would very soon learn that they hadn’t only messed with the wrong fae but also in the worst way possible.
In touching—hurting—what was mine, they’d all signed their death warrants in this life and each one that followed.
And if I found a way to undo their essences so they would have never been granted existence at all, I’d perform such an act in a heartbeat.
Kicking against a plush couch before hauling the thing into the middle of the hall with some tendrils, I placed Nayana on the cushioned piece of furniture, as if she were made from delicate china, and allowed my fingers to glide over her cheek.
The tendrils that had relocated her settee detached themselves from me and joined Harc as they curled around her instead, much to my satisfaction.
They’d keep her safe while I would purge this world from all the gathered stains of faekind.
The writhing strands enveloped Nayana, steadied her, held her upright, and kept her warm.
My wrath burned hot like a furnace as my glowing purple eyes caught her unsteady cerulean gaze.
“Nayana. Vengeance shall be yours. For whatever they’ve done to you, they shall suffer.
There’s no need for me to know in detail what their crimes have been.
I found you in their midst, broken and crying, and that’s more than enough to make sure they’ll never be able to repeat their actions.
I’ll be your dark cyclone, hailing retribution down on your enemies, descending on those who only dared to consider causing you the slightest discomfort.
If the ones who wronged you discovered the error of their ways, the outcome wouldn’t change.
Anyone gathered here except you and me has forfeited their very existence.
Each of your abusers’ demises will be a fitting sacrifice on the altar of your worship. ”
Without even waiting for her potential protest, I projected my presence back into the hall. No matter her objections, there would be no mercy. Not in this.
Soon, everyone would remember why the only title truly describing my essence was Dia Dorcha—Dark God. And these lowlifes had dared to harm my chosen goddess.
Smoky clouds billowed around me as I straightened, and I swept my gaze across the room.
As I spotted the familiar form of Cantarlann, my lips curled up, one corner after the other.
As a simple tool for my grandfather and as the architect of my female’s suffering, he deserved even less mercy than everyone else.
Witnessing the downfall of his ancestors’ legacy before descending to Udiona himself would be his fitting punishment.
Altering the inky strand of power shackling him, I willed my shadows to take him off the wall and transport him to me. The onyx matter kept him under my control, the restraints as unyielding as my love for Nayana.
The monster in me rejoiced—Cantarlann’s fear tasted delicious, and a heady feeling of absolute superiority radiated from my larger-than-life frame.
But even though he made the impression that he was seconds away from pissing himself, it wasn’t enough.
Nothing would ever be, but I settled for the next best thing, which was letting him suffer beyond mortal comprehension.
This wouldn’t make him pay in full, but I promised myself to find him in the afterlife once I’d left this plane behind, and then his torment would be eternal.
The escalating dread reflected in his face hit me with the realization that it had been far too long since I’d demonstrated what a creature I was and what exactly I was capable of.
My retribution would be the reminder that not a single one of the stories about me was exaggerated, much to the contrary.
Perhaps I’d underestimated how reports tended to morph into distant memories the more time passed.
Then, these recollections often transformed into colorful tales or horror fables, frightening and thrilling the young ones in equal measure.
The antagonists of such narratives distorted into abstract eidolons, their infamy twisted to keep said younglings in check.
Even long-lived creatures like fae weren’t immune to those phenomena. Thus, a reminder of what was actually walking among the ordinary population was overdue. If only my enlightenment hadn’t occurred at Nayana’s expense.
Enough. Kill.
“You will watch as I annihilate everyone you love.”
Cantarlann raised his chin and stared directly into my gaze, defiance sneaking into his features. “Well, Prince. If I and everyone I love have to perish, at least we’ll die with the triumph that we have crippled you beyond repair.”
My hand shot forward and wrapped around his neck. “Never.”
Hysterical laughter bubbled from his lips and vibrated against my skin as Cantarlann’s face contorted. “Deny the truth as much as you want, but your refusal doesn’t change that you’re too late.”
Kill.
To assert dominance, I stole his air, shaking him hard. His face reddened, and only when his lips gained a purple sheen did I allow him to breathe again. “For what?”
The male at my mercy coughed, the white of his eyes laced with red streaks.
“Figure out the answer on your own. But I’ll give you a hint. Have you paid attention to Nayana’s neck?”