Chapter 28
Isucked in a sharp breath at the revelation.
“You’re the WHAT?” I shouted down the bond at Quazar.
It went nowhere. He’d sealed the veil between us tight. No matter how hard I mentally slammed myself against it, the burning veil didn’t move.
I sank into my seat, wings twitching as Granmanmi continued. A sinister gleam filled her eyes as she spoke again, quieting the uproar.
“I’m sure you all remember the attack on the Seal Gate three hundred cycles ago, when the hèlborn—demons of the Fallen—crossed through the gate. They came as a coordinated hoard, destroying so many of our precious, Hallowed lives. But one of those lives broke me above all others.”
She grew quiet here, her eyes turning to me. To my siblings. Stars. She wasn’t about to bring that up here, was she? We all tensed. Jael and Evanae scooted closer to me. My brothers sat ramrod straight, eyes glued to the dais.
“What many may or may not know, is we had several Farasees commissioned to the Seal Gate to assist with that warfront. Among the Farasees was my precious fifi, Amaryss Anathelle.”
A pause. Granmanmi turned her gaze elsewhere.
When I tracked where she was looking, I found her glaring at the long row of Fallenspawn sitting at the very front.
And in front of them all, was Quazar, in that accursed, finely pressed suit, while all the other Fallenspawn were in black, fighting robes.
“That warm, bloody dawn, my fifi was slaughtered when a small group of fallen angels broke through the gate and killed her, among many others. Because, well.” Her eyes flashed. She smiled, sweet as poison, at Quazar. “They had help from a certain Prince.”
My eyes fluttered shut. I tuned out the noise of the angels erupting with rage. Evanae and I squeezed hands, holding onto each other for support.
My little sister still grieved deeply every cycle when it got close to Manmi’s birthdawn. I could feel her trembling, fighting not to break down with tears. Jael and my brothers sat stiff as boards. We were all power kegs waiting to explode.
“But! Death should always inspire ways to prolong life.”
I opened my eyes to look at Granmanmi. Something in her tone pricked my hearts. Her small smile seemed to curl, cruelly.
“So thanks to the Fallen Prince, I took it upon myself to create something that would make sure the Fallenspawn could prove their loyalty to the empyrean.”
I sat up in my seat. What was she on about?
Granmanmi looked up and around. She spread out her arms, letting a wave of starlight twirl around her.
“My Elledelliens. We all know the Creed! We all clap our wings to the law! Blood for blood!”
“Blood for blood!” the angels chorused.
“What in the six Hèls is she talking about?”
I looked at my siblings. My older siblings remained quiet, eyes glues to the dais. Evanae shrugged, confused. Gabriel looked between us and Granmanmi but said nothing.
“Blood for blood!” Granmanmi called out again.
“Blood for blood!” the angels chorused.
A deliciously dark hum slipped into my mind from the other side of the veil. A small trickle of shadows danced into my mind.
“Ready to witness the sins of your Matriarchs, spawn of Anathelles?”
Before I could respond, the shadows receded, disappearing altogether before the veil in our minds slammed shut. My throat felt dry like the sands of the Ouanaviel seashore.
“After seeking audience with the Infinite in our great, and holy, temple, searching for a way to turn the tragedy of my fifi into progress, the brightest idea came to me.”
I leaned forward. It felt like everyone had. From Angels, to Faerèth, to Gods, to Shifters.
“Alas, thanks to our dear Prince—with the blessing of High Profèt Samael and the wise guidance of our merciful, and righteous, High Farasee, Manazzra Ahabiah—I thought of, and began to implement, what we call Blood Rites.”
“What in the stars-forsaken Hèls are Blood Rites?” I called down the bond, shoving the question at the veil, hoping it would break through.
It didn’t.
Since the Purification Hall, our bond had gone quiet. Not dark, but quiet. Which ticked me off, because now I needed answers only he could give the way I needed to hear them.
“Rather than explain to you about the necessity and power of these Blood Rites, this twinight we will demonstrate the ritual instead.”
Granmanmi gestured to the Fallenspawn. “Now, the Blood Rites were created for all Fallenspawn to participate. For them all to share in the burden of proving fealty to the empyrean. Instead, their Prince, Quazar Valoryen, negotiated, really he begged the Farasee Order, to let him take the full share of the burden unto himself. And in our generosity, we obliged.”
My nostrils flared. I found myself holding my breath. Clinging to the sides of my gown, fisting my hands in the fabric. When I released her hand, Evanae latched onto my arm, clinging to me with terror. My hearts began racing.
“Quazar?” I called out. “Quazar!”
Nothing.
“Before we begin the Blood Rites and continue on with our Titombwe mass, I would like us to stand and take a moment of silence for a great loss to the empyrean. The loss of Farasee Amaryss Anathelle who laid her life down for the protection of her empyrean and Empràr.”
My siblings and I shot to our feet, alongside every one else. I took deep breaths through my mouth, trying not to hyperventilate.
Then my siblings and I floated further into the air, hovering above the rest. Eyes across Titombwe looked up at us. Including the Fallenspawn.
Together, we bent to our knees, then bowed over in the air. Lifting our wings, we bent them forward in a bow while covering our heads with a pair of wings. A sign of honor, reverence, and mourning.
“These are the younglings Amaryss left behind, thanks to Quazar Valoryen, Zemshaza’s heir,” Granmanmi said with a clear, but saddened voice.
She was intentionally making a point with her choice of words, and it was working.
“Legionnaire Ezekiel, Incense Fuser Jael, Watcher Hosea, Cadetti Uriah, Disciple Safah, and younglings Gabriel and Evanae.”
Titombwe remained silent. As one, every angel rose, lowered their heads and folded their wings in quiet mourning. After a long while had passed, Granmanmi cleared her throat.
“Thank you for taking a moment for our beloved Amaryss. Now,” She pointed at Quazar. “Fallen Prince, please join me on the dais.”
I sank back into my seat, a mess of all kinds of emotions. Rage. Anger. Brokenness. Longing for my Manmi. Grief. Vengeance for the head of the handsome Fallenspawn now making his way to the dais.
I found it odd how all of the Legionnaires from Azarath Academy wore their loose fighting robes with leather attachments, but he didn’t. He was constantly in that ridiculous looking suit.
“Dressed like the Prince you are.” Granmanmi Asarah chuckled, gesturing for him to fly to the center of the dais. “You know what to do Prince Quazar.”
I raised a brow, my eyes glued to the charades. Quazar kept his back straight. His chin lifted. There wasn’t a thing out of place on him. His hair, clothes.
He had no weapons, but none of us were fools. He was the weapon all by himself. He floated to land on his feet at the end of the dais, sauntering over to the center where Granmanmi pointed.
“What’s Granmanmi doing?” Hosea whispered.
Ezekiel grunted, tossing and catching a dagger he’d slipped out from his waist. He continued the motion while his eyes remained below.
I watched my siblings. We all bore the same tension in our taut shoulders, and angled jawlines.
Each one’s winged ears were twitching, as if they were on high alert.
I looked back to the dais. And found Quazar standing barefoot, half naked, with his chin lifted high. Even from where I sat, I could see his emerald eyes blazing, the golden trails around them glowing.
He looked like a god. A conqueror. Like the whisper of death from an open invitation. One that I was dumb enough to consider accepting.
He wore nothing but obsidian leggings that clung to him like liquid. I couldn’t help but drink in that chiseled body, those hypnotizing eyes, and the pride that squared his wide shoulders. He kept his wings loose behind his back, as if he was being examined by a Raephim on just another random dawn.
“He’s pretty to look at,” mumbled Evanae wistfully.
“I wonder who this wicked prince is actually bonded to since Safah said the Disciples were made to temple-bond to them,” Uriah said, eyes looking at Quazar with an unreadable expression, masked heavily in the twinight.
I kept my mouth shut.
My older siblings, Jael and Hosea, would know immediately from my tone if I was hiding something. And right now, I was not about to tell them I was the one bonded to the Fallen Prince.
“What in all the realms is on his body? It’s everywhere.”
My brothers nodded at Jael’s observation.
The inscriptions.
I thought they’d just been on his body from his neck to his stomach and down his arms and hands. Instead, they covered his entire body from neck to foot.
I swallowed. What in the stars did it mean? He had other images and symbols engraved into his skin colorfully, but for the most part, it was the inscriptions.
“Maybe he’s cursed,” Evanae whispered, reaching for my hand and taking it into hers. “A wicked prince of curses.”
I snorted.
That was a generous way of putting it.
“May the Rites begin!” Granmanmi called.
Silence reigned across Titombwe.
I stilled. I tried to breathe. I couldn’t.
I looked at Quazar.
Somehow, despite the innumerable number of angels, dragons, fae, and all of the different races present, somehow the Fallen Prince still found a way to find me.
Those jade eyes snapped to mine, glittering with profound hatred. He breathed in a deep breath, hands clenching into fists, his eyes promising nothing but absolutely Hèls for me.
As if I was the one parading him before the entire empire like some unicorn for auction. I was tempted to pull my eyes away from him, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t.