I chuckled, unable to hold it in any longer. He cracked me up and drove Draven crazy. Both wins, in my book.
“Besides, we’ll swim by your side. Someone needs to show you where the Maras’ city is, anyway. Worst case scenario, the canoe breaks, and I get to hold you all the way to your destination. There’s no sad ending to this story, believe me.” He winked.
I looked at Draven, and, aside from his obvious irritation with Zeriel, I sensed relief. His gaze moved between the canoe and me. He let out a long torturous sigh.
“He’s pulling your leg, Serena. This is no ordinary canoe,” he grumbled and swiftly got in.
He reached a hand out to me, and I took it reluctantly—that dingy didn’t look safe, no matter what the Druid said. But, much to my surprise, the moment I set my foot in it, I realized what he was talking about.
It was sturdy and solid on the inside, nothing like its crackled exterior. It felt reliable. There was something weird about it, some sort of magic involved. I was willing to bet on it.
We all got in, fitting comfortably, and the Tritones pushed us out across the lagoon and into a wide open ocean. Sverik and Draven rowed, and our new allies swam along with us as we headed north along the coast.
“Do you think the Maras will be interested in this alliance?” I asked Zeriel, who was swimming on his back with his upper body above the water and arms crossed under his head like he was lounging. He beamed at me as if I were the most interesting creature in the world.
“They might. And, then again, they might not. They’ve been fine on their own, somehow keeping Azazel’s minions away from their city, but you’re offering a solution to the bigger problem. You’ll just have to persuade them,” he replied.
I began to think about how we could do such a thing. From what Draven had told me, not much was known about the Maras, as they kept mostly to themselves and kept their distance from other species. They were known for their ability to influence minds, but other than that, they were a mystery. All I knew was that I needed to avoid direct eye contact, based on what had happened to Jovi during their visit to Sarang Marketplace.
Jovi
We brought the succubi into the mansion, giving them four of the spare rooms on the ground floor. After they washed up, rinsed their leather garments, then slipped into some of the many clothes we’d gathered from the attic, we all sat down for a late dinner.
We spoke for hours, bringing each other up to speed about the plan going forward. We told them about the need to strengthen the alliance by bringing more potential allies into the fold, while they told us about the attack on the Red Tribe and how they’d survived and made their way back to the camp to find Hansa’s message.
“We couldn’t see anything when we got here,” the succubus named Olia recounted. “We’d begun to question the authenticity of the message left behind by Hansa, but no one outside the Red Tribe can write or read our coded language.” She paused, gazing around. “This truly is a remarkable place.”
“I’m just happy to see you here,” Anjani said. She beamed, filled with affection toward her sisters. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”
“For how long, though?” Perra replied. “With Azazel taking an interest in this house, it may be just a matter of time before he finds a way in.”
“Up until a day ago, I would’ve disagreed,” Vita interjected, her voice low and tinged with worry. “But after my vision, I’m not so sure anymore.”
When the succubi looked at her with confusion, Vita briefly told them about her vision of Destroyers invading the mansion. It was enough to set Olia into action mode. She stood up, looking across the table at Anjani.
“Then we can’t just sit here and do nothing!” she said.
“We’re waiting for Hansa’s return,” Anjani replied. “They’ve gone out through the passage stone to look for help. Once she’s back, we’ll figure out the next steps.”
“What about the alliance?” Olia replied, resuming her seat. “Who’s in so far?”
“Us, to begin with,” Anjani said. “The Dearghs and the Lamias. That’s what we have so far.”
“Well, that explains the snakes trotting around the house!” Perra scoffed, referring to Tamara and Eva. They didn’t like each other very much. To be fair, none of us were fond of the two Lamias, but we needed their help, so we had to play nice.
“They’re our allies, now,” Anjani cajoled her. “We have to be good to them.”
Perra sighed and nodded.
I couldn’t help but marvel at Anjani’s influence over her sisters. They were more or less the same age, and yet they all looked up to her with the same reverence that they’d shown toward Hansa. She had the respect normally reserved for leaders, and it said something. I felt a tingle of pride as I watched her tell the succubi about other potential allies to look for across Eritopia.
“There are plenty of other rogues out there, hiding in the woods, the swamps, and even the deserts,” she mused. “Many who are most likely willing to rise against Azazel, provided they don’t have to do it alone. They’re survivors, not suicidal. If they know we’re gathering an army, they’re sure to jump in.”
“Do you know where these rogues might be?” Aida asked.
“I’ll show you the map later. There are certain regions where Destroyers haven’t ventured yet or at all. Chances are we’ll find some souls out there.”
As they expanded on the issue and potential allies, I leaned back in my chair and listened quietly. My gaze was fixed on Anjani—her gestures, her facial expressions, the way she smirked when someone asked a question she already had a good answer to—they all told me that she would, one day, restore the glory of the Red Tribe. She didn’t follow a path made by someone else. She led, and she carved her way through stone if she had to, in order to get what she wanted. I loved that about her.
My hand slipped into my pocket without me realizing it. My fingers played with the wolf’s head pendant. My heart ached at the sight of her, and, with all my willingness to fight against what Vita had predicted, I couldn’t help feeling myself torn apart on the inside each time my mind wandered back to the notion of never seeing Anjani again.
I clutched the pendant, another wave of determination coming over me as the old fae’s words echoed in the back of my head. As I watched Anjani engaged in conversation, I wondered how this relationship could work between us. One probable future wanted me dead, and even if I managed to prove it wrong, how would Anjani and I work?
Who would follow whom to which realm, in order to be together? Would I convince her to come back to The Shade with me? Or would I leave everything behind and live here with her? She had a tribe to take over one day. And I was a male, the very concept traditionally rejected by succubi tribes. Those who followed the path of love left their tribes behind. Would Anjani do that? Did she feel all that for me?
A thousand questions darted around my head. I held the pendant and realized, with each moment that passed, that I had become tied to Anjani on a much deeper level. There was something growing between us, something sweet and intense that hadn’t been there before—something that made me think that maybe, just maybe, I’d already found the new owner of the fae’s pendant; her hair was long and curly and ink black, her eyes were the color of emeralds and gold bound together, and she was sitting right next to me.
Aida
When morning came, Vita, Phoenix, Field, and I met outside in the garden, beneath the Daughter’s magnolia tree. We’d left everyone else inside over breakfast. The succubi, Jovi, and Anjani looked over a map of our temporary home planet, Calliope, to identify potential hiding places for rogues and army deserters to reach out to. The Daughter was somewhere in the back garden or the greenhouse, studying flowers based on one of the atlases from Draven’s study.
I’d seen Tamara and Eva lounging in a study room upstairs, browsing through books and journals, looking perpetually bored. They weren’t happy to be here and stuck like the rest of us. I couldn’t help but sympathize. I
would’ve given anything to get out for a while and see the rest of this world. Vita and Phoenix felt the same. I could tell from their moods. They were getting tired of the mansion and the limited exterior space.
Field was already restless indoors, and it had only been a day since he’d last been out. I felt sorry for him, but I would rather see him cooped up than hunted by Destroyers.
The three of us sat down at the base of the magnolia tree, crossing our legs and facing each other in a triangle. We’d talked about getting together for another round of visions, with Field there, to the side, ready to jot down as many runes as possible in the process. We needed help with that, and he needed to be out of the house.
“Okay, so how do we do this?” Phoenix asked, looking around.
Destroyers and green fireflies had become a permanent part of the landscape beyond the protective shield, and we had to be as far away from their presence as possible to concentrate.
“I think we just need to focus and induce our states as usual. We close our eyes, take a few deep breaths, and go looking for specific information,” I replied, and Vita nodded.
“We can’t let these monsters draw our attention. We’ve come so far with our abilities. Letting them get to us would mean they’ve already won,” she added.
“On the count of three, we go for a deep submersion,” I said.
One, two, three.
I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing—in and out, until I lost count and found myself in a dark space with flickers of moving images in the corners of my eyes and sounds racing past me. I thought about the Destroyers and Azazel’s hold on them. I focused on it as the subject of my incursion, and the darkness began to dissolve around me.
I found myself standing in a black marble chamber with green lit torches. I was once again deep in Azazel’s castle here, on the planet Calliope. There was a large table in the middle with maps and lead figurines molded in the shape of soldiers strategically placed on top of them.
Patrik leaned against it, heaving and sweating and gasping for air. His large snake tail flailed around the chamber, knocking down chairs, while his upper body trembled and his muscles twitched. From what I could tell, he was struggling against something.
He groaned and leaned forward, opening his eyes. I was surprised to see them glowing green, like Azazel’s torches and fireflies, not a usual color on Patrik.
“Get…out…of my head!” he hissed and shook his head.
He suffered like that for a while, and I pitied him. I stepped forward to get a better look, watching as he struggled with whatever was straining him.
“I can do this,” he gasped. “I can do this.”
He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes again. Several minutes later, his breathing had become even, and his trembling had subsided. Beads of sweat dripped off him. He seemed to have regained his composure.
When his eyes peeled open, it was my turn to gasp, as they’d returned to their usual flat yellow with narrow black pupils. He blinked a couple of times, and I noticed the color changing again, this time to a very normal shade of steely blue, as if he was close to morphing back into a Druid.
His tail cracked, the horrible sound of a bone breaking. Patrik collapsed on the cold, wet floor in agonizing pain. He slammed his fist into the marble, cracking it and cursing under his breath.
“I can do this!” he growled. He returned to controlled breathing to overcome the pain.
I realized then what Patrik was trying to do. He’d found a way to get his body and mind to go against Azazel’s consuming spell, and he was fighting it in an attempt to transform back to full Druid form. It occurred to me then that perhaps the Destroyer form was not completely irreversible, and I decided to follow Patrik in future visions to determine whether he would succeed in breaking the spell.
He caved in this time, the pressure and the pain too much for him to handle. His body shook to the point of violent convulsions. He gave up and cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes flickered green again and then switched to his regular snaky yellow.
“I’ll get you out of me, Azazel…I will,” he spat.
He pulled himself up, holding on to the table for balance as his tail pushed him into a standing position. A knock sounded at the door.
“What?!” he barked out.
In came Marchosi, who had succumbed to Azazel’s spell and was permanently stuck between Druid and serpent as a Destroyer. He was dark, and his yellow eyes were tame, nearly lifeless. It didn’t take a genius to understand just how miserable he was. His will was utterly defeated.
“What do you want?” Patrik muttered as Marchosi slithered into the room with his head down.
“I was told you wanted to speak to me.”
“Ah, yes,” he nodded, remembering something. “Your citadel will not give in, even without a Druid to protect them. I’ve tried doing things the peaceful way, but the military won’t accept any of the offers I’ve made.”
A moment passed before Marchosi responded. “Why am I here?” was his tired reply.
“An example must be made out of them. We do not tolerate rebellions or resistance, and we stomp them out before they become a rampant disease threatening the stability of Azazel’s great empire.” Patrik recited the words mechanically with zero conviction. “Lead a charge and wipe them all out. Take as many Destroyers with you as you need. By dawn, your city must burn.”
The request took Marchosi by surprise. His eyes bugged. “You can’t be serious,” he replied.
“It’s an order. Obey,” Patrik said bluntly.
Marchosi balled his hands into fists at his sides, the muscles on his arms twitching. He was furious, glaring at Patrik as if he would’ve loved nothing more than to slit his throat. All that viciousness seemed to ooze out of him through each pore.
“You can’t send me against my own city. You’ve reduced me to this monstrosity already. You can’t do this to me. I can’t kill my own people!”
“You can and you will!” Patrik’s voice thundered through the room.
Marchosi took a deep breath and looked away, seeming smaller all of a sudden. Patrik was not an ordinary Destroyer. From what I’d learned about him, he was a vicious and ruthless warrior who did not respond well to disobedience.
“You obey, or your head leaves your shoulders, Marchosi. There is no other option,” he added, his tone dropping lower still.
They spent several minutes staring at each other before Marchosi eventually nodded and left the chamber, slamming the door behind him.
I caught a glimpse of Patrik crumbling, tears rolling down his cheeks, before the darkness took me away.
Phoenix
My vision took me to a strange place. I stood on the edge of a massive platform carved into a white marble wall on the side of a mountain. It was surrounded by lush green pine forests beneath a pale blue sky. There were two small moons in the sky, and dusk settled over the region.
I understood then that I wasn’t on Calliope anymore, which only had one moon.
I turned around and saw a large temple that rose against the mountain, carved from the same white marble. Titanic statues of Greek-like sculptural art served as pillars—twenty of them—holding the roof up and standing atop a dozen stairs.
Large metal bowls held bright burning fires, lighting the main entrance.
I heard booming noises in the distance. Looking over my shoulder, I saw flames swallowing an entire city just a few miles away from the mountain. Explosion after explosion pierced through the sky followed by a familiar hissing sound. I used my True Sight to discover Destroyers—dozens of them—riding their winged horses, setting fires and killing people left and right. I felt queasy for a moment, before my attention was called back to the temple.
I heard feet shuffling and mumbled orders, as about ten young boys ran outside and nearly flew down the stairs followed by two older men. The boys were draped in white silks, similar to Roman togas. They wore gold belts and had bare arms wit
h three to six ring tattoos each. They were Druids, as were the elders guiding them. The elders were dressed in crimson red silks of a similar fashion, and their arms were covered in Druid tattoos.
“Hurry up, boys!” one of the old Druids urged. “They’ll be here any second!”
There were winged horses waiting on the edge of the platform, just where the woods started. The young Druids jumped in the saddles, two per horse. They seemed scared, their eyes darting all around.
“Masters, what will you do?” a teenage Druid asked, his eyebrows drawn into a concerned frown.
“We will hold them off,” the other old one replied. “Remember, keep your heads down and fly as far north as possible! You’ll recognize the shelter when you see it! Jasmine will wait for you there!”
“You must come with us!”
“There is no time! Someone needs to keep the monsters here and away from you! Our legacy is in your hands now. Preserve it and make your ancestors proud, for the day will come when you will be needed to rise against Azazel and reclaim the twenty thrones to restore peace!”
The hissing sounded closer this time, and I couldn’t help but root for the young Druids to make it out of there alive.
“Go!” the first Druid barked, slapping a horse’s rump. The creature neighed and took off, followed by the other four. Their wings stretched, spanning a few yards each, and flapped several times before they became dots and faded into the night sky.
The old Druids were right. Barely minutes after the boys flew away, Destroyers invaded the platform, slipping off their giant horses and slithering toward them, swords drawn. They grinned, their eyes glowing green as they bared their fangs and attacked the Druids.
Blue flames jumped out of one Druid’s hands, swallowing a Destroyer whole, moments before a poisoned spear shot through him. Within seconds, he collapsed, writhing in pain and foaming at the mouth. He died in agony.
The other Druid put up a fight as well, casting energy pulses outward that knocked the Destroyers back. By the time the creatures got back into an upright position, the Druid had already disappeared inside the temple. I followed, along with the Destroyers.