Azazel squinted his eyes, his mouth crooked with fury and disgust as he glanced at the whole council. His expression changed as soon as his gaze met with Genevieve’s. He took a deep breath, then looked at Almus.
“You’ve changed, my friend. You’ve become a paper-pusher like the rest of this bag of old bones you call a council. I’m disappointed. I thought you had more fire in you,” he said, then glared at the elder Druid with the snake medallion. “I’ll show you repercussions, Lorenz, the next time you ancient fools decide to embarrass me in front of my people!”
“They’re not your people, Azazel. They’re Eritopians, like the rest of us,” Lorenz replied sternly.
Azazel chuckled with contempt and stormed out of the dining room, disappearing behind one of the doors before the smoky servant could fetch him his red leather cape. The creature hovered by the door, cape in hand, unsure of what to do next.
I had gained valuable insight into Azazel’s life before he’d transitioned into a Destroyer. Most importantly, I’d uncovered a love triangle I was eager to explore further. I wondered whether Almus and Genevieve’s relationship had any impact on Azazel’s descent into madness. Draven didn’t give me the impression of knowing anything about it.
My second vision took me to another moment before Azazel became a Destroyer. I was on a spacious terrace overlooking a lush tropical rainforest beneath an azure sky. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. A huge garden sprawled beyond the terrace, a puzzle of colorful flower patches, river stones, and crystalline streams flowing as red and yellow birds sang from bountiful plum trees.
Azazel stood next to me, watching two figures walking through the garden below. His jaw was tense, and his amber eyes flickered black. I’d learned from Serena that Druids, being genetically tied to serpents, had a haw, a black membrane that flittered when they experienced intense emotions such as anger. He clearly wasn’t happy about what he was seeing.
I looked down and realized he was watching Almus and Genevieve as they walked together. They held hands, and Genevieve was laughing. They’d become a couple by then, and Azazel wasn’t taking it very well.
I heard a soft voice behind me. “Excuse me,”
I turned around and saw a beautiful young woman with golden yellow eyes and long, platinum hair standing in front of me. Her pupils were black and dilated, reminding me of a cat. She wore a pale green silk dress, the fabric glazing her gorgeous body, amplifying her curves to the point where my throat went dry.
Judging by Azazel’s stunned expression, she had the same effect on him.
“I’m a student of Lady Genevieve,” the young woman said. “I’ve been asked to speak with you about organizing a council visit to your kingdom, Lord Azazel.”
I moved around to get a good look at this creature and noticed her dress open in a wide V on her back, revealing her spine and shoulder blades. I caught a glimpse of greenish yellow scales on her lower back as well as on her slender arms, where they were displayed in a delicately scattered pattern, like decorative gems.
“Yes, I’ve been told the council will attend our military parade for the summer solstice,” Azazel replied, his voice weaker than usual.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her, mesmerized by her fluid moves as she took a step forward. I recognized her as a Lamia, based on what I’d learned about these creatures from Draven and Bijarki. I wondered how long it would take for Azazel to figure out what she was, since Druids didn’t take kindly to Lamias. After all, they had banished them for their taste in incubus flesh.
“Indeed.” She smiled. “She’s asked me to liaise with you about setting a date and time for the council to be greeted and escorted to their accommodations in the summer palace, your grace. Perhaps now would be a good time to discuss these details?”
He measured her from head to toe, a shadow passing over his face. There was lust in his eyes, and I couldn’t blame him. She was superb, and her voice was sweet and mellow.
“Please, call me Azazel. I’m no king for you to call me Your Grace.” He smirked, then looked over his shoulder.
Genevieve and Almus had disappeared somewhere beyond the tall rose bushes on the western edge of the garden. Azazel shifted his focus back to the Lamia.
“I wouldn’t dare to call you Azazel, milord,” she replied gently. “You are a leader, and I am but a young Druid with barely a couple of ranks. It would be highly disrespectful.”
I noticed the two slim circle tattoos on her right wrist and began to wonder how she’d been accepted as a Druid when everything about her screamed Lamia.
“You’re too kind, young lady,” he sighed. “What is your name?”
“Tamara, milord.”
“Tell me, Tamara, why do you wear scales on your skin? Are you a Lamia, perhaps?”
Bingo!
She blushed as she looked away, visibly embarrassed. Her smile, however, had the power to tear down any man’s defenses, including Azazel's. His gaze softened.
“I assure you I am but a young Druid, milord. I’ve simply decided to embrace my serpent nature and wear it with pride, even in my Druid form,” she replied. “I have no taste for incubus flesh. I have passed all the tests that Lady Genevieve requested before I entered her service.”
A moment passed before she spoke again. Azazel continued to gaze at her.
“I like plums, milord. And honey. And the northern breads of the seventh kingdom, where I hail from.” She sighed, contemplating the garden.
“I believe you, Tamara.”
Azazel was bewitched by this creature. This was all probably happening millennia after they’d already been banished but long before they found out that Lamias had infiltrated the Druid society. Bijarki had told me a little about the entire scandal, dating a few centuries back, when dozens of Lamias had been ousted from Eritopia’s high society. Before it all went to hell, thanks to Azazel.
I stood there, watching as she spoke to him. He liked her a lot, and I couldn’t help but wonder if his sudden attachment to her was related to Almus and Genevieve’s developing relationship. Perhaps he needed someone to help him get over Draven’s mother. Perhaps Tamara was the one who could take his mind off Genevieve.
Judging by how it all seemed to end, with Azazel as the self-proclaimed Prince of the Destroyers, I figured it didn’t go too well between him and Tamara. But it was nevertheless interesting to discover that the “Prince” had once had a heart.
The third vision tore me away from those days long gone, bringing me closer to the present time disaster. I found myself on a black marble platform atop a castle. The wind whistled at that altitude, brushing against giant glass spheres suspended from standalone black marble arches.
Azazel slithered around one of those spheres, which was filled with water and held an Oracle captive, whom I didn’t recognize. My stomach churned, and my heart twisted in my chest, as I realized where I was. This was Azazel’s castle, at the very top where he kept his Oracles. Two more slept in their spheres, floating in what probably felt like an eternity.
The clouds gathered above in menacing charcoal rolls, ignited by lightning and the occasional bang of thunder nearby.
“Where is she?” Azazel hissed at the Oracle.
He’d become a Destroyer, his thick black tail twitching as he moved around the Oracle, who cried inside the sphere, desperately trying to keep her head above the water.
“Oh, stop your whining. You’re not going to drown. It’s not really water!” he barked at her. “Tell me where she is!”
Her eyes were white and swollen from all the crying. She’d at least been spared the misery of seeing where she’d been brought, where she would eventually wither away and die.
I wanted to punch the monster, break his bones, and throw him off the platform. But I couldn’t. I could only watch and listen and learn and use every bit of information I could gather against him.
“I don’t know who she is,” the Oracle sniffed between hiccups.
Azazel banged on the
glass, startling her. He was raging, his eyes yellow, the snake medallion I’d seen on Lorenz now hung around his neck. I put two and two together and felt sorry for the old Druid, who was one of the many casualties of Azazel’s ascension to power.
“You know Tamara! Where is that snake?!” he roared.
“I don’t know. I can’t see her! Please, just let me be! I can’t see anything! I’m in too much pain!” she screamed.
Azazel didn’t give up. Instead, he kept knocking on the glass and pushing the sphere around, enough to make the Oracle tumble and take a huge amount of water into her lungs.
“Stop wailing over your husband, you pathetic little soul! He’s gone! Done! Dead! You’re wasting your tears on that self-righteous ass anyway,” he growled. “Now, tell me where she is!”
She struggled to breathe as the liquid entered her bloodstream and gradually relaxed her muscles, to the point where she floated around, eyes wide open and white. She was having a vision.
“Where is Tamara?! She ran off, and she has something that belongs to me, that wretched Lamia!”
A moment passed before the Oracle’s voice echoed from the glass sphere.
“The Lamia fooled you, Azazel. You welcomed her into your bed, your heart, and your soul. You gave her a daughter, and she abandoned you.”
“Well, thank you, darling, for the obsolete news! Now tell me where she is!” he shouted, banging on the glass.
“She has given birth now. Her daughter lives, a beautiful baby girl with golden eyes and black hair like yours.”
“Where is she?!”
“I do not know. She is deep in the jungle, surrounded by other Lamias.”
Azazel paced around her as she regained her consciousness. He trembled with fury.
She faced his direction, her expression filled with all the hate she could muster.
“If only I’d listened to my instinct when she first crossed my path,” he mumbled. “If only I’d kept my distance. She fooled me. She fooled us all. She reminded me of Genevieve so much that I refused to see the truth. Serves me right.”
“You will never see her again, Azazel. You will never see your daughter again either,” the Oracle spat. “I will die before I tell you where they are. You took my husband from me, and I will die a thousand deaths before I ever give you the chance to see your daughter!”
A chill ran through me.
The monster had a daughter somewhere in Eritopia, conceived with a Lamia. A daughter he desperately wanted to see. Tamara had betrayed him. I wouldn’t have been surprised if that exact predicament had pushed Azazel over the edge, forcing the deadly serpent out of him.
I stepped away from the glass sphere, unable to look at this Oracle anymore. I couldn’t bear the thought of her in there.
Most importantly, I had gotten all the information I needed from my visions. I’d seen Azazel before he’d morphed into a Destroyer, before he’d brought death and destruction over this world. I had seen him as a young Druid, strong and ambitious, with the misfortune of having fallen in love with Draven’s mother. I’d seen him battling the bureaucracy of Eritopian leadership.
But perhaps the most interesting fact I’d uncovered was that somewhere in Eritopia was a young Lamia with golden eyes and black hair, the daughter of Azazel and a very cunning Lamia. That was, if she was still alive.
Serena
Azazel’s castle rose menacingly from the dark jungles surrounding it, a magnificent construction with structural pillars and arches that reminded me of gothic cathedrals. Thousands of black marble statues sprawled across the façade. Green flames flickered by the large, glassless windows. Four slim, sharp towers reached for the sky.
We snuck through the trees until we reached the main road leading to the front gates. Draven had yet to let go of my hand, and I didn’t mind at all.
I looked up and saw dozens of Destroyers flying on their horses, hissing as they patrolled the skies above. Millions of green fireflies hovered over the jungle, silent and all-seeing. My skin tingled, and shivers ran down my spine as I stood a few yards away from the monster’s lair. I needed a minute to gather the courage to move forward. I had never been so close to so much evil before.
Draven sensed my reluctance and brushed his shoulder against mine. Had it not been for the invisibility spell, we would’ve been seen and killed before we could reach the castle. The thought gave me comfort and energy to proceed.
“This is Azazel’s home, then,” I mumbled.
“One of them, actually.” I heard Hansa next to us.
“How many are there?”
“One on each of Eritopia’s planets,” Draven replied. “At least on the ones he’s conquered. He’s been busy campaigning against the 19th over the last couple of years. He’s killed the Druid in charge of it, but the local government and military have been strong in their resistance.”
That made me shiver.
“Do you think they’ll retain their independence?” I asked.
“I doubt it. Most of their resources come from here, so once he cuts all trade ties they will have no other option,” Draven said.
“Look over there. East side,” Hansa whispered.
A small incubi garrison moved from the main road into the castle. A side path led up to secondary entrances through the eastern and western walls. The garrison headed toward the east passage.
“Now’s our chance,” Draven said and pulled me after him.
We walked quietly toward the incubi, joining the back of their group as they entered the castle. Thousands of green fireflies flitted around us, but we could not be seen. The passageway was tall and wide, clad in black limestone with green-lit torches mounted on the walls. I had a feeling that all the green flames were part of Azazel’s spy spell, his eyes seeing everywhere the emerald fire burned.
The incubi grumbled and cursed under their breaths. Their backs slumped beneath the military uniforms. Their eyes sank in their heads, and their skin looked paler than usual. They seemed exhausted, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. It hadn’t really been their choice. One does what one can to survive, and they were no different.
I heard our signature triple hiss and noticed a corridor opening to my right. Draven and I followed Hansa through it, leading us into a large service kitchen with hundreds of pots and pans and massive oak tables.
Green fires burned on wall sconces. A few incubi were finishing up, wiping the tables and putting the dry meats away, their expressions as dim as their fellow soldiers’ from the hallway. Nobody wanted to be there, and I could certainly sympathize.
We waited until the servant soldiers left for their quarters, cursing at Azazel and his Destroyers.
“I can’t wait for the day when they’re all lined up against a wall for us to drive our swords through them in return for everything they’ve done,” one of them muttered.
“Yeah, repayment for their selfless service, right?” another said.
“Deck the halls with their blood, indeed,” the third one murmured as they left the kitchen.
A moment passed before any of us spoke.
“Is it safe?” I asked.
He shushed me, and I felt him let go of my hand. One by one, the green fires were blown away, submerging the kitchen in absolute darkness.
“The green fire is Azazel’s,” I heard Draven say from the other side of the room.
A few seconds passed before I felt Draven standing next to me in the dark, his breath tickling the back of my neck.
“I’m guessing I’m not the only one with night vision in here, am I?” I said.
“I eat all my vegetables and don’t read by candlelight,” Draven quipped, making me fawn over him for a brief moment.
I pulled Aida’s notes from my satchel and placed them on the table. I was surprised to see them visible as soon as I took my hand off them. I realized then how the spell worked. Everything I had on me was included in the spell until it left my body. Draven picked them up and looked through them, flipping the
pages a couple of times to reveal the dungeon sketches Aida had scribbled. I used my True Sight to read them as he held them.
“If I’m reading this correctly, we need to go further below ground,” he muttered.
I looked around and noticed a narrow black door at the far end of the kitchen, opposite from where we’d come in. I took the notes from Draven and stuffed them back in my satchel as I made my way toward the door. I reached it in a few rushed steps and turned the knob, opening it slowly. There was a set of stone steps descending underground.
“I think I found a way,” I said.
Hansa and Draven joined me. We went down the stairs, heading for the dim light at the end. It opened onto a wider staircase that ended in what looked like a sprawling basement. We kept ourselves closer to the left wall, taking one step at a time.
Green torches led the way, so we moved quietly.
Sudden hissing and shuffling behind us froze me in place. Draven’s hand clutched my wrist, and we stilled as four massive Destroyers rushed down the stairs. I felt him let go of me as one of the monsters bumped into him, knocking him off his feet.
I inadvertently gasped, then immediately covered my mouth, moving so my back was against the cold black wall. My heart thudded as the Destroyers stopped and looked around, sniffing the air with confused expressions on their once humanoid faces.
Their tails were long and thick with black scales, while their upper bodies were well built with bulky muscles beneath their leather tunics. They’d once been handsome young Druids with short black hair, but their yellow snake eyes and the scales on their temples and cheeks were a sign that those days were long gone.
One of the beasts came back, slithering up the stairs and looking around, as if sensing there was someone there.
“What is it?” another asked from farther down.
“I hit something, but I can’t see what I hit,” the curious Destroyer replied.
“Why do we all have to stop for you to pretend you’re not the clumsy oaf we all know you to be?” a third one said.