Abolisher
51.

She felt ill.

She felt ill to her stomach.

Darkness pulsed beneath his eyes—in the whites of his eyes. It rippled around those golden irises.

She’d always thought Kavous’ mejest was strange, had never comprehended how he could jump from one place to another. She’d failed to connect the dots, failed to see—that Kavous’ mejest came too close to opening a portal.

Partially because she was a fool—a damned fool. Incapable. Blind. Unworthy.

Partially because Kavous had been her friend. He’d been her damned friend who’d laughed with her in the Stone Chamber, who’d listened to her ramble on and on. Her friend. How could she have doubted him, how could she have questioned him about things she’d thought he hadn’t an inkling of?

Her heart strained viciously.

Even now she couldn’t believe what she saw. This had to be another game, a ruse, a deceit—

Because … because Kavous.

She didn’t want to believe any of this. She couldn’t—

“Take your time,” he whispered, tilting his head. There was no humanity on his face—none. No hint of that endless amusement.

Her eyes fell shut. She felt the warmth of the tear that rolled down her cheek.

Of course the tears had to come when she wanted them the least. Of course Destiny was cruel in that aspect too.

“Get it done with,” she rasped. “I’m too tired to chitchat. Do whatever you wish and get it done with.”

“Oh, Indren.” He ran a hand through her hair. “Lavestia has truly been harsh on you, hasn’t it?”

She said nothing. Didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes. Didn’t question.

“Surely, you have questions.”

His voice sounded so human, so frank, that she almost considered the possibility that Erauth might not be so bad—that his reasons to play Kavous might align with her own reasons to play Cerys Omdrial.

And of course she had questions. She just didn’t think she had enough life left to care to know the answers anymore.

Kavous—Erauth sighed, his hand still in her hair. It moved to her nape before he brutally fisted her hair. Syrene gasped. She gritted her teeth against the pain, bringing more filthy tears down her cheeks. “I do not wish to be cruel, Indren. Not with you.” He sounded truly pitiful. “Let’s do this the right way, shall we?”

Syrene once again called for Drothiker, but where there had been a lingering presence before, now there was nothing but the ghosts of it.

As if feeling her attempts, he said, “Oh, Felset’s power shall not come to you, Syrene. Why else do you think she was so vulnerable before me?”

With each next word, his hold on her hair tightened. She could’ve sworn she even heard the near-rip.

“Felset said—she said you weren’t coming.” Syrene knew the queen hadn’t lied—she’d seen the truth in the hurt in those bronze eyes. “How—”

She almost sagged in relief when his grip vanished from her hair. He smiled a Kavous smile. “Now we’re talking.”

He lifted to his feet, picking at his nails. “Felset was always the deceiving one.” He winked at her. “After you, of course. But just like you, she values her people. You can hardly blame me for not trusting her when she asked for freedom in exchange for a portal.”

“But you can open them—”

He brought up his fist in one swift motion, and her voice vanished from her throat.

“Silence.” Golden eyes bore into her.

Erauth paced before her.

“I heard of your rebirth soon after Felset set out to hunt Drighrem. As soon as Delaya and I entered this world, I acquired this form and Felset, our sister, apparently—as universe likes to call her—never gleaned mine and Delaya’s presence. I kept a close eye on her. I’m not a fool, Syrene. I’d always known Felset would never put herself before her people, she would never leave them under my rule—she loathed me as much so. So while she was searching for Drighrem, I was searching for you. And I found Drighrem, too.

“When you plunged Windsong in your chest, I felt it—as did Delaya and Felset, surely.”

“But why?” She was surprised when her desperate voice sounded, released from his vile hold. “Why destroy this world, too? Why … all of it?”

“Because I have lived long enough in Darkness, human. I had to watch your world thrive with a sun and a moon, whilst ours was bathed in horrors. Now there shall be equality—now there shall be balance. Justice. This is how the worlds are ought to be. Too long they’ve been in the wrong, now we shall put them in the right—you and I.”

“This is not right,” she spat. “This is inhuman cruelty. Right would have been had I, Delaya and Felset killed you and freed ourselves from the curse. Right would have been had Felset and Delaya not been so blinded by the love they held for you and risked countless lives. Right would have been your death, Erauth.”

She didn’t even see him move, but she felt the burn across her cheek when he backhanded her, harshly enough that black came across her sight for moments. Inhuman strength.

Then Syrene’s rage came like shards of glass grinding against the inside of her skin. A slap—a slap to her pride—

She thrashed against the ropes, grunting. Even as her mejest still remained dormant. Useless.

“Oh, Syrene.” His hand came to cup her cheek—

Syrene spat at his face.

His hand halted midway.

“Don’t you dare touch me again, you filth,” she hissed. “You might have me roped, but I can still bite your hands off.”

He wiped her spit from his face, chuckling. “You’ve changed so much. You used to be the tame one—shy and respectful.”

“I’m not whoever you think I am. The woman the universe named your sister was exiled. Killed. She’s no more. I’m Syrene Alpenstride. Leave an opening for me and I’ll decapitate you before you even see it coming.” She leaned back, resting her head against the tree. “So if you’re going to torture me, dearest king, do not be forgetful of vigilance. You might slip an opening.”

His smile vanished. He eyed her shrewdly, a muscle ticking at his jaw. “Very well. I suppose you’re not much fond of pleasantries.”

“Why are you here, Erauth?”

As if he’d been waiting for that question, he smiled. “I’m here to offer mercy, Syrene.”

She stiffened. Syrene eyed the dark surroundings, the plague. “I do not like your definition of mercy.”

Erauth laughed—a sound so akin to Kavous’ that her chest ached. It soon died. He lifted his finger, and—

Moonlight came upon the world, as if a stage spotlight.

Syrene looked up.

The dark ink was withdrawing from the moon.

“I can spare this world, Syrene. It can have its regular days and nights. I can spare all the Grestel, keep my people from feeding. Command them to attain humanity in the new world. Their home has changed, so should they.”

Her heart sped. She waited. “And in exchange?”

“You must yield yourself to me.”

Pause.

“What do you mean?” she gritted.

“You shall come with me to Felset’s castle. Belong to me.”

Her chest tightened. “That’s ridiculous—”

“Is it, truly? Wasn’t your life always the price for this world’s salvation? You come with me willingly, Syrene …” Then—

She felt invisible touch at her throat before it squeezed. Syrene choked. She writhed in the roped, her body went numb. Her eyes burned—

She coughed, gasped for air when he released her. Her pulses pounded in her ears.

“Or you come with me by force,” he drawled.

Helplessness chewed at her chest. She had to gulp down air to keep herself breathing.

Lives—countless lives could be saved. She would never have to take down the world. Her friends—they all could have a future.

Azryle could have a future—he would be king. He would be his own person. He could have the life that’d been taken from his hands. He could live for eternity without any leash. Azryle—her Azryle—could be free.

Tribes in Faolin’s hands would be taken care of.

Peace.

There could be peace.

At one sacrifice.

Her sacrifice.

Maybe this world was never meant to be ruled by a human, maybe peace was meant to be brought by a monster.

Her hands fisted at her sides.

Her sacrifice.

She could do it—of course, she could do it. She’d been trained for it, hadn’t she? She’d been brought here, to this very moment, by forces no one would ever comprehend.

All of it—all of it for Lavestia. All of it for her people.

It could be far worse—it could be worst death imaginable.

Then why … why did it hurt so bad? Why this ache in her chest?

She knew why.

She’d been foolish enough to see a future for herself. She’d been foolish enough to believe she could defy Destiny. She’d been naïve enough to let herself dream of a life she wished.

Erauth moved his fingers and the ropes dropped around her.

“Decide. Now.”

Only then did she feel the dampness on her cheeks. Her head was pounding.

There was nothing to decide. She’d been brought here. Now it was her turn to take a step. Numbly, Syrene lifted to her feet—

A rod came through Erauth’s neck.

The world stopped.

His golden eyes bulged. Black blood flowed from his mouth, his neck. Erauth dropped to his knees.

Behind him, Maycusen released the rod, leaving it in Erauth’s neck. His eyes were wide with fear. “Run.”

But Syrene couldn’t move. Her mind seemed to have stilled with the world.

Maycusen was immediately beside her. “Run,” he snarled.

When she still didn’t move, the Jaguar took her hand and dragged her away—from Erauth, from their one chance at survival. But—

They didn’t even make a yard away before Maycusen was wrenched from her grip. He went flying across the area—his back slammed against a tree, so brutally that the crack of his bones echoed in hollow silence of the dead trees.

Syrene turned to Erauth, who was slowly withdrawing the rod from his black-stained neck as he swiftly advanced towards where Maycusen lay, groaning in pain. Nothing but pure wrath on Erauth’s face.

Power rumbled about him. Darkness—it pooled all around his arms, as if he were a magnet to it.

In mere moments, Erauth reached Maycusen.

He took the Jaguar by the collar and lifted him from the ground. His other hand, coated in dark power, fisted to decapitate the shifter right there in one blow—

Terror gripped Syrene.

Enough death—she’d seen enough death tonight. In one moment, flashes of Hexet, Kefaas, Raocete, Eliver took over her sight. Then she was bellowing, “Stop!” Nothing but pure dread in her shaking voice as she reached for a dagger beneath her sleeve.

Her heart thundered.

Erauth’s fist paused. She poised the dagger at her own throat. “Hurt him, and I will not hesitate slitting my throat right here.” She shuddered at her words—at the truth in them.

Erauth heard it too. He growled and left Maycusen whimpering on the ground. Then he was advancing towards her—each step claiming, demanding.

She barely had a glimpse at Maycusen when Erauth seized her wrist. “Let’s go, then,” he groused. His neck had already stitched back together. Then— sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

She felt the pull—the jerk. Felt it, and she knew she was being tugged into a pocket of the world. Knew she would likely land in the Glass Palace.

The world tore open before her, opening a dark passageway.

She heard someone scream her name—to halt her, warn her. Keep her a moment longer. Just a moment—

Erauth heard it too, his tightening grip around her wrist whispered enough.

What he didn’t hear were the words she muttered low, to the owner of that scream.

“Azryle Wintershade, I free you.”

Fear is another beast …

Hand in hand with a monster even the nightmares feared, Syrene Alpenstride walked right into the eternal gloom Destiny had planned for her.

… and I won’t be its puppet.

Darkness took her in its cold embrace.

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