Blood Stained Tranquility
Read Blood Stained Tranquility Online
Authors: N. Isabelle Blanco
Blood Stained Tranquility
The Rise of the Szolites - Part Two
(A Szolite Novel)
By
N. Isabelle Blanco
First published by The Writer’s Coffee Shop, 2014
Copyright © N. Isabelle Blanco, 2014
The right of N. Isabelle Blanco to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the
Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters and events in this Book – even those sharing the same name as (or based upon) real people – are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No person, brand or corporation mentioned in this Book should be taken to have endorsed this Book nor should the events surrounding them be considered in any way factual.
This book is a work of fiction and should be read as such.
Print ISBN- 978-1-61213-224-2
E-book ISBN- 978-1-61213-225-9
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the US Congress Library.
Cover image:
© Depositphotos / Daniel Dunca
Cover design by: N. Isabelle Blanco
www.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/nblanco
Dedication
To anyone who ever hurt me, broke me, betrayed me, or turned their backs on me: You know who you are.
Thank you
. Without you breaking me, I would’ve never gotten to where I am today.
To Kelly Clarkson: Keep doing what you’re doing girl. You’re rocking it.
Catch My Breath
is one of the many reasons I bow to you.
“Nothing comes unbidden: where the shadow is, there is also the substance.”
–
James Allen,
The Mastery of Destiny
“Most beings have forgotten that there is more to life than momentary happiness. They have forgotten that in order for a sword to be forged, it must be hammered into perfection. That’s where I come in, to remind them. And trust me; by the time I’m done with them, they will wish they had stuck with the hammer.”
–Nylicia, the Watcher of Destinies.
“The bloodshed of war, the light of Integrity,
Heralding death, the two meet.
The selfish souls shall fall, Vengeance in their ashes, leaving behind only that which is right.
Robes of self-preservation shall suffocate wrath, when a circle starts on the night of light’s death.
Resurrection shall bring impossible life, divine splendor and peace with new breath.
And so it shall be, so he shall rule.
Eons will pass and be blessed,
Until the hunger of Justice rises once more, threatening to rip Vengeance from its tormented rest
and dragging Tranquility through arduous test.”
May 14, 1972–
Among the war
Erencei—
beings considered demons by the humans—was born a male. A male I prophesied would become a monster . . . a male with a sensitivity that would prove a deadly threat to most living beings. Especially myself.
On the eve of his twentieth birthday, Mavrak, the son of Persicutis, Goddess of Integrity, was sent back to the planet his mother had taken him from—Earth. There, he was to spend the next hundred years in the service of a father he had never met, the great war demon Sophron.
Mavrak wouldn’t make it through the first year though, let alone the next ninety nine. Faced with the atrocities of the mortal world and the animalistic greed of the war demons his father ruled over, he began to weaken. He began to go mad. When his mother was destroyed without warning or reason, Mavrak lost his last tether on reality.
Five hundred years before the
Dixieme Eductu
, Mavrak tore through the pre-Neolithic world, leaving scars and pushing the Gods into retaliation. He was captured and imprisoned. Sentenced to be beaten, and subjected to heinous experimental rituals that were to take place until he either died, or his rage was ripped out of him.
That was the beginning of the circle. For out of Mavrak’s torment, an opposing being would be born. The universe lives on Ying and Yang, you see? And where there is darkness, there is also the potential for light. Mavrak had to be broken in every way for Zeniel, the God of Tranquility, to emerge.
“Full circle” is one of the little laws that the Universe runs on. It pisses me the fuck off, but it’s inescapable, even for someone as omnipotent as me.
My name is Cyake, God of Divination, and, if I’m not careful, the voice of the Fates. Because of me, Mavrak, God of Vengeance, was set on a path of pure hell—one that would lead to his final destination. I’m writing this down to leave some record that I, asshole that I am, accidentally cursed an undeserving male because I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut.
I’ve been trying to atone for it ever since. And it’s the main reason I stick to being a seer. No one wants to deal with that kind of crap on their conscience. It’s bullshit.
–
Cyake, God of Divination, Speaker of Prophecy
Prologue
-Renentr. The Underworld.
Sparks of color—aqua, pink, hazel, light blue and a few hints of deep red—came to life, shimmering as they traveled across smooth, black marble. Nylicia, the Watcher of Destinies, stared at the wall with her head tilted to one side. Running her finger across the reflective stone produced the effect once more.
Hmm, look at that.
Even as a ghost, she still affected things. Well, she wasn’t a ghost, not precisely. Fucked-up circumstances required her to remain hidden. All she could show the Universe was a projection of herself.
For now. The wheels of Destiny were shifting once more. The higher powers were finally getting their asses in gear and doing what needed to be done. Soon, she’d be more. Soon, she’d be back.
Soon, she’d have vengeance on those that had screwed her over in the first place.
And not even Fate or Destiny could save them from her.
Hands on her hips, Nylicia turned, wondering what the hell she would have to do to get the attention she deserved. Crius’s powers were too strong for her to just flash herself into the
Abideos
. He needed to open the damn portal for her. She pursed her lips, and spun her head slowly to look at the
Sivigh.
It remained motionless, the doors to the underworld sealed.
Where was Crius and that stone face of his? Why hadn’t he come to greet her yet?
She shook her head, amused at the God of the Underworld’s idiocy. She could sneak in there and castrate him, and the only thing that would get in her way was the hand he was probably using on himself.
Again.
She broke out into laughter. Nervous laughter, really, since the images in her head were kind of traumatizing. The sheer amount of masturbation she’d been forced to watch recently was disturbing, even for a bona fide voyeur such as she.
“Nylicia, your laughter is obnoxious. It’s annoying me.”
Nylicia stopped laughing and pursed her lips once more. “I was wondering when you’d realize I was here.”
She walked toward the
Sivigh.
It didn’t morph, merely opened and allowed her inside. Crius’s voice boomed from within the walls as she passed.
“I knew you were here the whole time.”
“So you were just ignoring me. I’m hurt.”
“No one could ever ignore you, Nylicia.”
She smiled widely, materializing into the
Abideos
and locking eyes with him. He was sitting on his throne, the insolence pouring off him making her raise an eyebrow.
“When are you going to stop being a fool?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” She took one look around the massive place.
The
Aristis
glowed white, illuminating the black marble walls and floor. Ugh, the black
everything
to be honest. It reminded her of her prison—home—whatever. The place was positively morbid, except for the
Aristis
—crystal-like balls with souls locked in them—that filled almost every niche she could see. She took in the thousands of glowing orbs, her eyes landing on a few that would become very important in the coming months. An exceptionally bright one on the far left seemed to call out to her. As if it knew its time to be reborn was coming.