Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2) (32 page)

A forlorn howling filled the room as the shadow churned through the air around Graiphen. When the darkness entered his body, he shouted, his head thrown back.

The guards stood, frozen in terror as Graiphen’s face contorted.

Korbin stepped forward. It was difficult to watch the torment as his father was possessed by two Spirits.

Graiphen thrashed, the knife clanging to the ground. His throat opened in a strangled cry, his arms outstretched.

“Father!” Korbin cried.

Slowly turning, Graiphen faced his son. His eyes were full of horror, his features frozen into a pantomime of agony.

“Get back!” Korbin shouted to the guards as he inched forward.

White foam appeared at the edges of Graiphen’s mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Korbin rushed forward and grabbed him. He could feel the force of the two spirits within flailing in the human shell. He wrested Graiphen to the ground. “Father!” he cried. “What do I do?”

The look Graiphen gave him said it all. There was no hope of redemption. This was the end. “If you want to kill a Spirit, all its children must die first,” he whispered. “Now do me one last kindness. Take the heart thorn first. Quickly.”

After only a small moment of hesitation, Korbin reached into the red robes and found the thorn at Graiphen’s chest. With one firm movement, he pulled.

Blood bubbled from the wound. Just before the light dimmed in his eyes, Graiphen smiled. He started to speak, but only a rasp of air came out.

His father’s corpse jerked once, hard, and the black presence of Pang swept out again. It swirled around Korbin, causing him to drop the thorn. He felt the sickening weight of her essence pressing against him, then a hard slap of anger and frustration before the shadow popped out of existence as though it had never been.

Korbin looked down at his father with sadness. The body now seemed but an empty husk.

His thoughts flashed to his mother, and he wondered if she would like Graiphen more in the afterlife than she had in the realm of the living. Knowing her, she would welcome him with open arms.

“What do we do?” came the voice of one of the guards from the doorway across the room. “I don’t know how to explain what happened here.”

“My father killed Nassore,” Korbin said, his voice barely above a whisper. “They had a meeting and they argued.”

“But the smoke. The voice of the goddesses,” the guard continued from behind Korbin.

“We saw no smoke,” he said firmly. “My father believed Prince Nassore was responsible for the death of Emperor Jorek. In an unhinged state, he sought revenge.” Korbin hung his head.

“And you tried to save the prince. You killed your own father to try to save him, but it was too late.” He nodded as the story took shape.

Korbin closed his eyes. “Yes, it was too late.”

Chapter 32

The four conduits sat in a circle in the center of Octavia’s bedroom, and as they meditated together, she drank in the refreshing and solid strength of their presence. She felt acceptance and a kinship she hadn’t experienced since her sister-conduits and mentor had died in Vol the previous year.

These three were not people she likely would have chosen to be friends with. Betram was pushy and condescending. Gysella seemed narrow-minded and sour. Something about Senne Treviia seemed closed, despite having the most agreeable disposition of the three.

Still, within them, she felt something that called to her, something that felt like home. She might be a Talmoran citizen now, but her heart was Kilovian. She knew other Kilovians, back in Vol, and they didn’t impart the same sense of belonging in her. She wondered how much was the blood of Eurmus in them calling to the same in her.

Perhaps this was why she’d found her trainee, Liara, to be so unsuitable, despite being willing and eager to learn. Maybe Liara didn’t possess the blood of Eurmus. Octavia closed her eyes, hopeful that Braetin also didn’t like the taste of Liara’s blood. Although it was abhorrent to her that any conduit should be forced to bear the children of Braetin, she couldn’t bear imagining the torment happening to one she felt personally responsible for, one who had trusted her.

As these thoughts came to Octavia, she acknowledged them and let them float by, then returned to the cleansing ritual of the mind that the four engaged in together. Once they finished the process, she looked at the others one by one.

She opened her mouth to ask what they should do next but was interrupted by a pounding at the door.

“Octavia, let me in.” Korbin’s frantic voice came from the other side.

She leapt to her feet and went to the door, heaving it open. “What’s wrong?” she asked, but the pale cast of his skin spoke volumes. “What’s happened?”

He fell into her arms and wept on her shoulder. “He’s dead. My father.”

The other conduits stood, and one of them closed the door behind Korbin as Octavia held him. Finally, she led him to the couch. “You must tell me everything. Was it Pang?”

“No,” he said, his eyes dark and hollow. “It was me. I killed him.” His shoulders shook as he cried silently.

Betram waited a moment before speaking. “I understand this is terrible, but we must know what happened.”

Although the story was at first confusing and disjointed, eventually with some probing questions, Korbin managed to get it out.

Treviia touched his sleeve. “You did the right thing, what he needed and wanted you to do.”

Octavia felt a mix of emotions. On one hand, Pang was gone, sent back to the realm she came from, and for that, Octavia was grateful. With the threats the Spirit of Light had made to Braetin, Octavia hoped the shadow goddess wouldn’t feel motivated to bring Pang back. Otherwise, Graiphen’s sacrifice would mean nothing.

“Tell me again what your father said at the end,” Betram said.

Korbin wiped his eyes and spoke with a hoarse voice, as though repeating the story again was even more painful than the first time. “‘
If you want to kill a Spirit, all its children must die first
.”

Treviia’s small eyes lit up as though an idea had occurred to her. “Where is the book?” she asked, glancing around the room. “Child of Darkness.”

Octavia retrieved the book from the small table near the door and handed it to the other conduit.

Treviia flipped through the pages. “I skimmed through most of it, although I confess I didn’t read closely. But I recall a passage…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes scanned page after page.

While they waited, Octavia held Korbin’s hand and squeezed it. His heartbreak was almost palpable, and she understood. He and his father had left so much unfinished. She knew that despite his anger, Korbin had hoped to reconcile, only to have that hope dashed time and time again.

“Here!” Treviia said, excitement in her eyes. “And the eight imprisoned Darkness, knowing they could not end him as long as his children lived. They gnashed their teeth in frustration, for from behind the veil, those children were out of reach.”

Octavia sat with her grim thoughts.

Betram interrupted. “You know we have to do it. Even with Pang gone and even if you find a way to send Braetin back to her own realm, none of it will mean anything unless we kill them all. They must be stopped from ever returning. Otherwise, what will stop their priests or even Zain himself from summoning the Spirits over again? If we do not put a final end to those creatures, they will continue to return to this world to feed on us.”

Gysella pinched her narrow face in disgust. “Are we now assassins?”

Octavia breathed in. Hadn’t she said much the same thing before? But she couldn’t hide from what she must do. “If we do not, Pang will return. To assume that Zain will not know how to summon her back is foolish. In fact, he may be doing so already.”

“I thought Trinity said only one portal could exist,” Korbin said.

“Maybe, but I would not like to assume there is no way. And Zain is not without power or resources. His mother isn’t dead, only temporarily evicted. He will do everything he can to seek revenge and restore her to power.”

“I don’t like the idea of killing.” Treviia blinked slowly, then closed her eyes again. “But we must do what we must.”

“He won’t be far,” Betram said. “His mother would have wanted him close.”

“Without a trace of his blood, we cannot seek him,” Gysella said.

Octavia steeled herself with determination. “Then we make him seek us.”

“How do we do that?” Betram eyed her.

“When I was in the temple of Braetin and wanted to speak to the goddess, she responded immediately to an offering of pain. These creatures are powerful and clever, yes, but they are also like wild animals, unable to resist certain lures. It could be Zain will respond to enticement. Although he is part human, he is barely removed from his mother’s influence and more like her than his human parents. He has no sense of restraint.”

Treviia’s wide face paled. “Pain? What kind of offering are you suggesting?”

Octavia shook her head. “Not pain. That was Braetin’s weakness. No, Pang feeds on pleasure, or more the rapture.”

Betram narrowed his eyes. “Yes. They feed on human emotions.”

“Yes, and those willingly given seem to feed them best. There is power in the offering.”

“But what do we do once we attract him here?” Gysella asked.

“We bind him,” Betram said. “We take some of his blood and bind his powers with it.”

Treviia’s voice shook when she asked, “Do we even really know what his powers are?”

“Some,” Octavia said. “I have felt his influence. It’s like he can control the blood of others without even needing to draw it. He changes people’s thoughts. He made a puppet of Nassore even before Pang possessed the prince. Her entering the boy’s body was merely to give her absolute control.”

Gysella tutted. “Imagine a conduit with no need to draw blood or perform rituals.”

“One with no sense of morality or the value of human life,” Octavia said. “He lives to serve and feed his mother and nothing else matters. He is worse than Seba ever was by a hundred fold.”

“Is it even possible to bind someone like that?” Gysella asked. “And how do we know he will even fall for such a trap? Is it not too obvious?”

“These are obvious creatures,” Octavia said. “They are primal at their core, and we can only hope he is distracted by the loss of both his mother, who guided his every step, and Nassore, who was his key to ascension. He was dominant over Nassore, but in every way, Pang was dominant over Zain. He will be scrambling to go on without her.”

Without warning, the door flew open again. Dula Merria entered without waiting for permission. She located Octavia and ran to her. “You must do something.”

“What do you need?” Octavia asked.

“It’s Zain. He’s declared himself emperor and he’s somehow convinced the three senators that came to confirm Nassore this morning to confirm him instead.”

Korbin furrowed his brow. “On what claim? He has no royal blood.”

The Dula shook her head. “He said Nassore was his mother’s vessel, and thus as her son, he is next in line, even over Jorek’s other children. He’s bewitched them all. You must help before it’s too late.”

Octavia stood and nodded, her thoughts grim. “Of course.” She looked to the other conduits. “You know what we must do?”

One by one, they agreed. She went to her desk and fetched a slim silver knife, then drew it across her palm, leaving a thin, red line of blood. She soaked a length of twine in her blood and then handed the knife and a clean piece of twine to Betram, who did the same, then Gysella and Treviia. All four smeared the remaining blood all over their left hands.

“What about me?” Korbin asked.

She gave him a tight smile. “No, not yet. You haven’t been trained for this. This is the strongest binding ritual we know and it should not be attempted by someone inexperienced.”

They followed the Dula out, and the four Kilovians spoke softly to one another, working out their plan until they arrived at a small altar room high on the fifth floor.

Merria stood aside, allowing them to enter first. “They’re in there,” she said.

Octavia nodded and the four Kilovians stepped inside, followed by Korbin.

Zain stood in front of the altar. The three senators knelt in front of him, looking at him with adoration. When he sensed the new arrivals’ presence, Zain looked up.

“You have saved me the trouble of coming to find you.” To Korbin he said, “You, I want to thank. You killed your father, the assassin who murdered Prince Nassore and drove away my mother.” To Octavia, “And you, you must be destroyed. I know what you are.”

With a nod to the other conduits, Octavia approached quietly. “That is not necessary. I come to offer myself. To worship.”

She removed the shawl that covered her ripped robe and let the covering drop to the ground. “I know I am not worthy.” With a signal to the others to follow, she added, “None of us are worthy.”

Zain stared at her torn robe, confused but excited. “You cannot persuade me,” he said quietly. With a twitch, he muttered, “Mother, what do I do?” so softly it was nearly inaudible.

“Can I not?” She smiled and knelt in front of him, between two of the senators. Reaching over, she touched one of the senators on the side of the face, smearing his skin with her blood. His eyes focused and he looked at her in horror as though just realizing she was there. “Back away slowly,” she said in a quiet sing-song tone. “It’s my turn to worship.”

“Yes,” Zain said quietly. “My mother said all would worship. It’s only right. That’s what she wanted.”

Betram followed her lead and smeared his blood on the skin of two of the other senators before leading them away. But Zain had his eyes fixed on Octavia.

She reached up a hand and ripped the rest of her robe completely open, baring her breasts. She closed her eyes and the other conduits knelt beside her. “We of the One know ways of pleasure you have not yet experienced.”

“You’d be surprised what I have experienced.” Zain’s eyes were dark but focused.

“Have you felt the pleasure of blood?”

Confusion passed over his face. “Blood? For what purpose?”