Endure (49 page)

“No!” I said, holding him back. “Go help the others.”

Tiki growled and ran in the opposite direction, his claws tearing through a Kivrakai in his path.

Darius’s magic was ripe. Streaks of purple among swarms of black, and he tossed it toward me with a riptide of force. I pulled a wall of stone up in front of me to block the attack. His dark power consumed it, shattering it to pieces, but it left me unscathed.

The wall sat in crumbled pieces at my feet, leaving no obstacle between us, and I pulled the glass blade from my back. The sword glistened like an icicle, dark veins thick within the blade.

“A sword? Really?” He laughed.

Another streak of black magic flew toward me and I used the sword to block it. The weapon came to life, pulsing with life and warmth. It sucked the power out of the air and the blade became filled with darkness. It whirled inside for a moment before vanishing, and new power swelled in my hands, moving up my arm and into my soul. With Darius’s power absorbed by the blade and thrust into my soul, the smirk fell from his face.

“Not just any blade,” I said.

I slashed left, then right, but Darius was faster than I’d anticipated. He dodged each strike with a boxer’s poise and cracked his knuckles against my face. My head snapped to the side and I came back swinging, this time with magic.

Lightning snapped inside my fist, making impact against his ribcage. The power flashed and he dropped to his knees. White power rippled across him in arcs, jolts of it branching off and sending shocks throughout his body. I followed through with air, using it to pin him to the earth.

“Fool! You waste your efforts. You cannot kill me. Hurt me, weaken me if you must, but you will never be able to truly defeat me. We have won. This is over,
brother
.” He spat the last word up at me, his magic struggling to break my hold, but he wasn’t strong enough to overpower me. We were of equal magic, but I had one distinct advantage.

“You’re right about one thing. This
is
over.”

I lifted the blade above my head and drove it deep into his chest. Darius gritted his teeth, trying not to scream. His face scrunched, creasing his eyes and forehead. His mouth was curled in a snarl and his eyes were locked on me. The blade pulsed with unknown magic and Darius’s eyes opened wide, the lines on his face smoothing away.

“What is this magic?” he gasped. His head fell back against the earth and his eyes searched my face.

“You and I are the same, brother,” I smirked. “We are both strong and both powerful, but this is a weapon of the gods, the only power that destroys us—godly magic undiluted.”

Darius shook his head, whispering to himself. “No…no…this isn’t possible.”

Blood spilled out around the blade and ran down to the ground. The blade pulsed again and black magic seeped into the blade.

“Brother,” Darius whispered, but I didn’t reply. The blade sucked the life force from his body, emptying his soul. When the blade was filled with darkness, power jolted into my arms and down to my soul. The liquid syphoned out of the blade and returned its transparent form.

I pulled the sword out, letting the blood drip to the earth. Drake appeared by Darius’s side and fell to his knees. He grabbed Darius’s hand and touched the side of his face. “Brother, brother, I am here.”

Darius’s energy was almost completely gone, leaving him with just enough to turn his head and acknowledge Drake. “I’m…sorry, brother…”

Drake shook his head. “No, no, don’t be sorry. Be here with me. Be here, brother.”

There was nothing left. Darius’s pale complexion faded to a dull gray and his skin broke. Cracks formed like a timeless statue and orange and red embers ate away at his flesh.

“Darius, no, this isn’t possible.” Drake’s tears were black, running down his face. He looked up at me, and where I expected anger and rage, there was only sadness. “Chase…brother, why?”

Drake was experiencing loss for the first time since his father. The loss of a loved one, a fate his actions had put upon me time and time again. I felt an ounce of pity in that moment, but when Rayna screamed, that pity vanished.

She’d regained control, her whip drawn and swinging across the air. One Visceratti fell into the portal in a blend of ash and flame, while the remaining two opposed Rayna. I had the thought to scale the cliff and help her, but that thought was vanquished as the portal shuddered along the ground, releasing a primordial sound.

Dozens of hands covered in black goop stretched from the darkness, digging into the dirt. Black slime flailed as more hands shot outward, and the creatures dragged themselves free from the portal’s grasp.

I had expected Ithreal, or Riley, or some form of the two, but this was neither. As though they’d been dipped in oil, liquid dripped down the creatures’ skin. Their eyes were solid red, glowing like flaming rubies. They were short, only four feet tall, and the noises that came from their mouths were sharp. Two fangs hung from each corner of their mouths, leaving the rest a red gum-lined grin. Two short, serrated swords were lined along their backs, and once they were on their feet, the weapons were drawn.

The demons moved in short jerky movements, each step heavy enough to imprint into the ground. They ran forward without bias, destroying everything in their path. Visceratti were dropped with a single blade, and our own hunters fell limp to the ground with barely a poke, but nothing died or turned to ash. The black goo that covered their blades moved like a
symbiote
into their wounds and their bodies shuddered back to life. With eyes glowing red, all the teeth collapsed from their mouths, replaced by fangs. The dead snake-demons, Kivrakai, and even the hunters rose like a demonic army, moving with the same erratic movements and killing everything that neared them.

“What the hell are those?” I asked.

Drake stood beside me, two black streaks staining his face. I had expected him to lash out at me and try to steal the blade, but he didn’t. He stared at the creatures stomping across the battlegrounds and wiped away his tears. “Ithreal’s Unborn—unfinished demons from an unfinished world.”

A burst of light flared above and another demon fell off the cliff, leaving Rayna to face off solely against the new Queen.

Air elements battled each other as Marcus and Blackwell’s battle went on. Blackwell hung in the air, and his salt-and-pepper mustache twitched. I couldn’t hear Marcus’s voice, but I saw Marcus mouth an apology before swinging his blade. Marcus looked saddened, staring at Blackwell’s dead body, but that wasn’t the end of Blackwell. The black ooze that dripped from Ithreal’s Unborn crept along the earth, crawling over his body and revitalizing him as a new demon. Any dent we had made in the battle was now lost. Ithreal’s magic had built him a new army out of fallen warriors.

The portal screeched again, but this time the hands that clawed out of the darkness were not black ooze. They were the palest I’d ever seen, and the dark veins that rippled beneath them were thick. Blond hair was matted and caked with black chunks, and my father hurled himself over the edge. He rolled across the earth, clawing his way free of the portal’s grasp. With heavy breaths he shook chunks of oil from his body and clambered to his feet. Bones cracked on the air as he stretched his arms and twisted his body. He examined his hands, moving his fingers one after another, and then he smiled. His black gaze panned the frontlines, his smile growing wider, and then he found Drake.

It was at that moment I realized that wasn’t my father at all. It was his body, but not his soul. An inhuman aura moved around him, his shirtless body rippling with demonic muscles and veins. His feet were bare, leaving only tattered pants to cover him. Power stretched from his back, a hundred arms of power pulsing in waves around his body. This was the demon god himself, his essence fused with my father’s soul. This was Ithreal.

Chapter 37

Ithreal strutted toward us like a man enjoying the scenery. He smiled at the dead bodies he passed, his power plunging into them. His fanged mouth widened as they came to life, reborn with demonic authority. All of Ithreal’s Unborn, including those who’d been turned, stopped fighting and flocked toward him. They hovered around him like a following of awestruck fans, bowing at his feet.

The war had ground to a halt and everyone watched as the god moved across the earth. The arms reached out from his back, coddling and touching each of his children. As he approached, his eyes were locked on Drake.

“My son, it has been too long,” his voice rumbled in his throat, raspy and deep.

Drake dropped to one knee, bowing down to Ithreal. He whispered what sounded like a prayer, and then he nodded. “Yes, my king, my father, it has.”

“Tell me something, son,” Ithreal brought a hand to his chin, as if pondering a query. “I gave you the tools to win a war. I gave you creatures of immense capabilities, and I allowed you to lead them into battle. Yet you lost to the fragile humans of Earth, in what can only be described as a pitiful attempt. I’m an intelligent god. I had enough sense to predict such a failure, and so I tried to break the Circle of Light’s barrier myself, but not without first giving you the utensils to free me should the gods intervene. Yet another outcome I predicted. You see, I’ve given you everything to succeed, and yet you continue to fail me. Why is that?”

Drake looked nervous and surprised. He searched his father’s face as if to find some sign of humor, but there was none.

“Father, I’m not sure I understand. I have not failed you. I have brought you back as we planned. I have succeeded.”

The quizzical look didn’t fade from Ithreal’s face and my stomach tensed. I had half a mind to drive the glass blade through him where he stood, but his children had surrounded us, some going as far as creeping between us in order to be closer to the god.

“Thousands of years!” Ithreal’s voice became the wind. A harsh storm that circled around us and cut across my skin. “Millennia I’ve waited in darkness, and here I am in a mere hunter’s body!” He snapped his jaw, his fangs smashing against one another. “And my true form sits down there, bound by the gods themselves.” He crouched down, looking eye to eye with Drake. “Do you know what it is like to be trapped in an unfinished world, son?” He laughed. “Of course you don’t. You’ve been up here frolicking among the filthy half-things with your brother. How silly of me.”

“Father, that’s no—”

“Silence!” he commanded, and all his children cried out. “You will address me as your king. I prepare you a throne among the gods and I lay out a map for you to take it. I put my faith in the wrong soldier it would seem.”

“My king…” Drake lowered his head again, his hands shaking. When his father didn’t silence him, he lifted his gaze. “I did not do this for a throne. I did this for you, my father.”

Ithreal looked at Drake, confusion twisting his features. When Drake reached out to touch his feet, he kicked forward. Drake’s head snapped back and he was immediately on the ground looking up at the slimy creatures that hovered around him. Ithreal’s foot rested on Drake’s chest and an arm of magic pressed against his throat. In the shape of a blade, it cut across Drake’s skin and blood ran down his neck.

“What are you blabbering about? For me, for family? Don’t disgust me with such emotions. Those are from your mother, and your mother was weak!”

The fear in Drake’s eyes settled and anger took over. “We did all of this for you. To bring you back to us. This was not about power, it was
always
about family.”

“You will be silent! There is nothing but power, you imbecile. You are my blood, just as they are.” Ithreal signaled the black-covered creatures that surrounded him. “You are all my children, and as such, you bow to me, you obey me, and you believe what I believe. There will be no other mention of weakness.”

A glassy wall of black had built up inside Drake’s eyes. He looked shattered; his entire world had just collapsed around him.

Ithreal shook his head, kicking his son to the side. Drake rolled over several times, curling into a ball from the force.

“You bore me with your sentiment. Where is your brother, Darius? He understands what this is about. He understands the power that’s been stolen from us and the thrones in which all my children deserve.”

“He’s dead,” I said. I didn’t know where the words came from but I was angry. Fire had ignited my soul and crept along my throat, burning the back of my mouth. Sweat trickled down my forehead and the taste of blood and salt seasoned my lips.

Ithreal scowled. His eyes panned the people around him and finally settled on me. “You dare speak to me?” his raspy voice snapped. “Who are you? Wait, don’t tell me.” He closed his eyes and began humming an unfamiliar tune. His head tilted from side to side, he nodded, and then looked back at me. “Oh…you’re the son.”

Ithreal walked toward me and with each step he neared, I stepped away. Anger bubbled inside me and sweat filled my palms. The rubber grip was all that kept the glass blade from slipping out of my hand.

“So this is the Protector, is it?” He stopped and eyed me from head to toe. “A young boy, full of emotion and…fear? Is that fear I smell?” Ithreal cringed and wiped his hands on his pants. “You’re the vessel that will take me to the gods? How disappointing.”

“I’m not taking you anywhere. I’m the one who’s going to stop you.” I sounded more confident than I felt. Even with Darius’s magic surging inside me, I felt nervous.