Each of them in their own specially curated cells, each of them forced to pay the price for their indiscretions. But none of them, save for Dorid Yaarborough and Inasha Celentas, had committed crimes against the Goddess of Life.
And for those crimes…
All Aziel felt was euphoria.
Seeing them chained together, surrounded by his demons, brought him the most joy he’d felt in days.
Oran kept it very original, it seemed. There was a simple line across their father’s throat, matching the one that Inasha bore on her own. But that was where the similarities between the two of them ended. Inasha, even in her state of decay, still wore thatproud smirk, her brow lifted as if she knew something he didn’t. Dorid, on the other hand…
If he had any piss in his body, it would have been all over the floor by now. The thought, alone, made him chuckle.
“How did it work for you in the end, old man?” Aziel drawled, lazily flicking ash from his rolled tobacco onto the earthen floor. “With no dick to piss from, how did it work?” Dorid’s mouth moved up and down like a fish out of water, his eyes bulging as they flickered between the demons. “It wasn’t a rhetorical question.”
Dorid blanched. “A-a h-hole. There was a a h-hole left.”
“Tragic.”
The older male gave a half-nod, fear alight and brilliant in his blue eyes. “Quite.”
“Tragic that I didn’t get to sit around and watch you suffer for the worst of it.” Aziel amended. “But I suppose there is still time for that, yet.”
Aziel turned to the men that were still standing guard, taking in their expectant gazes, all of them seemingly eager to deliver that first round of punishment. The demons that worked with Aziel were not the sort of demons people believed them to be. They were not serpentine creatures with forked tongues and tails. They looked fae, really. With their pointed ears and sharpened teeth. The horns that curled out of their heads were of various colors, but none of them were quite as dark or as large as Aziel’s. A crown, Teigh had called them, a way for people to know who ruled this realm.
“I have other important matters to attend to at the moment.” Aziel declared, already walking towards the door of the cell. “My friends here will be taking care of you while I am away. If there is anything you need, I’m sure they will be more than happy to deny you of it.”
The demons didn’t even wait for him to close the cell door before they descended upon Inasha and Dorid. As he walked through the darkened pits of hell, Aziel smiled and listened to the duet of screams that could be heard over all of the others. He had years to hear them in person and, true to his word, had far more pressing matters to oversee.
He emerged from the Otherworld upon the parapet at the top of Thorn’s palace. He watched, eyes squinted against the evening sun, as Dorid and Everand’s men continued and failed to attack the swarm of undead.
Their white, decaying bodies were surprisingly strong. All muscle and magic. Though he would have liked to feel proud in a moment like this, he felt absolutely nothing at all. Those roots in his chest, the ones that seemingly only heeded to Nymiria’s command, were pulsing. They dug through his skin, piercing through any part of him that felt anything at all.
No pride.
No morbid satisfaction. No anger. No joy.
Dorid and Everand’s men were dropping left and right, dark and decayed roots bursting from the soil as each body fell, coiling around them and tugging them back through the surface. The thick stench of blood and gore filled the air, tinged with the soft undertone of upturned earth. Aziel’s fingers twitched around the hilt of a phantom blade, a deep-rooted response to the sight of battle.
He hadn’t graced a battlefield since his nineteenth year, but the desire to charge that field and deliver well-deserved deaths was unfathomable. Beside him, a plume of shadows emerged, depositing a stone-faced Trio at his side. They watched the onslaught in an eerie silence, the sort of silence that usually accompanied such catastrophic events.
“There are whispers of a truce in the camps.” Trio said, finally, turning away from the scene before them. If not for the slightupturn of the corner of his mouth, one would not have thought Aziel was paying Trio any mind. He rested his elbows upon the half-wall of the turret, eyes following the Alvarian soldiers that were now attempting to retreat.
He would have thought it tragic on a generous day, but his generosity was exhausted. He’d used it all and hardly had a thing to show for his kindness, especially when it came to those who proved themselves to be undeserving of it.
“Fiernan’s troops have arrived and are awaiting orders on Yaar’s coast and O’Shea. Even if they chose to flee, the likelihood of any of the soldiers making it off this island without struggle is very low.” Trio continued. “Should I give Fiernan the permission to send them forward?”
“Not yet,” Aziel said, finally tearing his eyes away from the battle to face his friend. “We leave for Yaar tonight.”
Though he tried not to be worried, it was proving rather difficult. Until now, Trio didn’t think that other gods would be a threat to his friend. He believed Aziel to be untouchable, that the chances of another god wanting to go to war with their people and bring an end to his friend were slim to none. In fact, the thought hadn’t crossed his mind at all until recent weeks.
Whatever plans Nymiria and Aziel had concocted during their day spent locked away in their room, it seemed to have inspired a vengeance in his friend that he’d only seen twice before—once when he lit his hands ablaze and forced Dorid to watch as they burned. And the second time being when Aziel charged into that throne room and swiftly removed Dorid’s cock from his body.
As if sensing Trio’s worries, Aziel placed a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “This is ourhome, Trio.” He said simply. “The only regret I would ever have is allowing anyone to take this away from the people who live here. I will stop at nothing to ensure that you and everyone else has a placeto call home when all of this is over. We fought too hard for it, just to let it all go now.”
Though it seemed as if he were speaking of Eadyn, Trio was aware that Aziel meant something far more than intended. For eleven years, the center of his thoughts revolved around a princess of a kingdom he’d longed to be a part of. Even as children, Aziel told grand tales of his mother’s home and her people—how Nym had been the strongest Mystic kingdom for well-over two millenia. He told of his late-night quests through Yaar’s Wander, his frantic run through the choking vines, and how, one of those long and lonely nights spent watching the kingdom of Nym from afar, he’d seen the princess in all of her glory. She’d spoken to him, a young Aziel had bragged.
He’d lamented over their interaction for weeks. But as years passed and the kingdom in which they lived grew darker and darker, Aziel spoke less and less of the young princess who captivated him in those dark woods. Still, when the people of Yaar spoke of the young courtesan who had captivated Dorid Yaarborough’s heart, his eyes would still gleam with a secret hope he carried deep in his core.
Trio wanted Aziel to know that he’d always been worthy. Regardless of what his father believed him to be, Aziel wasgood. He grew into a man—agod—that refused to let justice fail. He cared for people. He protected them. And Nymiria only seemed to make all of those hidden vulnerabilities come to the surface.
