He is a dark angel named Taiven Nostra, head of the Nostra Empire, to which thousands of dark creatures owe their allegiance. He is the power behind other dark powers, controlling other families, clans, and packs—even influencing humans—from the shadows.
His skin is luminescent, his irises are golden like mine, and his feathery, black wings are tucked regally to his sides. Every angle of his face is so flawlessly smooth that he could be made of light, not darkness.
Currently, he stands not more than five paces away from us, positioned slightly behind Emil.
“Poor Daughter,” Taiven croons, his melodic voice a grating hum in the echoey chamber. “To discover that your true enemy was right beside you all along, holding your hand, giving you false comfort and feigned protection.”
His gaze flickers toThe Book of Dark Magic, which now lies on the floor to my left.
I thought I could take the book in an act that was intended to strike at the heart of my father’s power, leaving him anchorless and directionless without its guidance.
He was the one who had my mother imprisoned when she was six months pregnant with me.
All because of his belief that I am an evil being that should never have existed. He was the reason I spent so many years in a dark cell with no fresh air and no natural light.
I came here to this crypt to walk a path that would shatter my father’s power.
Now, I’m trapped with two of the most dangerous men in existence, both of whom are my enemies.
While my father speaks, Emil’s focus is entirely on me. One of his big hands is wrapped around the back of my neck, and his fiery eyes compel me not to look away from him.
He’s strong enough to snap my neck if he wants to.
He is the keeper of dark magic. For thousands of years, he was confined within his realm—his only purpose was to gather up the magic of dark creatures when they died. He tethered the remnant power of witches, warlocks, dark shifters, demons, and deadly mythological creatures.
All of that magic was siphoned into his metal crown, which he now wears in the form of a ring around the forefinger of his left hand.
With it, he can harness the power of every dark creature whose magic he bound to it. He can create illusions, use compulsion to get what he wants, harness the power of nature, and drain life to feed his dark magic. He can take the form of any dark creature: a devil, a blue-skinned draugr, a demon of smoke and ash, a fiery dragon, a dark wolf, a wicked warlock.
His power is immense and endless.
But his deal with me binds him to me. In exchange for the power in my heart that freed him to walk this Earth, he has promised me vengeance, and he made it clear thathowI achieve that vengeance is up to me.
I’m certain that it’s only because of our deal that he has remained kneeling where he is.
He has the power to translocate himself out of here in the blink of an eye—and yet he remains.
Even as his body breaks with every growing crack within my heart.
My father circles around behind him, angling to position himself between me and the only way out of this chamber—a single, wooden door that’s curved in an arch at the top and opens outward from this room. It’s a solid forty paces away from me. Far enough that my father could easily strike me down before I could reach it.
Where he stands now, both he and Emil are facing me.
My father clicks his tongue and shakes his head at me, his smile growing. “Poor,poorDaughter. How can you possibly hope to survive now?”
His confidence isn’t false.
He controls the keeper of light magic. Somehow, he must have freed her from her realm, just as I freed Emil.
Because I’m a creature of the dark, her light magic can strip the flesh from my body and burn me to my very bones.
Right now, she slumps against the stone wall to my far right, at least thirty paces away. Her form appears insubstantial, fading in and out of view, disappearing completely for long seconds before it becomes clear again.
Her eyes are empty, golden orbs and her arms hang at her sides. Her labored breathing causes her to sway from side to side against the rock at her back. She’s wearing golden armor while a curved blade rests in a harness that’s visible at her left shoulder, the weapon’s edge rasping against the wall with every shuddering breath she takes.
As for the rest of the room, it’s circular and stretches at least seventy paces in each direction.
Despite the room’s size, the ceiling is low, not high enough to fly around inside.
