“I am merely giving you time to gather your emotions, Foretold One. I am not the enemy here. Far from it.”
“Could have fooled me.” I throw my hands in the air, willing my shadows to unleash upon her, but they don’t budge.
“Little umbra, let her speak.” Killian’s voice breaks through the veil of red-hot fury shrouding my mind, grounding me.
“She’s not saying anything, though. Just toying with us for her petty amusement.”
Ereshkygall’s sigh fills the chamber with a quiet exasperation, like a mother worn down by her child’s antics.
“The trials were not meant to hurt you. Their purpose was simply to keep the unworthy away. To keep me safe until your arrival.”
“And why all this ruse? Why do not come to us instead? Why would a mighty Goddess require safety?” I ask, confusion lacing with my anger, quieting down the rage inside me.
“She’s not a Goddess, umbra,” Killian answers in her place, his words slow and measured. “She’s a vampire. Much older than me.”
Ereshkygall nods, a small smile playing on her lips. I take her in more thoroughly. Her statuesque stillness, her unnatural beauty.
A fucking vampire.
“I never would have expected you to be the more sensible one this time around, my liege.”
“Killian, his name is Killian. Stop calling him that.”
She bows her head in acknowledgment, her calming stance irking me further.
“I apologize; I do not know your current names. Only the ones I used to call you.”
“And what did you use to call us?” Killian asks, genuine curiosity shining through.
“Friends, brothers and sisters, leaders, the ones we’d die to protect. Many of us indeed die for you.” Her longing glance at Allektriona’s statue doesn’t escape me.
“That’s not an answer, and you know it.”
She nods again, her fingers weaving into the folds of her dress.
“First, I need to tell you a story. No, not a story. Memories you have forgotten. The beginning.”
My jittery nerves flay me from the inside, making me feel like a raw, open wound awaiting a soothing balm of remembrance. I seek Killian’s hand on my waist and he squeezes my fingers in reassurance—a silent gesture that speaks volumes for my anxious mind. Whatever Ereshkygall throws our way, we’ll face it together.
“Back then, Imiryion was a battlefield. A cold, corrupt landscape where power was handed unequally and the forceful ones thrived on the pain and slaughter of the weak. Many aspired to seize power, but only one Fae creature wielded such dark magic as to make the whole realm tremble at the mere mention of his name.”
Ereshkygall’s fingers clench into white-knuckled fists, gripping her gown as if it’s physically painful to utter the next words.
“Arwan. The Dark Lord.”
The name bears no meaning to me, yet my shadows hiss in agitation, pooling at my feet and joining Killian’s crimson ones, as if they’re looking to pacify each other.
“He was a Dark Shadow-wielder, a sorcerer that used his magic to drain, to consume everything in his path. He left a trail of decay and desolation in his wake.”
Ereshkygall’s voice turns mournful, her gaze lost to times forgotten.
“No one dared to oppose his reign of terror. No male brave enough to face him, no female strong enough to deny him. His conquests were hollow shells of beings after he was done with them, many descending into madness or taking their own lives rather than bearing the shame of his violations. He spawned many discarded bastards, none bearing his powers. Until the cursed day he met her.”
“Akaori,” Killian breathes the word against my ear, and a shudder courses through my high-strung muscles.
“She was my friend since we could barely walk. A fierce flower of pure light that learned to grow thorns to survive in a world stained by violence. He became utterly obsessed with her. A human girl who would not bow down to his every twisted whim, whose spirit he could not break, no matter how vile his attempts were. He would alternate between rageful abuse and promises of devotion, but she did not yield.”
A lonesome silver-nuanced tear glides down Ereshkygall’s cheek, and she makes no move to wipe it away. Her quiet pain melts away the last remnant of my wrath, leaving only a cold emptiness inside. This story does not have a happy ending; that much I know.
