Yesterday, Emeriel had felt intoxicated in a way he never had before. He had floated in a kind of soothing euphoria he’d never known, all because his Beloved had drunk from him. It was a strange lightness. Blissful. Relaxing.
He had woken afterward, in the forbidden chamber, the beast’s arm draped protectively over him.
And now, they would execute him.
“Don’t, don’t,” Aekeira pleaded, but it was too late.
Sobs ripped from Emeriel’s throat, agonizing cries that echoed his internal torment. Tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless.
Aekeira whispered helplessly, pulling him into a tight embrace.
“It hurts,” he gasped, his body shaking as he clung to Aekeira, his voice breaking. “Like someone is sawing at my limb.”
“It’s alright, it’s alright. I am here for you,” Aekeira soothed, her own voice trembling as she fought back her tears. “Let it all out.”
“No, she should not.” Madam Livia stood silhouetted against the torchlight, her expression stern. “What are you two doing here?”
They sprang apart, staring at the older woman guiltily.
“Do you wish to be burned alive?” Livia’s voice was sharp, though a hint of concern softened her words. “Aekeira, why are you encouraging him to cry and attract the soldiers? You two should not be here.”
“Madam Livia…” Emeriel cried hoarsely, but she cut him off with a raised hand.
“Enough. Back to your rooms, now.” Emeriel shook his head in protest.
“Go now,” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You are far from Blackstone, and it’s not safe. Come, I will lead you back to your rooms.”
With a final, shuddering sob, he allowed Aekeira to guide him away. Together, they followed the head maid back to the safety of their quarters.
GRAND LORD ZAIPER
Zaiper stood tall at the podium, his eyes sweeping over the crowd assembled before him. The vast expanse of faces was illuminated by torchlight. He could barely contain the triumphant grin tugging at his lips.
His heart swelled with such joy that he had to fight the urge to whistle a merry tune. With effort, he composed his features into a mask of cool authority. Tonight was a night for celebration.
Finally.
After tonight, he would be one giant step closer to claiming the grand throne.
To his right, Ottai’s shoulders slumped in mourning, sadness and desolation etched on his face. On his left, Vladya remained his usual enigmatic self, but Zaiper could sense the tension radiating from him. The male was a coiled spring, ready to snap.
As they waited for the soldiers to complete their preparations – ensuring everyone was seated and the pathways were clear – Zaiper’s eyes settled on three healers seated across from them.
They were the ones responsible for concocting the poisons that had been administered to the beast earlier in the day, weakening its strength. Now, the lead healer carefully coated three ceremonial daggers with a fresh batch of venom.
Zaiper could already envision how this night would end. He could almost taste the power that awaited him. It was intoxicating. Exhilarating.
And the anticipation was killing him.
“My dearest people,” he rose, addressing the crowd. “We gather here tonight to pay our final respects and bid farewell to our grand ruler. Tonight, he will officially join our ancestors in the realm beyond.”
Zaiper’s heightened senses caught the soft sounds of weeping from the crowd, but he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“Soldiers, bring forth the beast,” he commanded.
The sound of doors creaking open was followed by the rattle of chains. Ten soldiers emerged, laboriously carrying a massive cage made of reinforced steel, designed to withstand tremendous force. Inside, the colossal beast lay motionless.
Zaiper noted the numerous darts embedded in the beast’s hide, the tools used to subdue and weaken it. And it had worked.
Though they lacked the power of the Eclipse Moon, Daemonikai’s legendary beast had been reduced to the state of a mere animal, stripped of its power and menace.
As he gazed upon the creature, Zaiper could scarcely believe this was the same beast that had overpowered him and his own beast on countless occasions, more times than he cared to admit. Tonight was his night.
He could almost taste the victory.
LAST CHAPTER FOR PART 1.
GRAND LORD VLADYA
Vladya’s fists clenched, then slowly unfurled as the soldiers secured the cage in the center of the arena. Zaiper’s voice droned on like a litany, reciting rituals and traditions Vladya didn’t want to hear.
He had spent the night going over ancient texts. The complex lines of the Xaa’l Tbeh Zeek spell ran through his mind. Even now, he traced the sigils with his thoughts, rehearsing what was to come.
The air, thick with sorrow and anguish, threatened to suffocate him. The wails of the women echoed loudly, like a mourning chorus that made Vladya’s gut clench.
Zaiper remained indifferent as he continued with the rituals.
After the readings came the moment of execution, where Daemonikai would be killed forever.
But not on Vladya’s watch. Not if he had anything to say about it.
He could feel the power of Xaa’l Tbeh Zeek thrumming beneath his skin. The forbidden spell was ready to be unleashed.
Vladya had no idea what he had been expecting after the beast drank from the boy. But as the hours passed and the time for Daemon to be eliminated drew closer, the feeling of disappointment grew almost crippling.
It irritated him. They had agreed long ago that miracles did not happen. Vladya had been a fool to think that one might occur from a mere bloodfeeding.
“And now,” Zaiper’s voice boomed through the arena, “we proceed with the termination.” He gestured to the healers. “Bring forth the blades.”
The healers emerged, their faces pale and drawn, bearing three ceremonial daggers on velvet cushions, their poisoned tips glinting in the firelight. Each Grand Lord accepted their weapon.
Rising from their thrones in a synchronized move, their heavy robes swirled around them like cloaks.
One by one, they descended the steps into the arena, their footsteps sounding like a heavy drum in the quiet night. Vladya gripped the hilt of the cold metal dagger. The execution was brutally simple. They would approach the cage, partially shift into their beast forms, and plunge the dagger deep into the feral’s abdomen.
As they neared the cage, Vladya initiated the first step of the mind exchange ritual. Opening his mind, he began to hum a low, resonant tune. A deafening thunderclap ripped through the tensed arena, shaking its very foundations.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, growing into cries of mourning and grief. As if in answer, a bolt of lightning split the sky, momentarily illuminating the place. Another thunderclap, even louder than the first, shook the earth.
Then, the beast stirred.
The grand lords froze. Their gazes locked onto the form within the cage. Despite the veil of darkness that cloaked the arena, the feral’s movements were unmistakable.
“He… moved?” Ottai’s voice cracked, his eyes widening as he turned to Zaiper. “I thought you said the darts had done their job?”
“Of course they did,” Zaiper said confidently. “Three vials of iron shards dissolved in a solution infused with scented leaves from Abaddin.”
The beast raised its massive head. The chains around its limbs clinked as it slowly straightened. A collective gasp rose from the audience. Those who had been slouching in their seats leaned forward, their eyes fixed on the feral.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the arena.
The first drops of rain began to fall. The gentle patter on the stone was barely heard over the hushed whispers of the crowd.
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