Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

HACO

M etallic-tasting dark magic filled my lungs with every intake of breath, causing my throat to reflexively gag the longer we stayed down here. As a God, I didn't need to breathe but being accustomed to such a mortal trait was a hard habit to break when we had done it for thousands of years.

We'd wanted to experience this world for all it had to offer, after all. The joy, the pain, the heartbreak—the delight and anguish never tasted so sweet in all our years of existence until we had come down to the mortal realm of the living.

Now I wanted nothing more than to be free of the metaphorical chains we put on by binding ourselves to this horrid place. I'd rather watch from the skies above than spend another moment within this realm. But what else did we expect when we defied our Creators? And that selfish act of the Blood Oath punished us time and time again. The karma of the stars was a beautiful thing when that karma wasn't directed your way. Or we could blame the Fates. After all, they and karma were one and the same, their tricky webs intertwining.

And as fate played out, I couldn't stop the incessant thought that none of this would have happened if we hadn't bound ourselves to the original Choryrth, promising to stop the darkness from taking over his world. Even with our presence, that darkness still remained all these years later, so our Blood Oath was an act of pure selfishness. We hadn't followed through on that promise of protection.

We had only seen that dark magic from the Divine, never intervening with the mortals that possessed it and pushed it onto others. The first time we encountered it was the night of the Moons of the Divine thousands of years ago when we made that Oath. In our exhilaration of being freed from the heavens, we had assumed that killing the Raken and the one who created them was enough, but now the mortal realm was paying for our sins.

Defying the Creators wasn't our intention, but intentions could be damned for all they cared. Now every breath was painful, every movement caused my body to bleed our blessed blood upon the cool stones as we took our punishment. The world was in utter chaos, unraveling by the second, and it was our doing. We deserved the torment being inflicted upon us but the mortal realm did not.

Real chains made of iron and a mix of Medies magic and something darker, more potent that should not be roaming this earth, tightened against my bound arms, searing my chest. My scales sizzled, the burning agony of that corrupt magic making even my bones ache. I didn't hiss from the distress despite the way my body shook in rage from being held captive and at this cruel king's mercy.

We were fucking Gods but here all nine of us were, trapped within a cage and waiting for the High King to move on with his plan to sacrifice his son and kill us all. We had yet to see the King of Atrium again, not since he had put us within these confines and left us at the hands of his undead creations.

Reombarth, with her dull purple scales no longer glistening, couldn't hold back the screech of irritation as the branding iron was shoved against her thigh by one of the foul creatures. Her scales were made to withstand the heat, and yet the iron burned her flesh with every touch. We didn't know why, but we assumed that the dark powers of Infernum blocked our ability to use or repel any magic or threat.

Within this cold place, we were no longer the Gods of the Divine. We were just mortals being tortured at the hands of monsters.

The Raken's sunken black eyes seemed to fall deeper into their rotting skulls the more time we spent down here. They stayed in the shadows, watching us with their dead black eyes when they weren't antagonizing us. Their faces twisted and contorted into happy, gleeful expressions while they taunted us with differing forms of abuse that would not heal while we were trapped.

Rocks shattered around the small cage as the mountain shook from within and the stench of sulfur burned my snout. I shuffled my aching wings again but it was no use because even if they were not bound, we could not move with how close we were stuck together. Rounded up into too small of a cage and treated worse than cattle.

A large, scarred dragon head came into my side view, moving to sit on its haunches directly in front of my spot within this dirty cage. Ebony scales with purple mixed in between and a torn nostril on his left side matched the scarred membrane of his wing. He growled low in his throat, turning those sinister eyes on me. My golden gaze burned into his black one and I couldn't move—couldn't think because of who sat before me.

All thoughts of karma went out the window because even she couldn't be this cruel. Couldn't be this wrong.

Reaching out through our bond, I spoke Belindo, into his mind, only for the call to go unanswered. Belindo! I shouted down it again as I moved against the iron that burned my scales, flailing around haphazardly.

My son tilted his head at me in curiosity, studying me with his coal-like eyes as if he could almost make out my cry for him. Belindo! I urged again, my wings straining against their confines. Please! Answer me! His eyes stayed steadily on mine but he made no movement towards me, had no expression upon his powerful maw.

Great Divine, he looked exactly the same.

My son , I tried to speak down our bond once more but to no avail.

The dark purple and ebony scales flashed in the light as a Raken walked with a torch along the perimeter of the cage. His hulking body was littered with small scars from battles fought throughout his long life and he still had that same gash in his nostril from sparring with Cadmus. He looked identical to the last time I had seen him, everything exactly the same except for his eyes. They were no longer the mirror image of my own golden ones, but ones of the same darkness that bound us here, eyes of possession and tainted magic.

The dragon before me was no longer the son I had raised but something altered by the Medies mixed with the powers of Infernum . He had golden blood running through his veins but with each passing second, it grew darker into a polluted sludge instead. The possession shouldn't have been possible with Medies alone but with the Demon King's Crown in the High King's grasp, he could make even those with Godly blood bow to his every whim.

Belindo bared his fangs at me as his snout lifted in disgust at my broken and bruised form. Pushing against the restraints, I tried to get closer to the dragon with a permanent scowl on his face that replaced the usual swaggering he embodied.

Blood of my blood.

His jaw only opened wider, either unable to hear my call through the magic holding us, or just ignoring it completely. MY SON! I bellowed while the bones in my wings snapped from the pressure of the chains. Reombarth screamed out in agony again—or was it Ragnar taking the abuse? I didn't care any longer about our suffering.

I needed to get to my son, needed to stop this darkness before it took every part of his once bright soul. "Belindo!" I tried to belt out but the muzzle that encased my jaw kept me from forming his name. Golden tears fell upon the bloody ground as I cried out for my son to come back to me rather than this creature of darkness that was stealing his soul.

Belindo's maw snapped shut, only his long reptilian tongue slithering out to lick the scars that littered it. His eyes flashed from onyx to the familiar gilded color and back to murky obscurity again within a second. For a moment, I thought he had come back to me, that he was strong enough to fight the dark magic pushing his soul out, but as quickly as that hope came, it was snuffed out by his snarling.

The familiar scent of burning flesh seared my nostrils as I fought against the bindings further. Maybe if I tried harder, or fought rougher, he would return. That small flash of gold told me he was in there but the dark entity in his place had control of him and his power. " BELINDO! " my voice cracked from my muffled maw but it was no use as he bared his teeth at me.

My son was gone and only darkness remained in his place.

The dragon who was no longer my son opened his large jaw and I could see the fire building in his throat, getting closer and closer until a stream of smoke billowed from his mouth, from his nose, from every orifice of his body. His black eyes narrowed onto mine as he took a step closer, fire still building to a raging inferno just waiting to be released into this cursed world.

Tensing against its onslaught, I didn't know how my own power would affect me now that I no longer had it. Would it burn and sting? Would I turn to ash or would it just feel like a warm shower of lava like it always did?

"Blood of my blood, it is okay," I spoke the soft words, barely moving my razor-sharp teeth that were held captive by the muzzle. "I know you do not know what you are doing." I could not blame him for this possession of his mighty body. Couldn't blame him for what he was about to do to his own maker.

Belindo's slitted pupils engorged as the golden hue took over and the fire ceased in his throat. Hope flooded through me, the feeling so light compared to the despair. "My son." I wanted nothing more than to reach out a claw and caress his snout, to thank our mighty Creators for bringing him back to me. "My Belindo."

His eyes flashed black for the final time before he lunged through the iron bars and straight for my throat.