Chapter 36

Chapter

Thirty-Six

Nia pressed her face into Lore’s chest. “I’m trying to summon my power to help, but it won’t happen. I can’t lose my family, Lore. I can’t!”

“You aren’t losing anyone.” He held her tightly, his fury seeping into her.

“Nate, Eshana, and Rania are the only ones who can defeat this,” Michael said, jaw set in resolute lines. “If we mess this up, we will lose the fight—lose everything —no matter who I call for aid. She must release her abilities along with her siblings to form the trinity needed.”

Lore froze, his expression grim. “Let me aid you, Nia.”

With a shuddering breath, she nodded. Her siblings stretched their hands out once more, forming a triad. Nate’s power emitted easily, as did Echo’s.

Swallowing hard, Nia lowered her shields again, seeking that flicker of energy, and fought desperately to hold on and set it free?—

I’ve never done this before, not like this.

I know. I’m here. I’ll help you, Lore’s calm voice slipped through her mind, his warmth soothing her frazzled edges. This isn’t like when you get upset and can absorb all of a being’s powers. This time, you must guide it out. This is to join.

Another deep inhale, and she released her mental blocks, delving deeper to her sparking powers. The psychic energy flared brighter, then it slid through her.

That’s it, my love. Now, set it free. Lore continued to help her direct her volatile power. It emerged from her outstretched hands in a raging wave of red sparks, connecting to Nate’s and Echo’s simultaneously?—

Their minds connected.

Electricity buzzed through her head in a haze of white noise and a prism of colors. It felt as if her entire being was rising upward, and she lost all track of everything, caught in the power of the trance…

Lore stood behind his terrified mate, calming her and giving her his strength as she eased into what she had to do. While he had aided Echo during her lessons to learn how to summon her abilities, Nia was so new to everything, and he hadn’t had the time to help her. But he would, as soon as all this was over.

He lost their mind connection. She shut him out, caught in the spell of the invocation with her siblings.

He stepped back, giving her space.

Their combined powers created a forcefield, a flurry of colors as it rose up into the air and moved.

“Repeat the Enochian verse I told you,” Michael said, reciting each line again.

And they chanted it, Nia and Echo stumbling over the unfamiliar language.

“Ge geh a revered trinity.

nothing trian stop ge, nalvage ge.

ge geh pyre od rime, bransg c tol ar i.

ds g sowed trian unravel. Od ar t shall noan.”

The power of the words swirled around Lore.

Michael had called them the Trinity, a term Lore had encountered recently while reading through the tome of the Watchers in the celestial archives. Most of the text after it had been blanked out. Now he knew why.

Their powers built. He glanced outside. The warriors still fought, bleeding from vicious wounds. His jaw clenched at the injustice of it all.

“Won’t they sense the chants?” he asked Michael. “They could attack the castle.”

“No. The grounds have become consecrated. And the chant conceals the trio. Together, their combined powers grow stronger. After all, they are the lost Trinity.”

The Trinity.

The sacred three who could wipe out the Celestial Realm?

It wasn’t just him they wanted but the Trinity. That answered the many questions Lore had.

The supercilious idiots!

“They can control the Celestial Realm if they so choose,” Michael said.

Indeed.

“I’m going outside.” If the Guardians persevered in their wounded state, he would, too—healed or not—because his mate’s life was on the line.

“Summon your Gaian sword inked on your biceps,” Michael called out.

Lore nodded. Michael would guard them all with his life.

With one last glance at his trancelike mate, whose eyes were shut, Lore sprinted out of the room and into the next one.

With a thought, he summoned the mystical weapon as he moved. It appeared in a swirling gray smoke, an enormous obsidian sword settling in his palm. A glimmer streaked through it.

Lore dashed for the French doors, flexing his throbbing shoulder blades. Searing hot pain tore through them, stealing his breath, and he staggered a step.

“Not now,” he grunted. “Later, you can knock me the hell out. Damn wretched wounds!” He had to decimate this lot who sought to come after them.

As he reached the door, agony floored him. Breathing hard, he grabbed the handle?—

The metal melted under his grip.

Growling, Lore let go and slammed his palm on the wall.

The scabs on his back split and warm wetness seeped free. The sounds of bones creaking like dry twigs echoed, and they grew heavier.

By the dark stars! Now what?

Teeth gritted, he glanced over his shoulder?—

His wings unfurled and spread, revealing their brilliant hues… His heart pounded, but he ignored everything, instinctively retracting his regenerated wings. Damn, they hurt.

Weapon in hand, he flung the door open and flashed across the terrace to the battle. The Guardians were more on the defensive now…and they were slowing.

Hell, it didn’t look good at all.

Though Ely and Blaéz held it together—the latter exploding heads with his deadly ability—they couldn’t hold out for long. Those seraphs would send more thrones.

A blaze of fire speared from above, and his gaze shot up at the massive dark creature hovering?—

Race?

His breath of fire incinerated a line of thrones at the back of the fight, and their soul lights shot skyward like stars. Clever to target the periphery—the dragon could do widescale damage if he chose, but not with the Guardians scattered amidst the battle.

Race landed beside him and shifted to human form, summoning a flame-streaked sword. Naked as the day he was born, he winked at Lore before lunging at the enemy.

Lore leaped back, evading a deadly thrust from a throne. His hand buzzed, and he flung out his arm. A crackling bolt shot straight into his attacker, incinerating him. The idiot’s soul departed in a bright light.

His new power? Good! Grim satisfaction took hold.

A flare of light erupted. More thrones descended, their powers blasting, but the strikes bounced off an invisible shield surrounding the warriors. The psychic energy seemed to emanate from the castle, but it petered out too fast.

There was no winning this.

With an annoyed growl, Lore flung himself back into the battle, his Gaian sword swinging. He thrust and sliced, lethally injuring his former comrades. They stumbled and disappeared in flashes of light.

A pair of thrones flew at him, weapons arcing. He ducked and gored the first straight through the chest. All his senses on high alert, he whipped around, decapitating the second angel mid-strike.

No, no remorse at all.

But the single-mindedness of sheer destruction, when things didn’t go the seraphs’ way, glared like an open wound as they dropped more thrones on his fellow Guardians, showing their upper hand—an endless supply of troops.

“Aethan, watch out!” someone shouted.

A pained grunt echoed.

“I got you!” Blaéz yelled, moving like lightning, defending his brother. The clanging and grunts grew. The thrones surged in a wave. The Guardians fell back. Curses flew.

Jaw clenched, Lore fought hard, evaded attacks, and deflected power blasts with his sword. He tried reaching into the castle to where his mate and her siblings were working the Trinity chant. He couldn’t feel a thing, didn’t know what was happening.

More thrones took form.

A power blow to his back sent Lore stumbling. Frustrated to his core, he wheeled around, his gaze connecting with a throne. His smirk was as cold as his eyes. “You survived?” the male drawled. “It seems I will be the one to kill the invincible Power after all?—”

Lore dove forward, letting his fist connect to the cur’s jaw, and he flew back several meters, crashing into the shrubs.

“You have become as black-hearted as them, Power—” He leaped up, his massive sword swinging in an arc.

“Then I consider myself blessed!” In a move so fast, Lore evaded the blow, grabbed the angel’s weapon, and kneed him hard in the balls.

The male screeched, full-on siren as he fell to his knees, doubled over.

Guess no one ever did that to him.

Lore flexed his bleeding fingers, a dark anger sweeping through him.

But he’d learned, having seen the Guardians and witnessed human gangs fight—as dirty as they could. And Lore wanted the ass to feel pain?—

A faint tingle spread along his spine. His gaze snapped to the castle in the distance, light glinting in a few of the windows. The quiet, deadly energy from the Trinity traversed out into the night, across the destroyed land to the battle. It coasted over them, silently spreading its perilous net.

The whine of steel flew close to his head. Instinctively, he leaped back, but the blade caught his biceps in a stinging blow.

Dammit!

“That was for what you did!” the ass snarled, then like a fading light bulb, he slowed, brow creasing?—

They all slowed.

Increment by increment, the thrones’ bright power blasts faded, and their fight moves weakened until his former brethren all froze in place. Confusion clouded the air for a moment. Then, their eyes darkened with fury as the realization dawned they were trapped by some invisible foe.

“What the fuck’s happening?” Nik panted into the sudden silence.

Chest heaving, Lore flipped his sword and slammed it into the destroyed turf. A hand resting on the hilt, he waited.

Bleeding and baffled, the Guardians all stood there amidst the immobilized thrones.

Race stopped at his side, his naked form bloodied, his silver hair damp and trailing down his back. “Never expected you to be fighting with us. Too boring on the winged side, eh?”

Lore snorted. The dragon would learn the truth soon enough.

His back itched, and Lore freed his immense wings. He exhaled deeply with relief as the pain in his back eased.

The Guardians—all of them dripping blood from their own injuries or from those they’d inflicted upon the thrones—examined their trapped foes.

Lore glanced at his bicep wound. It had already healed. Good.

Michael appeared, carrying a sparking, intricate, woven clay urn. He lifted the lid, and the thrones’ power rushed out of their bodies in a visible, shimmering outpour.

“What the fuck?” Tyr leaped out of the way.

The cacophony of energy flowed past the Guardians, cascading straight into the open mouth of the clay vessel?—

“Fuck, no!” someone yelled.

The warriors scrambled around a fallen warrior.

Lore sprinted over.

Aethan lay on the ground, gasping for breath. A wound to his chest gushed.

“Michael, get over here!” Tyr snarled, placing his palms on the warrior’s chest, trying to heal him, but the lesion continued to spurt.

Lore cursed. He knew the danger of a hit to the chest with an angelic weapon. He glanced back at the castle and could feel the Trinity still locked in their spell. Little wonder Echo didn’t know her mate was severely wounded.

The power drainage waned, and Michael snapped the lid shut. He set down the vessel and was at Aethan’s side in a heartbeat.

“Hold on,” he said, placing both hands on Aethan’s chest?—

An iridescent silvery glow seeped into the warrior.

Beyond their group, the trapped thrones sagged. Another silent wave of energy swarmed them, distorting the night air. Their gazes widened. In a flash of pure white light, they all vanished. The ringing of their falling weapons echoed in the stillness.

A shimmer appeared near Aethan’s side, and the new Oracle Lore had seen in passing took form.

Michael removed his hands from Aethan’s torso.

The Oracle laid her palms over the injury, and a white light swept into the wound, and still it gushed.

“Why isn’t he healing?” someone growled.

A terrified cry rang out.

“Aethan!” Echo sprinted across the grounds toward them and slid to her knees. “No!”

Lore crouched near her. “He will heal. It’ll just take time.”

Tyr knelt at her other side. “He’s going to be okay. Don’t let him feel your distress. I know it’s hard.”

She didn’t look at either of them, her tears falling as she held Aethan’s hand to her chest.

Her pain tore at Lore. More, it was like looking at his mate coming undone?—

“Lore?”

At Nia’s quiet voice, he rose and held out his hand. Her warm fingers wrapped around his, and he drew her into his arms.

“How bad is he?” she asked.

He shook his head, not wanting to voice the words when Echo could hear him. Aethan must have been distracted for a moment, perhaps feeling the chant through his mate bond, and that was likely why he got injured.

The warriors shifted around Aethan, his unmoving, bloodied form coming into view. Nia clamped a hand over her mouth, and in the next instant, she was at her sister’s side, putting her arm around her.

Tyr rose and stumbled back.

Lore grabbed him. “Your wounds are bad?—”

“I’m still walking,” he growled. “Aethan is the one at death’s door!”

“Tyr!” Kira came careening across the terrace, past the ruined garden, and staggered to a halt. Her face paled at the bloodied gash in her mate’s abs. “Oh, God, you’re still bleeding!” She slipped her arm around his waist and tugged the reluctant warrior indoors.

“The flow’s slowing a little,” the Oracle said. “But it’s not good. He took an angelic weapon through the heart.”

“No,” Echo whispered, tears dripping down her face.

“Let’s get him inside.” Michael rose, his expression like granite. He picked up the urn and flashed both Aethan and Echo away.

“Lore.” Nia grabbed his arm. “What?—?”

“Are you okay?” he demanded, his gaze skimming her face, scowling at the dried blood smeared on her chin and nose. His wings fluttered in agitation. He hurriedly scanned the rest of her. “You were bleeding?”

“It’s nothing, just a nosebleed. I guess I’m not used to all the spell chanting and magical stuff.” Her eyes widened, darting to his back. “You have wings again.” A trembling smile started, and she reached out a hand. “That’s wonderful.”

His body shuddered at the intimate touch while his scan of her revealed nothing wrong, just exhaustion. “You need some of that energy drink?—”

“I’m fine for now,” she said, patting his naked chest. “Nate healed me. Please, take me to Echo. I need to be there for her, but I don’t know where her quarters are.”

Grateful to Nate for tending to his mate, Lore kissed her head. He withdrew his wings and summoned his weapon, and it settled on his biceps again. He dematerialized them, appearing outside Aethan and Echo’s third-floor quarters.

The warriors remained downstairs, their mates taking care of their injuries, but Lore could sense their edginess to get moving, get to their fallen brother.

Nia knocked on the door and opened it.

“Echo?” she called out.

“Come, Nia,” her sister’s voice, husky from tears, drifted to them.

Lore summoned a t-shirt and put it on. Barefoot, he followed Nia into the small foyer and through the open door on the left leading into the bedroom. Aethan remained unconscious on the mattress. The Oracle tended to him, taping a large bandage over his wound while Michael waited at the opposite side of the bed.

Nia hurried across the huge room to join her sister at the foot of the bed. Lore stopped behind Nia.

“Jade, you have to find a way to heal him, please,” Echo pleaded.

The Oracle glanced at Aethan, her expression somber. “I will do all that I can, but it will take time for him?—”

Michael growled, his attention snapping to the other side of the room.

Lore sensed the intrusion in the wards a second before a glow appeared, and another figure took form.

“How useful,” Michael muttered. “As usual, you show up five minutes after the battle’s over.”

Smirking, the tall angel with snow-dipped ebony wings ambled to Michael’s side. He bent and held a palm over Aethan’s chest, his inky hair spilling over his shoulders. “Hmm. His injuries are quite severe. An artery was nicked.”

Echo looked up. “Marmaroth?”

“Indeed, it is I.” He glanced her way. His silver-streaked amethyst eyes glowed, and he smiled.

Of course, Lore knew that name. But he’d never seen the angel in all his millennia in the Celestial Realm. He was the highest of all angels, the one they called the Ultimate Fate.

Marmaroth.

“Why are you here? Aethan is not in a deathly coma like I was!” Echo snapped at the powerful Fate. “You will not take any more promises from us. I haven’t forgotten how you played me to be the Curantii without revealing that I was already pardoned from that ability because Michael had asked you!”

“Ah, you picked that up, did you?” He withdrew his hand from Aethan’s chest and straightened. “But it is you who was meant to be the Healer of the Veils. You are a direct descendant of Zarias’ line…” He frowned at the Oracle. “As she said, his wounds will take time to mend, but I sped it up a little.”

Echo glowered.

“Echo?” a gravelly groan.

“Aethan!” Echo shot around the Oracle to grasp Aethan’s hand. “I’m here,” she whispered, tears flowing. “I could feel your warmth, but your soul light was dull within me. I didn’t like it. It was like you weren’t there.”

“I’m always here…” A slow inhale. “For you, me’morae .”

Nia shifted closer to Lore, and he drew her against his chest. He never wanted to experience the emptiness a severed bond left behind, nor what Echo described, ever again.

Marmaroth looked up, met Lore’s stare, and inclined his head. Yes, he already knew who Lore was. A Power falling would make the angelic news wave.

“This is what happens when you play the long game.” The angel smirked, toeing the power-filled clay jar on the floor. “They should know better. What’s the human saying, ‘ fek around and find out ?—’”

“Fuck,” Aethan grunted, whether in correction or pain, Lore wasn’t sure.

“Yes, that.” Marmaroth angled his head, studying Echo. “Hmm…your work finally bears fruit. We can’t lose that now, can we?” His amethyst eyes gleamed.

“Lose what?” Echo frowned at him.

“You are with young, little Curantii.” The angel’s wings fluttered, sending a slight breeze across the room.

Aethan blinked.

Echo froze. “Wh-what?”

“A babe. Your unborn offspring’s protective shields are quite strong.” His amused stare met Aethan’s. “Anyway, with this news, you’ll be up and about soon enough.” He tracked back to the center of the room. “Michael, this was a long time coming. My knights are in place. It is your move.” His gaze finally settled on Nia. “It’s been a while, Rania Sostratos. Having an angelic mate will serve you well.” In a shimmer of silver, he was gone.

“Should never have taught him chess,” Michael muttered.

Lore frowned…and then the truth struck him. Marmaroth was the one who saved Nia when she was shot as a child.

“Well,” Michael said, “this is good news indeed for you both, especially you, Aethan. Congratulations.” He smiled. “I’ll be downstairs, keeping the troops from barging in, and I’ll give them the good news of Aethan’s recovery so you both can have some quiet time.” Michael disappeared with the urn.

Lore could feel Nia’s excitement and eagerness to join her sister.

Give them a minute to assimilate, habun.

At her soft sigh, he smiled.

“My warmest blessings upon you both.” The Oracle smiled. “Aethan, your recovery will still take some time, from what I can see. While your artery’s mended, your other wound…” She nodded at his gauze-wrapped arm. “It must heal. I’ll stop by in a few days. Echo, I’ll be checking up on you, too. Call me if you need anything else.” In a swirl of air, she vanished.

Aethan lifted a shaky hand to his mate, and a pained grimace crossed his face. Echo hurried to thread her fingers through his.

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her skin, his features waxen, his hair the only part of him with any color. “We get this amazing news…” His voice was barely audible. “And I’m stuck in bed. I want to hold you so badly… Damn this wound.”

“It’s okay. Let me.” With a teary smile, Echo hugged him gently.

He put his working arm around her in a tender embrace, his eyes damp. “I…never expected this miracle,” he rasped. “I am an Empyrean. My former world is under a curse…dying. No babe born in over two thousand years. Now this.”

Echo eased back and nodded, smoothing back his hair. His small, hooped earrings glinted beneath the lights. “Are you happy?”

“Impossibly so.”

“Echo, Aethan,” Nia said. “We’ll leave you two. I’m—we both are so incredibly happy for you guys. At least now I know why you were out of sorts, Echo, and to think I was kinda right.” She laughed.

“What?” Echo blinked, damp eyes glowing.

“I was worried about you, and well, I did wonder if you could be pregnant, but I didn’t want to jump the gun, so I asked Ely to get a pregnancy test. You can still use it if you like.”

“I don’t really need confirmation, with Marmaroth being the Ultimate Fate and all.” Echo laughed. “He, annoyingly, knows everything…but maybe I will. It’s nice to do things the human way, too.”

Lore nodded at Aethan. The warrior’s glazed stare met his, happiness evident in his gray eyes despite the pain lines etching his brow and bracketing his mouth. “It’s good news all around. You’re on the road to a quicker recovery, and you’re having a young.”

“It is.” Aethan shifted, his smile morphing into a wince.

Lore grasped Nia’s hand and tugged her to leave.

“You guys enjoy your…good news,” she called out as Lore drew her to the door. “Man, I can’t wait to see everyone’s face when you tell them,” she called out to Echo.

As they shut the door behind them, Nia asked, “Who was that angel? He seemed to know me. And what did Echo mean by Ultimate Fate?”

“Marmaroth is the most powerful angel in existence. He rarely interferes in celestial affairs, but when he does, he can alter fate itself.”

So, why was he interceding for Aethan and Echo?