52. Kami

52

Kami

M y scream is frozen as I watch Oz fall under a barrage of swords.

But his head doesn't roll.

The swords do nothing but hammer at his neck, his torso, his limbs.

Then he lets out a yell that scares the hell out of me and even has a few Nyte Guards stepping back.

"Oh, I like this." Malkar doesn't wait for an invitation and rushes the fight.

Crash and Ries follow, leaving me behind.

I'm happy to let them. And stunned at this version of Oz.

He's… No. He can't be growing, can he? Yet as I watch, he's getting taller, bulkier, his arms and legs darkening in color, turning almost gray minus any green.

His fangs grow, now clearly visible as he bares his teeth at the enemy. His eyes blaze red, and he looks demonic.

No. He looks like a very angry ogre. More spawn than fae.

Oh boy. His mother is an orc, and his father an ogre. That makes Oz a monster in the true sense of the word .

Is that why his mother hates him?

And why she looks so pleased to watch him fight so many others?

She's just standing there, the ax over her shoulder, leaning back against the giant wall of shrubs while the others fight.

That bothers me.

Crash was right. There is no honor in letting others fight for you, not for a true warrior.

Now me? I'm no fighter. I'm a dryad. Mostly. Though?—

"Kami, duck!" Ries shouts as an arrow sticks out of the shrubbery behind me. Right where my torso had been.

I'm lying on the ground, staring with wide eyes at Ries as he battles two Nyte Guards next to another aiming his bow my way, his arrow notched and ready.

The guard grins at me, his elven features reminding me of Rilitar.

Which makes my blood boil.

He draws the bow string so slowly, smiling with glee.

All around us, the battle rages. Each time a guard falls dead, my heart throbs, echoing the change in their living state. But before my heart can settle, I'm jolted by Beyrthnel's power, and the guard revives.

Unnatural. Tainted. Unholy.

The thought jerks me back to awareness, and I call on the rootlets all around and rush a wall of shrubbery to protect me.

The maze is happy to respond and grows faster than I'd intended. So I'm safe. But the others are still fair game, especially because the war god won't let his people die.

This isn't fair. None of it is. I'm so tired of the others cheating.

Especially death. It's one thing to cheat at silly games, but cheating life? Cheating death?

Nope .

Something in me that I try to hold back breaks, and that ugly knot at the core of my being creeps out along the tendrils of the life underground.

I swim along the lifegiving shrubs and grasses, and the next time a Nyte Guard falls, I lick him up.

The taste is incredible, the potential magic my right by birth.

I open myself and swallow it down, and filled with joy, let myself take what Beyrthnel has been stealing all this time.

A large clap of thunder sounds overhead, accompanied by a hoarse shout of denial from the sky.

The field grows dark, but I don't care. I take another guard, and another.

I don't need the shrubbery for protection anymore, not since it's obscuring my vision of the entire field.

It crumbles into ash and gives itself to the grasses and earth underneath, replenishing the walls so that they grow around us and curl in, hiding us from the view overhead.

Nearby, I smell the budding flowers of an apple tree unfurling as the trunk grows and sprouts higher.

The announced shouts, "Oh, ho. The necromancer reveals herself finally!"

Everyone is cheering and booing and making it difficult to hear anything.

While the guys continue to fight, I notice Malkar's malice aimed at me.

Well fuck him.

I sneer at him then look to Oz, only to see him battling his mother.

He must have grabbed one of the Nyte Guards' weapons. But the sword he uses is no match for her ax.

She's so fast. But Oz is so strong.

And tired .

He's fading. I can almost see an aura of shadow around him, draining as he physically shrinks to his normal size.

He parries her strikes until he misses, and her ax bites into his shoulder.

He shouts and kicks her in the stomach, so hard she is thrown back.

Not thinking, he rips the ax from his shoulder and rushes her. He yanks it up above her as she glares back at him.

It feels like the moment is frozen in time, Oz brandishing the death he feels his mother deserves.

I see her mouth move and think she says, "Do it."

But Oz continues to hold the ax high above her.

Then her expression changes. She smiles up at him, looking as if she cares.

Right before she stabs him in the stomach with a dagger she'd been concealing.

He curls over the blade, and she yanks the ax out of his lax hand with harsh laughter.

"You're a fucking fool."

But instead of finishing him off, she runs away with the remaining Nyte Guards. The shrubbery closes behind them while the crowd stomps their feet and jeers at us.

I could command the living wall to open. But I don't want to.

I'm full and loopy, digesting souls.

I smile up at my team as they come back to me, Oz holding his bleeding stomach, Crash bloodied and grim, Malkar's expression thunderous.

Ries blinks at me. "Death's Daughter? For real?"

Malkar scowls and raises a sword in my direction. "She has to die."

"Oh please." Crash huffs. "Don't be more of a dick than you already are. "

"She cannot be. " I don't think I've ever seen Malkar so threatening, and I flinch as he takes a step closer. "This is serious."

"Yeah? So's this," Oz says and hits Malkar in the head so hard, the incubus falls to the ground in a heap, unconscious. Oz stumbles and quickly rights himself.

His stomach is oozing green blood, and he clutches his wound. "Crash, can you pick him up? We need to go before?—"

The air fogs around us, then Algraas is there, his wings buzzing as he floats above the ground. Next to him stands Goras Vamyar in all his glory.

He's beautiful, golden, a light elf with all the majesty his kind is rumored to possess.

His ears are sharply pointed and adorned with various gems, including what looks like a dragon tear in his right lobe.

The precious blue gems are rumored to come from actual dragons and imbue the wearer with untold power.

I'm not the only one who notices it. Ries is staring at the gem with greedy eyes.

Even Crash seems awed, jostling Malkar over his shoulder as he studies the monarch.

Vamyar turns to me and gives a slight bow.

I'm stunned.

But before I can move, the demon darts to my side, yanks me up by my hair, and bites my neck so hard he tears a chunk of flesh from me.

Goras raises his hand to stop the others in their tracks, a wall of wind keeping my companions in place.

I howl as the demon gulps blood and sighs. "Yes, sire. This one. Yessss. " The demon looks at Oz with…respect? He turns back to the monarch. "A fine choice."

I want to lash out, but magic binds my limbs to immobility.

Algraas gently stands me on my feet, and I can do nothing but stare at the elf and his demon, both of whom take a step back.

My vision blurs, and we are suddenly out of the maze. We stand on the arena's field before the stands, on display to the vicious fae who cheer for our death. Our sacrifice.

We are free to move again and gather close, as if that will save us from what comes next.

The sky overhead is beautiful, a blanket of serene blue dotted by puffs of gentle clouds.The sun is warm but not overwhelming. Even the slight breeze that floats by is filled with floral and honeyed scents from the myriad flowers now decorating the arena.

Odd, I didn't feel them grow. They just sprouted. Nymph magic at play, no doubt.

Now standing on a platform made of ancient faewood and adorned with roses, Goras smiles, his teeth bright white, his small fangs sharp.

His face is pale but glowing with power. As much as I loathe his position, a part of me wants to bow before him, enchanted by his splendor.

Even his voice is smooth, deep yet sweet, like the finest honey. His voice echoes in the stadium. "Necromancer, great devotee of Caethybdue, we welcome thee. We appreciate your treasure, given over to your beloved brother, our great god, Beyrthnel the Bold."

The crowd repeats in sync, "Beyrthnel the Bold. We revere you. We hold you most high. Beyrthnel the Bold."

Then there's nothing but silence.

And that's not creepy at all.

"Um, what?"

Goras continues to smile, but I see the lack of joy in the expression. "Thus you will go on to the final round, you and yours a sacrifice befitting Caethybdue's beloved sibling." He bows his head, his words soft yet they continue to echo around us. "May you die in war, mired in blood and pain, for the will of Beyrthnel is all."

He straightens and raises his arms. "Great fae, behold Caethybdue's daughter, a fine tribute given freely by the great goddess herself in support of her brother's return."

Everyone cheers. Chants of "Beyrthnel the Bold Returns" make my ears hurt.

A glance at the stands shows Rilitar looks less than pleased while the Asrai and Godtown leaders are giddy with joy.

I'm so confused.

Goras nods to his demon

Algraas trills, and everyone grows quiet at the beautiful sound commanding obedience. "Rest well. Tomorrow comes. The end is near." He smiles wider at Oz. "Your heart will satiate our great god. You have been blessed."

Then there's darkness, and something more…