Shattered Souls (Guardians of the Maiden Book 3)

The snow crunched softly beneath Cassiel’s boots as he passed by the frozen pond. Dyna’s crown was still there, half buried in the snow. He picked it up and looked to the hole in the ice that had almost claimed her life. It was half frozen already. He squeezed the icy metal in his hand and sapphires cut into his skin. Warm wetness seeped through his fingers, and it dripped off the crown, splattering on the snow.This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

He kept walking through the bitter dusk. One torch in the distance marked his destination. Sowmya waited by the dungeon’s gate. He handed her the crown without a word and went in. The stone corridor was dark and cold, home to cobwebs and skittering rats. He followed the dusty path to the next torch at the end and came to a cell.

“The Royal Guards live to protect the royal family,” Yelrakel’s voice reached him, then the wet thud of a fist against flesh. “You both betrayed that.”

“I protect the true bloodline, Nephilim,” Amriel panted. “We renounce the half-breed and will do away with his witch whore. They will never sit on the throne—” He cut off in a scream, the sound carrying down the hall.

Cassiel entered and Yelrakel looked up from wiping her hands with a bloodied cloth. Amriel and Zekiel sat tied to wooden chairs. Amriel moaned, his head hanging over his chest. Blood dripped from his wounds, and sweat glistened on his forehead. Knives jutted out of their wings, to stop them from healing. It must have been the only way to get them to speak.

Yelrakel handed Cassiel a page smeared with ink and blood. The list was long and contained names from every Realm—Celestials placed in strategic positions—but none of them were high ranking nobles. This had to be the work of a Lord, and Amriel wouldn’t have given up that name easily.

Cassiel folded the page and tucked it into his coat. “Who sent you?” His voice carried an echo in the dark, cold cell.

At his silence, Yelrakel thrust her fist in Amriel’s jaw. “Your king speaks.”

Amriel grunted, raising his head. Even with his blood pattering on the ground, defiance simmered in his glare. “You are no king of mine. I will never bow to you.”

Yelrakel brutally twisted the blade in his wing and yanked it out, tearing from him an agonizing cry. Cassiel gave her a look. She bowed and stepped out, her footsteps fading down the corridor.

“Who?” he asked again.

Zekiel laughed. “Is it not obvious? We were sent by those still loyal to the pure bloodline. It was an honor—”

Cassiel didn’t look at him. With a single thought, he sealed Zekiel’s mouth shut. With another, he hurled the guard across the cell, and his body crashed into the wall before crumbling to the ground.

“You must not value your life,” Cassiel said, ignoring their shock at his power. “You know the sentencing for regicide. No one will speak on your behalf. None will seek your pardon. You have been abandoned to this filthy cell. Left to my mercy.”

Amriel’s wings shuddered, his heavy breaths clouding in the darkening space as the sun dropped on the horizon. He jerked against his restraints and the rope creaked from the force. “I knew the risks. I may die, but it will not end with me. That power your witch expelled in Hermon, we all felt it ripple through the Realms. Her magic is a beacon. You cannot hide her from us. We will not stop. We will come for her. The Queen will fall.” He spat a clot of blood at Cassiel’s feet, twisting harder in his seat. “Then they will come after you—Kāhssiel.”

His old name elicited images of his previous lifetime. Days of fire and darkness. But there was also sunlight, and the sound of laughter, and warmth.

Snuffed out before he could fully bask in it.

“All of this began with your wretched breed,” Amriel said, the venomous words dripping with hatred. “But your pestilence will not be tolerated. We will end you and keep doing so with every reincarnation. Your only purpose is to die!”

Amriel wrenched open his wings and the rope snapped. He yanked out the hidden knife in his boot but he never got the chance to attack. He stood still like stone, his arm frozen above him with the poised knife. Veins protruded from his reddening face and his body shook with desperate resistance.

“Brave words for someone who reeks of fear,” Cassiel said as he stepped backward into the shadows. “For someone who cannot move.”

His compulsion had woven through every strand of the guard’s mind like iron threads. When his father died, most of Cassiel’s past memories had returned to him. He learned many things. Like the full extent of Kāhssiel’s abilities. Of his abilities.

With one silent command, Amriel dropped to his knees.

“What was this about not bowing?” Cassiel mused. The torch fire vanished at a flick of his finger, and darkness enveloped them.

Their shallow breaths were loud in the cold quiet as they wildly searched the darkness for him. They were right to be afraid. These pureblood elitists had stolen his mate from him before, and this time, they took his father. Their actions had uncovered a wrath cleaved into his soul an era ago. It had split through him, opening into a vast abyss, and he found that it was terrible and bottomless.

“I will tell you nothing, let alone scream,” Amriel said. “I will gladly die before ever seeing the filth of human blood take the crown.”

They both turned to him at faint glow of his eyes

Cassiel’s voice devoid of any emotion floated through the icy air. “Then die.”

Flames flared from his feet and snaked for Amriel. It caught on his boots and crawled up his legs, bathing the wall in blue. Amriel gritted his teeth to bear the pain, his chest heaving with rapid breaths. Pieces of blackened flesh flaked away like flurries in a breeze. Terror flashed in the guard’s eyes when he realized there would be no part of him to return to Heaven’s Gate. Flames draped him in a tall pyre, and he released a blood curdling scream. The heat was so tremendous, it warped the air. His screams cut off abruptly when he burst into a cloud of smoke and ash. Shimmering blue embers drifted down to land on the scorched black pile left behind where the chair had once been.

Cassiel’s attention fixed on Zekiel next.

The guard yelped when his body rose on its own accord. He jerked against the compulsion, but could do nothing as Cassiel marched him forward. Sweat coated Zekiel’s pale face. Though he tried his best to look unafraid, he couldn’t disguise the rapid pulse in his neck.

“You hurt my wife,” Cassiel said idly.

With one thought, bloody bone tore out of Zekiel’s shin. He screamed through his clenched teeth. Then Cassiel broke his other leg and Zekiel collapsed to his knees with another excruciating scream.

“This will not be quick. Nor will it be kind. Your death will be exactly what I consider poetic.”

Cassiel laid a hand on Zekiel’s chest and flames bloomed from his palm like the petals of a flower. He burned a hole through him—so…very…slowly. Slow enough for Zekiel’s divine blood to keep him alive as Cassiel’s fingers dug into his melting flesh. Every scream wrought was beautiful. The tones and pitches merging into a pleasing song created from his rage. The fire eventually won and Zekiel’s rib cage caved in like brittle paper.

Cassiel took a hold of that scared, beating heart—and ripped it out.

The burning corpse dropped at his feet.

“Tell me,” Cassiel asked the organ as it blackened, crumbling to ash in his hand. “Did you find the honor to your taste?”

There was no answer.

Not that one was expected.

The ash spilled through his fingers as he left the dungeon, and passed through the rusted gates into the frozen landscape. His Valkyrie took their positions at his side and he strode back to the manor. Amriel’s voice followed him into the dark.

We will not stop.

We will come for her.

The Queen will fall.

With each step, ice crept into Cassiel’s veins, weaving through the flame. It demanded retribution. It swore to destroy. And he welcomed it.

Soon the news of what happened here would spread throughout the Realms. He would make sure they knew one absolute thing. The High King now commanded a sea of divine flame, and beneath his ire, they would all burn.