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Little Medra. So small and helpless. I waited for her piercing infant cries to fill the air.
But when the mists cleared, another figure lay on the altar.
Not a baby. A young woman.
Her eyes were closed.
“Medra?” Draven breathed.
My father laughed, and the room shook as if with thunder. “Not what you were expecting?”
“What have you done to her?” I demanded.
He ignored me, looking down at Medra hungrily. “She’s so pure. So beautiful. Something has changed. She’s fuller. Brimming over. I can almost taste it. She’s more powerful than her mother ever was.”
He reached down as if to touch Medra. “What a pair we will make together. The true child of the god.”
Draven erupted. Leaping over Medra’s prone form on the altar, he positioned himself between the sleeping girl and my father.
“Keep your hands off her,” he growled. Over his shoulder, he called to me, “Stop him, Morgan. We can’t let him do this to her.”
Nodding grimly, I pushed my might outwards as I had done before, channeling the wind, the sky, the very light.
The room around us trembled. My father shook where he stood. For a brief moment, I thought he might fall.
Then he smiled. Leaning forward, he touched a single finger to Draven’s chest. My mate flew backwards over the altar, crashing into one of the great ancient oaks, his blood coating the bark.
Draven rose and charged again towards Perun, that powerful being of lightning and thunder, that false god we were sworn to bring down.
“You shall not touch her,” my mate roared. “You shall not have her. I swear it to you.”
My father lifted a hand, and Draven skidded to a stop, his face rigid with strain as he pushed against an invisible wall.
“I will rip you into pieces, here and now,” my father said lazily. “I will hang your limbs one by one from the trees for the birds to peck.”
“Never,” I screamed, and I lifted my hands.
Instantly, a fissure appeared, growing beneath the altar.
The oak trees around us began to split and crack. Branches and leaves fell around us.
My father turned slowly towards me. “I’ll finish you both. Then I will descend out into the world and do what I should have done in the beginning. I will force my will upon creation. I will bend it to my liking. All who will not bend will be destroyed. All who will not kneel will choke and die.” He looked down at Medra. “And she will be with me every step of the way. The daughter I should have had.”
I looked at my mate’s face. It was a portrait of agony. I knew that as he looked at the girl lying on the altar, all he really saw was the small baby he had held in his arms.
The baby we had sworn to Orcades we would always protect.
“Never,” I said again, quietly this time.
My eyes met Draven’s, and he nodded.
This was it. Our time had come. We would destroy my father together.
When Medra awoke, I prayed she would remember us. I prayed she would somehow find all the happiness she deserved.
CHAPTER 39 - MEDRA
There was pain. Blinding pain. Darkness.
