AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Prologue
Cain
Patience. They have always stated that patience is a virtue. Ha. It isn’t a way of showing high moral standards; it’s a necessity. A way of wills, some call it. I, for one, call it my salvation.
I tried to break free from my damnation multiple times before, and each attempt failed time and time again. My punishment was being doomed to live in a pit, which is a bleak understatement of suffering. I have done my time and should be free. Since my jailers won’t release me, I’ve found my own way out. Possessions have gone wrong, and Demon summoning to Earth never panned out. Nothing had worked until I signed a new oath. A promise—as it were—to work for a greater cause to free ourselves from the slavery of the chains that keep us bound. Rebels they call us. Ha. They only call us that because we refuse to bow to conformity. We should be free to cross over to Earth and back as we want.
Over the years, I’ve found a way to attach my essence to Necromancers, feeding off of their power. They might be rare, but they are powerful in the aspect that when they raise the dead, they pull dark magic naturally without the side effects within themselves and feed it back into their creations. The darkness that crosses between them and the creatures they raise has a strong connection and keeps them both balanced. Without the darkness coursing equally through that connection, Necromancers lose their minds—physically and mentally—weakening them and causing memory loss. Let’s not forget: the monsters gain their freedom, the power slips free, and it can raise an unimaginable amount of the dead. The creatures themselves can run amuck as they gain their freedom. They’re tethered to the Necromancer's mind, and as the tether weakens, they can break free, which in effect causes the Necro’s mind to shatter. The perfect storm for me to gain the darkness and energy I need to escape.
But instead, I’ve seen eons pass me by. It’s taken an age to siphon portions of darkness from one Necro after another, to gather enough power to break free, but nothing has been sustainable. The darkness I’m able to pull from a Necromancer always depletes when their powers fail or they are caught and terminated.
The most promising Necro was Inez. When she raised that battlefield of monsters, it was the most power I was ever able to pull at once. Yes, it was a mistake when I had fractured her mind to do it, but I thought we could get away before the mob reached us. Instead, they put her down like a rabid dog, and I could only keep hold of whispers of her power while I waited for another Necro to take her place.
It had been a slow process, storing what little power I had from one Necro to the next. It wasn’t until I found Ezekiel, someone who had their own store of power inside of them. Unlike most Necros, he had his own battery of darkness that didn’t affect him. Yes, Ezekiel was different—stronger—more resistant, yet I was able to get what I needed from him.
I didn’t scramble to pull scraps of darkness from him—like a trickle of water from a faucet. Instead, I received a flow that resembled a fire hose, even when the smallest of animals was resurrected. The problem with Ezekiel was convincing him to actually raise the dead. Fear held him back, but once Rez broke his heart, it was nothing to encourage him to let the pain take over. That was my ticket to gain the power I needed to break free of the curse placed on me eons ago. Now I just need the right moment to step free. Even though I’ll be filled with power, my body will still be weak until I can rest. If I step free now, who knows what Zeke and his brothers will try to do to me.
“Quick, extinguish the light,” Ryker says, and Levi flicks his wrist, casting the group into darkness.
Perfect.
I pull all the darkness I’ve been storing up in Ezekiel and gather it to my center, preparing to make myself whole. Will this kill my host? No clue, but since there is so much darkness in him, ask me if I care. I’ve attached myself to dozens of Necromancers in the past for this type of power, but now it’s mine.
Heat swells as my power increases. I feel Ezekiel jerk, and his body becomes locked as I easily take over. I chuckle to myself as I think of the poor young man. He thought he could keep me contained.
I was just buying time, dear boy.
Glowing lights appear from the dark tunnels, but they have yet to reach the group. This is as good a time as any as I whisper my incantation and feel electricity flow through Ezekiel’s body.
Boom!
The mountain shakes from the force of my shackles breaking. A rush of air swooshes past Ezekiel’s body, bringing up dust particles from the seventh level of Hell, which was where my body was contained. They swirl in a fast array as they solidify. A smile crosses Ezekiel’s lips as I feel the vessel for my essence come to completion for my essence to return to my true form. It seems like it takes several minutes, but in reality, it’s done within seconds. I take a wobbly step away and into my own body once again, finally leaving behind my Necromancer vessel. Screams ring out as the ground opens up and swallows the group while I quickly make my way over to one tunnel and slump against the wall.
Well, I definitely didn’t see that coming.
I watch as part of the ceiling collapses in on the hole.
At least I don’t have to worry about burying the bodies.
One of the cloaked figures walks over to me, their hand glowing with a spell at the ready. As they get closer, I see a man, his brows furrowed, and he frowns before opening his mouth to either yell or demand something. But once he gets a good look at me, his face drains of color, and I take great pleasure in the sheer fear I can inspire.
I know what he sees now that I’m back in my immortal body. A six-foot-six frame with midnight black hair and storm gray eyes, which will glow in the dark once they become acclimated. But that’s not the most intimidating of my features, or at least that’s not what’s grabbed this man’s attention. It’s the mark of Cain, the one I bear that marks me as the original murderer, the first curse. It’s a long line down the middle of my forehead, with arcs and symbols branching off. Most people have no idea what it says or what it means, but either way, they’ve all heard stories. No matter what potion or illusion I’ve worn, it still shows. So why not wear it with pride and marvel at the fear it causes?
“Take me to your leader.” My voice comes deeper than I remember, but I find it pleasant. The tiny man nods quickly and motions for me to follow.
The darkness lightens as we walk down a few tunnels and my night vision finally adjusts. The man leading me keeps giving me glances over his shoulder—no doubt wondering if the rumors are true. I’m tempted to see if I can make him wet himself just for fun. I dismiss the idea when we walk into another cavern-like structure. This one, though, is twice as big. A woman with long brunette curls is chained to a wall behind an altar, and a throne is carved into the wall across from me.
Walking in from another tunnel is a woman dressed in a long black robe with red lining. She turns to look at me before a smile slowly forms on her face, and I see identical storm gray eyes to my own.
“Ahh, Cain. I see you finally got here,” the woman before me says, opening her arms wide.
“Thanks.” I give her a smirk. I knew that someday I would be free, even if it came down to freeing myself. Of course, most people doubted me, even the one standing before me.
“Come, give me a hug,” she insists.
Feeling somewhat awkward as this woman's body is unfamiliar to me, I lean down and pull her into a quick and gentle hug.
Beaming up at me, she tips her head. “Come, sit.” Taking her own seat on the throne, she motions to the chair next to her. “Now, tell me what you’ve learned,” she purrs as I watch the Rebels tattoo come alive along her jaw.
