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ZYAIR MORTE, THE INCENDIARY
He trudged slowly, the weight of the small human at his back finally beginning to grate against his body. But more than the physical effort it took to carry the extra weight around, the feel of her figure against his back was distracting.
She’d begun to stiffen, the softness of her weak flesh giving way to the after throes of death. It made it more difficult to operate, to move his own arms and waist. He wondered how long the process took in this species—days or weeks? His own kind faded so slowly, the hearts continuing to pump long after the brain no longer sent signals.
Zyair had been tracking Kaio and his bond mate for many kilometers now. He’d lost track of them for only a short while after he’d reeled from seeing Kaio use the dark powers, skulking in the darkness of the cavern. He’d avoided fights with others, not wanting to risk bodily harm before he could accomplish his ultimate goal.
He was highly skilled, despite growing up in Vanguard. He knew how to listen, how to look for signs, how to move soundlessly behind his enemies. Most importantly, he knew how to kill.
Zyair moved deftly, up a small ridge and behind some Arecaceae trees. Very close to him, a clear stream ran toward the edge of a cliff, spilling water down to a pool below. Zyair could hear them now, Kaio and his bond mate; soft splashes and conversation floated into the otherwise silent jungle. He knelt down, shifting the dead woman’s body, before dropping to his stomach and edging toward the cliff.
There they were, basking in the sun’s rays, dipping their nude bodies into the crystal-clear water.
He wanted to slaughter them right there. It would be easy, so easy. Yet, he didn’t.
There wasn’t enough of an audience. And he wanted a crowd.
He wanted Kaio’s demise to happen when the eyes of the universe were focused on their battle. Zyair wanted every planet, far and wide, to witness the destruction of the holier-than-thou House of Ramzen. So many had already seen Kaio’s hypocrisy, already seen him use the dark magick that had sentenced his grandfather to Vanguard. They could not deny him justice. They could not.
Zyair could make his case now—that his people should be free from Vanguard and sent home to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. There were several young ones being raised in the belly of the awful prison. They deserved freedom. They deserved to step foot on the planet of their fathers.
And once they were home on Orenda, he would teach the olde ways once more. He would burn the planet, as his grandfather intended, to bring about new growth, new life. Orenda would become a mecca of power and peace. Many would have to die, many would suffer, but it was for the greater good.
Sometimes, it was necessary to destroy in order to create.
Kaio strode out of the pool a short while later, water tumbling down his body as he walked. Zyair loathed how entitled he looked, even nude. Shoulders back, posture tall. He was so sure of himself, so sure of his right to rule.
Zyair ran a hand through his shorn hair. He was not allowed to grow it long on Vanguard. He was robbed of even that piece of identity.
Disgust flooded through Zyair as he witnessed Kaio embrace the human, kiss her. Their words floated to his hiding place, assaulting his ears. He crawled back from the cliff, refusing to watch as they crossed a line, their bodies entwining in the throes of passion. Once he was concealed, he flipped over to his back and stared at the canopy above.
Fading light filtered through the leaves, growing dimmer as evening blanketed the arena. He liked to watch darkness arrive and preferred the world of night versus the world of day.
That an Orendan, let alone an Orendan royal, would debase themself with a lower species was reprehensible. Kaio was beyond saving, beyond redemption. Zyair had a fleeting thought that if the current Orendan King could be persuaded to embrace the olde ways, that perhaps they could rebuild the world together. But seeing the so-called regent give himself over to the human decimated that idea. Zyair would never work in tandem with Kaio.
He would rather die.
A finton serpent moved through the brush near him and Zyair sat up again quickly to pin it to the ground with a quick stab of a short, sharp blade. Bright yellow blood that glowed neon beneath the starlight spilled out to mar the ground around its writhing body.
He was far enough away, body positioned behind a tightly woven grove of thick trees, that he could not be seen.
Zyair watched as the creature thrashed and fought to pull itself from capture. It moved against the sharpness of the dagger, slicing its own body further and killing itself faster.
The venom wouldn’t hurt Zyair. He’d been subjected to all manners of torture on Vanguard. Whipped with the razor silk of Shandel Spiders, poisoned with a noxious mix of serpent venom and Vorpean hallucinogen. As such, he’d built up a resistance against pain, a tolerance against toxin.
He ripped the dagger out of the ground and body, quickly slicing off the serpent’s head and then picking up the still moving body. He bit into the flesh, wanting to moan in satisfaction as the glow-in-the-dark blood spilled into his mouth. It was both fruity and wildly acidic, making his tongue tingle and his esophagus burn. He leaned against one of the nearby trees and ate the body quickly, spitting out pieces of rib and spine.
When he was satisfied, not bothering to wipe the remnants of his meal from his mouth, he shifted back toward the cliff’s edge to watch Kaio. He and the human were still pawing at each other like starving beggars. It was all Zyair could do not to attack. Not to kill. Not to take his revenge right then and there.
Patience. Wait for the right time. When you strike, all will bear witness. All will see.
You are the rightful ruler of Orenda.
His grandfather’s voice, counseling him, calming him.
His mother’s face flashed through his mind.
Fierce, yet protective.
