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BRAXTON
They say there is no power like that of Dragon Fire…
They are wrong.
Hatred is stronger.
* * *
“…He will never stop. Not until he kills you all or Caelisium is destroyed. That is why I must now do something I wish I never had to do.
I beg you to kill the Warlock King, Braxton.
You have to kill my father.”
Slipping from my trembling hands, the last page of my mother’s letter hit the ground. Both horror and anger like I had never experienced coursed through my veins, until a storm of emotions formed inside me. I slowly rose to my feet while my wild eyes glanced all around, processing her words.
“The Princess of Caelisium…
…Kill my father.”
And yet, I couldn’t focus on the grass, or the trees, or even the moonlight beams that graced the earth before me. All my eyes saw were the images projected in their stead. The death of my dad. The agonizing physical, emotional, and mental pain with which my mother was forced to live. The death of Evie’s parents as well as her aunt’s, and the killing of Willow’s family played before my eyes as though I had witnessed them myself. As did every story of loss the people of the Hidden Kingdom had shared with me.
So much loss. So many innocent people taken from their loved ones. So much terror inflicted by a single man. An evil man… and I carried his blood inside of me.
My grandfather.
My hands fisted as my body shook, simmering rage rushing through my being at the impossible, yet dark reality of my life. At the collective horrors this world had been forced to suffer.
The red glow of Tharion’s lava fire rushing under his scales illuminated the night around me, and my mouth opened, devastating rage exploding from my core in a scream. Tharion’s roar echoed mine, both thundering through the forest like a deathly warning.
His fire breath caught the trees around us, making the entire area glow as it burned. I didn’t care. I roared again, and again, until my voice was nothing but a raspy whisper of sorrow. Eyes finally focusing on the swaying flames before me, I fell to my knees on the ground, fists still shaking, chest harshly rising and falling with every breath.
“Ah, yes… the sweet taste of unabashed hate. Delicious.”
With the unexpected voice, my surroundings instantly changed. I found myself in the tower of the Crimson Fortress, on my knees, in front of the Warlock King.
A part of me wasn’t surprised to see we had somehow connected, and I’d ended up once more in his mindscape. Holding his gaze, I rose to my feet, not wanting to give him any reverence.
“Raithian…” I spat like his name was venom on my tongue.
His lips tilted into a pleased grin, like my ire was giving him life. He walked towards the corner where his elaborate wooden bar sat—its built-in structure almost reaching the ceiling in its magnificence. The embroidered black cape of the royal dress he wore dragged behind him, but his outfit tonight was a rich emerald-green.
Just like the last time he brought me here, the outside was reflected through the tower’s windows, showing Tharion frozen in place on the other side. His mouth was wide open as he roared with my ire, embers floating over his tongue. The entire room was illuminated by the red glow of his blazing lava fire.
When my attention returned to Raithian, I found him pouring a brown liquid, like bourbon, into two glass chalices, a large cube of ice in each of them as he stirred them, that smug smile still on his half-disfigured face. It struck me then that he wasn’t wearing his demon mask. I once thought the sight of him like that would never leave me, and although the burned side of his face was still startling, he looked so relaxed and so… normal.
Why was he showing himself to me?
“You will forgive my manners,” he offered, turning around, and walking towards me with one chalice in each hand. “My glee is not meant to mock you. I’m simply delighted by the ire coursing through you. A delicacy one must always savor. It seems we have something in common after all.”
Anger stirred within me, simmering and blazing, but I contained myself. My gaze briefly fell to his hand when he stopped before me, handing me one of the drinks he’d prepared.
“Do not worry. It is not poisoned…” He smirked, laughter glimmering in his grey eyes. “Now, there, I was mocking you. If I had any mind to kill you, I would have done it the first time I took control of you.”
To my dismay, I saw my mother’s eyes in his, and I hated him for that.
A new surge of fiery fury rushed through my being, and the urge to take the drink just to throw it at his face, glass and all, gripped me. However, I had bigger things to worry about—like how to break his illusion again and the hold he somehow had on my mind. Taking the chalice from him, I noticed two chairs slide towards us, placing themselves behind us for us to sit. Raithian hadn’t even lifted a finger.
