The Dark Ones Book 5
Автор
Rachel Van Dyken
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41,6K
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Prologue
Book Five: Darkest Sinner
‘I’ve always known pain. Existence. Night. Made a sinner without a soul to keep me tethered to the world I so desperately want to be a part of but am damned to rule. Life isn’t living, not when everyone sees you as enemy number one, King of the demon race and yet something much more.’
‘Long ago, I made a bargain with a god; a soul for a soul. I spent thousands of years without this awareness and now? Everything I touch turns to ash. Even my own immortal friends fear what I am. Everyone but her. The day to my night. Part of me doesn’t want to know what I am, but it’s too late, too all-consuming. Darkness is coming.’
‘That darkness, I’m afraid, is me.’
The Rules of the Gods
“No god may be alone with a human woman; it is forbidden.”
“A god must at all times be fair.”
“A god shall never intervene in the human plane.”
“To keep obedience and order within creation—a god is given one soul and will live forever, that is unless he or she gives into their baser instincts and chooses to side with evil. Once the soul gets sick, the god will begin to lose his power. The god will revert to a cursed state and stay there for an eternity.”
“A god without a soul is lost, a god without a heart—is without hope.”
“A god may travel out of time if he or she chooses, but must never intervene within the human race if they decide to do so. Traveling to the future is allowed once—the god will be trapped in that time for eternity.”
Prologue
Egypt 985 BC
My eyes were not the same.
My body was heavy.
Everything was wrong; something had happened. I stared down at my shaking hands.
I caught her svelte movement first.
I was in the presence of power.
And for the first time in my existence, her smile made me feel like I had a soul, for seconds, in that stare from the goddess’s eyes as she moved toward me—I was alive.
Why was I here? Did I do this?
Who are you? My blood pulsed and then settled into a dull roar beneath my skin. This was wrong. Wasn’t it?
I breathed in the scent of wildflowers and pine as she moved through the pyramid; her silk robes rustled across the pebbles.
Fire erupted through the torches lining the walls. Light swirled beneath her olive skin as she held up her hand. And in her palm.
A seed.
One small seed.
She waved her hand in front of my face and then opened her palm; the seed had pressed itself into her skin.
I watched in awe as its branches wrapped around her arm like tight bracelets, only to stop when they reached her shoulder.
“Ask me.” Her voice boomed.
I was on holy ground.
I should be struck down.
Demons were not allowed in the temple.
It was a risk I was willing to take.
For years I had wandered in that desert, forgetting who I was, what I was, cursed to crawl across the hot sand in search of salvation.
Cursed to rule a race that wanted nothing to do with me, but there was a before, wasn’t there? I just didn’t know who that person was, and I would die to find out.
Sell my very body.
I would rather be struck dead by the Creator than live another day with the burn on my flesh, the need to consume other humans in order to survive, the lust I felt during, the shame that happened after.
I was of the first made.
I was the last of the first left.
And I was alone.
A man alone is a terrible thing.
A demon alone is a dangerous thing.
But a soulless demon alone?
That is a tragedy.
It is worse than death.
I was weak from needing to feed.
I was tired from my two-day trek.
And I was thirsty for a life I knew I would never have unless I took it for myself. I wanted to be reinstated to before, even if it meant I was worse off than I was now, covered in dust.
“Ask me.” Fire lit in her irises as the branches from beneath her skin began piercing through toward me, pulling me close, wrapping me tight.
This is how I would die.
I saw it in her eyes.
Dark kohl bled like tear drops from the corner of each fire-lit eye. She did not blink, she stared through me.
She would see no soul.
She would know my shame.
She would know I was the last of the first.
She would know.
I didn’t move.
Let her see.
Let her know.
The branches squeezed around my arms, pinning them to my sides as she watched.
“Ask. Me.”
My lungs burned as I screeched out, “More.”
“More what?” Her head tilted from the left to the right like she was bouncing the idea around.
“More.” I gritted my teeth. “More than this.”
“You think you deserve more after the things you have done?”
“Quite the opposite.” Her grip lessened on my body allowing me more air. “I deserve less—but I want more.”
“You know what you are asking.” She did not release me, but at least she wasn’t squeezing my lungs into tiny pieces of kindling. “Only the Creator has the power to give you more, to restore you. And even then—I cannot give you a good soul.”
“So it’s useless,” I whispered.
She grinned. “I said I cannot give you a good soul—but it is possible to give you one that has been… used.”
“I want it.”
“You want what you do not understand,” she snapped.
“Anything,” My body started to shake; already I was too weak from her presence. Food. I needed food. “I will not survive this—and I will not take my life like the others before me.”
“You may as well take your own life with what I see in your future.” She laughed; it sounded like screams from the depths of Tartarus. I couldn’t cover my ears. So I waited for her enjoyment to cease.
“What will you give me for this used soul, Demon?”
“What do you want?”
Her smile was cruel. “Entertainment.”
“I must be misunderstanding you.”
“I will be watching,” she said cryptically. “For now, take your used soul, and feed.”
The fires roared around me as the branches broke off and fell to the ground. The goddess was gone.
The body remained.
“Help!” The human girl reached for me. “I do not know where I am. I need—” She shook her head as blood dripped down her arm.
The goddess had left the body.
But the scars from the seed remained.
I watched in horror as her body began to convulse, the veins in her arms flashed blue—then black.
“Feed.” A voice carried across the wind.
My mouth was on her neck before I could process the thought. I drank deep, and when I felt her life leave, I sucked the remaining parts of her soul and kept them for myself.
I saw her fears.
I saw myself the way she saw me.
A monster.
And before my very eyes, I became exactly what I always feared I would become.
Powerful beyond all measure.
And trapped for an eternity in a man’s body I did not choose, with memories of people’s deaths of which I was the cause.
My hell was not death.
My hell.
Was life.
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