Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Zanya

Zanya ran up the temple steps, through the entrance, and into the dark tablet room. She summoned the light in her chest, which gave just enough to cast a glow over all four walls—and not take up too much of her abilities.

She balled her fists and paced from one end of the temple to the other, inspecting each tablet as she passed. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she spat. “This wasn’t the plan.” She stopped in front of the tablet with the star carved above the text—the story of Arwan’s conception, and his mother’s self-sacrifice to regain immortality.

She touched the markings and closed her eyes. His entire history was carved into this stone, but there was nothing of his future. Of their future. She let out a tiny whimper. “I want to go home.”

Home.

What a strange concept that had become.

Once it was an institution for castaways. Miserable and oppressive,
it
was home.

Then an estate on the beach in Belize. It was in Renato’s house she found herself. It was there she became free, and
it
was home.

All of it was torn away when she and Arwan bonded under the lights of aurora. They were forced to flee to a strange house in Mexico. A house long abandoned, left empty and cold.

Now Arwan was her home.

But now, no matter where they lived, she would never have a chance to fulfill her role as the Stone Guardian. Her reign would be cut short by an accident with a heartbeat—a mistake too catastrophic to repair.

A familiar melody carried through the air, easing her heartache. Zanya wandered toward the sunlight just outside the temple’s entrance, half-hidden behind dark storm clouds still heavy with rain.

She searched the temple steps but found no one.

Cualli was close. It was the goddess’s angelic voice that lured her out of the darkness, and her lullaby Zanya recognized.

She walked down the steps, scanning the area until she caught a glimpse of Cualli’s long, golden hair. The goddess sat on the ground with her legs stretched in front of her, skimming her fingers over tiny green buds of new growth.

Zanya wiped her face clean of tears as she approached. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I followed you by wing.” Cualli examined Zanya’s face and tilted her head—ever so slightly—as if she were confused. “You are saddened.”

Zanya sniffled, determined not to cry in front of a goddess. Her throat closed, trapping in a sob.

“Mortal women have always fascinated me.” Cualli stood and touched a bare branch on a nearby tree. Green leaves bloomed and opened in seconds. “Mortals carry such responsibility and withstand great deals of pain, yet never lose the ability to love.”

“Not all of us,” Zanya said.

Cualli skimmed her hand over another branch, sprouting more green. “You speak of your mother.”

Zanya didn’t respond.

“I knew your mother when she carried you in her womb. She cradled her swollen belly as if the universe lay inside.” She stroked a plant, giving its wilted flowers new vibrancy and life. “While in labor, her screams shook the air. It was then I wondered why any mortal woman would willingly endure such great pain for another human.”

“You knew my mother before…all of this?”

“I watched her, though she did not know I was near. It was my duty—as it is my duty to protect you now.”

“What if not every woman wants to make the same sacrifice? Do you think that makes her a bad person?”

Cualli scattered colorful blooms between blades of grass. “I have roamed the middleworld for many years, young guardian, and I have yet to find a mortal woman unwilling to sacrifice her own flesh for that of her child.”

The goddess’s words dug deep into her soul. Zanya hung her head. She could lie to herself and say she wanted this baby, but it would be a terrible lie.

When she lifted her head, the goddess was gone.

Zanya sighed.

There were two paths for her future, both of them impossible and heartbreaking.

Abandon her child and leave it to be raised in ignorance like her mother had done to her, or keep this unexpected baby, and hide in order to protect it from the terrors that would soon overtake the middleworld.

***

Arwan

The tree dragged Arwan down through layers of earth and clay. The closer he grew to the underworld, the stronger his dark side became, and the more vicious it turned.

There was no way to be sure if he could control his other half in the underworld. This realm had torn the beast out of him last time he was there. But he was determined not to lose his humanity. He’d been to this damned kingdom before, and he knew what to expect.

He’d fight away his darkness until he had nothing left.

He groped at the wall of solid earth and searched for a ledge or rock to cling to and climb his way back to the surface—but there was none.

The vines crawled up his torso and squeezed, wringing the air out of his lungs. His throat burned, and every cell of his body screamed with the need for oxygen.

He grabbed hold of the tree and bore down, tearing at roots with all of his strength.

They tightened, snapping a rib.

He had no air to shout.

Dirt and rocks scraped at his skin as he was yanked further into the earth, and then slammed to the hot, dusty ground.

When the tree loosened its grip, he gasped in a desperate breath.

The air was scalding and noxious, burning his lungs.

He rolled onto his stomach and pushed to all fours, saliva stringing from his lip as he heaved in several more gulps of air.

It was the first time he had gone to the underworld by means of the tree, and it was no better than drowning in the lake with Zanya.

“Get up.” Contessa’s order was like a military commander talking to a rookie in training.

Arwan scrambled to his feet and stumbled back, squirming under the influence of his darkness. It filled him completely, threatening to explode out and force him to turn.

He clenching his side as the beast rammed into his throbbing ribs and ricocheted off the splintered bone, driving spikes of searing pain down his spine.

“It has become quite clear, half-breed, you will not give me your darkness willingly.” Contessa signaled the tree with a flick of her wrist. Roots broke through the ground and wound around his legs, anchoring his feet in place. “You and your clever comrades have discovered my one weakness.” She wrapped her fingers around his throat. “I need your darkness to thrive in the middleworld if I wish to fulfill my vision of conquering both realms, and I will give you one final opportunity to cooperate. Yield, and I will return you to the middleworld to spend your final days with loved ones before the cleaning begins.”

Arwan ground his teeth as sweat rolled down his hairline and over his temple. His dark half seemed to be attacking him from all angles, prying and pushing to be freed. “You would use my strength as a weapon of mass destruction.”

“Yes. A weapon like no realm has ever seen and never will see again, in this life or the next.”

Saliva pooled under his tongue, and he resisted the urge to gag. “Then you will have to kill me first.” He spit onto the cracked soil, his saliva tainted red with blood.

Contessa stared down at the ball of saliva and crinkled her nose. “No.” She returned her focus to him. “It is not
you
I will end.” She squeezed his throat tighter. “
Yield
, or the guardian’s life will be taken only after a slow, torturous death.”

He fought against the tree’s hold, but there was no use. “I won’t let you touch her.”

Contessa’s irises rolled with violet and black magic. “You are powerless to stop me.” She leaned in closer, poising her lips above his. “And her death will not be merciful. It will also be in vain. I will tear her apart, one fragile piece at a time, until she begs to die.” Contessa brushed her lips over his. He cringed away, but with the roots coiled around him and her fingers wrapped around his throat, he couldn’t move far. “I will scoop out her eyes and tear out her tongue, then I will sever her fingers one at a time, and she will be blind and dumb, drowning on her own blood as she screams.” Contessa placed a kiss on his lips. She hovered her mouth beside his ear and whispered, “All while I force you to watch.”

Arwan clenched his eyes shut, pushing away the images that played in his mind.

Contessa would stop at nothing. Nothing, until she was stopped. Although every prediction and ancient record deemed Zanya to be their savior, he was the one piece missing from the legends.

“You forgot who I am.”

Contessa grinned and stepped back.

He had a secret weapon he had never used.

One he had never acknowledged until now, when he had no other choice. “Whether you’re the queen or not,
I
am the
blood
heir to the throne. I am rightful ruler of this kingdom after my father, and I say
you will not harm her
.” A blanket of peace washed over him, and the beast inside of him submitted.

Contessa’s eyes narrowed as she examined him.

He stared down at the roots keeping him captive. “Leave me.” They obeyed, and retreated back into the soil.

Contessa took several backward steps, her heel scuffing over several stones along the way.

Arwan lunged forward and gripped Contessa by the throat—returning the favor. His hands shook as he held her like a lifeless doll, dangling in his grasp.

She was pathetic, really.

After all these years, he just now realized it.

He and the group of Riyata had spent time and resources fighting Sarian in the middleworld, only for the general to meet his demise in the underworld.

Now Arwan was here again, in his native realm, facing yet another enemy who thought she could overpower him in his own kingdom.

Not now.

Now he understood.

He was not Riyata. He never had been.

He had spent his entire existence denying his true bloodline and rejecting his royal status.

No more.

He was home.

Contessa’s lips parted and a muffled laugh gurgled out of her throat.

He tilted his head, examining her with a morbid fascination.

“It is freeing, is it not? Allowing your darkness to rule you.” She stopped struggling to escape him and let her arms hang at her sides. “I see it in your eyes. You have taken command of the beast within, and the darkness has spread into every fiber of your soul.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Zanya

Zanya raced back to her home to escape the storm. She didn’t want to face the loneliness after Cualli left her at the temple, even if that meant facing everyone’s stares and the humiliating questions instead.

Worse would be facing Arwan.

He didn’t seem happy when he discovered the baby, but he wasn’t upset, either. Maybe he was just in shock. That made two of them. She’d give it a few days to sink in. Then they could talk about their options.

A huge crack in the ground forced Zanya to slow her pace. She approached the hole and leaned over the edge, peering into the void. A foul stench coated her tongue—the unmistakable trademark of the underworld.

Zanya searched the ground for any sign of Yaxche but saw none. Her attention was stolen by slide-marks in the mud. Someone—or something—had fallen, or worse, been dragged into the void.

With the villagers gone, it was likely an animal of some kind. Yaxche’s newest victim.

Zanya carefully navigated around the hole and completed her journey home. Balam paced along the edge of the protected stone platform with his ears pinned back.

The camp was vacant, and the front door to their home hung wide open.

A weight settled in Zanya’s stomach.

If Contessa attacked while she was gone—if Drina’s protective barrier didn’t work against the witch’s powerful magic—she’d never forgive herself.

Zanya ran past Balam and through the door, up the stairs, and burst into the living room, where the entire group was crowded in a circle.

Everyone turned and looked at her.

Panting, she scanned their faces. “Is everyone okay?”

Tara crossed her arms. “Other than the fact you ran off and worried us all half to death—yeah, we’re fine.”

“Sorry. I needed some time alone.”

“Alone?” Renato stood from the chair beside the fireplace. “Did Arwan not find you?”

“Should he have?”

“He went after you,” her mother said. Her tone was normally spiked with contempt when she spoke about Arwan. Now her voice reflected the worry in her eyes.

That made her worry. “I didn’t see him—” Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh my god. The void.”

“What are you talking about?” Peter asked.

“There was another crack in the ground, and slide marks.” It was the only explanation. He wouldn’t have left their home and not returned. He wouldn’t have left her out there alone. How could she be so selfish? Of course he would go after her. “Arwan was pulled under.”

“Pulled under where?” Tara said.

Drina frowned. “Home.”

“Home,” Zanya echoed.

“I guess I’ll be the one to ask,” Hawa said, standing on the other side of the room. “Are we going after him?”

Zanya nodded. “We can’t leave him down there. God only knows what they’re doing to him.”

“There is no way to gain access to the realm,” Renato said. “Arwan is the only one of us with underworld blood. He
is
the key.”

Zanya looked at Jayden. “That’s not entirely true.”

Jayden shook his head, his hands raised as if already declaring defeat. “Hey, I’ve spent time there, and it’s not a place I want to vacation.”

“But you’re the only one, Jay. Like you said, you’ve been there. Your blood could be the only way.”

“You can’t bleed a rock.” He shrugged. “I’ve been dried up since I came back.”

“What do you mean dried up?”

“As in, he doesn’t bleed,” Hawa said. “I know. I pulled a knife out of his side. Nothin’.”

“A knife?” Zanya tilted her head, examining Jay.

“Don’t ask,” Hawa said. “The point is, you’re not going to get a blood sacrifice from him any time soon.”

Zanya pinched her lip between her teeth. There had to be some way. Something she was missing. She couldn’t let him stay there alone.

“Zanya.” Her mother’s voice tore her out of her panicked thoughts. “Even if you could reach him, do you think he would want that?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Her mother’s gaze flickered to her belly. “Your condition isn’t exactly prime to go touring his realm.”

“My condition?” Zanya balled her fists. “My
condition
? I never wanted this baby to begin with. I didn’t ask to be trapped with some kid to take care of.” She scoffed. “I thought you of all people would understand.”

Her mother’s face flushed. “
Zanya
.”

“It’s true. You had to hide like a coward while the world went on around you, and you did nothing about it. You couldn’t because you chose having your baby over fulfilling your responsibility.”

“That’s exactly right,” her mother said—nearly shouting now. “I chose you, and whether you know it or not, if you don’t honor the life inside of you, you will regret it forever. And trust me. You’ll have many, many years to regret.”

Something inside her snapped, and she said the one thing she never thought would come out of her mouth. “My only mistake would be choosing this half-breed baby over…” Zanya stopped and pressed her hand over her mouth, gagging on her words.

Tara set her hand on Zanya’s back. “It’s okay. It’s normal to have these thoughts.”

“How could I have said that?” Zanya rubbed her hands down her face, grateful Arwan wasn’t around.

“We know you didn’t mean to call your baby a half-breed. You’re just stressed and—”

Zanya looked at Tara, stopping her mid-sentence. “What?”

“I’m just saying, you’re tired and—”

“No.” She looked down at her belly.

Drina touched her own lips with her wrinkled fingers. “
You
.”

***

Arwan

The darkness consumed him, rushed through his veins and seeped deep into his soul—just like Contessa had claimed.

His mother had created something she could not control. A beast that could choose which side it would fight for.

After a lifetime of refusing to embrace his dark lineage, he’d been forced to face the inevitable.

This was it.

He was, after all, his father’s son.

He was, after all, a monster.

He released Contessa’s throat, clenching and unclenching his fists. Power like he’d never experienced poured through him, making his veins swell and his muscles bulge.

Contessa touched the swollen marks on her neck.

He blinked, now peering through a shroud of darkness with bright violet fogging the edges of his vision.

“You’re beautiful,” Contessa whispered, her voice still raspy. The marks on her neck morphed from bright yellow to blue.

A growl rolled in his chest.

The beast—once a combating force inside him—now made him complete. It shared his body with his mind, both of them one piece of a whole, reunited after a lifetime of being pitted against each other.

“This is mine.” He scanned the first realm of the underworld, desolate of any followers after the tree had had its fill. “Where are my slaves?”

“They are still here, my lord.” Contessa settled her hand on his chest, and then slid it up and cupped the back of his neck.

Her touch no longer sparked with his other side. Instead they meshed in the most perfect harmony. “
Where
?”

His hard tone must have startled her. She bowed her head, subservient to his authority. “In the realms below us, my lord. There are eight more, each layer with its own prisoners.”

Perhaps if he had embraced his rightful place sooner, he could have saved the middleworld from years of anguish.

Generations of fallen soldiers.

Lifetimes of pain.

“There is so much more for you to see. So much more for you to experience.” The way her lips formed that last word grabbed him from the inside.

He leaned in and kissed her, long and hard.

When he pulled away, he tilted his head, sensing the change in the temptress. She was no longer a threat. Instead, she was an ally.

She pressed her cleavage against him. “You,
my lord
, are the answer to our woes. Your realm is threatened by the inaction of your father, the king. Your return is our saving grace—our chance to overthrow not only the middleworld, but the heavens as well.” She raked her fingers through his hair. “With your married bloodlines, we could rule them all.”

“We?” He grabbed her wrist, bending the delicate bones until he felt them grind together. She flinched but did not pull away. “You are my father’s mistress.”

“You speak as if it were my choice.”

Arwan eased his grip.

She snarled. “Your father, the king.” The way she said his name—so tainted with contempt. “He is far from a king. Far from the ruler you could be.” She yanked her wrist out of his grasp and wound her arms around his neck. “I had no choice but to join him. He never would have allowed me to seek refuge in his realm and complete my bidding otherwise. And it is only because he believes I do all of this for
him
that he allows me to stay. Otherwise…” She pressed her body against his again. Arwan’s nostrils flared as the scent of her perfume tickled his senses. “I would have perished. And if I had perished—” The witch licked her thumb, then streaked it over his mouth. “You and I would have been robbed of this…opportunity.”

He ran his tongue across his lips and tasted the bitter tinge of her saliva.

He had never been so attracted to the witch before—so absolutely entranced by her beauty and the way her lips formed each word, spoken by her sultry voice.

The noxious aftertaste of her mouth reminded him of who she was, and what she did to remain alive in the mortal realm.

She was a temptress—a stalker of souls. She was a parasite with an arsenal specialized to snare men in her trap—and he was falling into it.

He shoved her back.

Contessa stumbled and fell to the dry, cracked earth. Her perfect red waves spilled over her shoulders, and she glared up at him.

“Kneel,” Arwan commanded.

The witch watched him for a moment, then obeyed and pushed to her knees. He approached, the darkness still motivating him.

Once he stood in front of her, Contessa reached up and wrapped her fingers around the buckle of his pants. “I can please you. I can be the queen you so badly desire.”

Arwan pulled back and struck her across the cheek, slapping her to the ground. She pushed onto one hand, holding her face with the other.

“You are
not
who I want.”

Contessa scrambled to her feet, her cheek puffy and red. “I will forgive you for laying a hand on me, though just this once.”

“That’s too bad.” Arwan pushed up his sleeves. “Because I intend to do it more than once.”