Resurrection (Book Three of the Soul Forge series)

Something is different, Vel murmured. Sypher hummed his agreement, ignoring his wounds as he helped erect a makeshift tent to house the remains of the soldiers. His visible injuries weren’t healing yet, but he knew they would soon. He could feel his mind working faster, becoming more alert as his regeneration started on the damage prolonged death had done to his cells.

He worked silently, each sting and ache a reminder that the Void hadn’t claimed him yet. Even Elda’s tears were welcome - he hated seeing her in pain, but the fact that he was able to witness it felt like a miracle.

My shadows are listening, Vel murmured, and Sypher felt the darkness the demon had always been able to command brush against his skin in a caress. I'm in complete control of them.

My elemental power feels heightened too, he replied silently. Like something was holding it back. He tapped into it curiously, his pulse quickening when all four elements rushed to greet him.

"That's because it was held back on purpose," said a voice that sent a pulse of rage down his spine. Every muscle in his body stiffened.

Bastard, the demon soul snarled. Shadows rose up around Sypher at Vel's command without him having to switch out. There was no painful tug in his chest, no suggestion that the darkness might sap his strength as payment for its cooperation. It was smooth, seamless, as much a part of the Angel soul as it was the demon.

He turned, fingers closing around the hilt of his sword, to find the snowfall suspended around him, soldiers and healers frozen in various phases of cleaning up the aftermath of war. In the empty space cleared by them, the king and queen lay on makeshift plinths, peaceful and regal in death. Elda stood between them, the tears stopped midway down her cheeks.

And behind her waited Hephaestus, his voice carrying as though he were right beside the tent.

Sypher moved before his brain fully registered what was happening, stepping into darkness by the canvas partition and stepping out of it right in front of the Spirit, hand wrapping around his jugular.

Unaffected by Hephaestus' magic, Aurora, Cerilla, Irileth and Aetheria came running from whatever task they were helping with, stopping in their tracks when they saw him standing with Sypher's hand ready to tear open his throat.

"Do you know what you did?" Sypher growled, ignoring the stinging pain lancing up his arm from a fractured bone. "Do you know what you cost her?!"

"I do," Hephaestus replied, undisturbed by the tightening grip on his windpipe. "But how else could I release you from the bonds placed on you since your creation? How else could I get Elda to embrace the light she was gifted with? To use it as her own?" The jaguar Spirit sighed, unflinching when the Soul Forge dragged him closer, leaving them nose to nose.

"I should kill you for what you've done," he snarled through gritted teeth.

"I'd certainly deserve it." His feline head cocked. "But I'm asking you to listen to me, then make your choice. If you still choose to kill me, I won't stop you."

Sypher wanted to snap his neck, to tear off his head and kick it over the city wall. Vel was no better, desperate to gut him right there on the cobbles. But Irileth shook her head just once in his peripheral vision.

Concentrating on his fingers, Sypher forced them to relax, stepping back enough to let Hephaestus breathe.

"Speak," he hissed.

"I let you die because a true death was the only way Aeon would release his hold on you. If he believed your soul was sent to the Void, your body nothing more than a container for the magic you once wielded, he would have no reason to pursue you."

"I've lived in his chains my entire life," the Soul Forge retorted. "What difference would it make?"

"Did you know Aeon is capable of using the Compulsion?" Hephaestus asked. The air rushed out of Sypher's lungs, Vel falling silent in his mind. "That's right. You were left alive for so long because you were his weapon. If all else failed, he planned to use you to end me. Can you imagine what it would be like to be enslaved by a creature that hates every fibre of your being?"

"How do you know that?" Sypher asked, his voice hoarse.

"I had my suspicions, but the memories contained in my second soul fragment confirmed it." Hephaestus folded his arms across his chest and looked up at the snowfall, tail swishing slowly back and forth. "I remember now why I was imprisoned. What led to the state of this world."

"Tell me."

"Before all of this existed, Aeon and I were equals. Brothers, birthed from the energy of the universe, with the ability to create and destroy at our fingertips. We were each other's counterbalance. We made this world. I provided the sunlight, the plants, the living creatures. I gave them free will, gave them hope and feeling and intelligence. I gave them slivers of my own power, eager to see what would become of it.

"My brother created the night, and the moon, and the stars. He created darkness, and death, and illness. Not out of malice, but to strike a balance. When he created his first demon, it wasn't unlike the tulpar demon that seems so fond of your vampire friend. It was calm, possessed its own power and intelligence, and it was a thing of beauty."

"Then what went wrong?" Sypher asked, still resisting the urge to run him through there and then.

"It wasn't enough for him. Aeon's creations became stronger, darker, more violent. Eventually, they began to go beyond population control, attacking and devouring anything that lived, regardless of hunger or need." Hephaestus' brow furrowed. "He liked the power. He liked being able to create things I couldn't. The demons didn't answer to me, so I threatened to destroy them."

"So he locked you up because you told him to put away his toys?" Some of Vel's biting snark crept into the comment.

"He locked me away because I was naive," the Spirit snapped. "I believed he was still peaceful, that the world we made meant more than the power he enjoyed. I was wrong." The venom leaked out of his voice. "He stripped me apart like it was nothing, even though I refused to fight, and sealed me away inside the monoliths. All I could do was watch him reshape the world we built together."

"Is he the reason the Behemoths and Leviathans are so dangerous?"

"Yes." The Spirit ran a hand over the soft fur on his head. "They were supposed to be the ones revered, the ones worshipped, not the Spirits. We weren't supposed to be known to you. When Aeon trapped me, my link to the guardians was severed. Some, like Niviniyah, still remember me and the task I set for them. The rest forgot and went mad."

Sypher frowned. "Then why was my job to leave the ones still serving their purpose alive? Surely Aeon would want them dead?"

"Because Aeon cannot wrongfully order the murder of something he didn't create. The guardians are not demons." Hephaestus shook his head, casting his eyes down to the stones. "That's why he had the Compulsion woven into your blood before you were even awake. He couldn't kill you himself, but it wouldn't count if you were sacrificed in his name. It's why none of us can intervene, except for Cerilla, since she made you." He turned and smiled at the smaller Spirit. "But you would never have known that, because your memories were erased by him."

"Why am I different?" Cerilla asked, moving closer to take Sypher's hand.

"Because you were the only Spirit I created besides Elda. The rest were made by Aeon. He can't bestow the gift of creation upon another. It's not in his nature." The jaguar Spirit sighed. "There. Now you have the truth. I was foolish, it led to my imprisonment, and Aeon remade the world to worship him thanks to my mistakes."

"So why has Malakai been allowed to do whatever he wishes?" Irileth asked, also moving closer with Aurora.

"Because Malakai makes my brother look good. Having the Soul Forge out there to save the people is a blessing from the First." Hephaestus flashed a bitter smile. "Who better to protect them than the being that gifted them an immortal warrior? If there is struggle, and pain, and death, Aeon can paint him self as the salvation of the people without ever lifting a finger. They'll never know he's the orchestrator of that struggle, not a defender against it."

"Did you really have to take Elda's home? Her parents?" the Soul Forge asked, letting Vel slip forwards. "You made her believe I was gone."

"I also told her she wasn't enough," he admitted quietly.

Vel dropped Cerilla's hand, nausea turning his stomach. "You did what?"

"I needed her to fight."

"When this shitty war is over, you're going to pay for this," Vel promised, gripping his collar and dragging him forwards until they were nose to nose again. "I don't care how benevolent or well-intentioned it was. You never tell my wife she's anything less than enough. She is the best of all of us." The demon soul released him roughly enough to make him stagger and gestured at the silent, still world around him. "Stop this shit so I can fix what you broke." He turned away when the snowflakes started to fall again.

Elda stood silently between the plinths her parents had been laid to rest on, head bowed, tears pouring from unblinking eyes. Vel stalked past the running soldiers, past the dragons moving chunks of rubble or putting out fires, past the scores of bodies being lined up ready for burning, ignoring the pain of his bruised body and broken bones.

He took Elda's face in his hands, bending enough to look her in the eyes. "You are enough," he said, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. When he drew her in to hold her against his chest, she let him, burying her fingers in the feathers of his wings. It hurt, but he clung to her just as tightly. "I will never leave you again."

"I keep waiting for you to disappear," she whispered, her voice raw from all the crying. "How are you here?"

"Later," he replied softly. "We can talk about all of that later. It's... a lot. For now, grieve. Lean on me. I'm here, I'm alive, and I've got you."

"You should go see Julian," she mumbled, wiping her eyes and pulling back to look up at him. "He was badly hurt for saving my life. Everyone was hurt."

Vel sighed and rubbed a hand through his pale hair, guilt weighing on his shoulders. “I have Abraxos to deal with. I'm surprised the bastard's even still alive after the damage I did to his skull."

"Is Arden still unconscious?"

"Seems that way."

Elda nodded and cast another look over her parents. "I know there are things to do, but I can't leave them."

The beating of heavy wings sounded, a flash of crimson scales landing behind them. Cain bent and touched his nose to Elda's chest in greeting.

Go, he urged. I will watch over them for you.

"Thank you," Elda answered, running a hand over the scales on his cheek.

You should go see my mother too, he told Vel. She is clearing the bodies from the forest, so she does not know. You may not be nirehni any longer, but she will be overjoyed to see you alive.

"You're not bonded to Ember anymore?" the princess gasped.

The Soul Forge swallowed. "That was the price of saving her life, remember?"

"I thought since you were alive, it might be restored."

"No. Once broken, that kind of bond is irreplaceable. Ember will never have a bonded rider again." He cleared his throat, pushing back the pain clawing its way through his chest, and offered Elda his hand. "Let's see the injured first."

She nodded, allowing herself to be pulled towards the row of medical tents that had been erected in the last few hours. Soldiers rushed in and out of them, many suffering bite wounds that were no longer lethal with Cynthia gone.

In the second-to-last tent, Brady, Julian and Gira were together, each laid or sat on a makeshift wooden cot. Julian was laid down with his eyes closed, wrapped in bandages and his arm in a hasty sling. Gira and Brady had salve smothered on various burn marks, but both of them were awake.

Vel stopped when they saw him, their mouths dropping open. He hadn't considered their reaction - would they blame him for them getting hurt?

But Brady's face broke into a broad grin, and Gira let out a sigh of relief. The bear shifter leaned over and tapped Julian's boot.

"Can't you see I'm trying not to die here?" he groaned, not opening his eyes. She tapped him again. "What, woman?" he growled, looking up at last, but then his face slackened.

The vampire sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes with his good hand to make sure he wasn't dreaming. When Vel approached and knelt beside his cot, moisture welled up in Julian's eyes and threatened to spill over, turning his lashes spiky.

"I swear to the Spirits, you feathered twat, if you ever scare me like that again I'm going to pluck you!" he yelled, and then he dropped his forehead onto Vel's shoulder. "Thank the fucking stars," he whispered.