Chapter Nine

I stood in Geara's garden, staring up into the purple leaves of the massive tree overhead, watching sunlight fade in and out between the swaying leaves, the fruit long having shriveled and fallen to the ground, becoming sun-baked raisins that would dissolve into the soil.

It had been days since war had been declared. No sign of battle on the front. No more murders. However, sides were being chosen and they were being chosen quickly. After Satanika and I had traveled far and wide to converse with the population, we'd learned that many had defected to Atlan, both out of fear and rebellion against the Source. The loyalists, however, had all begun to congregate to our fortress, seeking protection and willing to pick up arms against the rebellion.

Death still refused to leave his home. He'd locked himself away and nary left, even in search of food, telling me he'd stocked well for the coming war and was prepared to do naught, but carry souls to their final resting place.

Geara still searched for a way to seal Xiphrus. She conversed with the Source frequently, and with Starkin's help, they had turned the former home into a true fortress.

I dragged my eyes to the twelve foot stone wall that surrounded the property, above which sat black barbs wet with poison that not even the rain could wash away. We'd elected guards to manage the wall, and I could sense their movements on the other side as they walked the perimeter. It was no longer a garden of peace and meditation, but one that felt suffocated and hollow.

Unable to stand the feeling here, I left the garden and went through the fortress, which was now a flurry with activity as creatures walked every which way, carrying maps or battle strategies, some carrying weapons, others simply walking about in order to clear their minds in preparation for the first attack that had yet to come.

They were waiting for something, I realized only day laters. The rebellion was waiting for a signal of some kind.

I left the fortress, unable to stand the suffocation of so many people in one structure. Instead, I vanished from my place in the main hall and appeared on the trail that crept along the meadow and forest. I stared down the path, now shadowed by skeletal trees. The air was cold now. No snow fell, not yet, but the air was bitter and nipped harshly at my cheeks. The last of the leaves were peeling away from their places on the branches, floating down to the path, covering the stamped grass and unrooted soil with a layer of brown, decaying leaves.

The scent in the air was moist, moldy, and cold. Most of the fauna had disappeared for the season, or maybe they, too, sensed the impending war and ran for cover, leaving behind ransacked nests and burrows.

The only creatures that remained to watch the carnage were the birds, and not the song birds either. Instead, large black birds had come to rest upon the branches of the trees, watching with beady black eyes the scenery unfold. They made not high chirps or croons, but rather deep croaks, grave chatter as they muttered amongst themselves, black feathers ruffling.

The sky overhead became dim with clouds and I tilted my head back to gaze up at the black and gray clouds that rolled over one another as if in a race to get seats for the coming entertainment.

Yes, I thought bitterly, come one, come all, watch now as the Source's once great creatures battle to the death for nothing more than one creature's foolish mistake.

And I wondered now, who truly made the mistake.

Xiphrus was naive. He always had been. He was a slave to his emotions. When he felt joy, all felt joy. He threw his hands in the air and danced, bathed in golden sunlight, his laughter making the birds sing. And when he felt sorrow, even the flowers in the garden wilted. His tears fell freely and his sobs broke even the stoutest of hearts.

And now he felt the strongest of emotions. He did love Atlan, that much was certain. He never would have abandoned us otherwise. However, his love was built on a foundation of corruption, of greed, of utter sin. He was just too innocent to see it.

So, twas not his fault for falling in love.

Atlan was just too good at what he did. He didn't even need magic to talk others into doing his bidding. He simply said what the creature wished to hear, wore the mask of a well-mannered powerful being, used eloquent words to coax his victims into his trap. Once he had them ensnared, it was too late to free them. It was as the fly with the spider. Lured by sweetness, trapped by a web of lies, and saved for when the spider decided to feast.

Atlan was who he was. There was no changing him. He knew who he was.

Surely this was at my fault, I thought grimly, somehow my legs gaining a mind of their own and carrying me along the path into the woods. Atlan must have been a test sent upon us, by Source or not, a test nonetheless... One we failed miserably.

I should have known something was afoot when Xiphrus had first begun to disappear. I had passed it off as his curiosity taking him to journey through the lands. I was given yet another chance to stop everything when I had first met Atlan. Instead, I'd allowed myself to fall victim to the same charm that Xiphrus had. Because I was not as strong as I thought I was. I, like Xiphrus, was a victim to my emotions and I allowed myself to be swept away by the feelings of seduction, arousal, intellectual stimulation by a new mind.

It was my fault, I decided. My fault and no one else's. I had plenty of chances to stop this disaster from happening and instead, I played right into Atlan's hands and even though I fought, I would still not be able to escape those hands wrapped around me.

I was a prisoner as much as Xiphrus was.

"Tis a pity." I froze, feet becoming rooted to the floor as I stared down the empty path, but the voice had come from behind me. I was unsure whether to turn around for a moment, wanting nothing more than to vanish on the spot, but the sudden surge of emotions against the wall within me prevented my concentration from focusing solely on leaving.

So I turned to face Atlan.

He stood on the trail, dressed in heavy black robes with embroidered red and gold hems. He'd added a second braid to the one held tight to his head on the left side, the rest of his black hair falling free about his broad shoulders, his muscles loose, his body relaxed... like the smile that graced his lips.

I stared at him, debating whether to simply kill him right here where he stood, or speak. But then, with a creature who used words as a weapon, surely no amount of talking would sway this monster.

"You can't kill me," Atlan said, making me frown instantly, and he smiled, "It is not your destiny. I can feel it. Neither of us will die in this war. Which is good, considering our deaths would implode the very fabric of time and space, would it not?" I said nothing to that, merely narrowed my eyes and Atlan smiled, his eyes sweeping me from head to toe, then returning to my eyes.

"Tis quite sorrowful," he murmured, those swirling silver eyes boring into mine with a matching misery to his tone, "You have locked away such beautiful mysteries in favor of a facade of cold stoicism. You were given those by your Source, were you not, to free them and enjoy them?"

"Why have you come to me?" I demanded, not daring to fall for his trap. Atlan's eyes searched mine.

"To see how you fair," he replied, taking a step forward, but I didn't move, so he continued until he was directly in front of me, "I fear what Xiphrus's anger may have done to you, and I see now, that he has truly broken you and it saddens me. I see no light in your beautiful eyes. You are a ghost of your former self, so cold, so unfeeling. Does it not burden you to carry such weight behind that so-called wall of yours?" I stared at him. How did he know about that? How could he possibly know? There was no way he could read my mind. My mind was only open unto Geara and Xiphrus, and Xiphrus knew not of the wall I used to blockade my emotions. Surely not.

Now, however, was not the time to panic, so I retained full control over my calm, my eyes now following Atlan as he circled me, the burn of his eyes singing my skin.

"Your words are powerful," I commented, watching him give pause at my back, then I straightened my gaze down the path, not giving him the pleasure of my attention, "You do not lie, that much I can see. You truly believe your cause. You truly believe the words that leave your lips. I can feel your sorrow, and I can feel your hunger like a hot whip against my back. I know full well that your hunger wishes to pray upon what you see as weakness and what I use as strength. Your words are power, unfortunately, it is a power I know how to deflect."

There was silence. I could still feel Atlan's eyes on my back, feel his breath as he drew closer, and it took every ounce of strength I had to remain absolutely still as Atlan came to stand against my back, one strong arm going about my waist while the other crept beneath my arm to splay a large hand across my chest. His breath was hot against my ear and smelled of honey. I could feel his body react to the touch, pushing hard against my backside. The contact aroused a low growl in Atlan's throat, as if such a mere touch would bring him to climax.

"You think you can fight me," Atlan purred, his hand stroking my chest, his deep voice vibrating me to the marrow of my bones, so deep and commanding, "You think you understand me. You, too, speak truth where you believe you see it, do you not, sweet Joxeia?" I said nothing, merely stared straight ahead, allowed him to pretend his power play was working.

His hand drifted down my waist, settled upon my groin where he would only feel flaccidity, and I could hear the deep growl in his throat again, and I could smell the annoyance wafting off him. A shiver of pleasure shot through me at that, and Atlan smirked, lips moving against my ear.

"You enjoy this," he said matter-of-factly, "You enjoy having power over me like this. I feel everything and you nothing at all... It angers me and you like that."

"It is as I said," I replied calmly, "You truly believe the words that leave your lips... And you speak no lies now, as I can smell the anger you feel. The scent of it is rancid. It is the rotten stench of which I smelled so long ago. You've learned to conceal it with sweetness. Kindness."

"I am kind."

"Oh yes. You truly believe such things."

"It is truth."

"In your eyes, surely."

"In Xiphrus's eyes as well," Atlan murmured, and I didn't react nor speak to the mention of my brother, which made Atlan smiled now, and his lips slid from my ear down to my throat, "He misses you, I can see it in his eyes when he touches himself, even after I warn him not to. He can't help himself. It appears he had a very close encounter with you before your separation." I said nothing, though, there was another surge against the wall inside me.

Oh, I'm absolutely sure he missed me. No doubt Atlan pressured him about me, and Xiphrus happily told him the details while he touched himself, while he touched Atlan, while the two of them rutted like a couple of blind animals.

The bitterness behind those thoughts caught me off guard and I immediately cursed myself for once again falling for Atlan's entrapment.

A sharp gasp left me as Atlan's grip on me suddenly tightened, his arms encircling me and his hand grabbing me between the legs, his other hand creeping up to grab my throat, his lips moving back to my ear. He jerked hard at my body and I hissed through clenched teeth, now grabbing both of his arms, but not moving them.

Atlan chuckled.

"You can't make me let go," he teased, "Because even though you claim to hate me and claim me as evil, you can't get enough of this. You love the idea of rutting like a couple of animals. You love the idea of someone pushing you to the ground, taking you hard and fast, until you bleed, until you scream. You have pent up emotion, pent up passion, that is screaming for release and it's that part of you that wishes to bend over for me. It's that part of you that I want to rip open and release."

I narrowed my eyes and bared my fangs, releasing a flow of power that shot through my veins like hot lava. My nails sharpened and sank into his flesh, snagging it hard and making him wince. My fangs flashed like a snake's and my vision sharpened immediately as I jerked Atlan's hand from my throat and bit down into his wrist hard. He instantly made the mistake of yanking back, causing my fangs to shred his arm.

He stumbled away from me and I turned to face him slowly, calmly as my claws retracted and fangs returned to normal.

"Speak what you will," I told him flatly, watching him look up at me, "I have no care for your words any longer. And I have no care of those of Xiphrus. I may entertain the thought of becoming a villain, however, I would sooner cut out my own heart and end the universe than ever think of bedding you or my brother. Now be gone and prepare yourself, my precious Atlan. I'm going to thoroughly enjoy bringing you to your knees... and ending your existence." Atlan's eyes flashed, but he still smiled now as he straightened.

"You cannot kill me. It is not your destiny."

"It may not be my destiny, but I will be happy to lay you out like the pig you are and guide the hand of he who is to take your life. Nothing would give me greater pleasure." Atlan's eyes studied me. He was angry, I could smell it, but he was also excited. It was clear not only from the obvious reaction of his body hardening beneath those thin robes, but the glimmer in his eyes.

"I look forward to the day that you stare into my eyes as I die," Atlan purred, "One final pleasure before I leave a universe enslaved to stupidity." Without another word, he vanished on the spot and I stood there, staring at the space where he stood.

"You cannot kill me. It is not your destiny."

If that were the case, I would find the one who is destined to kill Atlan. And guide him.