Page 1 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

Chapter 1

Ruen

Something vicious and wicked rips at my gut. It slices its cold, cruel talons through my insides and if I didn’t know it was all in my head, the pain, the hurt, the—I cut that thought off with a shake of my head as I watch the sun rise over the frothy waves. To the east.

I often wonder what changes would my life have taken had my brothers and I been taken to Perditia instead of Riviere. What I know of the place is minor, but I do know that Azai—our sire—avoids it like the plague. Just that fact alone makes it a desirable home. A place far from his reach, far from the center of the cruelest Gods. A place that even Tryphone, himself, respectfully keeps his distance from.

Would anything have been different had I gone to the eastern mountains? I wonder silently. Would I have avoided meeting the Terra now residing down within the lowest dungeons?

I close my eyes and inhale slowly through my nose and exhale out of my mouth as I try to stifle that unerring emotion that has wracked me since the night I visited my Terra—no, since I visited Kiera—down in the dungeons.

Quiet footsteps echo along the path leading to the overlook I’m currently standing before. Few people—Mortal Gods or not—brave the icy breath of the morning air to see the sunrise here. Those that have previously … well, suffice it to say that this broken point is not for those who wish good lives for themselves.

Therefore, the sound of someone’s approach has me turning back the way I came, angling my body in such a way as to not give away the fact that I’m curious, but instead to make it look like a natural shift on my feet.

The dark gleam of ebony skin and cool, misty eyes that are most certainly not of this world have me tensing further the second I recognize them. Caedmon. I face the sight before me once more and grind my teeth. Any other God, I’d be happy to contend with at this moment. Axlan, with all his bluster and aggression. Narelle, with her cold cutting eyes. Even Dolos would be preferable at this moment. All of them, I could shield against. I could draw the walls up and let the ice fall into place, hiding my truths. But not him.

Never him.

Caedmon doesn’t say anything as he slows his gait and approaches where I stand against the jagged stone railing that looks out across the blackened sea and the cloudy mountains so far in the distance that they’re mere specs in my imagination. Far below, the sound of the ocean crashes against the cliffside, angry and unforgiving. Much like my own damn mind.

I look down. Rocky pillars jut up and out of the black, blue, and gray swirling waters like knives. Sharp and unrelenting. One step off and I know it won’t matter how much Divine blood resides within me, my death would be slow and deserved. This place truly has earned a reputation, and therefore, it seemed like the perfect place to contemplate my current thoughts as the day arrives—just as impossible to stop as the inviting waters below. It would be so quick…

“Nasty way to go,” Caedmon speaks, sounding half-amused. My brows shoot up and at the same time my body goes rigid with the silent threat in those words. I didn’t know that the Prophecy God could peek into another’s head like that.

Caedmon chuckles, low and musical in sound. “I can’t read your mind,” he says, guessing my thoughts if his words are to be believed, “but I think I’ve known you long enough and well enough to know what you’re thinking about as you stand here at the edge of the world.”

The muscles along my spine loosen but only slightly. Until he continues.

“But also, I saw you jumping off this ledge this morning in my dreams last night, so that might have helped to guess your thoughts.” He doesn’t sound disapproving as he reveals a piece of my potential future as if it’s little more than talking about what he’ll have for lunch.

I blink and gape at him. Shock courses through me. “I jump?”

Caedmon sets one long-fingered hand on the railing, golden rings glinting in the early morning rays, and turns to settle himself more firmly on the uneven stones. “Jumped,” he clarifies in the past tense. “That moment has passed and unless my visions show me a different thread, I doubt you’ll do it.” He swipes his hand through the air with a casualness I don’t feel, that I never feel around Gods such as him. No matter how long I’ve resided near or around them, it’s as if my own body and mind can sense the danger they present. I can’t ever relax around them, not really. Not even around Caedmon.

“I…” Words fail me. I don’t know what to say to his confession, how to explain why I feel so Gods damned reprehensible. What I’ve done to feel this way.

Caedmon cants his head towards me, the earthen brown eyes of his deep and shallow all at once. If I didn’t know personally how strong Tryphone’s own abilities are, how vicious he can be when threatened, then I’d say that a man of Caedmon’s power is more apt for Kinghood. He seems all-knowing and yet, he never lets on whether he truly is or not.

Despite the icy chill in the air, the God of Prophecy is dressed relatively lightly. In another of his casual suits, a black darker even than his skin etched in gold and various matching ornaments. Pearl and gold clustered buttons vertically line the center of his chest and twin spike-like earrings dangle to just above his shoulders. His wide, full lips stretch into a soft smile before he speaks again.

“Today is the third day, isn’t it?” he asks.

That enigmatic emotion that has plagued me for these last few days rises back to the surface. I grit my teeth against the pain that shreds my insides as if the damn thing has become a living and breathing monster in my stomach bent on punishing me for my sins.

“A hundred lashes is quite a lot.” His words are another stab to my gut and then a wicked twist.

“Why are you here?” I snap the question at him, needing something—anything—to distract myself from what will happen in a few short hours. Rage darkens my mind, clouding through me, and only by sheer force of will—and the fact that I know I couldn’t possibly kill Caedmon, not that I’d want to—do I hold it in check. Once the sun is fully risen and everyone’s filed into the arena, Kiera will be brought forth and … she will be punished. Because of me. Because of my mistake.

Shame. That is what the monster that clings to my soft underbelly is called. Vile and justified in its torment of me over the past few days, it clings to my bones and slides between my ribcage, leaving long jagged scratches as it goes. Scars that I will wear beneath my skin to match the ones that I wear over it.

“Because of my vision,” Caedmon finally answers, “but also because I thought it pertinent to tell you that should you feel some way about your Terra”—my eyes cut to his and I feel them burn with power for a moment before it fades—“perhaps a meeting with Dolos will curb your guilt.”

My jaw goes slack and my brow furrows. “Meet with Dolos?” I repeat. “What will that do? He’s already announced to the entire Academy that she’s to be punished today. There is no stopping it.”

“No, there’s not.” Caedmon’s expression twitches at his own statement, but before I can figure out why, he continues. “However, he only ever announced how many lashes she’s to receive within his office, so if someone were to say … offer to take half of those before she even reaches the arena, perhaps she will fare better.”

Take half of the lashes. I shake my head. “Dolos would never agree to—”

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