Page 49 of Night of Death and Flowers

Dephina is the first to approach me on the shore of the Black Sea. Vaknor, Everist, and two other elders follow her through the tree line of Morcidea Forest.

“Azkiel, God of Death.” Dephina’s raspy tone sounds from behind as she steps into my view, standing in front of one of the twelve boats tied to stakes hammered into the ground. Beyond her, and across the sea, the island is a silhouette against the setting sun.

“What do you want?” I ask, impatience lacing my tone.

She clears her throat, running a hand over her long, blonde braid. “The traitor, Drake Redding—”

“What about him?” I cut her off with a snarl.

“We do not wish for him to win.”

I stare at her, fingers flexing at my side. “You dare question me? Your god!” I shout, and Dephina takes a hesitant step back.

Vaknor joins her, carefully gliding into my line of sight, adorned in white robes. “Please, we do not care about the boy,” the elder chimes in, and Dephina shoots him an incredulous glare. “I only ask for mercy, for Arabella, my daughter.” He blinks twice, his eyes the same shade of blue as Calista’s.

I step forward, the fabric of my tunic straining against my muscles as I close the few feet between us, desperate to rid myself of them all. “You have been gifted with the powers of all the gods. You have overseen Harvests and sent sacrifices to their deaths. When you won your Harvest, you took an oath to me, and to Dahryst. Your daughter’s sacrifice is an honor!”

“She will not survive it,” he splutters, bowing his head so as not to look at me, but as I recall our earlier meeting, humiliation shoots into my chest. He knows Calista cannot die by my touch.

“Then she will die,” I spit.

“Vaknor’s daughter may die, but we cannot allow the traitor to win,” the youngest elder speaks to my back. “You must eliminate him from the tournament and choose another.”

Dephina shakes her head at the youngest. “Melevin, don’t.”

I spin to face him, then tilt my head. “Must I?” I ask, and his brown eyes narrow, sweat beading on his tanned forehead. “You have forgotten,” I yell, my tone thunderous, causing crows to fly from the treetops, “that I command you!”

Shadows dance from Melevin’s fingers as he stumbles back. They flurry across the space between us, poised to attack. Gasps erupt from the other elders, and a maniacal laugh leaves my lips. I slice my hand through the air, and the shadows dissolve.

The other elders back away from Melevin quickly, averting their eyes.

“You attack me with my own magic?” I hiss through clenched teeth. “I am a god, and you are nothing.”

His breath hitches as he crumples the white fabric over his chest in his fingers, then drops to his knees. “Please, you were going to kill me. I—I’m an elder. Dahryst needs me.”

“You are what I decide you are,” I shout, then glance from him to the others. “Look at him!” I order. Their gazes return to Melevin, who is slumped on the ground, his heart racing so fast I wonder if it may stop before I can destroy him. “This is what happens when you question me.”

Ribbons of glittering darkness shoot from my fingers and the elder pushes himself backwards in a futile attempt to escape me. He scrambles to his feet, and my shadows snatch around his body like vicious vipers, constricting him until he is unable to move. He begs the others elders for help, but his pleas fall upon deaf ears. Twin wisps of darkness leap through the air, striking and sinking into his eyes. Urine veins through his robes as his scream rattles the beach. Crimson seeps from his sockets while I push my magic deeper, slicing through bone and muscle alike until he’s choking on his blood. His body collapses onto the sandy ground unceremoniously the moment my shadows release him.

I catch Dephina’s vengeful glare in my peripheral vision, but it quickly fades when I face them. “Clean this up,” I command, not staying long enough to watch his soul leave his broken body. One of my reapers will take over from here.

I walk into the forest, the sound of Vaknor’s sobs quaking from the shoreline. Pathetic. I should have ended them all, but to do so before The Harvest would be counterproductive. Dahryst still needs them, as useless as they might be.

They act as if I am the villain, yet they have overseen these tournaments, murdered countless people, then speak of mercy as soon as it is an inconvenience to them.

I halt on my tracks, goosebumps spreading over my neck as the familiar call of my magic emanates from deep within the forest.

Calista still hasn’t left. Her defiance crawls over my skin.

I descend into the maze of trees, veering off the beaten path and toward the abandoned house. I reach the house, then throw open the rotting door. Our eyes clash across the large room, hers alight with vengeance.

“You disobey me,” I state, my eyes narrowing on her satchel. “And you have enough poison to kill an army.”

“Or a god.” Challenge threads her blue stare.

I stride over to the formal dining table, stopping a few feet from her. “Such things cannot kill me, Poison, although I would find it amusing to see you try.”

“Perhaps I’ll go to Tenenocti with them,” she baits, and my eyes widen.

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