Page 28 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

“And when night fell, she then pulled from the rawness of the moon’s light to create her first daughter. She named her Rhiannon of the Moon and Dreams. For her third child, she drew from the stars of that same night, and before dawn broke she created Uttara of Stars and Dawn.

“For a while, the Mother God was happy with the life she had created, but to be truly happy, she wanted more children. Therefore, pulling on the magic of all living things; she extracted magic from the trees in the forest and the rivers that ran from the mountains. She pulled from the plants, the critters, and the soil, combining them all into one—and she named her Vanadey of Life and Beauty.”

Cally, as if sensing Emara’s unease, placed her hand into hers and squeezed. She squeezed back.

“But the Mother God longed for another son, as she had not created one since Thorin andshe had three daughters. She decided to complete her family and create one last God of the world. As the Mother God tried to create life, she realised that her magic was fragile. Weak. She had wrenched from too many sources of magic—from every element she knew to be good and pure—to create her family.” Viktir paused and closed his eyes. “But she couldn’t pull from any more light. The sun turned her down, the moon shunned her, and the landscapes could not offer her magic without the sun and the moon. They refused to give light. So, in her darkness—in her terrible and desperate despair—she pulled magic from the only thing she could: Her darkness. Her inner chaos. In her utter despair, she created her fifth and final child. She named him Veles of Darkness.”

Silence swallowed the entire room.

Emara pulled at the rim of her shirt, trying to adjust the neckline, her breathing feeling thick and tight in her throat. Viktir looked over his crowd—a sea of silence, stunned looks, and pale faces looked back.

In the human version of the Gods’ manuscripts, there was no mention of the Dark God, only the Light. Her grandmother had never included Veles in her lessons.

Viktir continued, “The Mother God placed all of her children in the ancient world to live freely and, of course, create lives of their own. Therefore, with their powers, Thorin, Rhiannon, Uttara, and Vanadey created life.

“After time, the deities fell in love with humans from the ancient world. And mated. This sparked the first creations of the magic wielders we know today. Anyone born from Rhiannon’s line seemed to manifest magic from the elements of the world—fire, earth, air, water, and spirit. And anyone from Thorin’s bloodline was strong and fierce. The first clan of men born from his bloodline took an oath in his name as protectors of the land, the blood of a warrior God running in their veins.

“Anyone of Uttara’s bloodline seemed to have powers of Light, but they were different from the witches. They called themselves the Faeries; unique creatures with powerful warrior-like tendencies and subtle magic. Life meant something different to Vanadey; she created creatures big and small to live in her forests and rivers and amongst her mountains. After a few thousand years of being at one with nature, she finally found herself seeking something more. A mate. From her magic, she allowed her creatures to change and shift into a human form, finally finding her mate in a wolf.”

Emara blinked. All of those creatures lived here? In Caledorna? In Huntswood?

“But the Mother God noticed that her son, Veles, was incapable of love, emotion, or compassion. Therefore, she forbade him from ever creating life or finding a mate in fear of what he would do—what he could create. In a blind rage at what his mother had forbidden, Veles killed his creator, the mother of life. Outraged and struck with grief, Thorin declared war against his brother for his act. But Veles had become too powerful, not wasting a drop of magic in creating other lives; he was whole and strong.” Viktir shifted himself. It was the first time Emara noticed him wince. “So, with the help of his sisters, they created a cage for Veles— the underworld—because they were unable to kill him at his full strength. Whilst in the cage of his very own realm, Veles pulled from his own darkness, just like his mother had, and created.”

A sob sounded through the room from a woman who held two young babies in her arms. Emara’s throat closed and she struggled to hold back her emotion.

“However, these creations of his were not human, nor were they animal. What he created was an army. An army of demons. His very own subjects to help him storm the ancient world and destroy everything that his family had created.” Viktir spat out the last of his sentence with pure venom, like he had witnessed the events of the ancient world.

“Rhiannon knew her brother wouldn’t stay caged for long and forged a plan. With her magic, she decided to create four magical stones. One, for each deity of the light. The Protection Stone, the Resurrection Stone, the Immortality Gem, and the Dark Crystal. Each of them took one for protection, should Veles try to slaughter them. The magical relics were created to ensure their survival.”

Someone in the crowd stirred, causing everyone to turn. An older village woman had hit the ground. Emara noticed Rhea rush to her aid. Clearly, all of this was too much for her.

Viktir didn’t acknowledge the woman as he drove home the final part of this story. “And they were right to do so, as Veles did come. I will not bore you with the details of the Great War—but what I can tell you is that it was the worst violence that the ancient world had ever seen. Women and children were murdered and men were slaughtered fighting to protect them. Not seeing any end, Thorin slammed his stone—the Dark Crystal—into the ground, causing a shift so great it broke the ancient world in half. The sea gushed in and wiped out most of Veles’ army, helping Thorin and the Hunters defeat the rest. But Veles didn’t get lost in the depths of the broken sea. He found his sister Uttara and stole the Immortality Stone from her before returning to the underworld—and he was never to be seen again. But his demons were.”

Torin spoke next, catching Emara off guard, “The ancient manuscripts have never given us a reason as to why Veles was never seen again. Some believe the Gods caged him again, some believe him dead. We know the latter to be untrue, otherwise his faithful army of demons wouldn’t still enter this world for vengeance.” He flicked his gaze over the villagers and then to his father. “But I am sure you have had enough history of our ancient world for one day.”

Torin placed a large hand onto his father’s shoulder. “Our old commander likes to get himself carried away in his stories.” He winked at a woman in the crowd and she almost swayed.

Viktir’s jaw hardened.

Cally smiled.

Torin cocked up his chin. “So, let’s tell you why you are really here, shall we?”

The commander drew his eyes from Torin’s slowly, but his eldest son took no notice.

“The demon king has a few close missionaries. They are what we call the Knights of the underworld—leaders in the dark battalion, his trusted disciples. They have been spotted on these lands leading demons to destroy homes, families—everything you know and love.” Torin’s ocean blue eyes swept the crowd. “We believe they are combing the kingdom for the ancient relics that were lost as the deities left the ancient world.” He paused, looking at Emara. “And last night, the Blacksteel hunting clan was victorious in slaying one of these missionaries.”

Had the man last night—that creature—been one of Veles’ missionaries?

Emara wanted to cover her ears and pretend that this was all just a lie. But looking around the room at the hunters and the severity on their faces, she knew it to be true. Something deep in her gut told her it was the truth. They had no reason to lie, and the clan had saved people in her village—including her.

“It is our job to hunt and kill them all. Eradicate them from this world if they step foot in it. It is what we were born to do. It is what we live and breathe,” Torin stated. “They are not caged like their Dark God and they seek to free him using the relics.” His biceps flexed impressively as he placed his hands behind his back.

“The battle between the light of the world and the parasites that feast upon us is inevitable. Our bloodlines have fought for millennia to ensure the safety of humans and we will continue to do that. We will not stop until the Dark Army ceases to exist.”

Emara flickered her eyes over Gideon; his hands were clasped behind his back too, shoulders squared off and powerful. His eyes looked ahead—narrow and focused.

Her heart skipped a beat.

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