Page 69 of Cosmic Power

The shifters cheered, punching their fists into the air and stomping their feet. Anticipation flared to life like a hot, burning fire, everyone beyond excited about what was to come. Well, everyone except her and the other four supernatural beings bleeding to death.

Lilith groaned and raised her head. Her black eyes widened in shock when she caught a glimpse of the massive purple portal brimming with power.

“No,” Daeva rasped weakly, his dull red eyes flashing with fear. Blood still poured like a waterfall from the cut along his throat. Zamorra was surprised he could talk at all, given how deep it was.

All of a sudden the portal flickered, like an old TV with bad reception. It flashed in and out of focus, appearing and reappearing several times before it collapsed altogether and vanished. The five ancient crystals broke apart and lowered to the ground, no longer glowing or buzzing with power.

“No!” Barnabas snarled, anger and frustration blazing in his silver eyes. “Why?!” He ground his teeth together as he marched over to inspect the crystals, hands on his hips.

Wincing in pain, Zamorra smirked and levelled her gaze at him. It may have worked for a moment—which proved he wasn’t as crazy as she thought he was—but for some reason the portal collapsed after only being active for a few seconds. Like him, she wondered why.

“Wipe that stupid smirk off your face before I do it for you, whore,” Braeden spat in her face.

Because she was stickler for doing the opposite of what people told her, she smirked harder, letting the amusement she felt about this whole situation shine through. Braeden bitch slapped her across the face. Her head whacked to the side and blood pooled in her mouth, dripping from her lips.

Her werewolf growled in anger.

Zamorra slowly turned back to look at her brother, her eyes burning silver. She swished the blood around in her mouth before she spat it out, just missing him. “You hit like a little bitch,” she chuckled.

Braeden sneered. “Why, you—”

Before he could say another word, a giant purple portal appeared in the middle of the room. It buzzed with so much power, it made her body tingle. Electricity vibrated in the air as purple lightning whipped out like it had a mind of its own, burning everything it touched. Magic blazed like an inferno, smothering the room with its overwhelming power. It was a magic Zamorra had never felt before. It was odd. Unknown.Evil.

Barnabas laughed, clapping his hands. “Ha! I knew I had it right. Must have just taken a little moment to work.”

Zamorra glanced down at the floor in front of her and frowned. Her blood was still flowing freely, surrounding the white crystal and bathing it in a pool of it. But unlike last time, the crystal didn’t glow brighter. It didn’t release a strong burst of magic or power. There was nothing, like it had turned dormant. Her eyes ran over the other crystals in front of Lilith, Daeva, Benjamin and Gabriel. They were like hers; dark and without power.

A horrible feeling sank into Zamorra’s bones. A chill wracked her body as Barnabas turned and locked eyes with her, his brows lowered in a frown at the look on her face.

“I don’t think the portal opened from this side,” she breathed, fear consuming her soul.

Barnabas opened his mouth to speak but stopped when the portal shimmered and a group of dark, powerful beings came through.

ChapterNineteen

Power. Raw, undiluted power. It hummed in the air, vibrating all around them. Crawled over her skin, making her shiver. It was atomic. Nuclear. Not of this world. And it scared the fucking crap out of her.

Twenty-four creatures emerged from the portal, dressed in ornate, metal battle armour. The four at the front were covered head to toe in gold; gold breastplate, gold arm and leg guards, gold swords strapped to their waist and back. Eight wore silver. And the remaining twelve wore bronze. They were prepared for combat, standing tall and powerful, hands resting on the pommels of their swords as they scanned their new surroundings.

They were unlike anything Zamorra had ever seen before. Purple eyes, long white hair, pointed ears, pale skin. And above all—power. It trembled from their bodies, snaking out around them protectively with the force of a tsunami. They were all painstakingly beautiful, like angels. Not a single blemish marred their perfect skin.

Standing in a tight formation, the one at the head of the pack wore an ornate golden crown on his head, signifying he was their leader. And he was the most beautiful creature in existence. Strong, powerful jaw, full lips, perfectly symmetrical face. But beneath that beauty lay darkness, an evil that corrupted the air around him. He was death, alive and in the flesh. The Grim Reaper in a flashy golden suit. And the creatures at his back where his Reapers, come to deliver death in all forms.

His sharp purple eyes trailed over every person before him, and she couldn’t help but stiffen when they landed on her. She refused to baulk under that powerful gaze, even though every instinct inside her told her to. Her werewolf slinked to the surface, detecting the presence of a powerful predator, and her eyes flashed silver.

She sensed Zamorra’s discomfort and wanted nothing more than to shift and take it away; to be in control and protect.

Barnabas snarled and faced the creatures head on, anger in his stance. “Who the fuck are you?”

The Gold King lazily raised a hand in the air. He had long, slender fingers, with nails carved into the shape of claws. Barnabas choked and dropped to his knees, gripping his chest painfully. His face contorted as his chest thrust forward repeatedly, as if something was trying to burst out of his body.

“Ahhh!” Barnabas screamed. Something crunched and squelched— the sound utterly sickening—before his heart ripped out of his chest and flew straight into the hand of the creature standing in front of the purple portal.

Bewilderment flashed across the Alpha shifter’s face for the briefest moment, his body swaying, and then he fell forward, dead.

Mathias and Braeden stared at their father’s body, jaws wide open in shock. The hundreds of werewolf shifters around the room looked nervously at one another, shuffling their feet. Their Alpha was dead. The strange creature had killed him with no effort at all. And they had no idea what to do next, who to follow.

With regal grace, the creature bit into the warm heart in his hand. Blood dripped down his chin and stained his gold-armoured suit. He swallowed and licked his lips. “They taste different here.” His voice held a certain ethereal essence to it, like one might expect a god to sound like.

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