Rayne registered the voices as if far removed from them. She stirred only enough to get the faint impression someone was carrying her. She groaned in semi-consciousness as they took another step. Why did it hurt so much? But she was too tired to remember. Her mind slipped deeper into the abyss, grateful for its embrace. Until the dreams came.

{Near 6,000 BCE}

“Is this enough for you?” The smooth depth of Nox’s voice nearly startled Rayne awake.

“If this is a gift for me, know it did not surprise me, King of Cinder,” countered a familiar voice. The woman’s blue eyes were arresting against her blue-black complexion, and beads and ribbon adorned her naturally curly hair. Every step was graceful and sure in her light cotton shift.

“Celindria, surrender,” Nox requested. No, not a request. He implored her. In a voice almost too soft to hear, he added, “Please.” Behind him, an electric vortex gaped at the seam of space from the sand to the sky.

“Do you beg for me or for your people?”

Nox’s enticing features, carved in hard lines, transformed. He bared his teeth and snarled, “I. Do. Not. Beg.”

Celindria said, “You are no King to me, and I will no longer idle by as you bring our people to ruin.” She tightened her fist around the cold, hard object in her hand until she felt it shatter. Warm liquid poured into her hand; she’d stored her blood inside the Pretiosum Cruor weeks ago. As her fist closed tighter, and the cracks scattered, she watched his face. His reaction seemed wrong. What was it?

Suddenly, Nox relaxed. His lips peaked into a cruel, handsome smirk. With Celindria’s blood dripping down her fingers onto the ground, and the strange pressure mounting in the air, he looked pleased with himself.

At Celindria’s frown, Nox asked, “Whatever is the matter? I said I would not beg, and I will not. Were you expecting me to grovel?” A breeze from nowhere lifted his beautiful, silken black hair across his bare shoulders.

Celindria’s hand shook.

“The Great Celindria—Rattled.” Nox chuckled. The pressure thickened into a high keening sound just on the edge of her hearing. “The Pretiosum Cruor,” he offered.

Celindria’s eyes widened. How did he know? This sacred vessel. Only the Progeny knew.

Nox glared as the swirling mass of light and color expanded behind him. His rich baritone dropped an octave when he said, “As you rip us from your world and thrust us back home, you provided my people with the greatest means of our salvation. For that, you will be exalted. Your name, the Pretiosum Cruor, will be lauded as great as my own.”

Celindria asked, “Who told you?”

Nox threw his head back and laughed. “The woman who dawned the heavens on Icarean kind wants to know who betrayed her.” As the gusts transformed into a whirlwind, the air bit at her skin with static shock. “No, I think I will keep that to myself. One more cunning secret you will die without knowing. Worry not: we will reward them.” The very air pulled at him. The conduit hungered for him. He unfurled his majestic, black wings and nodded at her. He said, “Whenever I look back on this moment, I will recall the misery you have inflicted. I shall return to claim Cinder’s salvation and wrench my vengeance from the body of your descendant. Or coax it from her, if she will allow me.” His laughter carried long after the conduit seized him.

{Invasion Day | 2006}

Familiar comforting voices pierced Rayne’s nightmare. While they filled her with warmth, the words they spoke sent a chill down her spine.

“Will she live?” Rayne heard Tameka ask.

Whoever spoke the answer did so in a whisper. So soft she couldn’t make it out. The grim silence that followed answered the question for her. Rayne opened her eyes. Well, tried to anyway. One of her eyes refused to open, and any attempt to force it hurt. When the light pierced her eye, she instantly regretted it. With a flinch and a groan, she squeezed her eyes tight and curled into herself. That was a mistake.

Rayne’s body wanted none of it. Her porcelain skin was canvassed in a mosaic of deep purples and blues. Making a fist required closing her fingers, and when she tried, she winced. The angry, red slits on her knuckles needed stitches. She tried to clench her left fist, and her breath hitched in her throat. Nothing.

That was it. Rayne’s pulse hammered in her throat. Sweat beaded on her brow and stung her shut eye. Her chest heaved with each gulping breath. With her eyes closed as tight as a vice, Rayne released a strangled, panicked cry. Then another.

Once she started screaming, she couldn’t stop. With each scream, Rayne remembered more of the horrors she’d survived that day and more of what lay ahead of her. Every blow, every cut, every bruise, and so much to come. Her heart fluttered through the panic. Her lungs couldn’t swallow enough air.

Something shuffled near her. Voices dented the wall of screams. She remained unreachable.

“Celindria,” one calm voice said.

The word didn’t reach her; the voice did. And it set her blood to boil. The emotional turmoil wrought from Xelan’s voice opened her uninjured eye and squelched her screams.

Rayne needed her voice to tear into him. She focused on him through blurry vision. Close around her, she heard others speaking, but they would have to wait.

Xelan’s black hair was swept back into a hair tie. Every pale, angular feature seemed harsher, free from his hair. His concerned, midnight-blue eyes lit her insides churned. With his face this close, she discerned the resemblance. How could she be so blind? For four years?!

Xelan knew. He saw it in her expression as his posture straightened, and his eyes tightened with regret.

Enraged, Rayne spat, “Liar!”

Xelan recoiled.

The others hushed, almost as if a switch had flipped.

Hoarse from hours of smoke inhalation, Rayne screamed again, “Liar!”

After the initial shock wore off, Xelan relaxed. His eyes connected with hers without wavering. His lips tightened into a thin line, and he spared a quick glance at the others. “Can you please give us a minute?” Before she protested, he held up a hand. “Allow me to talk to you alone, and then you can kill me if you like.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Someone gasped.

Without taking her eyes off Xelan, Rayne waved her friends off. “It’s okay. I’ll call if I need you.” Several pairs of footsteps left the room. One person stayed.

Sagan lingered in the doorway of what Rayne recognized as the back storeroom of her family’s bookstore. “Are you sure?” her best friend asked, weary eyes flicking to Xelan.

“I promise. He won’t hurt me.” Xelan winced at Rayne’s choice of words.

The blond promised in a stern voice, “We’ll be right here. With the door cracked.”

Rayne didn’t know how much time had passed since J. A. Fair fell and the world went to shit, but it felt like days since she’d last smiled. She smiled as she nodded to her best friend. It melted as soon as the door pulled just shy of closed. She turned back to Xelan and flinched. Unsure what to expect from him, she didn’t expect to see him cradling his head in his hands.

Wisps of his hair contrasted against his pale complexion. He straightened himself upright and slowly dragged his hands down his face until he steepled his fingers against his lips. Meanwhile, his eyes scanned the room, careful to look at anything but Rayne. Xelan folded his fingers together at his chin and finally focused on her left arm.

She refused to look at it. The cold appendage was dead from her shoulder down. For the time being, she considered it a mercy. This was more important. Xelan stared until sadness dawned in the midnight of his eyes. The guilt which was carved into his face arrested Rayne.

The shame.

It was so long before he spoke that she jumped at the sound of his voice. “I think the longer I live here the harder it is for me to divulge information about myself.”

Rayne narrowed her eyes at him.

Xelan continued to stare at the ruined limb. He said, “Regrettably, your life spans are but a mere heartbeat to me. One breath, you’re here and gone the next. In the early years, I formed connections. I wanted to help humanity, but I was recently separated from my species, my homeworld. I wanted to create personal friendships. Especially with the descendants of the Progeny. Maintaining a link to the few with Icarean blood on this planet was critical to my mental survival.” He paused and turned away.

Despite the awesome fury which had overwhelmed Rayne at Nox’s revelation, when she stared at Xelan, she saw her guardian. The man who trained her struggled with an inner turmoil she could only guess at. She found a wealth of patience for him.

Xelan cleared his throat and continued, “I formed strong, familial relationships with my remaining kind. For two thousand years, I tried. As the centuries carried on, and it became more difficult to explain my ties to them despite their shorter lifespan, I became a legendary uncle or a family friend. Eventually, the excuses ran dry. The Progeny line delineated and diluted until their lifespans were as short as humans. With the rise of civilization and the Judeo-Christian religions, I risked the descendants dying for their heretical knowledge of other worlds.”

His knee bounced. Rayne had never imagined Xelan, always level-headed, always patient, feeling the need to bounce his knee. He turned and found the floor in front of him rather interesting.

“It’s been six thousand years since I told anyone Nox and I are siblings.”

Rayne gasped. She couldn’t help herself. Despite the painfully obvious resemblance, and the class distinction connecting the two, she wanted Xelan to tell her Nox had lied. She opened her mouth to say so, but he cut her off.

Xelan said, “That’s where it ends. We shared two parents, but we are nothing alike. I swear.” He dropped his head into his hands again. Distress slumped his shoulders and sagged his bones. “In my experience humans can die from any thousands of causes. You just perish in an instant. It didn’t even occur to me to tell you in the first few years, as the confession might be wasted if you passed in a car accident or a heart defect took you.”

Rayne winced.

Xelan added, “I know how it sounds. I’ve grown callous. It’s hard for me to form connections when your flames are so easily snuffed out.” He lifted his head and finally looked into Rayne’s eyes.

The tears shimmering in his midnight stare took Rayne by surprise. They formed streaks of blue, like his blood. Was he crying blood? “Xelan—”

He shook his head. “Please, I owe you this. All of it.”

Tilting her head to the side, Rayne considered him and nodded.

Xelan wrung his hands, saying “I’ve spoken to you of The Brethren before: our allies in the fight. They’re more like a governing body of the remaining Icari. Together, we maintain a balance, voting and deciding things democratically and justly. In theory. This past year, I had confided in a fellow member I’ve trusted for thousands of years that I wished to tell our unit here about my lineage. About The Brethren. I shared how each of you differed from any group I’d trained over the millennia. How you reminded me of a happier, warmer Celindria. The next day, they took me against my will to their court. In my time here on Earth, I’ve encountered them only twice.” He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees. He scraped a hand across his mouth. It was another anxious tic. He inhaled deeply. “They disclosed details of a stratagem to me which had I been consulted on I never—” He shook his head and dragged a hand through his hair.

Xelan burst up from his seat suddenly.

It startled Rayne, and she fought the urge to squeak.

He took a few steps away from her, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing the back of his neck. Every bruise on her body flared from the sudden, surprised movement, and she groaned. He rounded back to her with an apologetic look.

Rayne said, “Please continue. I can handle it.” She nodded once to punctuate her sincerity and winced from the concussion.

Xelan’s eyes tightened as he scanned her injuries, and they brimmed with tears again. Softly, he said, “If you never forgive me, I will accept that as a consequence.” The next, he blurted out. “The attack today was a deliberate test of your abilities, and the potential upgrades made to the Icarean army over the last eight thousand years.”

Rayne straightened, her eyes widened, and her lips tightened. The words Xelan said failed to compute.

He went on baring a guilty conscience. “A year ago, they told me the army could invade anytime within the next year. They forbade me from telling you.”

“Why?” Incredulity seeped into Rayne’s soft whisper with the harsh edge of budding outrage.

Xelan said, “One, they wanted a controlled test. Two, they wouldn’t let me tell you my lineage.” He tapped one finger with the other, ticking off his points. “Three, they wouldn’t let me warn you in any way. They wouldn’t even let me see you for the last four months because they were certain I would betray my oath to them and tell you.” He threw his hands up in the air. “And I was. When you told me about the traitor memory from Celindria, I went back to them that night and told them I couldn’t bear to lie to you anymore.”

Rayne was speechless.

Xelan’s long fingers gripped his hair, pulling the hair tie from it. He blew the air out of his cheeks before continuing, “They threatened to lock me away until the initial test had commenced.” He shook his head, looking hard at the wall in front of him and not seeing it. “I think I would have lost my mental faculties if I weren’t able to check on you. If the war started while I was in a cage somewhere and couldn’t be there to see you kick his ass. So they granted me a consolation. We could initiate one of our unit into The Brethren. They would oversee the test and ensure quality outcomes. Namely, no one in the unit would suffer great injury or death.” His gaze flicked to Rayne’s arm and then her face.

“They experimented with us like rats.”

Xelan bowed his head, eyes lowered to the floor.

She choked on a sob to say, “Nikki is dead.”

“I know,” he muttered.

Rayne said, “I didn’t see anyone there helping us through the test. No one told us the invasion was happening.”

Xelan winced. “He didn’t know until just before. I told him to go to you.”

“He—Andrew?! That son of a bitch!”

Xelan walked back to Rayne and held her working hand, careful of the cuts. “Please don’t blame him. It wasn’t a circumstance either of us were happy with. Every day, they received new intelligence. Two weeks leading up to this attack, he left his school each day to reach yours. There were so many false alarms. Yet he never hesitated each time I asked. He did it to save you. In eighty-three percent of the scenarios calculated, if he didn’t make it there, you would die. He couldn’t tell you for the same reasons I couldn’t.”

Rayne ground out with hot tears spilling out of her eyes, “Why didn’t you help us fight them? When Nikki died? When Nox—what he did to me—” Her voice broke.

Slowly, cautiously, Xelan placed his hands on either side of her face, avoiding the branding wound. He lowered his lips to her forehead and whispered, “Please forgive me. I know what Nikki meant to you. I know what Nox’s tender mercies are like. But more than that—” He pulled away just enough to peer into her eyes. “I know you will kill him.”

Finally, Rayne allowed herself to break down and sob. She didn’t feel much like a super warrior. Nox had wiped the high school floors with her. And the walls. Rayne refused to see it in the light, but she knew her humerus—the upper arm bone—was protruding from her left arm, crushed. A few ribs were cracked, and her kidneys were possibly bruised. Her lungs ached from the extreme smoke inhalation. The branding on her face puckered and kissed the cool air, marred with raw blisters. Something felt cold and sticky at the back of her head. Everything ached.

But looking into Xelan’s eyes, how sure they appeared, the storm inside her raged without end.

Rayne would kill Nox.