“I’m a Darkan.”
The pale ones. The dark kinds. The demons. She recalled every whispered fear she’d heard in the empire of his people. “Tell me what it means to be a Darkan.” Show me. “Tell me of your kind, please.”
“We Darkans are not born knowing our beasts. The first century of our lives is spent experiencing the joys of childhood freedom, the crushes of teen years’ transitions, and the thrill of young adult discoveries. A great part of this time we spend training to hone our chakra and ability to control the shadows. But all the while we can feel the hovering power of our demon, but we do not understand its breadth and depth until we reach our one-hundredth year when it awakens. We then undergo a brutal battle to fight for control and build up a psychic barrier, so the darkness in us does not rule our action. The rest of our lives is spent either accepting the vile malevolence of our beast and honing it into our weapon or fighting to keep it at bay to retain our sanity. In the past, I would come here and repose on these grasses, watch the forest, and feel a sense of calm that was hard to attain.”
His voice was a pulse of petrifying powers, the rumble of a violent storm that could destroy everything it touched, yet no fear surged in her heart. She felt safe with him. She turned her head on the grass, inhaling the oddly sweet scent. “I could feel the deep apprehension of your friends when they looked at you.” She glanced over the rolling hills, the aura of each unique being, whether it be a plant, birds, or insects, creating the most beautiful effect as she saw the landscape through vivid colors of purple, green, white, and black. I can also see you are different from them. You feel darker Lachlan Ravenswood.”
He tugged her closer to him, and with a sigh of contentment, she rested her head on his chest, listening to the soothing lull of his heartbeat.
“The beast inside all Darkans is made of pure chakra. That essence is very powerful and malevolent. We learn at an early age to manage the psychic barrier that we are born naturally with, to keep that chakra from corrupting us wholeheartedly.”
Shilah’s heart pounded. “You speak of the shield I shattered within you,” she breathed, struggling to push from him, but he held her to him until she settled back.
“We feed our beasts which has its own cunning intelligence on the darkest of energies—rage, fear, and pain. The more it feeds, the stronger it becomes, and if we are not vigilant and strong enough, the beast can become dominant, and when it does….it kills and slaughters, then feeds and feeds. Some of us chose not to ever lower our psychic barriers so not to tempt ourselves with the power the monster inside us offer.”
“You had done that. When I just met you, I could feel your barrier, and I was impressed by its intricate construct.”
Lachlan was silent for several minutes, and Shilah remained still in the cage of his arms, listening to the roar of his heart.
“For years I lived in fear of the other entity rising inside me, that it might try to steal the control I’d honed over the years, and slaughter what’s left of my family. Or worse, force me to betray my king. I am five hundred and thirty-nine years of age. I lowered my barrier once and used the powers of my beast to kill my father, and then I shut it away for over four hundred years.”
Images bloomed in his mind and flowed to her more like memories. She could feel all he had endured the moment he saw his father ripping his mother’s heart from her chest. The agony of her torture and the scent of her horrifying death had driven a young Lachlan to his knees, and he’d screamed his denial until he’d been hoarse. The pain had gone so deep in his heart there was no adequate way to express it, except through fury.
His father had appeared terrifying, eyes flame red with bloodlust, his skin covered with the blackest of chakra and red scales, with vicious fangs protruding from his mouth.
“He’d turned into a Senji. Darkans who are no longer in control of the chakra inside, and it is the demon’s essence who rules.”
The memories continued of Lachlan fighting his father, and almost being killed himself. Her heart was a beating aching mess, and Shilah distantly realized she wept as she sensed the hopeless despair he had felt as he fought his father—a man he loved, a man whom he’d believed to be honorable, a man he’d believe to worship his mother despite the fact they hadn’t been mates. Lachlan’s limbs had been broken, deep gouges in his side, blood pouring from his multitude of wounds as the demon toyed with him, savoring his pain, and still, he’d struggled to his feet, determined to fight, resolved to protect whoever was enclosed by the large oak door behind him. It seemed impossible that he could win such a battle with the powers so unequal. But he did not give up, even when he lay dying, his hand still scrabbled to hold onto the ankle of his father. It was at that point chakra exploded from him, and she saw the awful memory of the first time his beast took control from him. How hideous it had all been. His wounds had healed, and with terrible wrath he’d went for his father, and they battled.
Unable to bear the rage that had pelted from them, the assault against her senses too much, she pulled from his mind, gasping raggedly.
“Somehow I won,” he murmured. “I defeated my father by taking his head from his body and his heart from his chest.”
She read his thought that he believed it had been sheer luck and the fierce quickness of his retaliation which had not allowed his father the presence of mind to summon his beast to a solid form. If that had happened, everyone in their home would have perished. She could feel the echoes of his torment that he’d lived with ever since.
“The demon in me ruled, and my sister whom I’d fought so hard to protect, I turned on her.”
Shilah trembled, praying he did not reveal he had taken her life. The connection between them leaped once more to life, against her will, and she struggled to separate herself from the mental link. Her mouth dried, and when she sat up
this time he allowed her. Shilah pressed a hand to her chest, gasping as the memories powered through her.
With a slam of his fist, the door had splintered open, and a young girl, a child of no more than about ten years of age, sat in the center of the bed trembling and sobbing. The demon went for her, grabbing the child up in his clawed hands, inhaling her terror.
Her breath caught as unfathomable anguish gripped her by the throat.
But this agony was not her own, she absorbed the emotions Lachlan had felt being trapped in the demon and unable to stop himself. Another Darkan had swirled into the chamber in a burst of shadows, grabbed hold of Lachlan and took him atop a mountain of black ice. And there he’d roared and fought for days, battling the unceasing hunger of the demon’s will to devour and kill. His friend, who was revealed to be Gidon, fought with him, doing everything in his power to keep Lachlan atop the mountain. They battled for days, weeks, until Lachlan who’d been so buried under the ravaging lust for blood, started to fight, to regain control, to rebuild his barriers and honed it into an impenetrable shield born from pain and loss.
The connection severed, and she slumped against his chest, gasping harshly.
“You contained it,” she said wiping at the tears tracking down her cheeks. “You held that monstrous force behind a shield for centuries.” A piercing ache filled her heart. “A barrier I callously took from you. Will you ever forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive. You freed me from the shackles of my limitations. The kingmaker has risen, and he has promised a new king for the Darkage. The Empire has declared war, and if the kingdoms respond the third Great war of Amagarie will unfold. I am better able to protect Gidon when the enemy comes for him. And they will come, with a force unlike any we’ve ever seen. For the enemies know his might, and they will have to be greater than Gidon to take him.”
He touched her lips lightly. “I am better able to protect you.”
“I do not understand, why aren’t you fighting with the beast in you?”
“You obliterated the threads that held the barrier. There can never be a division again. This goes beyond a bonding.”