Eternal Damnation (The Amagarians 3)

Connected with his mind, she felt the cold fire of Lachlan Ravenswood’s torment and denial. “No!” his roar echoed through her. Uncertainty pierced her when through the large hole now present in the wall of his mind, a clawed foot stepped from it. Bricks rippled in their minds as the wall tried to rebuild itself, but a power that was not hers battered against it, shattering the stones.

There was a monster within him.

The knowledge bloomed, and she tried to pull back, lending her strength to Lachlan Ravenswood as he attempted to reinforce his barriers. But whatever lurked in the deep shadows of his mind reacted and threw itself against his barrier. The blackest of chakra exploded from within him, swirling around him like tendrils of black smoke.

A harsh rasp escaped her throat. She’d only seen chakra like that from the Darkans in the dungeons. But surely this couldn’t be possible. The prickle of unease grew until her skin felt as if a thousand pins and needles stabbed into her. Power clung to him as if he were power manifested into a tangible entity. What was he?

“What is happening?” The grand general demanded, his dark eyes narrowed to slits, his demeanor one of battle readiness.

Lachlan had also frozen into profound stillness, and she felt his determination to repair what she had damaged. He lifted from the ground and stood as if invisible hands had drawn him to his feet. His hair crackled around him as if alive, and he raised his head and inhaled. Then he smiled. The man before her was the darkest creature she’d ever seen—merciless, ruthless, and implacable.

It struck her that he was also beautiful and wild, but so damn terrifying her heart nearly ripped from her chest. Shilah could sense the mass and energy of him in the room, like a storm threatening to unleash lightning.

“Shilah, what did you do?”

“It wasn’t me Kala, it wasn’t me. His wounds are healed, and his leg is no longer broken. You will run at the first chance you get, and you will not look back.”

Another claw pushed from behind the shield wall in his mind.

“I won’t leave you.” Her sister’s voice echoed fierce and determined.

“You will obey! I think he is a Darkan and the power I sense feels ageless.” She sent the thought to Kala, hoping she understood the severity of their situation.

The grand general and the emperor slowly moved toward the man standing so still in the center of the room, and she wanted to scream, run you fools, for they hadn’t grasped the significance of the black chakra swirling around Lachlan yet. Or perhaps they did for the emperor spoke, his voice rich with pleasure.

“A Darkan, how wonderful.”

“Not just any Darkan,” she said hoarsely, sensing the unfathomable well of chakra strength buried beneath his mind. “He is not a fledging like the others.”

“How old is he and what beast does it control?”

How could the emperor not perceive what stood before them? Of course, the fool would only see another Darkan to imprison and control for his army. She ignored the emperor and twisted her fingers into a symbol, centering the strength of her aura and telepathy to that single anchor inside, desperate to build back the mental shield of Lachlan Ravenswood, caging the terrible storm she felt at his center. The emperor had used her to manipulate the chakras of at least four Darkans, and she had never felt such a force, and the wall separating man and demon had not shattered yet.

A primal scream of rage and dominance blasted through her thoughts, the sheer savagery of it akin to the sensation of a thousand knives stabbing at the insides of her body. She dropped her hands limply to her sides as the shield wall in his mind crumbled. She had never known darkness had a taste. It coated her senses, as something appeared from the ashes of the shattered shield wall. The first wave of energy hit her so hard it drove her to her knees, and a cry of despair tore from her throat. Violence and bloodthirstiness—dark, malevolent.

What have I done? Tears swam in her eyes, blurred her vision. A wave of inconsolable grief and rage washed over her senses. And those came from the man within as oily darkness conquered all the light that had shone inside him. She had taken that peace from him.

Shilah cried out her regret. “Forgive me, Lachlan Ravenswood.”

Dozens of warriors rushed to stand before their emperor who stared at Lachlan, glee, and cunning in his gaze.

“Control him!” he snapped at her.

“I cannot tame such a power,” she said hoarsely, staggering to her feet, and slowly backing away from the man who still had not moved. “You cannot feel it, or sense it, but what is buried in that Darkan cannot come to life.” It gutted her soul to even suggest it, but she said, “He will have to be killed, now!”

Another wave of energy crested from him and rolled through the room, and the tiles beneath his feet cracked. The monster in him raised its head, inhaled, and fed hungrily, desperate to fill the terrible clawing emptiness it had endured locked away in his mind. It drew from the negative emotions that filled every crevice and heart of those in the castle. It fed on her fear, her sister’s pain, the wail of the widow in the courtyard who just learned of her husband’s death. She could see the thread of dark energy in the form of dark green light racing from several directions to be inhaled through his nose and mouth.

“No!” Kala screamed, her eyes clutching her throat as she stared at Lachlan. Wild eyes swung to Shilah and back, and then her eyes swirled with foresight, her voice became broken and garbled with the rush of it. “Upon your head, I see a crown of snakes and thorns. Queen of darkness you shall become, and our people will know desolation. I see an army of beasts by your side, and our kingdom at your feet.”

Fear acrid in its harshness pelted Shilah. Her sister’s vision had evolved. What did it mean?

It was then Shilah saw the tattoo spreading over Lachlan’s skin as if painted by an invisible force. It painted over him in violent swirls and curled around his body like a possessive lover, the black, red, and purple scales hugging his chest around his shoulder, and then over his back. His beast revealed itself in a full-bodied tattoo. A leviathan—the high lord of serpents.

Dread unlike any Shilah had ever known cramped her stomach and dark dots danced before her eyes. Upon your head, I see a crown of snakes and thorns...

The emperor’s order to bind him was a distant drone.

She tried to pull her thoughts from Lachlan, and clawed hands reached out and touched her. She felt the phantoms caress against her face. Her psychic eyes snapped open and tried to see through the dust swirling around the collapsed wall. There was no aura, no flavor, just a flatness that made her completely aware of what hopelessness tasted and felt like.