Enthroned by Amethysts: A Dance with Destiny, #3

By JK Ensley

Swapping her mantle of ultimate celestial power for the miraculous blessing of a beloved child, Jenevier no longer wields the ethereal mask of Life and Death. Trading Netherhood for Motherhood, her quiet days are now filled with the blissful thoughts of a fairytale family and an unmatched joy… the likes of which she never dreamed possible.

The fractured love she shares with Varick has stood firm through the test of the ages. They have walked through the fires together and emerged, not unscathed, but gloriously scarred… Their trials and pain have only managed to strengthen their eternal bond.

But when Fate rolls the dice once more, will the former Angel of Death be strong enough to meet the awesome challenge? Will she be able to see through the debilitating pain of loss, wipe away the bitter tears of betrayal, and grasp the incredible Blessing awaiting her? Or has extreme adversity left her too shattered and broken to fight back?

Continue along with this epic tale of blood and battle amongst the Otherworld’s Blessed and Damned in the series third installment of JK Ensley’s, A Dance with Destiny: Enthroned by Amethysts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JK Ensley
• Release date: May 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781940726069

JK Ensley

JK Ensley is a native Tennessean by way of Missouri, born there and quickly ushered down South. A product of public school and private college, she spent her early twenties bouncing across the country. Fascinated by rich culture, ancient customs, and thick accents, she’s compelled to drink in the many exquisite differences humanity is gifted with. A self-described, happily divorced mother of three with a black belt in snarkism and an über common minivan, she does little to hide her wicked wit, advanced sarcasm, and extreme shoe addiction. “At the core of me, I’m one slightly twisted, pink haired, sword wielding, invisible ninja with a laptop, an imagination, and very little me time. That’s just who I am. I’m comfortable in my skin and I love my life. Totally not kidding about the hair, the swords, or the laptop, but I might’ve stretched it just a little with the invisible part.”

Book preview

Prologue

Do you not desire me, little Raven Hair?

I do not.

And why is that? Hmm? Tell me. Is my body not pleasing to your eyes? Is my enticing voice not as rare magic upon your heart?

These things are true, yes, I cannot deny that. Yet I defy your enchantments and will never let their seed take hold within me. She alone is the rightful owner of my heart. I will save it for her and no other.

What if your end finds you before she does?

Then I shall take my tortured heart with me and one day gift it to her in the Otherworld. As I have said, it is hers. Be it now or in the Nether Realms, it belongs only to Jenevier.

*****

I will never look upon you as Queen of the Forest. The Elf-girl crossed her arms over her chest. "You’re not even worthy the gifts already granted you."

I do not wish to bring contention among your people. The new Elf Princess sighed softly. But if you are asking me to deny my heart, turn my back upon loving husband and savior of my shattered essence... then cast your worthless words upon the wind, she-Elf, for they will not take hold here.

You are not special. You’re not even beautiful. The enraged Elf-girl took a step closer. Why would he lower himself to such a fate as this? Why would the Prince stoop to touching a lowly human? Did you spin an evil enchantment around his unsuspecting heart?

Trelaina, speak thusly to my lovely wife once more... Kias gently wrapped his arm around his new bride’s waist. ...and I shall let her have you.

The Elf-girl chuckled. "Let her have me?"

Yes, let her have you. He ran his fingers through his wife’s lovely golden hair. Do you not see how she trembles? She stays her hand at harming you... out of respect for me. He smiled sweetly, fondly gazing upon her fair profile, the hard line now set to her jaw. Were I to tell this enchanting woman such nobility were not necessary... they would find tiny pieces of you sprinkled throughout Mangladune. Count yourself lucky, Trelaina, and hold your tongue... lest your luck run out.

"She couldn’t possibly dispatch me, Trelaina scoffed. She boasts no such power."

Kias turned then toward the furious Elf-girl and hardened his glare, but did not speak.

She chuckled. "Very well. Release her then. Let us all witness the lie in your words."

Trelaina, you go too far, the Elf Princess said. How dare you speak thusly to your noble Prince? I will say this only once, but let my words stand for all time, since I shall never retract them. If you ever set foot within our home again, your screams will send a shudder throughout hell itself. If you ever speak ill of my husband, ever again... no one will hear your screams. I will remove your disrespectful tongue and whip you to the brink of your miserable life daily. Yet, never will I gift you with the sweet release of blessed death.

But you cannot—

"As I said. Speak... one... word, utter even one more sound... and the witch in me will prove the truth in my words."

*****

How long shall we wait?

Until the time is ripe. This you know, Jophiel.

Yet, I am anxious. He blew out an exasperated breath. My wings tingle with anticipation, Uriel. I wish nothing more than to be surrounded by millions of vibrantly colored feathers... floating upon the wind as I rip them from his vile back.

You will get your chance, Uriel said calmly. Now, still your pacing feet before your constant moving about drives me mad.

Look at him, Jophiel spat. "Look at all of them—prancing across the layers, proud as the peacocks they’re painted after. He growled under his breath. My greatest joy to date... will be removing that haughty smirk of his, once and for all."

Be patient, Brother. Be still and wait. The time is nearing. Can you not feel it? The hour is at hand.

Jophiel rolled his eyes. "Yes, I feel it, Uriel. Thus the constant moving about. I want to go now. I want to rend that old blue devil once and for all."

You will get your chance, Uriel said, casting his antsy brother a sideways glance. "When the summons comes... we will see to more than just that old blue devil."

Jophiel growled through his coming words, "The Sage... that one is mine... all mine."

*****

You have found nothing? Apollyon didn’t even look at the soul-eater as he spoke.

No, Sire. We have found nothing of import. She hides from you and we cannot track her scent.

As well she should. Ooh, Ahriman... when I get my hands on that silver witch, heaven itself won’t be able to heal the scars I shall bestow upon her pale flesh.

Chapter 1

Jinn

(JINN)

And you are certain this is what happened? He closed the book, casually looking back up at the strange glowing woman seated across from him. This is the whole of it?

It’s her journal, written by her own treacherous hand.

Yes, that’s what you’ve said. He tossed it back upon the desk between them. How can I be sure?

Believe what you will, I care not. She crossed her arms and glared at him. I was there... well, she records when first I showed myself to her.

That event is recorded here, yes, if this is truly her story.

Valencia’s arms went down, hands balling into fists at her sides. You doubt me? This is her twisted life written by her betraying hand and I took it from her own bed chambers. If she lied, take it up with her. I care not.

Yes, you keep saying that. He casually rested his forearm on the ornate sword hilt at his waist. But tell me... Why? No one ever had to know. All you had to do was live and let live. Yet you willingly came to me with an unbelievable tale for the ages, when sealed lips alone could’ve spared so much misery. He leaned toward her, studying her features. Why?

Why do you care? she spat.

I never said I cared. He looked away. I was merely curious.

I have been gone from these people for so long now, they no longer seem as family to me, nay, barely strangers. But one thing I will never forget, and that was how much my big brother loved me, how he always doted upon me when I was young.

The Emperor raised a single eyebrow, pretending to study upon his perfectly manicured nails. So, then... jealousy was what brought your knock upon my door.

I’m not jealous of her, Valencia hissed. I hate her. I hate how foolish she is. I hate how she takes no one else’s feelings to heart but her own. I hate how she has been so blessed while my brother has been passed over.

He looked back to her then. I read the magical lore from cover to cover. Is it not true she was an Angel from birth? Is that not why all this constant attraction and love is accounted to her? How so then do you say your brother has been cheated? He is not, nor will he ever be, an Angel.

She slammed her fists down atop the intricately inlaid desk. He is the Prince of all Vanir. Yet he follows her around like a neutered dog!

"And that is his choice! He matched her fury. She binds him not."

The spawn growing in her belly binds him, she yelled.

He released a heavy sigh and returned to his seat. Yes. He is a Guardian of innocence. Which is why he was so good to his little sister, and then to the girl he was given charge to bring down from heaven. That’s who he is. It’s why he was made, and it alone makes him happy.

She gasped. You have fallen in love with her as well.

He spoke casually, yet pointedly. I love her not. Nor do I love you. I am a rational man trying to make sense of why a blessed creature such as yourself would sell out all creation, asking naught in return. I am nothing if not cautious.

I do not sell out creation. She didn’t even try to hide the disgust written plainly across her angelic face. No one is to be harmed and nothing is to be changed... save her. Do to her as you will. That’s the only payment I seek in exchange for this treasured gift.

Yet is it not true her jeweled inheritance can make and unmake? He eyed her steadily before continuing. Personally, I will get no more pleasure out of destroying her than out of destroying another. I want the locket. Once it’s mine, your wishes will become irrelevant.

She glared at him. "I alone know more demons and Angels and Guardians than you could ever possibly unmake before they tore your pathetic body to shreds. Do not think for one moment, you can double cross me, Emperor."

Valencia, darling, I believe you are failing to consider the whole picture here, he said, tapping the tip of his finger atop Jenevier’s journal. But I will not press the issue with you further. Consider your request granted. I will do as you wish. And then I will do what pleases me.

Very well, Musashi, I must be going now. She cast an unfazed glance toward the motionless guards posted outside his royal office. I grow tired of your dreadful, scheming layer.

He laughed. And yet we’ve always believed Jinn to be the only place in the universe.

And now you know better. She flipped her hair as she turned to leave. "Your layer is but one of ten. You should be more humble in that knowledge. There are beings far more powerful than you in existence."

He spoke to her departing back. So you say. Yet you come to me with your impossible request. That alone speaks volumes.

Valencia stopped but she didn’t turn to look at him. Only because your ego could fill the whole of this layer, Emperor. She smirked haughtily. There are more powerful beings, yes, but none are more vain. Only Musashi Yomika would have the nerve to think he could overthrow God.

"Yes... there’s that. He chuckled. But is there not more? He tried to agitate her further. Do I not feel your obvious disdain mingling together with hidden desires? I must now give pause to your gracious visit. He leaned back in his chair, locking his crossed fingers behind his head. Perhaps I should seek a greater bounty for your proffered task."

Valencia turned to him then. Don’t flatter yourself, Ronin. I will see you dead before bedded, she spat.

Dead? By whose hand? He chuckled at her threat. There’s not a man in all of Jinn who can stand before my blades, once drawn.

I am no man and I do not hail from Jinn. Her words were as ice. Take caution to heart, lest you fail before trying, she warned.

He laughed again. I jest, Maiden. Still your temper. I cannot be aroused by one so fair of flesh and absent color. He waved his hand to show she had his permission to go. Take your leave with the knowledge your rival will be removed from your sight.

And destroyed? she asked, still gazing out upon the flowing lavender.

Why concern yourself with further details? he taunted. Such brutal knowledge as that could only weigh down your pure, angelic heart.

She looked over her shoulder at the incomparable Emperor of Jinn.

He mirrored her icy glare and arrogant smirk, perfectly.

Chapter 2

Musashi

(moo-SAH-shee)

Musashi Yomika was a warrior without equal.

He had trained and sliced his way to the very top. This unlikely Ronin was sole ruler of the entire ninth layer realm of Jinn, the second largest layer in the universe. No man, woman, demon, or Angel could boast such a claim.

An entire, vast layer sovereign to just one man, to just one will, to just one rule... bend the knee to Musashi and live.

Yet in all this he was not a tyrant, not unnecessarily cruel. He did what he had to do to get to the top and remain there.

There was no mistaking, Musashi had killed. He’d killed thousands, many had been innocents.

On his rise to the top, he slew all that dared cross swords with him. He left none alive and sent whole families to the Otherworld to prevent any chance of him having to answer for their father’s blood.

Musashi Yomika did not hail from one of the prestigious clans; he couldn’t even claim one of the lowly clans. He was a rogue, living by the sword alone. This mighty warrior was blessed with the strength and physique of a god. He was born in a poor village and his parents were forced to sell him at a young age for they could not feed and care for him. Their intentions may have been noble... but reality was far from such grandiose dreams. Musashi was worked like a beast and beaten twice as badly. He was picked on and tortured by the other village children. Looking back now, he knew it was because they actually feared his size and inhuman strength.

At the first opportunity, Musashi escaped his forced servitude and made his new home in the wilderness, far from any human contact. He ate what he could find and spent his days learning to wield the twin blades he’d stolen upon his departure.

As he grew, he had an uncontrollable desire to pit his steel against any man he caught donned with a sword. Musashi never lost, and each victory fueled his need for greatness.

He had no family. He had no friends. He was nursed by steel and comforted by death. His blade was for hire and he cared not what task he may be set to. He played the part of guard, of protector, of warrior, and of assassin. He had little use for the coin, but the blood... Ooh, sooo... much... blood. He found great strength in the blood of his slain.

And so it was, Musashi grew in power and prowess. His name alone spread fear and weakened spines. The only place he would ever be destined for, was the top. This rogue warrior would challenge every man alive until he was either destroyed, or champion of them all.

His strange sense of honor, his code, must’ve come from within, for noble traits had not been taught him. Even with his feral upbringing, Musashi never attacked an unarmed opponent. Yet, he would soon learn to murder children as they slept.

His conscience was dictated by the delusional idea he was doing them an honorable favor. Being a widow or an orphan... it was a dreadfully dark path to be set upon. He knew this fate firsthand. Musashi found that people were all the same when forced into an inescapable corner. They lie down and die, or... they come out fighting.

His noble intentions of sending the innocent ones on to meet their maker—instead of leaving them to a fate he’d known so well—changed into a very un-noble need, when a young man tried to avenge his father’s death at Musashi’s powerful hands. Watching the lights flicker out in the eyes of a child was much harder than stealing their lives as they slept. His giant heart had been calloused until that fateful day. Then... those calluses were covered over by darkness.

And as such, the destiny of Jinn became set in stone.

Musashi claimed his throne by the sword and ruled by the sword. His heart was as hard as the dual blades that never left his side. These days, he kept his skill through sparring alone. Gone were the challengers and opponents of the past. The ninth layer humbly accepted its place at the feet of the one once scorned.

History would never repeat itself on Jinn. Children were no longer used as coin or payment, but their fates had been sealed by their own unrighteous hands. Now, they swallowed their medicine the only way they could... with their knee bent and their head bowed.

Musashi had no heirs, for he had never known the touch of a woman, nor did he want to. Many tales floated on the wind, carried from village to village, about his claiming of virgins and prowess with the widows and handmaids. He had no such desire. Musashi could not miss, nor could he yearn for, something he had never known.

His teenage years were spent alone in the wilderness, his twenties were spent in bloody battle, and now his adulthood could spare no room for kisses in the night or for love to lay seed in a blackened heart. Many maids were drawn to his power and many swooned at the sight of his rugged good looks, but he entertained them not. Musashi was wed to razor-sharp steel and he sought no other mistress.

On occasion, a young samurai would be born with a heart of a tiger and set his eye on the Emperor’s rule. Musashi lived for such things. He would never extinguish the passionate flame during their youth, for he found no pleasure in dueling the weak. He would watch over the newcomer’s accomplishments and even cheer him on. The stronger his opponent, the happier Musashi was when the victory he claimed.

The people of Jinn were of one blood. No variations could be found in color or complexion. Every man, woman, and child was crowned with hair the color of midnight and their eyes closely matched the beautiful lavender growing in every field.

Only Musashi had seen and spoken with the angelic messenger who was absent color. The look of her unnerved the mighty Ronin.

Only a witch could have drained her own darkness and spun silver in its place.

Musashi Yomika dwelled little upon Valencia’s looks, and much more upon her words.

To be Master of Creation would be a great challenge indeed.

*****

Jinn was a beautifully majestic layer. The entire realm was covered with wave upon wave of fragrant lavender. The sun wasn’t brutally hot, and the enchanting night sky boasted two glorious moons. It was a land in which great magic could still be found... if you knew where to look.

Some rare people on Jinn were born with magic, they were called Shinobi. These ancient people were a peaceful clan who chose to live in the mountains, far from the fearful masses of normal Jinnites.

The odd creatures that roamed Jinn could be found on no other layer, nor could their equal. The common creatures swimming in the gray green waters of layer nine would be called monsters and nightmares in all other places. There were no tame animals on Jinn, the people feared and avoided or killed them.

The giant striped cats were as beautiful as they were deadly, and the fire-breathing carnivorous lizards ruled them all. The striped tiger cats and the fire dragon lizards were the largest predators, but not the deadliest. The tiny reclusive purple spiders killed more people on Jinn than all other things combined, and the colorful belly-gliding serpents came in a close second.

The main reason for the staggering mortality stats was the size of the offender. The spiders and snakes hid easily and crept into homes and beds unawares. Their lethal bites were usually defensive and not meant to sate hunger pangs. The larger and more imposing beasts were easily avoided. The villages were established far away from the beastly breeding grounds and overly protected hatchling nests.

Thus the greatest natural resource of Jinn had gone untapped, and the sheer power of these massive beasts remained unharnessed. The magic wielders had tried, unsuccessfully, to lay hands upon a youngling, intending to raise it among them. The gigantic parents had proved the greatest of majestic guardians.

So, as it was, large portions of Jinn were called the badlands and inhabited only by the winged and four-footed creatures of this serenely beautiful layer. This bothered the Emperor. He set his mind upon conquering the beasts of Jinn, the same as he’d already done with its people.

Chapter 3

Valencia

(vah-LIN-cee-ah)

Valencia had been born one of the blessed. She was the youngest child of Valadrog and Vareen, little sister to Jenevier’s beloved Varick.

And as such, all the Vanir doted upon the only little girl running through the streets of Vanahirdem.

Since death was a rare thing among these majestic people, the birth of a new Vanir was a monumental occasion. One can then imagine how spoiled a young child may become in such a glorious place.

Valencia had proven to be the expected outcome of such an environment. She was fiercely loyal to her loving big brother, but only to him. She tended to act a bit superior to anyone she deemed unworthy or a threat to her in some way. As this gorgeous angelic woman grew and developed, no Vanir could remember any before who had been quite so taken with such a great sense of personal entitlement.

Valencia not only expected reverence, she demanded it. Yet, reverence, loyalty, and respect are not traits to be demanded... they must always be earned.

Valadrog spent many worrisome years throughout the millennia searching for and tracking down his rebellious female offspring. Valencia loved nothing more than darting into the clouds and popping out in all the wrong places. Her insatiable curiosity had gotten her into many compromising situations. Even though she was blessed with great charm and an overflowing, vivacious personality, there were a few situations she hadn’t been able to smile or glamour her way out of. It was during those times her loving father had managed to find her and save her wings.

Even though Valencia would kiss her father and praised the salvation of her hide... they were only hollow words, play acting. Valadrog and Vareen knew this, as did all other Vanir.

The truth was... Varick was the only creature in existence who the enchanting young Princess Valencia truly worshipped.

Several hundred years after her birth, she was still considered a teenager by the standards of the Vanir. It was during this time Valencia grew further and further away from her ethereal kin.

The holy Vanir have a purpose, a specific purpose, they all do. And, they are formed for that purpose... created to perfectly carry out their intended duty. Each Vanir was blessed with a rare talent made especially for an explicit job. Valencia was no different. Her talents lay in charm, grace, and coercion. Naturally, her heavenly obligation was that of an ambassador.

Not only was she the liaison of the Vanir, Valencia was a prized negotiator and emissary between numerous races and factions upon all layers and throughout various realms of the unseen worlds. Her rare talents had saved many people, many lands, and even many souls.

Alas, her job kept her on the move and too often in the shadows of this vast universe. Her life wasn’t the same as her brethren. Her experiences were different, her perception was different, and her personality was a blended plethora of all these things.

Her task wasn’t protecting innocence, no. Her responsibility was in maintaining balance and order. If innocence or love must be sacrificed to obtain a greater good, then they were sacrificed... simple as that.

One word Valencia refused to accept was fair.

"Fair is in the eye of the beholder and always within their own best interest. My fair will never be your fair and vice versa. Fair is merely a made-up word to describe a made-up world that doesn’t actually exist. Fair is never truly fair. Thus, it negates itself. Speak to me of fair and I shall teach you unfair. Bind fair within your heart and whisper it not upon the wind... lest it reach mine ear."

So was Valencia—a vital part of a grander plan, yet heartless and unlovable at but a glance.

Was she evil? No.

Valencia is rhyme and reason and pertinence... not compassion and love and favor. Those were tasks placed upon others. She was blessed with the knowledge of outcome. The pain of the process towards said outcome... was irrelevant. Only the ending mattered.

Even though the part she played was an essential one, most Vanir couldn’t stomach her nonchalant air and pointed attitude.

Varick understood and accepted his little sister. Not only because he was her beloved brother, but also because his task was that of a judge. No one could appreciate her importance more than he.

And, so it was, Valencia’s unemotional and pragmatic heart took no pity on Jenevier’s punishment or plight. The truth of the matter was... the ethereal ambassador was extremely resentful of the task given to her.

Watching over this sniveling little girl and her incessant tears tries my nerves. She needs a good dose of reality.

Valencia soon put this bitter thought into action. She was the one who placed the enlightening little book of Jenevier’s life in that discount bin and blew upon the nearby wind chimes.

This is ridiculous, she thought. Now the silly human cleaves to the book I wrote and cries all the more. Its intention was to vividly paint her putrid sins, bring them foremost to her mind—show her the bitter reality she created herself and let her read the truth with her own eyes. Yet, she embraces them—holds tight to her countless flaws. I swear... I believe I hate her.

Chapter 4

Iga

(EE-gah)

He felt the tremors beneath his feet as he entered the mysterious Shinobi village.

It’s the fire lizards. When the females are in season, the male’s ferocity causes the very firmament to tremble.

Musashi looked up to see a small boy perched atop a nearby house. He’d gone there to get a better view of the distant Valley of Dragons.

You can see them from here?

Yes, Emperor, and hear them as well. The boy proudly smiled.

The Emperor hid his laughter. Is that so? And what are they saying, boy?

The young man simply shrugged his shoulders. Mostly, they’re just bragging about who has the sharpest teeth, shiniest scales, or longest wings, he replied flatly.

Goemon! Don’t speak to the Emperor thusly. His mother scolded him as she appeared in the doorway. Do not take offense, Your Grace, his manners are unpolished. She bowed low before him.

Fret not. The boy is fine. Musashi eased her mind with an understanding smile. He openly shares his vivid imagination with me. That’s a rare thing.

It’s not his imagination, Sire. He is Shinobi, as are we all. His eyes are as an eagle’s and the animals speak to him.

The melodious voice came from a young maid Musashi had failed to notice kneeling before him.

She took note of the shock that crossed his face. Apologies, Milord. I should have spoken to you while I was yet afar off.

He narrowed his eyes, examining the maiden. Explain your words.

I can only be seen while I speak, Sire, she said.

How is this possible? I’ve never heard of such a gift as yours.

I was born this way. I am... Shinobi.

She didn’t tell you everything, the boy yelled down from the roof. You can see her when she sleeps, too.

Musashi looked from the informative lad back to the kneeling maiden, she was gone. He reached to where she had been but a moment ago. A soft hand took his and materialized as her enticing voice once more begged his forgiveness.

Is there magic in your words as well?

Not my words, Milord, my voice.

So, you can approach an enemy, completely unnoticed, unless you speak. Yet when you do, your angelic voice is a siren call to their ears?

Not exactly, Emperor Yomika. I am invisible, not weightless. If the ground is firm and I try to be quiet, I can. As for enemies, I know not how my voice affects them, for I have none.

Musashi held tightly to her hand. He felt extremely disconcerted when she vanished once more with her words.

I think I should like you to speak without ceasing, Maiden. I wish not to bruise your tiny hand from all the squeezing. His words were spoken in jest, but there was much truth in them.

Oh no, Sire. You’ll tire of her ramblings sooner than you would think, trust me, the boy added. And she’s as loud as a boar elk when she goes stomping through the woods. I can hardly hear a thing when she’s around.

Goemon, please. His mother scolded him but the boy took no note of it.

What, Mama? It’s true. It doesn’t matter if she’s invisible. Everyone knows where she is by her clumsy feet.

The girl chuckled and her ebony-framed smiling face was before the Emperor once more.

And that’s not even the worst part, Goemon continued. She forgets we can even see her at all. She traipses back from the bathhouse without a stitch on, and starts humming or singing before she’s inside her room. He snorted. "Then we’re all forced to look at that."

Goemon, enough! Sire, please forgive my children’s atrocious manners and come inside for some hot tea.

Musashi had to hide his laughter again. Gratitude for your gracious offer, but I seek words with your clan’s elders.

Of course, Emperor. I’ll bring them at once.

The woman bowed slightly toward Masashi before she hurried off into the village proper. He gave a little squeeze to the delicate hand he still held captive.

Maiden, your mother speaks true. Your manners really are atrocious. We’ve been holding hands since first we met and I’ve yet to be graced with your name.

Apologies, Your Grace.

She was once again on her knees with her head bowed when she came into view. He gave her hand a little tug, she rose as she vanished.

Your name? he asked again.

Mika.

Her bright lavender eyes appeared before him as her name spilled over her pink lips, landing firmly upon his frozen heart. Musashi rocked inside as she faded from view.

Again, he demanded.

Sire, my name is Mika. Mika Hattori of the Iga clan.

Musashi feverishly tried to take in her delicate features, record them in his mind before they were lost to sight once more.

Again, he whispered.

Shall I sing you a song, Milord? No, wait... She smiled, innocently. I will recite to you a poem of my people.

Mika orated her lovely prose. Emperor Musashi was lulled by her voice, entranced by the hauntingly sorrowful story of fated lovers and an ancient battle.

Sire, the elders have come. Mika, tend to your affairs, her mother urged.

No, Musashi said, a bit louder than he meant to. The girl stays with me.

Everyone froze, slowly turning toward the mighty Ronin. He was just as confused by his own demand as the others obviously were.

Very well, then, her mother continued. See the Emperor to the parlor, Mika. Serve his tea as he desires.

*****

Why have you graced our humble village, Sire? Hanzo inquired.

There were four village elders, yet Musashi would’ve guessed their ages closer to his own.

Hanzo Oni was the obvious leader of the group, but each man spoke as he saw fit.

Saizo Katou’s eyes were the palest lavender Musashi had ever seen. The thin, graceful man wore his shouzoku covering from his nose down. The curious Ronin couldn’t help but stare as the man spoke to him through the dark cloth. It was a bit unnerving.

Orochimaru Mori had a pinched face and sharp nose to match his even sharper chin. Musashi tried to glance at his defined features only momentarily, but found he couldn’t turn away from the man. The elder Mori had no eyebrows and the effect was startling. His forehead seemed to cover half his face, with only the deep purple eyes acting as a strange border.

I wonder... When he closes his eyelids, does he have a face at all? Or is it just a blank canvas, coming to life through his eyes alone? Musashi did not retain a single word Orochimaru had said. He was lost in the curious thought of why a man would remove his lashes and brows. Perhaps he was born minus these things. Or perhaps, they are a sign of his magical abilities. I wonder what they are.

But enough with all this, Sasuke said. Emperor Musashi, how can your humble servants be of assistance?

The fourth man’s words caught his attention, coupled with a little tug on his earlobe by an invisible Mika, pulling his mind from its fascinated musings.

Sasuke Akoi was staring at the silent Emperor as Musashi took in each man’s face once more.

The sacred gifts of the Shinobi have not gone without my notice. I wish to know each of your talents for myself. I will admit to mild curiosity, yes, but I wish to employ those of you whose abilities could prove useful.

Is Jinn at war? Hanzo showed his sudden alarm. Apologies, Sire. We keep mainly to ourselves and the news has not yet reached our mountain home.

Jinn is not at war. I do not need your magic for such as that. We remain at peace while I live. No man is my equal in battle. Ease your minds and let your children play without worry. I sought your village to satisfy my own desires and no Iga is commanded follow me. If I leave here accompanied, it will be by your choice alone. No threat is implied and no denial will be met with retribution.

All present clan members relaxed at the Emperor’s words. Slight smiles now donned a few once hardened faces.

So, you wish a showing? Saizo chuckled. A magical feast for the mighty Emperor’s eyes, perhaps?

And to see curiosity sated, Musashi added.

Orochimaru inclined his head. It would be our greatest honor.

We are many, Hanzo warned.

I currently find myself blessed with time, Musashi said.

Good. Sasuke clapped his hands together. Shall we begin?

Chapter 5

Apollyon

(ah-PAH-lee-ahn)

Apollyon had never dreamt of happiness before the fateful day he’d seen that glorious, sparkling new soul standing within his gates, all covered with golden curls and smiles.

He carried the many pictures he’d taken of her in a small pouch hanging about his neck. He could scarce keep his hands off it. This soft cloth held all the treasure in the world to him. No creature in all of hell knew what lay within, save Ahriman, and that infuriated the darkest of Princes.

He’d thought he was alone as he thumbed through his beloved pictures of her. It had become his daily ritual, the only few moments he would allow his heart to feel joy. An unhindered smile spread across his face as he looked at the one he had taken whilst standing behind her. He loved the graceful curve of her back, teasingly hidden behind all those flowing curls. There was one of her playfully skipping down the crystal street, one he’d taken as she was laughing, and he had even been able to snap one of her almost catching a butterfly.

Apollyon had also held the camera out and took one while they kissed. Her dazzling eyes, so intent upon his face... this photograph alone was undeniable proof of the precious love she held only for him. A gentle glow illuminated those magical pink orbs, those loveliest of eyes, the only ones he could never forget... refused to forget.

Remembrance. It’s the most horribly precious part of my cursed existence, he thought.

He had taken a picture of her sitting upon the palace windowsill whilst they waited for King Merodach. He chuckled as he looked at it.

I know she’s tiny, but her feet don’t even touch the floor in this one. They’re just dangling there like a child’s... swinging back and forth while she bangs her heels on the stone wall.

He looked then at the close-up shot he’d taken of her in the doorway of the training dome... a single tear glistening upon her soft cheek, reflecting the brilliance of the waning sun.

Her memories of her training are both precious and painful. I wished I’d known her then. He hurriedly brushed away his regretful tears. Why did I have to defy Father? If only I had listened, if only I had put away my rancid pride, behaved as a respectful Angel, then perhaps I would have been chosen as her mentor. Perhaps I could have kept her safe, could have been her whole world... as she is mine.

But his favorite picture, by far, was the one he’d taken as she sat upon her knees near the rosebush outside her domed ethereal home.

Her radiance puts the lovely flowers to shame, he thought.

He’d captured her striking profile as she smelled a delicate pink bloom, almost the same color of her curls. Her hair was partially tucked behind one ear and that single blue curl, his curl, hung down in her face. The dazzling sapphire scar sparkling there upon her fair cheek, and the faint ones showing on her neck and arms... they were the glorious marks of where he’d touched her, where he had healed her.

"She is my rare treasure, my only treasure, he whispered aloud, bitter heartache nearly stealing his voice. All creation can wither and die, yet I will never let go of this priceless moment in time with my beloved Anicee."

Yes, this picture was most definitely his favorite. This one captured everything of import, everything that’d gloriously transpired between them, it was all here. This single picture brilliantly displayed the extraordinarily magical impact they’d had on each other, body... and soul.

And that was the very image of Jenevier he was gazing upon, the one that always brought his tears, when he heard his soul-eating warrior’s sharp intake of breath. He spun around to find Ahriman peering over his shoulder, visually helping himself to the only thing in all creation Apollyon wished never to share.

He was furious. "By all that’s holy! Ahriman, I will rend your wings and toss your worthless soul into Sheol. Mark my words, Silver Eyes, if you so much as glance at her once more, you’ll meet your true death. I will show you darkness the likes of which you can’t even imagine."

His right-hand commander had sworn it to simply be an accident, vowing never to mention it to another. Milord, please forgive me. I came only because you asked to know the next time Raphael was escorting someone through the Nether. He nears, Sire, Ahriman said, his head bowed, staring at his fierce Prince’s feet.

Yet still, the amethyst fallen Angel fled the hell Prince’s royal side that day. Choosing instead to roam about the layers for weeks, hoping his master’s temper would wane with time.

True to his word, Ahriman spoke not concerning the picture and the enchanting image it held. But Apollyon did catch him staring at the pouch dangling from his neck on more than a few occasions. The Prince of Hell’s warning growls were enough to train his dark general’s eyes not to wander anywhere near his sacred treasure again.

*****

Apollyon spent months near the closed portal that had once granted him access to Vanahirdem. He could never again look upon her, but this was the place he felt closest to her, and he was drawn here often.

Father, have I not suffered enough? Have I not made proper restitution for my insolence? Have but a grain of mercy and cease my miserable suffering. Let me go to her once a year, a century, a millennium, it matters not which. As long as you give me but a glimmer of hope, my heart will be healed, he begged. Yet no answer came.

They had been parted for several weeks when he was sitting near the portal that had pulled him back to hell—staring at her photographs, remembering her naïve giggles—when her voice entered his thoughts.

He smiled, thinking it to be but a beautiful memory... until she spoke to him about the babe she carried. His closed lids flew open, glorious sapphires searching the darkness around him.

He had told her about the child growing within her, only seconds before his departure.

We have never spoken thusly, never got the chance. This cannot be a memory for I am not so blessed as to even hope to be granted such experiences with my beloved. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Ah, it is her. I can hear my love’s voice. He placed his hands on the closed portal. She must be in the forest. She yet seeks me. She yet loves me. Her tormented soul calls out to mine. Tears poured down his face as he strained to hear her faint words.

Apollyon returned to that same spot daily. Over the next few months, he heard about how her tummy was growing and of how her aching feet swelled.

Oh, if I could but massage them for you, my love, I would happily spend day and night upon the glorious task, he thought.

He learned of her waning powers and the loss of her wings. He worried for her, wishing only to comfort and protect her.

That Guardian of hers better keep a close eye out. If he lets even one hair fall unnoticed from her perfect head, he’ll be casting aside the very treasure I