Mortal: Part 4 of Mental Damnation

By Konn Lavery and Robin Schroffel

Damnation ends. The Afterlife is at war. Krista must fend for herself.


Mortal is the concluding novel of the dark fantasy series Mental Damnation. Follow Krista as she descends further into Dreadweave Pass and fulfilling the path of a warrior set by her father, reinforced by her allies.

Will Krista manage to escape the land of the damned? She fights to return to Darkwing in the mortal realm, as he struggles to rescue her. Home is no safe haven either, for her people and the humans are on the brink of an all-out-war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Reveal Books
• Release date: Aug 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781777164003

Konn Lavery

Konn Lavery is a Canadian author whose work has been recognized by Edmonton’s top five bestseller charts and by reviewers such as Readers’ Favorite, and Literary Titan. He started writing stories at a young age while being homeschooled. After graduating from graphic design college, he began professionally pursuing his writing with his first release, Reality. He continues to write in the thriller, horror, and fantasy genres. He balances his literary work along with his own graphic design and website development business, titled Reveal Design. His visual communication skills have been transcribed into the formatting and artwork found within his publications supporting his fascination of transmedia storytelling.

Book preview

Author

Chapter 1

Glyph

The Warrior

Caring for a sibling is work. The younger ones are at the mercy of the older, who must mature quickly to take on the responsibility of being a caregiver. The elder sibling must be willing to put their own needs aside to let the younger flourish. Children might wonder why they are given these roles with no option to refuse. It is almost as if it is predestined by fate. They must fall into line. Otherwise, they will face the wrath of their parents. A duty imposed without prior agreement. An underlying understanding between parents and their children, and from sibling to sibling.

Krista, be sure that Salanth doesn’t wander too far from you, Mum called out.

The role irritated Krista. She wasn’t Salanth’s mother. Yet, here she was, taking care of her little brother. All of the time. What else could she do, though? When Mum said something, you’d better damn well listen to her, because she was a force to be reckoned with. Krista made sure she didn’t challenge Mum, at least not when she was around. What Mum didn’t know didn’t hurt her. That was Krista’s strategy for slacking off. She was in control of her actions. Plus, Salanth was not nearly old enough to speak words to tell on her. To her disadvantage, he certainly had reached an age where he could cause chaos. Little brothers always caused chaos. It was simply their nature. Krista always knew he was up to no good—and she would take the blame for it since she was the older sibling.

Krista? Mum said.

Yes, Mum, Krista replied.

Salanth squawked with joy. He was so young that his scalp-feathers hadn’t even grown in yet.

Krista stared down at her little brother; his tail swayed side to side as he stared back at his older sister with a toothy smile. The black-and-blue feathers on her head puffed upward momentarily and then relaxed, draping down onto her shoulders. She was annoyed. Krista wanted to put all the blame on Salanth for this arrangement. He got all the special treatment because he was the baby. Krista wasn’t. That was why Mum punished her with him.

Thank you, Mum said. She put on a closed smile for her two children. Her tail curled around her ankle—a common sign of stress among vazeleads.

She’s upset, Krista thought. Stress was all too common as of late. Krista knew it. Her parents didn’t know that she was aware. They liked to hide things from her and her little brother. There wasn’t anything helpful Krista could say to Mum. Stress was always in the back of Mum and Father’s minds. They did their best to keep it from Krista and Salanth, but Krista understood more than they gave her credit for. As for Salanth, he was too preoccupied with chasing bugs or running around like the little devil he was.

You two have fun outside now, Mum said. Don’t go too far.

We won’t, Mum, Krista said.

Footsteps came from the entrance of the hut. The sound caught Krista’s attention. She looked over as a brown, scaly reptilian wearing a simple cloth tunic walked into the home. Krista’s father.

Father! Krista said happily as she ran toward him.

The reptilian turned to her with open arms. Krista, dear! he said as she jumped into his grasp.

Scalius, Mum said, addressing him.

Yes, Muluve? he replied.

How was the village meeting? Mum asked.

Scalius let go of Krista and walked over to his wife, patting Salanth in passing.

What did they say about the soft-skins? Muluve asked.

Nothing new, Scalius said. Mostly the same paranoia that has been brewing since we first heard of those disturbing rumours.

Krista scratched her head. What rumours? she asked.

Muluve sighed, waiting for Scalius to answer. There has been no confirmation? she prompted.

I’m afraid not, Scalius said.

What rumours? Krista asked again.

We’ll just have to stay on guard, keep the children close, Scalius said while gently touching his wife’s arm.

They never listen to me , Krista thought while staring at her parents. They did this frequently. Krista was still young and was unaware of what affairs occurred outside of her own home. She wasn’t stupid, though. It was clear that her parents were disturbed, as was the village itself. She wasn’t a kid anymore—she was almost a hundred, and was frustrated that they excluded her from knowing what was truly happening.

Muluve hugged her arms around herself. The soft-skins have caused nothing but trouble for us since the end of the Drac Age.

Well, we have the draconic lineage to begin with, Scalius said. The simple fact we exist enrages them.

I can only imagine what it must’ve been like before the humans colonized us, Muluve said. Simpler times.

Same. We had barely hatched then.

Krista’s parents used words she was unfamiliar with, amplifying her frustrations. Colonized . . . draconic. . . . She was enraged. They left her in the dark. She could only try and learn through osmosis, but it wasn’t exactly useful when they spoke in vague terms. So, she’d have to try new tactics to engage them. Mum, Father, why don’t we have the soft-skins over for dinner? Krista asked.

Muluve froze as if she were offended. Father cleared his throat.

Mum spoke sternly. Kristalantice Scalebane, there is no—

Before Krista’s mother could finish her sentence, Scalius interrupted. Now, Krista, unfortunately, the situation is far more complicated.

I don’t get it, Father, Krista said, folding her arms. You never tell me anything. Why can’t you tell me what is happening?

Muluve and Scalius exchanged glances before eying their children. Salanth wasn’t paying attention; he was too distracted by his own tail swaying back and forth in front of him. Still a toddler, the simple things amused him. As for Krista, she stared at her parents, not blinking. This was the furthest she had gotten with them. They were listening, and responding. Maybe they’d stop treating her like a child and explain things to her.

Scalius walked over to Krista, slowly getting down on his knee. He took her by the shoulders, lightly squeezing. Krista, you just have to trust us for now. When the time is right, we will share it. What you need to know now is that soft-skins are dangerous, and they don’t like us.

Why? Krista asked.

Because we vazeleads are not like them, Scalius said grimly.

Is that why the villagers are making weapons? she asked.

We have to defend ourselves, Krista. Weapons are unfortunately our best means of doing so. They will keep us safe. There is no one else to protect us other than ourselves.

She thought for a moment. Is that why you are teaching me to hunt? Krista asked.

Partly, yes. Hunting is an essential skill for survival, as well. You will have to take care of yourself and your little brother when your mother and I are not around. You have to be a warrior.

Like you?

Scalius smiled. Yes, like me.

The soft-skins might understand us better if we talked to them, Krista said, trying to push the topic.

Scalius patted Krista on the shoulder and got up. Now run along, take your brother outside. I think the fresh air will do you both good.

Well, that’s the most I’ve gotten out of them , Krista thought. It was a small victory. Okay, Father, thank you.

Of course, my dear. Now, don’t run too far outside the village. You know what dangers lie in Kuzuchi Forest.

Krista took her little brother’s hand and hurried out of their hut through the back entrance from the kitchen. She squinted her eyes, adjusting to the bright sunny day as the two ran past the garden in the backyard, passing the hanging wet clothes. They hurried onto the gravel alleyway where rows of huts made of wood and animal hide lined each side of the path. Some were big, and some were small. The hut directly across from Krista’s housed a family of three. They were working in their garden—a husband, wife, and their boy, who had to be around Krista’s age. She didn’t see them often, and squinted as they passed by. She hadn’t even known that her neighbours had a son. Not like it mattered; Mum and Father kept her busy babysitting her little brother all the time. She didn’t have any friends.

Salanth! Krista said while dragging her little brother out of the alleyway and onto the main road. He was falling behind; his little feet couldn’t keep up to her long legs.

Vazeleads filled the road, going about their daily business. Krista wasn’t too concerned with what the villagers were doing. She knew about the weapon-making. Beyond that, the folk carried on with their regular lives, despite the lingering tension in the air. Krista wondered again what the rumours about the soft-skins were about. She tried to push the thought from her mind. She couldn’t overthink it—it would only result in frustration. Krista could leave home and play outside, and that was what mattered. The last thing she wanted to do was be stuck inside with Mum lecturing her about the dangers of the forest and her parents hiding more secrets.

Come on. Krista tightened her grip on her little brother’s small, scaly hand. Let’s head over to the creek. Remember how much fun we had last time?

Salanth tried to pull back, but he was too small and struggled to gain balance. He didn’t want to go.

Salanth, Mum doesn’t have to know! The ravine’s not that far from home.

Salanth squawked, showing the razor-sharp teeth in his mouth. He couldn’t talk yet, but her brother knew when Mum would be annoyed.

It’s okay, you’re with me, Krista said. The one positive thing about taking care of Salanth was Krista had free rein to do as she pleased. She didn’t have to stay close to home. Mum trusted her to a degree. But she’d still blame her for everything if Salanth got into trouble.

The two siblings hurried down the gravel road, moving in between the crowd. They flew past a blacksmith who hauled a wheelbarrow full of weapons. Metalworkers had become frequent sights within the village. The stench of metal forging overpowered the usual smells of cooking meat and vegetables lately. It was a clear sign of the new times. Krista still wasn’t entirely sure why they were making weapons, despite her father’s vague explanation about staying safe. They had their claws, which were sufficient for hunting, so what more could they need? She frowned over her shoulder at the blacksmith, then sighed. But what did she know? Her parents, and the other adults, had collectively decided to keep the younglings out of the brewing affairs. One day she would be older, and there wouldn’t be so many secrets.

Now, where are you two young Scalebanes off to? an old crackly voice asked.

Krista stopped in her tracks. Not many people called her or her little brother by their last name. Instantly Krista knew who was there. She turned to her side, where a wrinkly vazelead stood. Her scalp-feathers were mostly white. A number of the feathers were the same grey as the scales that were flaking off of her skin.

Oh, great, Krista thought. Mum said we could go out, she said. Krista knew the elderly lady, Walumn. She was often considered the mother of the village. While couples were busy doing their daily duties, Walumn watched over all of the young vazeleads so they didn’t get into any trouble.

Now Kristalantice, Walumn said, are you off to play?

Of course she used my full name , Krista thought. People only used her full name when they wanted to display their authority over her. Just around the village, but not too far.

Does your mother know? Walumn asked, raising her one brow at Krista. It was made up of about a dozen small spikes protruding from her forehead.

She knows we’re going somewhere we’re not supposed to , Krista thought. This wasn’t promising for her or her little brother. Now they had this old wrinkle-scale keeping an eye on them. She would have to be extra clever to make sure that Walumn did not figure out where they were going.

Yes, I already said Mum knows, Krista said. Go ask her yourself.

Walumn waved her hand at Krista and shook her head. Now, I am sure you have talked with your mother. I don’t have the energy to go. Just don’t go too far. Stay within sight of the village so others can see you two.

It worked , she thought. Krista wasn’t very good at lying. She must have caught Walumn on an off day. Sure, Krista said while waving goodbye.

She let out a sigh while tightening her grip on Salanth’s hand. The little vazelead didn’t seem to care what the conversation was about. He understood a little bit of English. Most of the time, he only responded to his name, or paid attention if someone was talking about food. Krista figured it was selective hearing, but she had no proof. Krista guided Salanth through the various winding roads of the village until they reached the outskirts, passing the last hut. The path dissipated, and they continued through lush green hills, heading for the forest.

You remember the weird bugs we found last time we went to the creek, Salanth? Krista asked.

Salanth squawked. He probably didn’t know what she’d said, but Krista liked to talk so he could try and understand more words. Osmosis was a vital learning strategy in growing up. Like most vazeleads, Salanth would probably start speaking once his scalp-feathers grew in. That was still a good decade away. Until then, he would squawk when he wanted attention.

Krista and Salanth walked up the grassy hills leading to the forest at the base of a large mountain. The peak was so high that it was shrouded in the clouds. The famous Mount Kuzuchi. Her father had told Krista stories and legends about Mount Kuzuchi many times. It was the tallest mountain in the Kingdom of Zingalg, if not the known world. Krista wanted to see how far up it went. Father had told her that he could take her there one day.

The two children slowed their pace as they reached the entrance of the forest. Once they passed the first couple of trees, the smells and scenery drastically changed into a plethora of sensory details. The richness of greenery created a stronger odour than out on the grassy plains. The woods also provided an enclosure, blocking out most of the sun and cooling the temperature. All of the tart scents, animal sounds, and green visuals made Kuzuchi Forest a surreal and stimulating adventure.

Salanth began to tug on Krista’s hand, trying to get away. She let go of the small vazelead’s claws, allowing him to explore on his own. He didn’t go too far, and the two of them stayed side by side, strolling in the same direction. Salanth waddled a bit in his step as Krista walked at a slow pace so he didn’t have to run.

You have a long way to go, Salanth, Krista said.

Salanth stared blankly at her with his big yellow eyes. His long pupils were dilated from the darkness of the forest.

Mum and Father are busy with the other villagers. They are all concerned about the humans. Krista kicked a nearby stick. She knew Salanth wasn’t going to understand what she was saying, but talking about her thoughts helped get things off her chest. I am not really sure why, but they say the soft-skins just can’t get along with our people.

Salanth began to wander away from Krista, flailing his arms about. He was trying to get closer to a bird perched on a low branch above a bush. The red-and-white feathers of the animal were quite alluring. Salanth was infatuated with bright colours. The little vazelead’s tail swayed side to side, picking up pace as he approached the bird. Krista smiled while watching her little brother explore the big, scary world all on his own. He clearly believed he could hunt the bird. So young and naive.

Salanth got down on all fours with his tail perked high in the air. The bird watched him. He let out a squeak, attempting to be fierce. Salanth didn’t seem to care about caution as he crawled up to the animal. The little vazelead’s tail flickered, followed by another pathetic squeak, and he leapt toward the bird. The animal flapped its wings and flew from the branch, which bounced up and down from the force. Salanth toppled into the plant below, landing in the dirt.

Uh-oh. Krista hurried over to the bush and brushed the branches aside. As she reached into the foliage, her hand scraped against a thorn on one of the twigs. Krista hissed, trying to ignore the sharp needles that ran against the scales on her forearm. She had to get her little brother. He could have gotten himself hurt. Salanth continued to squawk until Krista pushed the last branch out of her way, revealing him. The little vazelead was all the way in the middle of the bush, resting beside the base of the plant.

Salanth, you have to be more careful! Krista said.

Salanth rolled onto his back. His black blood was smeared against his cheek from a thorn wound on his face. Tears ran from his eyes.

Mum is going to kill me, Krista thought. She extended her arms, snatching up her little brother from the ground. She patted him on the back as he continued to whimper into her shoulder, arms wrapped around her neck.

You’re so clumsy, Krista sighed, clearly annoyed. This is why Mum won't let us out here.

She gripped her brother with both hands, holding him up at eye level. He wasn’t crying anymore, only sniffles. Krista brought out her black tongue and licked the salty blood from the wound on his face several times. Once the blood was gone, she examined the rest of his form. His arms had no scratches, and neither did his legs, torso, or tail. The little guy had gotten lucky.

That could’ve been a lot worse, Salanth, Krista said. You really gotta work on your hunting skills.

Salanth squawked while extending his arms. He wanted a hug. Krista brought him closer, giving him a tight squeeze as he wrapped his small arms around her. They embraced each other for a moment, long enough for Krista to pick up on the soft smell of her little brother. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was glad that he was okay. Sure, she was annoyed that he’d gotten himself hurt, and Mum would probably see the cut, and Krista would get in trouble, but she could get over that. He was her little brother.

How about we get to that ravine and find more birds? Krista asked, putting him down.

Salanth nodded and reached for Krista’s hand, holding it tightly.

Krista and Salanth walked through the forest together, avoiding any ditches and uneven ground. They stayed clear from any more bushes, too. Salanth was mesmerized by the forest and had completely forgotten about the tumble earlier. Krista admired his attitude. He didn’t seem to have a problem with falling down, getting hurt, or anything, for that matter. He simply enjoyed the moment and then moved on to the next. In contrast, Krista found herself in a constant state of confusion, especially since her parents had become progressively more secretive lately. The responsibility of her little brother was falling onto her shoulders far more than usual.

Krista took a deep inhale of the fresh forest air. She loved the refreshing feeling, and the contrasting scents of leaves and oak she was so used to from her hunting trips with her father. Wait. Krista sniffed again. Along with the usual odours, there was another smell. This was new. Krista got a whiff of a strong, vile stench, sharp, possibly feces. She’d never smelled it in the forest before.

Yuck , Krista thought. She had been in the forest dozens of times and knew the range of smells. This was fresh . . . an animal was nearby. The question was, what type of animal? Her sense of smell was not yet developed enough to distinguish the various types of creatures. Father hadn’t taught her that yet. Besides, the density of the forest made it difficult for her to separate all the smells. All she knew was they were not alone. Animals lurked in Kuzuchi Forest everywhere. Some were benign, and some were dangerous. Krista did not want her paranoia to ruin a good time. She’d be careful, and they would play.

Salanth, Father has been teaching me the ways of hunting, Krista said. You are a little young, but maybe I can show you some of the neat things he has been teaching me.

Salanth squeaked.

Would you like that? Would you like to hunt, like Father? Krista asked.

Salanth bobbed his head several times, clearly excited about the idea. The fact that her little brother understood that many words was impressive. Maybe he wasn’t as goofy as Krista thought.

Okay, there are small fish in the creek down in the ravine. We’ll try to get some of those, Krista said.

The two siblings wandered through the forest, with Krista taking the lead. She always enjoyed going through the woods, whether it was with her Father or her little brother. More often than not, she went with her Father because Mum was always scared of Salanth getting hurt in the forest. Krista wasn’t supposed to take him there—and she could only sneak herself and Salanth into the woods so many times before he got injured. Now that Salanth had fallen, Mum would ground Krista for sure. But that would be a worry for later. Now it was time for fun.

One of the exciting things about the forest is all the berries you can find if you go deeper into the woods, Krista said. I haven’t taken you that far yet.

Salanth snorted and wiped his nose while running his hands along the bark of nearby trees.

He does have selective hearing , Krista thought. It didn’t matter, though; it was nice to talk to Salanth. He only listened to what he liked, which made him an excellent sounding board for Krista’s own thoughts. A one-way conversation was the best form of sibling bonding that Krista could have with him until he was older and he could talk back.

Father took me way farther than the ravine one time. You wouldn’t believe Mum’s face when we got back. We were gone for the whole day! Do you remember? Krista asked.

Salanth did not reply, transfixed on the scenery.

Well, it was funny, Krista said.

Soon the sound of running water became audible and the two Scalebane children continued to walk toward. The creek. Salanth squawked as he let go of his sister’s hand, running toward the noise, which was getting louder.

Salanth, don’t run too far, Krista said as she picked up her pace to catch up with her little brother. Remember, you fell!

Krista took a whiff of the air, nostrils flaring. The stench of animal dung was more potent, and mixed with wet leather. Whatever it was, it was nearby. She had to keep a watchful eye out. It was her responsibility to protect herself and her little brother, just like Father said. The two walked down the slight slope that led to the creek. Large rocks divided the dirt and water as the stream descended on a zig-zag course to the grassy hills below. The creek went directly through the village, splitting it in two. The Scalebane siblings could have easily played by the water in the village. But the river there would have been way too crowded, and the water far more shallow.

Salanth hurried over to the river until his bare feet touched the shores. The creek moved through his scaly toes as he splashed around with joy. He stared down at the running water, watching the rocky riverbed. Krista was not far behind him and jumped into the shallow creek, creating a large splash, hitting her little brother with a volley of droplets. Salanth squealed and ran away from Krista, stomping in the water.

Krista giggled and chased her little brother. Come back here!

She ran after Salanth until her little brother suddenly stopped. His tail was pointed horizontally. Krista came to a halt. A massive, furry, brown beast was about two dozen paces away from them. The husky animal’s paws were drenched in water. Its belly and neck were soaked, water dripping down. The head was arched toward the two Scalebane children, and its black beady eyes stared at Salanth. That was the stench. Krista could smell it clearly now.

Bear , she thought. The blood in her veins pumped directly into her scalp-feathers, causing them to stand upright, the natural reaction for vazeleads when frightened or angered. She had seen bears in Kuzuchi Forest before, but never this close. This was dangerous. They were easy prey. She knew she had to get Salanth out of there.

The sound of the water amplified with each breath Krista took. Her senses skyrocketed into full awareness—the branches swaying, the leaves blowing, the water dripping off the bear, and the unholy stink. What was she supposed to do? Her father had taught her the basics of hunting and harvesting berries in the forest. He also taught her how to avoid animals by recognizing their smell, but Krista had simply ignored the warning signs this time, not realizing the danger. Father hadn’t yet taught her what to do if she came face-to-face with a predator the size of a bear. She wasn’t careful, and now Salanth was in danger because of her foolishness. She had to get him out of there safely. That was the duty of an older sibling.

Salanth, Krista said softly. She took several steps, dragging her feet through the water so she didn’t make a splash.

Her eyes locked on the bear. The animal didn’t move, still staring at her little brother. Krista was now directly behind Salanth. Her tail moved in front of her, gently touching Salanth’s tail. The subtle connection caused the little vazelead to stiffen.

It’s okay, Salanth, Krista said while sliding her hands under her little brother's armpits. If the bear were to act, Krista was ready. Just stay calm. Father said they get mean when you wiggle too much.

Water splashed beside the bear’s paws. The animal snorted, and with a swift strike, it pulled out a fish from the river, piercing it with its claws. The animal snagged the prey with its sharp teeth, puncturing down through the scales. The fish squirmed uncontrollably as the bear chowed down its flesh.

That’s it , Krista thought. She grabbed her little brother tightly, pulling him up and backing away from the bear.

I need you to be my eyes, Krista said as she turned her little brother so he could see behind her. As she spun Salanth around, she turned to face downstream. Krista gradually picked up her pace, making sure she didn’t make too many splashes as she walked toward the shore.

Oh, please don’t be following us , Krista thought. She felt her heart pound as she stepped out of the water and onto the muddy ground. The sensation of the dirt sticking to her scaly feet was a small sign of success.

How are we doing there, Salanth? Krista asked in a soft tone. She didn’t want to be too loud and risk worrying Salanth or getting the bear’s attention. You see the bear?

Salanth mumbled, but it wasn’t clear what he meant.

Salanth? Do you see the bear?

Nothing. Salanth hugged Krista’s neck.

Salanth, Krista said, irritation filling her voice.

A twig snapped behind them, and Krista’s tail instinctively stood straight up. The scales on her back tingled. She didn’t even look to see what was there; she simply ran. Her heart raced, pumping uncontrollably as she rushed through the forest back toward the village.

Please, please, please , Krista thought. Her mind could only play visions of a giant furry beast rushing down behind them. Powerful paws. The teeth. A beast like that could snag her and maul her in a blink of an eye. Shredding flesh. The thought was on repeat. She felt the need to check over her shoulder. Then again, there was no point if she was about to meet her fate. Krista couldn’t resist. She had to know if the bear was there. If he was, she could throw Salanth out of the way and sacrifice herself so he could escape.

She took a quick spin around, moving backward. Only trees were behind them. Krista allowed herself a toothy smile as she exhaled with relief. The bear was not there. It was probably back by the river, distracted by the fish. Salanth and Krista were safe. Still sprinting, she turned to face a tree directly in front of them.

Her eyes widened as she tried to skid to a stop. The ground was muddy. She slid. Too late. Krista shielded her little brother with her shoulder as they collided with the tree. The Scalebane siblings smashed into the trunk with a heavy thud. Krista’s shoulder hit first, followed by her skull, which rebounded off the bark. She hissed as she collapsed into a ball, still holding on to Salanth. Her face slammed into the dirt, vision blurring, head spinning. Her ear-holes rang. She lifted her head, trying to confirm that the bear was not there.

Where is it? Krista thought while her vision began to centre itself.

Salanth wiggled in her arms, squawking.

Krista’s eyesight returned, and her hearing tuned to normal. She scanned the forest, looking as far as she could see into the greenery in all directions. The bear wasn’t there. They were safe. Her little brother was curled up against her chest, safe. She grabbed him with both arms and spun him around a couple of times, checking for any scrapes and bruises. Nothing new.

You’re fine, Krista said.

She let her brother go, getting herself up. The movement caused her to yelp as pain ruptured from her arm and up to her head. A mixture of mud and black blood ran along her arm. She would be feeling that for the next couple of days. Not to mention the fact that Mum and Father would have a freak-out about this adventure. There was no way she could cover up these scrapes.

I hit a rock , Krista thought, trying to conceptualize a lie to tell her parents. They didn’t need to know that she’d taken Salanth into Kuzuchi Forest. As long as they couldn’t smell the woods on them, they would be fine. Even if they did, Krista would be okay. What mattered was that she had followed her father’s training and protected Salanth. After all, she was the older sibling, as fate would have it.

chapter-01-the-warrior

Chapter 2

Glyph

Differences Aside

Birthed against will.

Instinctual survival dominant.

Fight. Live. Die.

Questions never answered,

drives one mentally ill.

How can one live in obscurity?

When so much is forced.

Behind the curtains of consciousness

Reality is masked through a Dream

In a false sense of Purity.

Beyond life, the soul lives at Heaven’s hand.

The judges.

Sought unworthy.

Here I am, in the land of the damned.

How does one maintain a sense of calm when all sanity is lost? How do we maintain self-worth when all control is in the hands of another? Is it even conceivable to have a sense of wellness when you’re not the master of your own domain? Awareness of the self is a powerful ability that goes beyond the initial reception of the physical form. Awareness leads to self-actualization. We can peel back the layers of the mind, stripping away the ego, and come face-to-face with our real selves. The soul—the real weighted worth of ourselves beyond the mortal realm. It is judged by the angels at the Heavenly Kingdoms’ golden gates. All souls rise upon death in the mortal realm and stand before these gates guarded by angels. They decide who will enter the Heavenly Kingdoms and who will perish in Dega’Mostikas’s Triangle.

How? The single word echoed inside a tormented mind. Blood red gauntlets clutched into fists, shaking subtly, energized by a burst of confusing energy as the being stood in front of one who judged him at the golden gates upon dying so long ago. The angel who decided who was worthy of living a life of peace, and who deserved only misery.

The Angel of Death , he thought.

His pure white eyes squinted, blocking out the blinding light directly in front of him so he could see the silhouette of the angel that walked toward him. Only once prior had he faced her. The pale skin. The long, curved horns on her head. The wispy skirt draping above her bare ankles that complemented her slim figure. Iconic characteristics that could not be forgotten easily. Especially when this was the Angel of Death—the one who had denied him entrance to the Heavenly Kingdoms centuries ago. Rahiie, the one who judged Dievourse’s soul.

The day of Dievourse’s death was as clear in his memory as ever. Seeing Rahiie’s bright blue eyes again resurrected all of the memories of Dievourse’s last breath in the mortal realm. He relapsed into the ascending sensation of the afterlife. He had soared so high, feeling a sense of bliss. The troubles he had melted away with his ego. Pain no longer existed. He was brought to the gates, carved in a plethora of golden geometric patterns. There, Rahiie had stood in front of the gates, just as she stood now. The angel was exactly as he remembered. One half of her porcelain-white body was lean and smooth. The second half was scarred with blackened scabs and spikes on her skin. Dual horns rose from her forehead and shoulders. He had been but a simple man then, and was mesmerized by her uniqueness.

My master, the Weaver, has been working with Rahiie this whole time. How could I not have known? Dievourse thought. Her two-sided physique was not a coincidence. It was a contradiction expressed in physical form. Other angels were much purer. Prettier, one could say. She had suffered a fatal attack that altered her. Only now was Dievourse able to piece it all together.

His master, the Weaver, the fallen God who reassembled him to be his first puppet, had spoken of an immoral angel who was present during his banishment from the Heavenly Kingdoms. The Weaver was always cautious about who he told about this immoral angel. He was paranoid. Only he and Rahiie had known what had transpired . . . until now. As the Weaver’s desire for freedom grew, negotiations changed. The Weaver was now willing to share all of his secrets with his most trusted puppets, Dievourse and El Aguro. The feathered monstrosity was beside him as the angel approached.

Dievourse hoped to see El Aguro dwindle away in a lower tier of Dega’Mostikas’s Triangle one day. The arrogant gatekeeper was considered an equal to Dievourse in the Weaver’s eyes. Jealousy rose. Dievourse believed he was without compare, above all others in Dreadweave Pass aside from his master. A superiority complex was the Weaver’s weakness, he knew. With Dievourse’s confidence the fallen god’s paranoia grew, and he decided not to put all of his trust into his first puppet, thus creating El Aguro.

The sensation Dievourse felt—this anger, a pulse of energy that caused his hands to shake—was a surge he had not felt in a long time. The countless years of no sleep and serving as the extended hand of his master made Dievourse numb. Of course, there was the initial shock when his head was extracted from his body. The Weaver placed his skull onto the beast-of-a-man that now comprised his form. The Weaver’s dark arts were a challenge for Dievourse to grasp at the time. But that was the past. All feelings pass. The shock he felt now was different than the fusion onto another body. Nor was it the same as learning of the creation of El Aguro. This shock came from the resurrection of a long-forgotten emotion, one that Dievourse hadn’t thought he’d feel until he earned his freedom: grief in its purest form.

Dievourse, El Aguro, came the Weaver’s haunting voice, reverberating through the dark, foggy chamber directly behind Dievourse. My dearest children. The pronunciation of each vowel was elongated as the fallen god spoke. I would like you to pay your respects to Rahiie.

The entrance to the Weaver’s prison closed behind Rahiie, eliminating the blinding light. Dievourse’s eyes adjusted to the dark, and he could see the angel’s features better. Her fine skin and toned body—truly sculpted by the gods. The confidence in her walk created a strange sense of arousal and fear. More emotions that were once long forgotten.

Her power , Dievourse thought. He was drawn to strength. The attraction was what had made him a successful warlord in the mortal realm and a general in the Weaver’s Army. Power was his fixation and freedom was his dream. Rahiie had both. Even though the angel was immoral, she managed to stand amongst those in heaven. Unlike Dievourse, down in hell, a slave to the Weaver.

Weaver, Rahiie said. Her strident voice boomed through the chamber, causing El Aguro and Dievourse to straighten their posture. Your aggressive behaviour is beginning to raise awareness amongst the gods.

The Weaver chuckled. We will discuss this soon. Please, I would like you to meet my two most prized creations. Tentacle-like arms moved out from the darkness past Dievourse and El Aguro. The arms ended in large long-fingered hands with an additional thumb on the opposite side. They extended toward Dievourse and El Aguro, gesturing the pair to speak. Please introduce yourselves.

Rahiie didn’t blink, waiting for Dievourse to speak. Her face was cold. A slight hint of anger was clear from the slant of the spikes that formed her eyebrows. No angel had horns and spikes. Her passion seeded from the poison. She didn’t need to say it for Dievourse to know. She oozed it.

Dievourse took a bow, sending his bone-thin white hair draping in front of his face. The green glowing circles directly below him and El Aguro cast a soft light over them. Dievourse stood, directing his voice toward the angel. Rahiie, I am General Dievourse. I lead the Weaver’s Army. He has spoken many words of you, and yet never revealed your name. It is a great honour to meet you at last.

Rahiie nodded at Dievourse and awaited the feathered beast’s introduction.

El Aguro bowed as well, extending both hands, palms facing Rahiie. His feathers ruffled against the bone breastplate he wore. It is a pleasure to meet you, Rahiie. I am El Aguro. His voice echoed from inside his helmet, projecting from his throat.

Disgusting, Dievourse thought, glaring at El Aguro. The gatekeeper’s long black kilt was a displeasure to be near, for it was fused from the feathers, bones, and flesh of countless crows.

El Aguro stood up. The Weaver has assigned me to champion the gatekeepers, for I am the eldest of them.

Rahiie folded her arms. You’re the one responsible for the increased reaping of souls?

El Aguro shrugged. I suppose you could say such a thing. I am only as active as the will of the Weaver. My actions are not my own.

Right, Rahiie said, staring into the darkness behind El Aguro and Dievourse. Care to explain yourself, Weaver?

The Weaver’s hands retracted back into the darkness behind Dievourse. Now, now, Rahiie. You have always known what the endgame was.

Yes, but the aggressiveness of the reaping?

One of the Weaver’s two-thumbed hands appeared again. My children, as you can see, Rahiie is always on the conservative side. It is the base of her reasoning, and she stands by it. This gives her an edge. This is what made her so bold as to come face-to-face with Dega’Mostikas himself.

Brave girl, El Aguro said.

Rahiie’s nostrils flared. And foolish. Now the devil himself haunts my mind.

The Weaver raised his index finger. Perhaps, yes. But not as foolish as your brother Craeso . . . or is it Sporathun now?

Show him to me, Rahiie said.

You have no power to demand, Rahiie. You know of our deal. The Weaver’s hand extended past Dievourse and gently caressed Rahiie’s cheek. "A poor,