Soul Forge (Book One of the Soul Forge series)

Consciousness returned slowly, a wave of pain following it. Elda’s head felt heavy, the base of her skull throbbing where she’d been struck. Her hair was sticky with the blood that coated the back of her neck. Her armour was gone, Irileth nowhere to be seen and damp had soaked through her thin tunic, chilling her down to her bones.

Her cell was small and dark, with one window showing nothing but fire beyond. She frowned, struggling to her knees to get a better look. She recognised the sky from the dream she’d had about the strange monolith she’d seen in Bennigan’s Books.

She groaned quietly when her bruises throbbed, several ribs obviously cracked. Every breath wheezed from her lungs but she pushed herself up awkwardly and got as close to the window as her chains would allow.

She was in Shade.

Panic rose up her throat when her eyes fell on the ground surrounding what appeared to be an ancient castle. It was teeming with demons of every shape and size, each one more disgusting than the last. Molten rivers bisected huge swathes of rocky wasteland, the sky stained red and raining a constant shower of ash.

She struggled against her shackles, yanking on them until her wrists bled. She tried to call to Sypher, to Vel, to Irileth, to the strange magic that had controlled her in Rift, but the answer was silence. Echoing, empty, endless silence. She was alone, trapped, and useless.

Sliding down the damp wall, she dropped her head into her hands and sucked in several deep breaths. Her friends were alive. They’d escaped through Lillian’s portal. There was still hope if the people she cared about were safe.

But the person she loved most wasn’t safe. He was somewhere in Shade too, held by the Corrupted and at their mercy. He’d do anything to keep her safe and that made him weak. It made him vulnerable. If she’d been stronger, trained harder, maybe she could have done more than fire a few arrows from a distance. Would she have beaten Cynthia? Saved her friends?

“Some Keeper I am,” she muttered to herself, tears welling up in her eyes. She blinked them away, scrubbing the back of her hand across her face and gritting her teeth. She couldn’t just sit there and sob. She went back to pulling at her shackles, trying to use the blood her struggles drew to slip her slender hands through the manacles, but they were too tight.

She was busy trying to find a weakness in the wall bracket when a door opened close by and a cheerful whistle echoed off the wet stone. She moved as far away from the cell door as her bindings would allow, bracing herself for an attack.

“Princess,” Abraxos sang, letting the door swing open. “It’s time to meet your new Lord, my dear.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I thought you might say that,” he nodded, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Let me try and persuade you.” He sauntered over to her, leaning towards her until he was uncomfortably close. “Come with me, or I’ll tell Cynthia you resisted and your little demon will pay for your bad behaviour.” Elda’s eyes widened, her stomach lurching when she remembered they weren’t afraid to torture him. She dropped her gaze and nodded. “I thought that might interest you.” He unfastened the chain from the wall and yanked on it, dragging her behind him like an animal.

Elda was led through a maze of hallways. She was shocked to find a castle even existed inside Shade, let alone one that was still intact. The walls were dark, the floors all reflective black granite, and every window looked out onto absolute desolation. There were no roads, no landmarks. Only endless ruin.

They emerged into a throne room grand enough to rival the one Elda had grown up with, though it was dark and menacing. Every surface was reflective black stone or marble, casting images of her fear right back at her. Abraxos led her to an ugly black throne at the far end, forcing her down to her knees beside it and looping her chains through a ring set into the floor. When she was secured beside it like a slave waiting for their master, he stepped back and smiled.

“Try to keep your back straight. My Lord hates slouching,” he told her pleasantly. Elda wanted to tell him what she thought of his Lord, but a door to her left swung open and a new figure entered the room, flanked by Arden on one side and a pair of rotting soldiers on the other.

He was familiar; tall and broad shouldered like his brother, but his hair was longer and still dark. The once green eyes were solid black, one of his feathered wings mangled by the scars left behind at the fall of Iliria. He smiled with sharpened teeth and a chill ran through Elda’s blood as all of the names she’d heard for this man ran through her head. The Dark Tide, Omen of Death, Forsaken, Soul Eater.

Standing before her was Malakai, the Demon Lord. He didn’t speak right away, choosing instead to take a seat in his glass throne. He lounged against the arm and leaned down to look at her, studying her with hungry eyes. He wanted her to crack, to beg him for her life. She wouldn’t.

“A brave one, aren’t you?” he purred eventually. His voice was strange, lilting and soft, but laced with a whispering tone as though several people were speaking at once. It wormed its way into her brain, raising goosebumps down the length of her spine. Elda looked away, her eyes falling on Arden. His expression was the same empty, glassy stare she’d noticed on the battlefield, his eyes almost entirely vacant.

“Did you lobotomise him?” she asked.

Malakai laughed, delighted by her bolshy attitude. “How interesting,” he commented. “And here I was, expecting you to be like the other snivelling royals I’ve met in my time. I think I like you, my dear.”

“I wish I could say the same about you. What did you do to Arden?”

“I enlightened him.” Malakai rested his chin on his closed fist. “I believe I should be the one asking the questions, considering your... predicament,” he grinned. “What do you know of the Compulsion?”

“I can’t use it. Didn’t learn it. Don’t want it. You kidnapped the wrong person if you’re looking for answers on how to enslave the Soul Forge.” She clung to false bravado like a comfort blanket, squaring her shoulders and meeting the Demon Lord’s eye.

“I know how it works,” Malakai replied patiently. “I was interested in what you knew. It’s disappointing that you won’t use the Compulsion, you know. You could save your friend a lot more pain.”

Elda’s back stiffened. ”More pain? What have you done to him?”

“Nothing he can’t handle.” Malakai snapped his fingers and the doors Elda had been brought through swung open. Cynthia wandered through them, pulling something behind her. Chains. When the Soul Forge stepped into the light, Elda couldn’t stop the strangled sob that escaped her. He was barely recognisable.

His beautiful wings had been sheared off, reduced to bloody stumps at his back. His pale hair was matted and stained red, more blood coating his skin. Everywhere Elda looked, he was wounded. Purposeful cuts littered every inch of his skin, steadily dripping blood as he walked on an obviously broken ankle. Vivid bruises mottled his face, one eye swollen shut, the other unfocused and the red dulled. Elda lurched forwards, yanking painfully against her chains when she saw Sypher’s lips had been sewn shut with coarse thread.

Cynthia dragged him through the throne room and up the steps, kicking his broken ankle to bring him to his knees. Tears spilled down Elda’s cheeks when he didn’t make a single sound, so far gone from reality that he didn’t seem to know where he was.

“Sypher,” she sobbed. “Look at me.” At first, nothing, and then his one good eye rose to look at her face. A spark of recognition, fleeting but definitely there.

“My, Cynthia, you’ve been busy,” Malakai commented, looking over his mutilated sibling like he was an amusing joke.

“We had to make up for lost time,” she grinned, brandishing the same dagger she’d stuck into Sypher’s shoulder in Rift. “He’s gotten used to this blade though. He doesn’t react anymore. Look.” She grabbed his jaw, slicing the blade across his cheek. The Soul Forge didn’t even flinch.

“I do believe you’ve broken him,” Malakai chuckled.

“I’m sure he’ll scream when Lazarus gets a taste of him,” she beamed.

“Don’t you touch him!” Elda blurted, tearing her skin again in her efforts to yank the metal ring out of the floor.

“You have fire, little elf. I like fire.” Malakai leaned down and gripped her chin in his long fingers, pointed nails digging into her cheek. “Now I need something from you. If you comply, you end his pain. I need you to Compel him to unleash the demon soul in its full capacity. Do that and I won’t let Cynthia hurt him again.”

“I can’t,” Elda told him, trying and failing to get her face out of his hold. Malakai inclined his head, forcing her to watch as Cynthia pulled Lazarus out of his sheath and slid the blade across Sypher’s lacerated bicep. The searing poison drew a faint moan from the Soul Forge, his body trembling as he struggled to stay upright.

“Can you Compel him now?” Malakai asked. Elda shook her head, more tears dripping down her cheeks. Another moan dragged an audible sob from between her clenched teeth. “I can keep at this forever, flower. We’re immortal.”

“You don’t understand! I can’t Compel him!” She jerked violently away, not caring when Malakai’s nails tore bleeding welts in her cheek. “I swore an oath with my life! If I Compel him, I die.”

“Show me the rune.” Elda lifted her chained wrist, exposing the oath rune on the inside of her forearm. The Demon Lord tapped his chin thoughtfully. “That does put a kink in my plan,” he murmured. “No matter. We’ll go about this the opposite way.” He motioned for Cynthia to switch places with him, moving to stand beside his brother as the red-haired Witch took his throne.

“What are you doing?” Elda asked.

“Striking a bargain.” Malakai bent to look his brother in the eye, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Sypher, it’s been a while. Rumour has it you still hate me.” The Soul Forge gave no response. “Not playing nice, hmm? You’re not interested in a family reunion?” Again, Sypher was silent. “Fine, I suppose we can skip the pleasantries.” The Demon Lord snapped his fingers, and Cynthia put Lazarus to Elda’s throat. Sypher made a noise at last and Malakai’s smile widened. He slipped a knife from his boot, using it to cut the thread binding Sypher’s lips.

“If you kill her, the Spirit in her Soul Blade will be released.” His voice was hoarse, rasping through battered lungs. The tone was oddly flat, revealing that he was still deaf. “She’ll come straight for you.”

“I don’t plan to kill her,” Malakai chuckled. “Torture her, yes. Keep her as a pet, possibly.” He turned those black eyes on her. “I might even try her out as my new plaything. Who knows?”

“What do you want?” Sypher asked, swaying precariously on his knees.

“I want the demon, brother. All of him and none of you. Your girl lives if you obey.” Sypher struggled to read Malakai’s lips, but he understood enough to know what his brother was asking for.

“Don’t, Sypher!” Elda was yanked back by her hair, silencing her cry with a pained gasp. Cynthia chuckled in her ear. The Soul Forge watched her struggle, his brow creasing, and her heart jumped into her throat.

“I can’t give you what you want,” he wheezed. “I can’t completely rid myself of the demon anymore than he can completely rid himself of me.”

“Oh, I have a solution for that.” Malakai reached into his pocket and produced a piece of metal, bent into the shape of a spiked rune. A rune Elda had seen on the monolith in her dream and drawn into a journal in a book store. Sypher frowned at the symbol, then returned his attention to Malakai’s face. “All you have to do is let him out and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Your Keeper receives the same punishment you do, and more besides. Perhaps I’ll have you watch when it’s my turn to play with her,” Malakai purred. “I wonder, how long would it be before madness made you give in anyway? She can suffer until you break, or you can relent now and save her a world of pain and humiliation.” Sypher’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, understanding the threat of torture too well.

“Don’t listen to him!” Elda pleaded. Cynthia backhanded her across the face, sending her to the floor. Sypher growled, unable to contain the sound.

“Hmm. I wonder how you’d react if I were to touch her,” Malakai mused, gliding back to where Elda was struggling to her knees again. He drifted behind her and she gasped when his teeth nicked her throat hard enough to draw blood, a grunt of pain escaping. It felt like someone had jammed a hot poker through her skin. “She tastes divine. I see why you like her.” His tongue snaked out to lick the thin rivulet of red beginning to drip slowly down towards her collar. Sypher yanked at his chains, watching Malakai’s hands rove over her torso, more tears pouring down her face when she saw the Soul Forge falter.

“Don’t you dare,” she gritted, urging him not to give in. It was no use; Sypher cracked the moment Malakai’s fingertips reached her hip.

“Stop!” He shifted his gaze to Elda. “Swear an oath. Swear that you and your lackeys won’t torture her.”

“You’re in no position to make demands of me,” Malakai chuckled. “You can give me what I want now, or you can do it after I break her body and her mind.”

“Se maite nireh,” Sypher whispered in defeat, and Elda’s blood ran cold.

“No! Sypher you can’t!” she begged, straining against her chains to stop him, but it was too late. His skin paled, black veins spreading around his left eye. Before Vel could even look up, Malakai was beside him, pressing the rune into his skin with his teeth bared in a triumphant grin. Vel bit down on a scream as his neck sizzled, searing the brand in place.

The Demon Lord stepped back when the dark veins spread further, reaching down Vel’s neck, across his arms and chest beneath his tattered tunic, connecting the swirling black tattoos on his skin like branches.

Elda watched, horrified, as her husband rose slowly to his feet, the shackles designed to bind him dropping from his wrists the moment the rune flared bright on his neck. His head was bowed, the stumps of his wings no longer bleeding as they began to heal at an impossible pace.

When he finally lifted his gaze, Elda’s heart stuttered. In eyes as darker than the Void and just as empty, she didn’t see Sypher. She didn’t see Vel. She didn’t even see the version of him that tried to murder Lillian in Rift.

She saw the demon eating a deer carcass in the woods. The Arachna slaughtering people as they ran wild in the village of Riordan. The hunger of the Harbingers circling them in the desert. Ose, looking for something to destroy.

They were the eyes of a monster.

A/N: Wow! Thank you to everyone who has read this book from start to finish. It feels so strange to bring three years of my life to an end at last! Please don’t come for me for the ending :’) And I hope to see you all again for book two: Requiem!