THE CONFLICT #2

CHAPTER 1

PROLOGUE

War is a disease that kills good men. I do not mean that only literally and perhaps everyone has a little darkness in them to begin with. But war has a funny way of opening that retched door that would otherwise remain sealed. Of inviting the deepest darkest parts of ourselves into the light of our consciousness. Exposed to the ever presence of the Grim Reaper hanging above your head, waiting for the blade to fall. Your mentality changes. It becomes warped and twisted. Your compassion lessens, there is no place for kindness on the battlefield. Soon you become exactly what they want you to be. Good at killing. Because if you're not, you're dead.

CHAPTER 1

NOVENA

The sun has not yet made an appearance, though my dreams often wake me. The haunting memories entangle with my sleeping mind, creating my worst fears until finally, I find myself dragging my half-asleep, half-shocked mind from the clutches of those vivid nightmares. It's a struggle to resume rest after one of my nightmares, I struggled for a few hours before drifting off. Now again, my mind is awake.

But something is different this time.

My skin prickles and thin hairs rise at the back of my neck and my arms, like a sixth sense. A warning that something is not quite right. I haven’t been dreaming since I went back to sleep. I haven't been having a nightmare or even a mildly normal dream, but something has disturbed my hard-found peace. My heartbeat picks up as I search the darkness in the room. I feel my other senses come alive with the thought of danger luring close. I catch his scent, lingering in the air like a memory. Like the air has been laced with the most intoxicating odour. Created just to entice me. It strengthens. Becoming more and more potent. The divine scent is too overpowering to be mistaken, suffocating everything else. My sense of smell becomes a letch to every other sense I have, draining them until scent is all I can rely on. Like a warning bell that speaks of trouble, the organ in my chest pounds to its own sped up beat. If he is here, trouble is the least of my concerns. Chaos, destruction and death would be further up the list. I breathe deeper trying to gather reality from my subconscious hallucinations. There is no man lurking in the dark corners of my tiny room so I force my eyes shut. This is just another dream, I try to reassure myself. And it’s then that I feel it. This is no hallucination that makes me feel the warmth in my blood and the sensation on my skin. I sit up in fright, breathing hard. He’s perched, grinning down at me from the bottom of the narrow bed. I stare up at him in disbelief.

“Hello love.” He smirks haughtily.

He was nowhere to be seen a minute ago. I almost don't believe my eyes. I don’t dare move. I can’t bring myself to, stuck in a state of confusion. My lungs refuse to draw air while my muscles deprive themselves of blood. I’m stuck, wallowing in my own fears.

He’s here!

I struggle to swallow. He can’t be. He cannot be in the Broken City. I'm surrounded by my armies on the highest level of the city’s capability. How could this possibly be? How is this possible?

The words come tumbling off my tongue, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I whisper to myself, but there’s no doubt that he hears.

I branch, suddenly nervous staring into his dark face. The night offers very little light from the moon or from lights in the once decimated city. How did he even get to me this deep into our base? I have more questions than I will get answers. He laughs, amused by my obvious distress and disbelief. It's a mocking sound that has me gritting my teeth in anger. I slip my fingers behind my head and beneath the pillow to grab the handle of the blade awaiting for just such an occurrence. I pull it free, clenched in my fist and aiming straight for Zelus’s chest. I see his full lips part in surprise as I lift the top half of my body with momentum. The blade is inches from his darkly clothed chest when a hand stills my waist. He twists my arm, earning him a hiss of pain from my lips before he disarms me, easily prying the handle from my grip. He looks at the blade with disgust, still tightly holding my wrist. He doesn't seem amused anymore as he lifts the weapon to my throat. His lips thin out into a hard line as his cold eyes search mine. He is so close that I can feel his warm breath on my face.

"That was foolish of you." He says as I glare at him. "What now Princess? Are you going to beg for your life?"

I lift my chin in defiance, attempting to ignore the bite of the cold metal against my slender neck. "No."

He hums deep in his throat, and tosses the blade over his shoulder carelessly. Getting up and without another word, his fingers toss aside the covers keeping me warm.

"Hey!" I complain loudly, trying to snatch the covers back.

Daringly, his arms roughly lift me from the bed, forcing me to stand in front of him. I wrap my arms over my chest, conscious of my state of undress in only a thin silky nightgown. It hardly does much to hide what lies beneath. I never had cause to think anyone would invade my bedroom in such a manner as this. I never thought he would get in a second time. The thought is truly unsettling. If my arm wasn’t stuck in his giant hand, I would use both to preserve some resemblance of modesty. Bold eye’s run the length of my body shamelessly, reminding me of how helpless I am and yet, my cheeks flush red. Some sick and twisted part of me enjoys his attention. In the dark room and pale moonlight, he looks as if he has just stepped from the realms of one of my craziest dreams. Shadows hug his tall muscular frame as he towers over me, swallowing me in his intense and imposing presence. I feel tiny and so very insignificant under his regard.

“It’s time to go Princess.” He says close to my face, abruptly breaking the spell.

I blink rapidly. “Uhm…”

My mind stumbles, trying to think, trying to learn how to function again. Then we are moving, his large hand moving to take ahold of my elbow tightly as he forces us forward at a quickening pace.

“Where are you taking me?” I demand more forcefully, stumbling over my own feet.

He doesn’t let me fall. I try pulling away from him. Then try to dig my heels in. I even try grabbing the frame of my door to halt his progress. But my body keeps flying forward as he keeps moving, pulling me along with an ever-tightening grip.

"Stop!" I hiss through clenched teeth. Still, he says nothing as if he hasn’t heard me. “I’m not leaving with you!" I tell him with a certainty that I wish were true. "You can’t do this to me!” I protest, outrage lacing my voice with fire.

I twist my hand frantically, causing a burning pain around the sensitive wrist where his hand meets my skin. He doesn't loosen his grip nor slow his pace. He is unstoppable.

“Let me go!” I demand, my tone growing more high pitched, “Stop pulling!”

But he ignores my protests and my struggles to gain freedom. We are moving through the sitting room in the living space when I lose it, desperation taking over. I start yelling for help. His hand is over my mouth in an instant and the other behind my head just as the sound leaves my mouth. The force cuts my screams off, my eyes flaring in fear at the rage crossing his hard features and boiling in the depths of his eerie silver eyes.

His stormy face is close to mine, cold eyes narrowed in anger, “I never thought you to be so stupid… or so selfish.” he sneers, in a matter-of-fact kind of way, as if perching to a child. “Whoever comes will die because of you.” He snarls, his tone turning more sinister.

The menacing look in his eyes has goosebumps rising along the lengths of my arms. Tiny hairs stand at attention to the promise of bloodshed. My eyes are wild in fright. I don’t doubt him for a second that he would kill anyone unfortunate enough to have heard me. He makes my stomach turn, yet the sensation across my face is so galvanizing. Is this what it means to be mates? To throw all good sense and reason out the window for a touch, for this sensation?

“Nova?”

Her voice snaps me back to the present. I know that voice, it sends terror through my entire being.

His words are sharp in my head, whoever comes will die because of you.

I see Emmaline creep out of her room cautiously, searching the darkness through half closed eyes. They widen as she comes to an abrupt halt, gaping in sudden shock when she spots us, her eyes having adjusted to the darkness of the room. She realises what’s happening, a scream collecting in her throat as she gasps. Zelus lets go of me, turning his full attention to Emmaline. I have only a moment to decide.

I throw myself at him.

“No, please Zelus! I’m sorry I won’t scream again!” I grab his arm quickly, clutching it to my chest.

I hear his intake of breath. Surprise perhaps, as I use all my strength to keep him away from her. All my strength would still not be enough.

“Zelus! Not her! I will come quietly!” I beg frantically, not caring that his arm is so snug against my chest. I see the shift in his eyes as he looks down at me from his impressive height.

“Novena!” Her voice raises in panic.

My mind is irrational, screaming at me to save her. My best friend. I don’t even see the other shadow in the room until he edges into my vision. Out of the corner of my eye I see his movement, his steps silent on the old floors. My eyes trail that dark shadow as I feel the control slipping. Zelus is not alone. Another man moves towards Emmaline. A man I cannot plead with or stop. Suddenly Corax flies from the depths of her room, making Phobos launch back, his reflexes honed and sharp. Corax transforms mid-air into the black-haired boy, his skin covered in black features making him a friend of the night. Corax stands like a wall between Emmaline and Phobos. Emmaline doesn’t waste time turning her back and racing deeper into her assigned bedroom.

Phobos attacks Corax.

I rush forward, regardless of the danger, to get to Emmaline just as Zelus returns his iron hold of my now sensitive skinned arm. Corax is quick, swiftly moving out the range of Phobos sharp claws that would otherwise cut him to pieces. But the space is small, cramping his swift movement. After a moment, Phobos catches Corax by his throat and my mouth goes dry. If Corax dies, so does Emmaline.

“I thought the raven didn’t look right.” Phobos sneers disgustedly, before he headbutts Corax hard and drops his unconscious body to the floor.

Phobos goes for a kill strike, "Don't kill him, he is family!" Phobos pauses, then casts a look at Zelus.

"Leave him." Zelus commands.

Phobos steps over his still body and advances into the bedroom after Emmaline. Struggling against Zelus's restricting hold, I desperately try to get a better look at Corax. There is blood trickling down the side of his face I think but I cannot see all that well despite my eyes having adjusted. He seems to still be breathing, for now. I hear Emmaline scream followed by the sounds of struggling, and it brings frightened tears to my eyes. Swirling around, I clutch at Zelus’s shirt in desperation, the material stiff and hard. I will beg or bargain, anything to keep her alive from these monsters.

“Zelus,” I say his name like it’s a lifeline as I peer up at his stern features, his full lips parted ever so slightly, “Don’t let him kill them!” I plead, tightening my grip on him.

The struggle, clearly happening in the next room, has me throwing a look to where the huge werewolf-man disappeared. Emmaline sounds as if she is really giving him a tough time, my heart soars with hope.

“Be still, Princess.” His breath tickles my cheek.

When I hear Zelus's words, they confuse me. I turn my head in an effort to plead for Emmaline's life one more time. His hands are back suddenly, holding my head but this time he shoves something into my face. A wet cloth. The smell is vile as I try to breath despite the cloth to my mouth and nose. There’s a bitter taste in my mouth and the smell suffocating my nose burns its way to the back of my throat. I struggle, digging my long nails into his muscular arms – into his hands. I slam my mouth shut as best as I can, holding my breath. I feel some of my nails break with my efforts as I stare at him. My eyes must show my horror, my astonishment, because his features turn grim as the feeling of betrayal assaults me. But he doesn’t flinch. He isn't relevanting. I can feel the hot tears as I look at Zelus and see the monster that he truly is. My struggles start to slow, my body losing the fight. As I feel my limbs go weak and my eyes become heavy, I wonder if he is killing me, if he finally decided I actually wasn’t worth the effort. My eyes close on his face. I wonder if I imagined the sadness there. It’s a sickening feeling that drags me into the darkness.