Soul-Taker (Monarchs & Monsters #2)

69. Beyrthnel The War God

69

Beyrthnel: The War God

I ’ve waited so long for this, the burn of muscle against bone, the sound and feel of my blood pumping through my veins. The scent of death and the rush of battle, coupled with a healthy fear of mortality.

Ah, this realm promises so much. I won’t last much longer in this body though. Which is unfortunate.

I want to play with the necromancer, a fun little toy. So full of raw, untamed power, a surge from my sister, though given unintentionally.

So much I’ve missed out on for years, stuck in a realm full of monotonous idiots who don’t realize they’re rotting from the inside out, so stuck in their versions of utopia and amped on their ancient reputations as divine that they’re not living.

Just slowly dying in place.

Kind of like my form in this body.

How unfortunate, but I need the necromancer to die faster. She’s still clinging, though barely, to life.

And that won’t do. Without her power, I’ll have to soon leave this host .

A flash of claws near my throat, and I dodge back at the last second, letting my opponent—if I can call him that—think he’s getting some traction in this fight.

The dragon is a nice touch, I have to admit. I haven’t fought one of them in ages, since my time back in Faery. Before The Meld fucked everything up.

I miss those days, before humanity mingled with our people and ruined what was once a proud race. The fae are everything the ethereal and humans are not.

Strong, intelligent, graceful, deadly.

The elves especially. My father created them for me, after all.

But in the years since their birth, they’ve been much reduced in greatness.

The cretin’s mortal flesh I’m borrowing isn’t half as worthy as the monarch, and less than half that again of his father. It must be that bit of human that’s in everything around here.

Rilitar’s most redeeming quality is that he reveres me.

Goras is somewhat better. And he has lovely taste in companions. Despite Daleyne’s disgusting, diluted human blood, she’s a fierce warrior. Her orc lineage is true, harkening back to the clashes elves had with the great orc clans in the epic battles of old.

But the abominable creature she spawned—pun intended—is also a testament to her frailty.

Even now, her progeny lies bleeding, near death, while I fight this dragon.

The little dryad with him hasn’t fared so well under my power. Sweet and tempting though she is, she couldn’t handle my truth. The sight of my past, of what she’ll become to empower me, apparently was too much to handle.

True victory lies in the crushing defeat of one’s enemies. Pillaging, raping, devouring. A victor’s duty is clear .

The dryad is too weak to appreciate the insight I gave her.

Though I own her now, I’m disappointed. Taking her mind and crushing it was not nearly as amusing as it should have been. And now I’ll have to take the rest, because I’m fading, and I have a world to win.

“Ah, and so, all things must eventually end,” I tell the dragon with honest regret.

I’d love to prolong this battle, but I must conserve my strength so that when I return fully in my own flesh, I’ll be powerful enough to defeat those who’ll come after me.

The others think I’m stupid. That I don’t know they’re watching me closely to see if I can pull it off. The first god to push through the barrier keeping us from this world.

We walked it once long ago, but the greed of many nearly destroyed us all.

That’s because we had no one to lead us. No one as powerful as I’ve become.

I am the embodiment of war and strife. Through my worship and guidance, the feeble mortals sharing this plane will strive to conquer one another until only the strongest survive.

Then and only then can we hope to exist in balance. No one will ever know peace, which causes stagnation and disadvantage.

Only through constant battle do any of us get stronger, enough to live the promise of a rich life, one fraught with plenty of blood to spill.

Overjoyed with my decision to bring some excitement and balance into the world, I allow the dragon to again get close enough to strike.

To my surprise, the creature manages to draw blood again.

“Ah, you have done well, beast. And so, a reward.” I grab him by the throat, my hand growing to encompass the thick trunk of his neck, and toss him onto the orc and necromancer.

Hopefully, his bulk will smother the pair out of existence, letting me feed on her essence while she drifts to the Next.

Where my dear sister waits like a useless stain on the proud banner of our kin.

I still don’t know why she sides with mortals and other death gods over her own kind. Even higher ethereals would be preferrable to those the fae worship today.

Gods with human origins.

Humans—the leeches of the merged realm.

Fortunately, most of the Pure have all but died off. But like a disease, they’ve tainted fae and spawn alike. It took years of experimentation to procreate fae kind. Only with the human genes could my worshippers take to life once more.

I sigh as I glance at the flailing dragon. Once a great species, now reduced to this.

I stare through him and see that the orc and dryad continue to breathe.

Impressed despite myself, I debate keeping the little female alive a bit longer. Should I not entice her to share what secrets my sister keeps?

Which might alleviate the boredom already settling in.

Now that the Radiant Trials are coming to a close, all the warring is settling.

Yet I know Goras has plans to conquer cities west and east until all fall under my rule. But getting there is taking time I don’t have.

I tremble as the fae form I’ve assumed starts to fade.

“Fuck it.” Death for everyone here, and a thanks to my sister for lending me her necromancer. Willingly or not.

I can’t help grinning as I stalk the blue beast, who’s pathetically distracted .

It’s trying not to crush the broken bodies underneath its bulk.

“Too late, dragon. They are not long for this world.”

Just as I prepare to obliterate them all to pieces, something cracks into my spine and shoots me off my feet across the cave.

I’m thrown so hard into the wall it cracks. Behind me, water rushes everywhere, a wash of immortal magic drowning the air all around.

Unsteady, I manage to get to my feet and realize this body is done. It’s cracked and leaking everywhere, and the sense of its owner pushes at me to return.

In this realm, I am the intruder. The magic that keeps me out also gives strength to the minion I’m assuming.

This unworthy commoner. Alas, he was the best I had to work with down here at present.

I step toward the dragon only to see thick blue tentacles turning pink rush past me and drag him into the water.

I’m disappointed to lose him and the bounty of power his parts would have given me. But I’m a god. I don’t need him.

Or the orc, gripped tightly by another pinkish tentacle that soon vanishes under the water.

But when a third suckered arm snatches my necromancer, I roar my displeasure, still clinging to the tethers I’ve hooked into this realm.

The girl isn’t moving. With any luck, the kraken will drag her into the water, crushing and drowning her before devouring her.

It’s the best I can hope for as I’m forced out of the elf and returned to my place between worlds.

Where I watch. And I wait.

I’m so very, very close…