Its voice grated, “Once, I dreamed of being like you. Like him—” he motioned to behind at the city, “—born into a world with no ability, no power, no status and watching a world thriving with magic. And all my life, I could do nothing.” It smiled, which was more like a grimace, showing a mouth empty of teeth. “Until now.” It bowed its back, this creature that once had been a desolate, screaming shrilly as spittle flew from its mouth, and it charged toward him. Magic rippled out, the creature thinking it was powerful enough to destroy him.
Adair stood his ground, chest heaving, as a fire burned through his veins, consuming him. His anger, his lust, exploded through him, fusing with his magic, and he smiled darkly, the voices cooing at him, and behind that cage, he was urging him on. The creature was maybe a few paces from him, its eyes bulging, completely overtaken by the madness of the magic racing through it, feeding on it. It leapt through the air, and he ducked, slicing up, the blade cutting through flesh, and the body hit the ground heavily. Panting, he bowed, not caring that he had been showered with blood. Placing his hand on the ground, his magic poured into the earth. Blackness oozed down his arm, flaring underneath, as the ground caved in, splintered toward the city. He ran, following his magic. The buildings around him shuddered as his power flared, and every single standing architecture cracked, blackness running through them like a spider web. His shield flared around him as the city crumbled down. Screams were crushed, roars silenced, and the world was one of dust and bone. The dust settled in the rubble as he flicked his shield down and ran again. The streets were winding, but he had recreated the map, huge chunks of buildings blocking roads. He veered left, and sprinted down the road, blood running down the cobbled streets as the tang of magic lessened. All except one.
It was a siren call. Always to him and him alone. He raced, gritting his teeth, pushed harder, leapt over rubble, and in his wake his magic flared, destroying, burning, and searching. His surroundings were a blur, and he was vaguely aware as he whirled to face a manicured courtyard. In the middle stood Cesan. Cement rubble rose and shot toward his father under his command.
Snarling, Cesan flicked his hand, turning the rubble to dust. “You’re not the only one who has learned new tricks, son.” The ground quaked as Cesan grinned, his cloak floating around him, and resting above his brow, an inky black crown, the base made up of bones with jagged spires. Huge vines shot through the ground, racing up to ensnare Adair, and he cackled, his fire exploding from him with such force that Cesan staggered back. A wall of green flames encircled him, and for a second, Cesan was entranced by the inferno. A second was all Adair ever wanted.
Roaring, the flames split as he charged through them, and Cesan unsheathed his blade just in time, sparks flying from the steel as they met. Twisting, he slashed at his knees, his chest, his arms, forcing Cesan back toward the hungry flames. Rolling, Cesan attacked with magic, the force slamming into Adair. Bow to me.
“Never!” Adair succumbed to the darkness within him. He was relentless, moving inhumanly fast, his blade an extension of his arm. The blade slashed through the back of Cesan’s knees, and he staggered as blood ran down his calves. Adair panted, slamming the pommel of the hilt into Cesan’s back, bones cracking from the force. He prowled around him, years of rage thrumming in his veins—all the times he made him feel small and worthless. All those secret meetings filled with blood and bruises. The hidden tears, the betrayal. Stopping in front of him, Adair plucked the crown off his head, twirling it between his fingers.
His voice was low. “You know, I never told anyone what you did to me. You taught me to hate myself. That I was never worth anything.” He crouched down in front of him, slamming the sword into the dirt. “I believed you.”
Realization dawned in Cesan’s eyes as he stared at the sword. “What did you do to her?”
Licking his lips, air hissed between his teeth. He would play with his father. Take his time. Standing, he didn’t answer, and tossed the crown aside as the metal melted before Cesan’s eyes.
“Adair, what did you do?”
He didn’t answer, and he dove into his ability, the world leaving him. He was nothing but this neverending bloodlust, and he tore through the false king’s body, ravaging it of any power, leeching that same magic that burned through him. He took it all.
Adair slammed back into his body as he watched his lifeless father crumple down before him. The inferno stilled, disappearing into pulsing embers. For a moment, all he could do was stand there. The power that raked through him was intoxicating and never ending. He trembled, and he completely lost himself. That him in the cage, the one who had fought, his once true self, was dead. Nothing stirred in him except those alluring voices, and they chanted one thing to him, purred to him, in pleasure and ecstasy. Dark King. Dark King. Dark King.
Grabbing the sword, he sheathed it, turning to his army of dabarnes who had followed and in a fluid motion, bowed to him. Creatures born from darkness, things of nightmares. Snarling in pleasure, his voice roared, “Anyone who is of ability and wants to
