Kistsam was the only Alpha within range who might have defeated him, and now his magic belonged to Otaso.
Releasing the slick clumps of flesh from his fists, Otaso roared to the sky and the Abyss beyond. Lightning sizzled through the air, the boom of thunder rattling the castle down to the foundations as that bloody fire pierced through the too thick air to grab hold of Otaso. Winding around his fists, entangling his limbs, it slashed through his heart with an ear shattering shriek.
Night gripped him, the shadows swallowing him until even the thought of light vanished. All that remained were the screams and cries of the fallen, all of them flowing through the brimming darkness into him. Shredding away that much more of his soul, the very things that made him human.
Otaso gloried in it, basking in the bloody haze as he relived every death. Taking power from their violent ends, soaking in their fear and anger as luscious ambrosia. Their wails building to a deafening crescendo that threatened to force Otaso into the blackness as he channeled it all into his reserves. Alarm flaring and dying as he allowed some of it to spill, scattered into the darkness as an offering to the Abyss when he could not contain it all.
Sensations overwhelming him, snippets of memories not his own swarmed through his mind. Battering his senses as it inundated him with information reaching back years. The newest and freshest burning bright enough to sear the backs of his eyes, blinding him for a span of moments that felt as long as eons. Then night swallowed all those vivid colors, darkening them to dusky hues before they became lost in the shadowy power crackling through his veins.
Panting, Otaso came back to the here and now. Knee to the ground, he braced with both hands to remain upright as the last of the power trickled through him before settling into an uneasy murmur that would take weeks if not months to calm.
Surprise registered somewhere in the eerie shadows that trailed through his mind. He had not expected the lofty morals Kistsam proclaimed to allow for a blood oath from his people. They were all of them bound to the dead ruler, and so now belonged to Otaso.
That was the least of the shocking details revealed to him as the corpse’s thoughts unraveled within him.
“Bring her here,” Otaso rasped, letting his other knee drop with the heavy clamor of gleaming black armor to sit on his heels. Ignoring the narrowed gazes of his general and vizier, he pulled the still screaming child into his hands. Cradling the loose neck and rounded bottom, Otaso peered into the red-rimmed eyes that would never change from their starlit blackness.
He could feel it coursing through her, tangled in every beat of her raging heart. Even in the slippery tears that soaked through his shirt cuff as the infant made known her indignation. It tingled against his skin and crackled along his senses. Power unlike anything he ever dreamed.
An Omega.
So rare as to be near extinct. Their numbers so diminished that what he knew of them came from dusty tomes and whispered rumors. Otaso had no idea this was the secret Kistsam kept. No wonder the announcement of the child’s birth had been so guarded. Even the sex kept hidden from the populace, not even Otaso’s spies able to glean the information.
It would be too much for him to take in, even in her current state. At such a young age, her power was wild, unrestrained. Not even at its full potential. It would kill him if he tried to perform the proper rites here and now and even sacrificing her as he had Kistsam would be beyond him with so much chaos crowding under her skin.
His men would also see it as a weakness if he did not do this now.
“I’ll prepare it for the rite, Imperial Majesty.”
Otaso growled, pulling the shrieking girl to his chest. Cradling her small body, guarding it. His prize. Having fought long and hard for this, he would not see it taken from him so soon. Not until he figured out a way to get what he wanted without destroying himself.
With an effort of will, Otaso climbed to his feet. Shoulders squared, he pulled a sneer across the thin slash of his lips and turned to the trusted advisors he didn’t trust at all.
“If you think I’ll be wasting all of this in some half-destroyed temple to those bitch goddesses, you’re mistaken, Molaro,” Otaso said, long strides carrying him past all the destruction and mayhem as he left the large hall. Each footfall felt up the entire length of his spine, it landed in a crimson burst of energy behind his eyes. Blinding him until he landed the next and begin anew.
“But Imperial Majesty—”
“You dare to question me,” Otaso roared, turning on a heel to stalk towards General Varazi. A gust of blistering wind buffeted them, snapping his ropes and sending power arcing through the air in crackling scarlet bursts.
“I would never, Imperial Majesty,” Varazi ground out, head weighed down by the strain of remaining upright in the face of Otaso’s strength. He didn’t keep his feet for long, crashing to the worn stone on his knees before his emperor. The smooth metal of his gloved hands scraped across the floor, gouging it as Otaso forced him to prostrate himself.
“See that you don’t.” Otaso turned, head held high as he cradled the burbling girl against his chest. Thumb rubbing endless circuits over the chubby length of her thigh as he moved past scenes of destruction and chaos.
It would
