The Lost Tomes of Zenafrost: Volume One by I.A. Takerian

Author:I.A. Takerian [Takerian, I.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Raine Productions
Published: 2023-03-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Bardro

Ax’s screams of anguish echoed in Bardro’s head. It took all his might not to look up to him in comfort. With the remnants of his magick, he had done two things. First, he had removed his family from harm’s way. Two, he had sent out a final signal, calling out for one who owed him his life. He prayed it would be worth it. For he now stood before his brother, his eldest brother whom he once idolized so, with nothing to protect him.

He drove his sword into the earth, assuring that the tethers of light would remain until help arrived. That his family would hopefully be spared. As the sword sunk into the ground, Bardro felt something strike him in the chest. It winded him, throwing him careening back into the mountainside. Wet warmth pooled beneath the spot where he laid, and though he could not feel it, he knew he was mortally wounded.

A tendril of shadow appeared around his wrist, a second entwining around the other. He was lifted by his arms into the air, and slammed hard against the rock face behind him. He sputtered at the impact, and saw blood fly from his mouth. The dark magick felt like tiny blades against his skin, burning into his flesh. His ears rang with the sound of Ax’s screaming.

Mezilmoth approached him, his beasts and monsters parting like the tide as he moved. Another tendril of smoke made its way up Ax’s body, wrapping slowly around his neck. Mezilmoth stopped inches away from him, glancing up towards their suspended siblings in the sky. “You have made them into live bait for my creations,” he said, clearly amused. “And given yourself to me as a lamb to slaughter. I fail to see your motivations.” He drew a finger across Bardro’s cheek, a seemingly tender motion that left a streak of burned skin in its wake.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Bardro said in a strangled voice, fighting to breathe against the tendril of shadow. “You taught us so much, and yet we failed to teach you what it means to be good. What it means to love. I am so sorry.”

Mezilmoth paused, his finger still trailing down Bardro’s cheek. His cool visage cracked, a ripple of rage flashing across it. He leaned even closer to Bardro’s face, studying his eyes. “You know, brother…I always did hate how insistent you were on having the final word.”

And with a flick of his hand, he severed Bardro’s tongue in his mouth.

White-hot pain ripped through him, but he refused to give him the satisfaction of a scream. He spit his tongue to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth. Mezilmoth placed his hand against Bardro’s chest, his eyes suddenly glowing. Darkness began to pulse from his palms and into Bardro’s body. He was trying to corrupt him, to add him to his dark army and use him as a weapon against his family.

Bardro shut his eyes, zeroing in on the overwhelming tide of darkness within him.

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