Blessed by the Gods (Gods & Dark Creatures Book 1)

Chapter thirty

"Isn't the Shadow King trapped in the shadows by any chance?" the general wondered.

"Oh yes, but his shadow isn't," Amaya said. "Over the centuries of his life, he has learned to use his abilities in a way that I can only dream of. Even though the gods imprisoned him, his shadow slipped through."

"Why would he do that?" Ciaran couldn't understand.

"Remember when King Edric said that Arawn offered to help King Damon win the war in exchange for me?" Amaya reminded him.

"He won't get you," Ciaran said with venom on his tongue.

"You certainly won't stop him from killing you," Amaya told him, scolding him for his recklessness.

"Not if I kill him first," Ciaran countered.

"Not even the gods were able to kill him," Amaya snapped.

"Aren't the ghosts that attacked us the day we kidnapped you, his?" General Marcellus remarked.

"They are his," Amaya said. "And once he lets them out of the Whispering Forest, there's no stopping them. Anyone who gets in their way will die."

There was a heavy silence.

"It doesn't change the plan," said Ciaran finally. "We're leaving in a few days."

"Have you completely lost your mind, Ciaran?" Amaya couldn't believe his words. "You can't win. He will kill you all."

"We are going to war anyway." Ciaran didn't listen to her.

Amaya clenched her fists. She dug her nails into the blood. She wanted to beat his stupidity out of his head. She could try as hard as she wanted, but she couldn't stop him. But she felt something bad in the air. The promise of tragedy.

⸸

The sky mourned with all the lost lives that fell on the battlefield. A soft rain fell on the ground. The mist of the coming winter was creeping over the land. The vivid green of the grass was covered with the red of blood. Dead bodies lay all around. The ghosts of the Whispering Forest, the shadows of the Shadow King, did not divide between Deira and Amorite soldiers. They killed everything that came in their way.

"We need to get out of here immediately," said General Marcellus to Prince Ciaran.

"No," argued Prince Ciaran. "We must kill King Damon and end this war."

"The ghosts will get to him before we do," said General Marcellus. "And to us as well."

"You cannot change fate, Marcellus. If I'm not going to die today, I'm going to die tomorrow," said Ciaran. "I'd rather die as a warrior in battle."

"If that witch of yours heard you now, she'd kill you herself," said Marcellus.

Ciaran laughed. "I'm sure of that," he replied.

"Try to stay alive for her," Marcellus urged.

"She sees the future. She will understand," Ciaran said with sadness in his eyes. "She'll get over it."

"You know she and I aren't friends, but you can't do this to her. If you wanted to die all along, you shouldn't have kidnapped her."

"It's too late for me to reverse this," Ciaran said one last time, emerging from his hiding place and charging into battle.

General Marcellus followed his prince to death.

Shadows could not be killed. Opposing them was a clear death sentence. The only thing, the light of the fire, that could help them was impossible because of the heavy drizzle. His sword cut through one shadow after another but did not injure a single one of them. He passed through them as though through the mist that surrounded them. Prince Ciaran tried to avoid the sharp claws cutting through the air, but he was still hit. They cut through his armor. They scratched his face. He was covered in blood. It ran down the metal of his armor and dripped, flowing to the ground where it mixed with the blood of hundreds of dead soldiers.

Ciaran could barely stand on his feet. He still held the sword tightly in his hand. He fell to his knees. Despite the fact that he knew what was waiting for him, a spark of defiance burned in his eyes.

A massive shadow loomed over him. It absorbed all the light. It absorbed the whole world. It radiated coldness. It sank his hideous, bony hand into the prince's chest and tore his heart out. He fell to the ground with a blank expression on his face. His eyes had a glassy look. A trickle of deep red blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. He was left with a hole in his chest that nothing could fill.

"No!" Amaya woke up with a scream. Cold sweat ran down her body.

Ciaran k woke up to her scream. "Are you okay?" he asked. "It was just a nightmare," he reassured her.

"It was worse than a nightmare," Amaya said.

"Did you have a vision?" Ciaran asked her.

Amaya nodded.

"What did you see?"

"Swear you won't fight," she told him.

"What did you see?" he repeated his question.

"If you fight you will die."

"You said that fate cannot be changed once it is foretold," Ciaran said with sadness in his voice. He looked away.

Amaya made him look at her. "Don't you dare go with the soldiers to Amorite, Ciaran," she told him.

"You know I can't," said Ciaran.

"You can't steal my heart and just give it back to me all ruined and broken."

"You know I love you, Amaya, but I can't run away from it. You said it yourself. Once it is predicted, it will happen."

"I don't want to watch you die a second time."

Her face was suddenly wet. Her vision was blurring. She wiped the water from her eyes with her palm.

"What is it?" she didn't understand.

"It's tears," said Ciaran.

"I don't like them," Amaya said.

"People cry when they lose something or someone they love," Ciaran explained to her.

"I'm missing you," Amaya said.

"You were right when you said seeing the future was a curse," said Ciaran. "If I had known what would happen between us, I would never have gone looking for you."