Chapter Twenty-Six

***KIERAN
*
I’m immortal, unyielding, and still I have a headache.

A pounding one.

The second the twins escort the Offering out I slump into the chair at the head of the dining table. It used to be my favorite room in all of Twilight House, but now I avoid it at all costs.

Because the price of me keeping this castle strong, of keeping every life in my city functioning, is that I have to tap into my power. My dark twisted power feels like nothing but a demonic, empty void. A cave that has no beginning, and no end. Only a cave I can venture into further and further, and when I turn around to escape there is no door.

My cursed power, like Xaden’s, is not something that eats human food.

No, the deeper I walk into the cave to save my city, the more of my humanity I lose.

It’s the most challenging thing I’ve ever been through, fighting the monster inside me that wants to escape. Fighting the urge on a daily basis not to kill everyone.

Xaden understands. Xaden was born in the cursed cave.

He only knows the empty, meaningless inside.

Hence the half-steel mask.

“Brother,” I call out to him, but still, the Demon Hunter drinks.

Vienna’s man enough to only be softly sobbing. I couldn’t care less. It's a small price to pay.

Better her throat than the Offerings.

The Offering is my only chance of escaping the cave.

Xaden gulps again. He’ll get his fill soon enough.

I’m still so fucking pissed that he drank from Remi. Not because it scared the shit out of her, but because he was the first of us to taste.

I always taste the sacrifice first. But this century, everything is different.

Remi is different.

I could stop him, I suppose. I am stronger than him. In whatever ancient, dark evil which possesses us, my monster is stronger than his.

There’s a like call to like, of course, and that’s why I think Xaden stays sometimes, so he feels less alone.

It’s fucked up, but I think a part of me likes his presence because he reminds me of what I could become.

Like the opposite of a positive role model.

A living, breathing omen.

Vienna makes a choking noise, probably a beg for me to stop him.

I don’t fucking care.

Even if she passes out from blood loss her half-Ilthian blood will keep her alive and healthy. I’m fucking jealous of it, honestly, having something in your body to want to protect you, heal you.

All I have inside me are more fucking scars and knives.

Finally, the pirate thuds to the floor. Neither Xaden nor I make a move to catch her.

In each other's presence, we can be ourselves.

The monsters we were born to be.

“Care to join me at the boats?”

Xaden wipes his lips of both Remi's and Vienna’s blood. His fangs flash white, and he chooses not to put on the mask. “Do you even have to ask, brother?”

Together, Xaden and I walk from the dining room and outside to the courtyard. We’re walking so fast Remi would argue we’re running, two manic predators on the prowl.

The second we’re past my barely passing wards, Xaden portals us to the docks. The sea-infused night air hits my lungs like a special reward, and when I breathe out, a small cloud forms.

Six, seven…at least half a dozen ships of Moon Isle ships line my harbor.

“What’s the plan? Xaden asks. “Sink a few and send the rest running?”

A dark smile graces my mouth. “I’m bored. Let’s sink as many as we want.”

We walk across the near empty dock, walk beneath a wide-mouth cave, and head towards the largest of the fleet’s boats. Xaden and I’s steps are synchronized, silent, save for the weathered oak groaning before us.

This part of the city is quieter than most. It’s on the edge by the ocean, away from my people’s housing in case of invasion. Above us, there are rows of caves, and above that a carved watchtower of my men.

Two thousand strong, twenty-four hours a day.

No army would have a chance of harming my people. Not with the power and recruits I have. My Legion is the strongest of the Seven Isles and I’ll fight to my death to keep it like that.

The Witches and my bargain with them are the only threat to my city.

Xaden and I step into the first boat like wraiths. My rage burns in my veins, and I pull each of my curved twin swords silent as the night.

Fuck the Witches’ order of Moon Isle soldiers. This is my fucking city, founded on my blood and magic.

Xaden tracks where the enemy men are sleeping in a matter of minutes. They’re below deck, and the shadows down here seem up to just as much good as me and Xade.

When they see us, some of them scatter, some fall to their knees and pray.

But the true fools are the ones who attempt to attack the Midnight King and the Demon Slayer.

“We have immunity!” A soldier shouts. He’s pulled one of the torch lights from the ship’s walls and is waving it at us in a semicircle. “The Witches forced us to be here!”

Xaden and I exchanged glances. It’s debatable at this point which of us is covered in more blood.

“Please, Your Highness,” says one of the praying ones, “we won’t ever cross your lands again.”

I laugh into the night. “A bit too fucking late, isn’t it?”

My eyes wander over to two officers in the corner. They’re the only ones who haven’t knelt, or run away, or pissed themselves.

“Do you have words for my King?” Xaden asks.

I think it’s something about the violet eyes of Moon Isle that makes them so defiant to me. Or maybe that’s just Rhodes and Kallias.

“The prophet is coming,” the taller of the Officers says, then looks to his men. “Do not be afraid of this evil!”

The fighting begins at those words.

The shorter Officer goes for Xaden. A big mistake.

Xaden bites his head off in two seconds, the sound of his severed head falling to the ground lost in the fray.

A soldier has the nerve to throw a knife at me. It hits my leg and grazes against the bottom of my knee cap.

Fuck the Witches.

I’ve been a hungry monster for far too long, and I am so sick of pretending.

So I turn to him, bare my fangs, and go for the man’s throat.