Chapter 4

Elika smiled as the band continued to play, the sound of music filling her ears with sweet bliss. She was sat beside her oldest brother Peter, his smile seeming to brighten the whole room. Peter was exactly a foot taller than Elika, with combat cut black hair. His night black suit giving compliments to his emerald green eyes. Elika giggled before looking around the grand throne room, her eyes landing on Timmy. As usual he was stood beside other soldiers, his black mullet like hair glued to his head with sweat. He stood shorter than most other guards, reaching only 6 foot 1. His navy green suit matching his mossy green eyes, his semi-automatic machine gun by his side.

Elika’s eyes scanned the room once more, her eyes landing on her other brothers, Jake and Percy.  They stood along the back of the room, Jake standing at a towering 6 foot 7 while Percy was a mere 5 foot 11. Jake was the tallest of all her brothers, his shoulder length brown hair all but covering his deep black eyes. His bulky mass noticeable under his blue/black suit, barely able to conceal the weapon tucked into his waistband. While Percy was taller than Elika, he was the shortest of the brothers, his blood-red suit baggy and uncomplimentary. His sleek black hair in waves down his back, his hazel eyes seemingly black in the dim light. Although no weapon could be seen, Elika knew all too well that Percy concealed throwing knifes in his army boots, ready for any attack that may come. 

“Happy birthday my sweet daughter.” Atnya said, her voice mimicking that of a gentle bird.

Elika smiled up at her mother, all her happiness radiating from the simple gesture. Her mother was both graceful and deadly, her grassy green eyes pure and yet full of knowledge and hatred. Her mother was only slightly taller than Elika reaching a short 5 foot 6, her raven black hair cascading in waves down her back. Atnya stood tall and graceful as a queen should, her elegantly weaved peach dress hugging and complementing her hourglass figure. Her features free of any aging although the trace of many battles appeared in the simple scar, along her delicately small nose. To finish of her gentle appearance was a golden tiara moulded in the shape of leaves that sat gently on her head; her disguise was a good one. Most unknowing souls falling into her trap as a fly does a spider’s web, when once there you are doomed to die most painfully. No mercy has ever been shown to those who fall at her mother’s feet, as had always been the case. Mercy was a weakness in their family a weakness that Elika had learned to hide for the sake of her own safety, but at the loss of her soul.

“Thank you, mother.” Elika purred, remembering all too well the pain of not upholding her mother’s training.

Atnya nodded to her daughter before retreating to her place beside the king, leaving Elika to her own devices. Elika smiled once her mother was beside her father, it gave her the freedom to relax, even slightly. Though the celebration of her birthday was large and more than she could have hoped for, her mind wandered. Troubling her with questions of what came next know she was of age, of course her training would come in handy. But the thought of going into battle shook her to the bone; could she handle taking another’s life? Perhaps she did, though even if her heart became as black as those who surrounded her, her choices were still slim. Elika sighed inwardly, her fear of becoming a being much like those of her family more evident this night.

When an immortal within their family reached the turning age of 16 their abilities will come to pass more evidently, their power reaching its peak. She would most certainly receive them tonight, the darkness of the moon dragging them towards the surface. But which abilities would she receive? Her father’s ability to consume souls? Or her mother’s to manipulate innocents and heal the wounded? Elika new that her power to connect with the earth was unusual; it had not been heard of since before her father’s time. Deciding it was best to keep it to herself she pleaded with the creator that she would receive something that could help the people rather than destroy and consume them.

Elika hoped to avoid abilities like Hades’ mind breaking power, or Darkous’ power to manipulate the fires of hell. What she did hope for was something useful and good like Peter’s ability to mould fresh springs and oceans to do as he pleased, or Jake’s ability to control the four primary elements.

Elika forced her mind away from any thought of power, there was no sense in dwelling on things she had no control over. Elika smiled when she noticed that Timmy was fooling around with the other guards, it was rare to see fun in the palace. Especially with her father present, but this night was different. Tonight her father actually smiled at the foolish games and childish behaviour that took place all around him, causing Elika to relax more into the comfort of her birthday. Elika quickly finished her first ever glass of champagne, giving herself the courage she needed to approach her father without an invitation. Elika rose from her seat situated in the centre of the room and slowly approached her father, taking deep and steady breaths.

“Father.” Elika bowed deeply, standing just below the steps that lead to her father’s throne.

“Yes, daughter.” he replied, almost cheerfully.

“I was wondering, if I ... I mean if you would like to dance. With me that is.” Elika said, her attempt at confidence crashing down to the ground along with her father’s smile.

“Perhaps if you ask again, without sounding like a babbling fool.” Atlas snapped, tapping his forefinger on the arm of the throne.

Elika cleared her throat, attempting to regain what composure she had. The whole room becoming eerie silent as her father’s voice echoed from the walls. “Father, I was wondering if you would like to dance with me” Elika blurted, sighing with relief when her voice came out confident and in control.

“Yes.” was the only answer Atlas gave as he stood from his seat and began heading towards the dance floor, leaving Elika to catch up of her own accord. The room sprang back to life and Atlas took Elika’s arm and began to dance, his smile genuine, but unnerving her to the bone.

Elika’s smile grew after the second song; she had no idea why her father was being sweet and loving all of a sudden. But she couldn’t say that she didn’t like the fact that she was dancing with her father, enjoying her birthday.

“Have you received any insights into your power as of yet?” Atlas asked, looking down at Elika.

Elika’s heart blackened slightly with the question, she scolded herself for believing that he said yes purely to dance with his daughter. No, she told herself sternly, he only wanted to know if you would be of any use to him in battle. Although Elika felt a tug of pain spread through her body, her smile remained.

“No father, not as yet. Though I do hope it is something that will be of use to you and the people.” She replied, sweetly.

Her father sighed, though he too held his smile. After all, their whole life was about appearances, couldn’t have the people knowing the truth now could they?

The dance continued on, with others soon joining in all around them. The sound of happiness  spreading through the halls, though Elika felt none. Elika found herself lost in her own thoughts again, but this time was different. They weren’t her own thoughts, but someone else’s; the thoughts dark and sinister, each sound unsettling and frightening for the princess. What is happening? Elika asked herself, seconds before realising the truth. She had not just gained a power from her mother, or her father. She had received Darkous’ ability to reach into others minds, she had become telekinetic.

Elika gasped suddenly, letting go of her father. The shock hitting her system like a knife to the gut, no, the thoughts weren’t her own at all. They were his, the one her people called the dark lord behind closed doors. She was in his mind, the mind of the immortal so feared that his name was only spoken in whispers. Darkous ... She was reading the mind of her uncle.

Elika gasped again as her brothers rushed to her side, he was there. She could feel and now sense him, his blackened soul taunting at her mind. Daring her to scream.

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Darkous launched through the doors of the throne room, his smile menacing as the residing demon inside his soul moved towards the surface. Screaming to be unleashed, as people screamed and scurried away from him.

“Hello, brother.” Darkous taunted, as his men moved in alongside him.

Michael and Darren stood by his side Darkous’ smile increased, there was nothing like spilling the blood of family when you had your best drinking partners beside you. Darkous scanned the room, his eyes locking solely on one young immortal. Her violet eyes glued to his in both curiosity and fear, something screaming at him from the distance. Something that made him laugh, and yet also made him proud. The girl was the youngest of Atlas’ children, the one who’s birthday he had so nicely gate crashed. She was short, shorter than anyone else in the room. He guessed her to be around 5 foot 2, like an overgrown dwarf. A cute overgrown dwarf, her long muddy brown hair resting in neat piles on the floor. Surely this girl was in need of a haircut, Darkous laughed silently, maybe I should help with that. Her stance and appearance was lady like but her mind was both rebellious and really quite mad. Her long black gown residing on the floor along with her hair, her curves barely noticeable in the overpowering dress.

She turned to look over at her father, his red eyes ignorant and dull. Atlas stared towards the psychopathic lord, his stance changing into something defensive. His bastard brother had moulded himself to look like a king, but he neither resembled nor practiced the fair and just traits of a ruler. The young princess’ eyes turned back to Darkous for only a second before turning her head towards her brothers, their stances also defensive. The girl had no idea what was happening, her mind racing over what she should do. Her mind was clear that she knew self defence, but she was doubtful of its usefulness in this situation.

The psychopathic lord’s smile intensified, suddenly deciding to test a theory. “Must be hard to find dwarf like clothing in a place like this.” Darkous laughed, sending the mental message straight into Elika’s thought pattern.

The shock that resisted in her violet eyes was enough to inform Darkous that his suspicion was true; she was indeed the new voice inside his head. She had found her way into his mind only minutes ago, but her fear had prevented her from telling his bastard brother of Darkous’ arrival.

“Come now girl, aren’t you going to talk to your favourite uncle?” He mentally asked, bombarding her head with heinous laughter.

The little princess cowered slightly, moving to stand beside her brothers. Both Atlas and his sons watched in confusion, clearly unaware of her ability. “I...” She stuttered slowly, her barely audible within the psychopathic lord’s mind.

“Awe, the little princess has no words.” Darkous laughed, informing the room of some secret conversation.

Atlas turned furiously towards Elika, clearly aware that they had somehow mentally communicated. His red eyes seemed to rip directly into the girl’s soul, her small frame shaking slightly in response. “It seems as though the princess has received her power.” Atlas viciously informed the room, turning away from the girl and facing the masses of people gathered.

Darkous watched as fear registered on the young princess’s face, her eyes scanning the angry faces of all those gathered. She had clearly believed she would receive a gift from either her mother or father, not the psychopathic lord.

“Come now brother, the kid has no say in which gift she receives. It is completely by chance that she gained the power of her most beloved uncle.” Darkous bellowed, his voice radiating humour.

“Like hell you’re the most beloved uncle.” Peter exclaimed, his voice disgusted and full of hate.

“Ah ... My favourite nephew ... Aren’t you just a treat? All sunshine and rainbows.” Darkous chuckled, turning towards the eldest son.

The first born son had jet black combat cut hair, a hand-crafted long sword gripped tightly in his right hand. The boy was wearing a black suit, clearly dressed for the occasion. His emerald eyes piercing as he stood a few inches taller than the psychopathic lord.

“Fuck you!” Peter bellowed, fury radiating from his eyes as they continued to glare over at Darkous.

“Now that my friend, would be classed as incest.” Michael piped up, humour coating his expression.

Darkous laughed, for once having no reply to what his comrade had said. He adjusted his black hat slightly, pulling on the collar of his black trench coat. Peter’s face registered only fear as he rushed the lieutenant. Seconds before Peter reached his target, Darkous smiled. The sudden sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the throne room as a bullet just missed the bridge of Peter’s nose, sending him crashing to the ground with shock.

“That was a warning shot.” Darkous stated vilely, informing all those present that there was in fact a sniper, watching their every move.

Peter jumped to his feet, obviously still enraged. “You bastard! What do you want?!” he screamed, much like a child who had lost his favourite toy.

Darkous chuckled, though the demon inside him was slowly moulding his mood back to anger. “Now is that any way to treat your elders Peter? I am simply here to wish my niece a happy birthday.”

“Thank you, uncle.” Elika interrupted, the princess finally finding its voice. “But, I think it would be wise for you to leave.”

“Can’t we stay, I do love to dance.” Darren interrupted, his voice seeming carefree.

“I believe that you have overstayed your welcome, brother.” Atlas snarled lightly, his tone flat and uncaring.

“Oh really, my heart bleeds for you. No wait, I don’t really give a fuck about you.” Darkous’ face turned blank suddenly, his voice becoming menacing.

The room abruptly erupted into chaos as Darkous gave the signal; it was finally time to shed some blood on the event.

Elika gasped as blood exploded from the woman’s throat beside her, her dead corpse falling limply to the ground. She watched as the whole palace erupted in the distinct screams of battle, Darkous at the head of the army that now flooded into the throne room. Elika froze, not knowing what to do. She knew that her first battle would come, but she no idea it would be this quick.

“Elika, get out of here.” Jake shouted, his voice showing both anger and concern.

Elika watched silently as Peter fell to the ground, blood oozing from the battle wound to his head. She slowly stepped back as two unknown men crumbled to the ground in front of her, wrestling viciously with knives on the ground. Both men were covered in blood, both their own and their opponents. The ragging bloodlust all around The princess shocked her; she had never seen such a thing. Even her mother in all her grace and beauty was in the midst of it as she attacked an armoured soldier with only a simple throwing knife, yet somehow she came out alive. One second the soldier was lashing out at Atnya and then the next he was lifeless on the ground, her mother’s movements vicious and precise. Elika’s eyes found her father, who was stood as she was, watching the chaos. He showed no interest in fighting with the others, though when he was approached, the black magic he so loved was unleashed from his hands. Devouring those who dared to fight him, or at least try.

Elika’s eyes scanned for anyone else who she held dear, but could only find Michael and Darren. The princess could tell the men apart easily, the one who had spoke first; Michael, had a large scar over his left eye, gaining it from some long battle he had fought years before.  He was wearing strange black armour that Elika had never seen before, the leather-like material clinging to the man’s every muscle. Michael’s eyes were raven black, his short brown hair combat cut; seeming to match her brothers. The second man; Darren, had long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. He wore similar black armour to Michael, the only difference  a small medical vest.  At last, after looking for what seemed like years, the princess found Timmy. Her older brother pulled the trigger of his gun, shooting an unknown soldier from Darkous’ army. Elika watched the man drop to the ground along with her brother, the stranger becoming just another casualty of war.

 “Elika! What are you still doing here?! Get out!” Timmy exclaimed, his voice demanding that she leave the battle. But the princess couldn’t move, her small frame was frozen in place. Having seen the death and chaos around her,  slowed her thoughts. Elika had no incline of what to do or where to go. Fear seeping though her bones.

“Now,  leave the little princess to taste war and death on her own boy.” Darkous laughed, wanting to see what would happen to her after being in one simple battle. Elika watched in terror as Darkous threw Timmy across the room, sending him crashing into one of the large pillars.

The princess scanned the room again, this time in total and absolute fear. Her eyes landing solely on Jake, her brother held his two magnums at the ready; waiting for any unwanted attention to cross his path. Elika began to scream his name when Darkous interrupted her, causing her to jump in shock as he approached.

“Hush now little girl, leave him to fight. Wouldn’t want the boy to die now, would we?” Darkous snarled, his voice threatening.

Elika began to back away slowly,  as though only just finding her feet. The princess’ fear peeked as Darkous mirrored her movements. The dark lord seemed to take more interest in her  than the battle, her terror like a flame to a moth. She stared up at her uncle as he stalked towards her, his mechanical white eyes lifeless. Darkous had a long clear scar down his right cheek; the dead tissue curving towards the edge of his mouth. He was wearing a pair of deep blue jeans and a plain black band shirt, the long leather trench coat concealing his weapons. The dark lord hid his long night black hair under a leather hat, more scars becoming clear around his eyes. Elika stumbled back, her violet eyes widening slightly as he edged towards her. Darkous seemed casual as he scratched his short beard, his eyes never leaving the princess.

Darkous laughed, enjoying the absolute fear he felt radiating from the princess. Her violet eyes filling with silent tears as she watched her brothers fight for their lives, her small figure shaking. He had made the decision to take the girl back to hell before they had arrived, but he seemed to enjoy the idea more and more by the second. The psychopathic lord would take her as a prisoner, rip her away from her family. Perhaps he would even keep her indefinitely, depending on how obedient the girl was.

“Now, now princess. Don’t be afraid, you won’t die just yet.” He laughed, slowly forcing her into a corner.

The girl gasped when her back connected with the outer wall of the throne room, knowing full well that she was trapped. Darkous peeked inside her head as he tauntingly drew closer, his smile pure evil. ‘The poor puppy was screaming at her legs run, while praying for the courage to fight. How cute.’ He chuckled to his inner demon, enjoying her terror.

“Really puppy, why all the fuss? This will only hurt for a second, besides you have nowhere to run.” Darkous smiled, he was taunting her. Like a predator with its prey. 

But of course he wouldn’t kill her yet, no, for now he simply thought of her as an annoying twat that he wanted out of his way. He would take the princess back unconscious, though alive.  Wasting no more time on the girl Darkous removed his katana from its resting place, before smashing the handle viciously; yet precisely into her head. Shock radiating from the girl’s face within seconds before she hit the ground, completely unconscious. Darkous laughed, now that was easy, he thought. Just like taking candy from a baby. But now he could concentrate on the real target of this mission, his brother.

As though on cue Atlas approached Darkous furiously, his long sword drawn and ready to strike. “Leave my daughter alone!” The king bellowed, his voice radiating anger and hatred. ‘So basically just his every day run of the mill conversation voice.’ The psychopathic lord inwardly chuckled.

“Oh come now brother, must you always spoil my fun.” Darkous whined, his smile only growing  with his brother fury.

Atlas remained silent, his anger slowly consuming his mind. Making his actions both rash and un-coordinated. Atlas lashed out at Darkous with his long sword, his attack sloppy. Darkous laughed menacingly, as he blocked his brother’s pathetic attempts at wounding him with his katana. Darkous skilfully blocked every attack Atlas threw at him with ease; his attention drifting back to the small girl slumped on the ground, unconscious. Now why would Atlas’ youngest brat have his power of telekinesis? Surely she would have gained one of the useless abilities his brother so loved, or maybe become a manipulator of water like her big headed brother...now what was that monkeys name again? Ah yes, Peter.

Darkous counted Atlas’ next attack, catching his un-coordinated brother with an abrupt slice to the upper chest. Although not deep enough to cause serious harm, now that would be too easy. Plus a lot less enjoyable for Darkous.  Atlas stumbled back, shocked by the sudden pain that erupted through his body. Blood began to slither from the wound in Atlas’ chest, distracting him momentarily. This gave Darkous time to prepare for his signature baton attack, his favourite and most frequently used technique to render his opponent unconscious. Placing his katana carefully back into its holder, Darkous removed both of his batons from the inside of his black leather trench coat.

Once Atlas recovered from the shock of his chest wound and regained his concentration, Darkous’ smile became monstrous, the fangs of the demon living inside of him now pressing into his bottom lip. The smell of fresh blood both strengthening and exciting Darkous as he made his move to attack. Upon seeing the batons, Atlas braced himself for the attack; already anticipating Darkous’ every move. Darkous laughed, launching the batons towards Atlas; missing his shoulders by just an inch. Knowing this was what his brother intended, Atlas made no move to dodge. Instead he readied himself for the next move.

“Ha! Missed me!” Atlas screamed, taunting his brother into believing him clueless.

 Darkous chuckled, totally oblivious to Atlas’ knowledge or his attack. Metallic red chains burst through Darkous’ wrists making their way towards Atlas with ferocious speed, and yet still Atlas remained like stone. The chains whizzed past Atlas’ head, a slight graze the only indication of them making contact. Passing Atlas the now bloodied chains latched onto Darkous’ batons, their grip as unrelenting as an alligators jaw. Once the chains were latched onto the batons Darkous flung his arms backwards with precise skill. Darkous laughed manically as he rushed his brother the batons now firmly in his hands, he readied his aim; the batons at a deadly angle racing for Atlas’ neck.

Atlas was prepared for this move and readied his counter attack. Once Darkous made the move to strike his brother; Atlas countered, landing a deafening blow on the bridge of Darkous’ nose. The blow sent Atlas’ brother crashing to the ground with a wail of pain, his attack rendered useless as Atlas readied the syringe. The psychopathic lord barely had a chance to move as his bastard brother crouched beside him, a strange clear liquid glinting under the artificial light of the throne room. Darkous laid completely sill and the shock of Atlas’ punch baffled him into a stone-like position on the ground, his mind clouding slightly. The psychopathic lord glared up at his brother, his head throbbing from impact.

Atlas chuckled wickedly as he plunged the needle into Darkous’ neck, taking no care in the damage that he caused. As the syringe was emptied Atlas spoke to his brother in a voice reserved only for those about to meet their end. “Sleep well brother, I do hope you will enjoy your stay here.”

Darkous barely had the strength to reply as his senses were hesitant and dulled by the peculiar liquid. Darkous lay motionless on the ground his mind losing consciousness as the dream like state took over his body. The sleeping remedy Atlas plunged into his neck taking its effect at an alarming rate.

‘Well damn now that was unexpected, shit. That ass hole’ the inner demon whined. Mortal bodies were so easy to render useless and now the demon was trapped, forced to wait out the effects of the sleeper agent.