Chapter 4-Aylin

The following day, I’m out as soon as the sun rises with Amara. I have to admit, despite my distaste for Earth, especially its sun, I look forward to this every day. Training was a daily activity of mine; my magic can get volatile if it goes too long without being used, but training with my sister, whom I spent over 20 years waiting to meet and help her with her magic, really and truly brought me great joy. It brought me joy when I helped train Azrael too, but it’s different with Amara. Once she has the extent of her power under control, she’ll easily be able to defeat me; the only reason she hasn’t already come down to skill and practice; I have over 250 years of training on her. Yet there’s no question in my mind that she truly was meant for this power, she learns quickly, and the magic comes naturally to her; I don’t think it will take her much longer to dominate me on the field. 

When I think back to my own training, the magic-wielding also came to me quickly, but control was always a struggle. Even now, I keep my magic’s deadliest and most volatile parts under lock and key. Should I ever lose control and let them out, I would destroy myself and the entire realm around me, including my people. So, unless it was a dire situation, that monster inside me would never see control. It was part of the reason I so rarely shifted into my true form; I had less control over it then, and all the power would need was a moment of distraction to take over me. It’s also why I always keep my dagger strapped to my thigh, should I ever need to end myself before I can end everyone around me. 

Currently, per Amara’s request, I’m showing her the basics of flying. Usually, I would find a large cliff, push her off, and let basic instinct and fear guide her, but given that she’s pregnant, I won’t be doing such a thing. The older you are, the more complicated it is to learn how to fly; Amara is only about 10 years late, so ideally, she should learn what she needs to in time.  

“Before you can even attempt to fly, you have to get used to your wings. All of your back muscles rearrange themselves to accommodate them, so we’ll start with our regular training, but you need to have your wings out the entire time,” I tell her, smirking when she groans.

“You know I will fall over at least fifteen times, right?” she says as her wings appear on her back.

True to her word, she stumbles as soon as they’ve manifested. I catch her arm so she doesn’t hit the ground, smirking again as she grumbles to herself. 

“I did, too, although yours look much heavier than mine. Regardless, it’s expected, so don’t be self-conscious.”

I give her a couple minutes to get used to their weight before we start our regular training, although much lighter. I’ll have to use Azrael later since I won’t be able to burn too much energy off during this session. 

As we finish and Father comes out to take over with her, I pull Azrael over, who thankfully looks more than willing to spar with me. Not wanting to let the energy of my magic fester and build up in me anymore, I immediately send a hurricane of ice spears his way, which he hastily blocks with his own shield.

“Artemis’ tits, Aylin, a little warning if you want to go all out right from the start!” he screeches as he drops his shield and summons black smoke to rise around me.

This is one of his favorite moves, so I anticipate him portaling behind me and whirl to meet him, blocking the punch he tried to land on my temple. Knowing it will take the smoke at least five minutes to clear up, I close my eyes and focus on my other senses as we throw punches and kicks, some landing, some missing. It was good practice to fight without one of your senses; you never know what could happen, so I find it best to be prepared for any scenario. 

Although, when the smoke doesn’t clear up after ten minutes, I get annoyed and call forth a gust of wind to clear it up. The royal family is the only one that can manipulate all of the elements, so we use that to our advantage in all battles. Roman is one of the few that can manipulate fire and ice, while the rest usually manipulate ice. 

When the smoke clears up, and I finally can see Azrael, I will the ground under him to shake, throwing him off the balance before I jump, my magic propelling me forward and calling my twin blades to my hands. 

He rolls out of the way, calling forth his sword, and our blades meet, steel against steel. Wholly immersed in the task before me, I’m completely thrown off when the wind blows and musk, patchouli and mahogany reach my nose. It distracts me enough that Azrael slashes his sword across my chest, and my blood sprays on myself, him, and the grass.

“Shit, Aylin! What happened? You always block that strike!” Az scolds me

I glare at him, ready to end this with my pride intact. I step back and circle him to give my wound time to close. When it finally does, my blades are replaced with my dagger as I portal behind him, kick him in the back of the knee so he staggers, and then jump on his back, my dagger to his throat. His sword and my dagger disappear as he lands on his face and coughs.

Crawling off of him, I offer my hand and help him up as I scan the formed crowd and find red eyes staring directly at me. I give Damon a cruel glare, and to my annoyance, he only gives me a lazy amused smile in return. 

“Yeah, you wanna explain what’s going on there?” Azrael asks me in a whisper, brushing himself off

“Later,” I tell him, and he looks like he wants to say more, but his eyes trail off to something behind me.

I stiffen when an unknown scent approaches us, and I turn to find one of Roman’s warriors coming for us, his eyes on me; I don’t know his name, but his face is familiar. To my complete and utter shock, he has the nerve to throw an arm around my shoulder when he stops next to me.

“You’re in-” he starts to say but is cut off as I grab his arm, twist it behind him, and bring my foot between his shoulder blades, knocking him to the ground. He lands on his face, and I bring his arm around his back far enough so his shoulder dislocates.

“If you ever lay a hand on me without consent again, you’ll be nursing a lot more than a dislocated shoulder,” I hiss into his ear, releasing his arm and walking away to the packhouse as the wolves in my way make a path for me. 

“You had that coming, brother. It’s okay; some people have to learn the hard way; just be glad she left you breathing,” I hear Azrael tell the wolf I left on the ground.

The nerve of these arrogant werewolves! My own demons at home would saw their own arm off before they touched me without permission! Let his shoulder be a statement to the rest of the pack, although most had the common sense to keep their distance from me. 

When I’m inside, I walk toward Roman’s office. If Damon has been released without any guards into Roman’s pack, I assume Roman has his background information and deemed him clear to roam. I will request his name to reject him later today and put us both out of our misery. 

Roman’s office is full of other wolves as they repair what Roman destroyed while Amara was gone. I couldn’t say I blamed him, but it would have been less of a headache for him if he had destroyed something outside. I enter and look around at the wolves working; shame, it was a beautiful office. He at least left the far wall of books intact; to lose any literature on your packs or the supernatural world was a tragedy; such books are one of a kind and unable to be found anywhere else. Father and I had our own literature protected by several shields; should the castle ever burn or explode, they would remain intact. 

“Is there something I can do for you, Queen Aylin?” Roman says, pulling me out of my assessment of his office

“You can call me just Aylin,” I tell him for at least the third time. “But yes, I’m here to request the information you have on the male vampire,” I finish, and Roman’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“Of course, I just finished his file, actually. Could I ask why?” he says as he picks up a manilla envelope on top of a pile on his desk and hands it to me

I look at him for a long moment, sure he’s technically family, so I could tell him, but the idea makes me uneasy. I get the sense he’s a private man as well, so he would understand. 

“Personal reasons. I only need to look over it quickly, and I will return it. May I?” I ask, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. He nods, and I sit, opening the file.

Name: Damon Marcellus Basso, 352 years of age

Occupation: Major general of 2nd infantry division, initiated into the army at 202 years of age.

Family: Father (Marcellus Basso), deceased. Mother (Cordelia Basso), deceased. Sister (Kaylania Basso), deceased. No known extended family, spouse, or children

The remainder of the file is his accomplishments as a soldier and major general, promotions, and awards. Thinking of the war crimes he’s committed makes me sick; likely, he was there when the castle was invaded; he may have even led the invasion. Hatred festers inside me, I must have done something to piss Selene off for her to mate me with him, or maybe she just wanted some sick amusement at my expense. 

“For what it’s worth, he really does seem to have everyone’s best interests in mind. When we discussed his participation in Silas’ forces, he visibly was ashamed of some of the things he had to do.” Roman tells me, so he must know what I want his file for. 

I snap the file closed and hand it back to him.

“I do not care. Thank you, Roman; I’ll see you out on the field tonight for training,” I tell him smoothly and exit his office.

Although Damon’s outburst annoyed me yesterday, I had my own outbursts that would have hinted at something being between us. I curse my own loose tongue, I don’t necessarily care a great deal that Amara’s family knows, but I would have preferred to keep it quiet. I sigh; that ship has sailed. I’ll reject him tonight; it won’t matter after he accepts the rejection. 

Satisfied with my plan, I decide to shower and then portal home to check on the Underworld. I look at myself in the mirror when I get to my room. Gods, Azrael’s strike indeed hit true-my entire shirt is soaked with blood, and it’s splattered across my face and shoulders. He will taunt me with this for the next fifty years easily. 

I toss the torn and bloodied shirt in the bin and the rest of my clothes in the laundry caddy, then turn the shower water on. I don’t know how demons reside on Earth; even the coolest setting of the water is too warm. It is so muggy here; I guess Roman and Amara have their own wolf genes, so they’re less sensitive to the heat than I am, but still, I was perpetually uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll take a proper cold bath in my chambers at home before I return here. 

Once dressed with my crown in place, I portal to my throne room. I find Duchess Treyciene and her husband, Duke Elias, bickering over paperwork in their designated workspaces. The corner of my lips twitch upward, those two have been married for well over three thousand years, and they indeed argue like it. They have no children and initially served my great great grandfather but declined ever stepping down as the crown was handed down. They’re both Djinn, one of the most powerful type of demon, second only to my bloodline, although we had Djinn’s blood in us.

“You ignorant buffoon!” Treyciene snaps as she rolls up a small pile of papers and hits Elias over the head with it.

I snicker to myself; they were endlessly amusing to watch.

“The Queen is here; you better tone down that loud mouth of yours before you get us both frozen in a block of ice for fifty years!” Elias counters, rubbing his head

“While it may be nice for some peace and quiet, all three of us know the castle would turn to chaos without you here,” I tell them as I approach; they both greet me with a smile before they stand and bow.

“Anything of concern in my absence?” I ask, jerking my chin to their seats, giving them permission to sit back down

“Nothing at all, Your Majesty. But good news! The construction workers have finished the museum in The Village of Dreams; they’ll need your approval before officially declaring construction completed.” Treyciene tells me with a warm smile

She was always like a mother to me, even as a demonling. She or Father minded me throughout the day and put me to bed. My own mother tried for a short while, but she was a lost soul. Father did what he could to help her, but at the end of the day, being tied down with a child would have ruined her, so she left for Earth and only visited occasionally. At this point, it had been at least ten years since I’d seen her. I never minded her absence; Father was more than enough.

“That is excellent news; I assume it has already passed inspections, then?” I ask, excitement filling me

“Indeed! They’ve already filled it with the treasures from the storeroom and replicas of the ones you deemed too precious. It’s truly a beauty; the people will love it!” she says as Elias nods in agreement.

“I will go see it now, then. Is there anything I can do to help you before I go?” I ask them both

“Nothing at all; we were just finishing up for the day before this idiot realized he filed his paperwork on the newest demonlings and the obituaries incorrectly,” Treyciene tells Elias with a glare.

“I’m sure it can wait to be corrected until the morning. Allow yourselves some rest; you do more than enough,” I tell them honestly.

They nod their heads and bow in thanks as I leave. I decided to walk to the museum, there would be preparations for the Festival of the Undead, which will take place at the end of the week, and I wanted to see the progress. It was an annual festival celebrating the Underworld’s liberation from the angels over three millennia ago.

 To put it bluntly, angels and demons have been around since the dawn of time, and for a couple thousand years, demons were enslaved to the angels. The angels have always rejected our lifestyle and found us below them, so they eventually managed a takeover. After nearly five thousand years in slavery, we revolted, the leader being one of my own relatives. 

The story of the revolt is interesting, especially when it goes into how it caused unrest between Hades and the other gods and goddesses. When the Gods refused to control their angels, Hades created my bloodline to lead us to freedom. Since then, we’ve been in a cold war with the angels. Small attacks here and there, but no one has declared outright war. It was coming, though, Amara’s rising would have been the catalyst, and once Jeremiel finds out she is alive, the cease-fire will end.   

Which will make this year’s festival all the more meaningful. Once Amara is trained, we will announce that the lost princess has been found and wait to see if any traitors alert Jeremiel and his cronies. I wasn’t so ignorant to think there would be no traitors; although Father, Azrael, and I did our best to weed them out after Arielle’s death, there was no definite way to know. I had eyes everywhere in the cities, so we will know who betrays us when the time comes. 

As I make my way through town, I’m met with bows, courtesies, and a couple greetings. I nod to them all, watching the work they’re doing to set up. It is truly a beautiful festival. The first half will take place in the city I am walking through now, with free food, drinks, music, and entertainment for the demonlings, like small rides and games. After, we walk through a tunnel to the designated party area and dance under the moon until the sky turns violet with daylight. As a surprise and introduction to the Village of Dreams, I have several young succubi painting a mural throughout the tunnel with the story of our liberation. 

After a twenty-minute walk, I find the museum and the two head carpenters. Oliver and Liane greet me with a bow before escorting me in. It only takes about an hour for them to walk me through all the hard work they’ve done, and by the end, I’m amazed; they brought to life exactly what I had in mind, as they did with the other buildings already approved. This only makes me more excited for the last few buildings to be completed. I give them my seal of approval and thank them. I decide to portal back to Amara’s, not wanting to disturb the castle or the village with my presence.

I portal back into my room, changing my clothes, yet again, into workout attire. I choose comfort over modesty and wear just a sports bra and shorts, but grab a shirt just in case I want it. Then I throw my hair into a French braid and head outside for the rest of Amara’s training. 

I train with Amara until nightfall; I’m now thoroughly drenched in sweat despite barely getting my heart racing. I can see she’s exhausted, so I send her inside to rest as I wander around her packhouse lands. The wolves are sadists and have the heat on inside, so I need a little bit in the somewhat cool night air. I wander into the garden and sit amongst the roses, leaving my feet bare and feeling the cold Earth under them.

I’m lost in thought, thinking of what the future will bring. I’m not necessarily worried about defeating the vampires; it won’t be as easy as Father and I initially thought, but it was more than manageable; I do, however, worry about what comes after. We’ve been preparing for this war with the angels for many centuries, but the utter destruction and chaos it will bring will be…devastating, to say the least. 

I’d be a fool to not be scared, although I’ve been preparing for this my whole life. When I think back to my own history lessons, the first of my bloodline that Hades created to lead the demons to freedom was a female, the only born Queen other than myself the Underworld has ever known. Queen Arabella, the only demon ever recorded in history to have the gift of hellfire. Hellfire is a fire that will cause absolute destruction to everything around it except the one wielding it.

To free the demons, Queen Arabella was said to have burned the angels’ entire kingdom, killing over half of their population. With the remaining angels distracted in the chaos, she opened a physical portal to the Underworld and led our people there, not entering herself until the last demon was led in. Then with the help of Hades himself, she sealed our realm so anyone who tried to portal in would be met with her fire. 

She eventually died by her own hand, unable to find a proper outlet for her hellfire. With it raging and burning inside her, unable to be let out, she lost control of it and stabbed herself in the heart before she could set the entire Underworld alight.

I shiver, thinking of my own power and dagger that I always keep on my body for that very reason. My power wasn’t hellfire; it was something else, I could only describe it as pure, ice-cold darkness, but nonetheless, I knew all too well how Arabella suffered. My birth as Father’s heir probably should have been seen as an omen, maybe it will be written that way in the history books after this war, and that’s how I’ll be remembered. Or maybe my own power will eat me alive the same way it did her. 

“What has you so lost in thought?” a husky male voice says, one that sends a different kind of shiver up my spine and makes me curse myself for not noticing his approach.

Instantly, I’m on my feet, whirling around to find his red eyes boring into me. I should say it now and just get it over with, just reject him and leave him here in this damn garden that seems to be a beacon calling him to me. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. 

“You know, I was ready to tear the arm off of that wolf myself earlier, but it was much more satisfying to watch you do it. I would love to know what you whispered to him; he’s been pale and jumping like a scared puppy at every single movement around him ever since,” he says, walking up next to me.

“I went easy on him, and if a small threat scares him that badly then he should reevaluate his position in Alpha Roman’s forces,” I snap, stepping away from him a healthy distance.

“Really? I would find it wise to be scared of you,” he says, stepping forward; I take another step back.

“Yet somehow you, unfortunately, don’t seem to be.” 

“Oh, I am, yet I find myself captivated and in awe of you even more, Mea Dea,” he says, thankfully planting his feet and not taking another step toward me. 

Mea Dea, my goddess in Latin, despite wanting to spit at him to address me properly, my heart races. 

“You can call me Queen Aylin,” I force out in a hiss, although his smirk tells me I don’t sound convincing.

I break eye contact with him to look him over. He is truly carved to perfection. He’s wearing a tank top, which shows the entire tattoo on his neck. It’s a black and white piece of a phoenix, midflight with its mouth open in a scream, surrounded by fire. The wings extend onto the front and back of his neck in brilliant detail and the fire down to his collarbone. He also has several different pieces down both arms, none of which I bother to look at since I’ve been looking at him for far too long. 

“This was my first tattoo; I got it for my mother and sister; it’s the symbol of the Haven to remind us all that we will rise from the ashes of destruction,” he says, ignoring my previous command.

“How poetic,” I say sarcastically, even though it is rather touching, albeit stale.

I just need to get this over with; there’s no need for forced conversation. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.

“Before you do what you’re about to do, just give me a chance. I have nothing to offer you, but I promise I’m not a monster like you think.” he pleads, stepping forward again.

I stand my ground this time.

“You’re not a monster, Major General?” I spit out the words, “Did you not lead your people into my realm, allied with the very enemy we’ve been in a cold war with since before either of us were even a thought? Did you not slaughter my people alongside them? Kill demonlings in their cradles? Did you not watch your soldiers while they raped my women?” I yell, anger coursing through me as my power leaks out of my fingers in a black mist and my eyes tint black 

“I never allowed my troops to touch women or children! Any war crimes I committed it was done because I had no choice. If my disloyalty had been discovered, your sister would not be home with you and the rest of her family. Do you think what I’ve done doesn’t keep me up at night? Do you think the things I’ve seen don’t haunt me when I can sleep?” he grits out, trying to control his own anger.

“Tell yourself what you need, but I will not subject my people to your kind as their King,” I snap, taking a breath before I speak again. “I, Aylin Adelaide Allaneo, Queen of the Underworld, reject you, Damon Marcellus Basso as my mate and King,” I say hastily before he can stop me again.

Pain like nothing I have ever felt before shoots through my chest, cracking open my soul as I stagger but refuse to fall to my knees and scream. I grit my teeth as Damon falls to his knees, his hand on his chest.

“Accept it!” I snarl

“I, Damon Marcellus Basso, reject your rejection,” he spits through groans of pain.

Instantly, the pain stops, but I let out a feral growl when the bond remains intact.

“NO! You selfish bastard!” I shout 

I hold myself back from lunging at him, knowing the sparks will only distract me, but I send a blast of magic at him as he tries to get up, which knocks him over again.

“I won’t accept it until you give me a fair chance; that’s all I ask,” he says as I bind him to the ground and approach. I contemplate burning him alive, but unfortunately, he’s too vital in this upcoming battle to kill. 

“Then you will suffer until you accept it. I will never accept you as my mate,” I hiss, stepping around him and releasing him when I’m far enough away before I portal back to my room.

I erect a shield around my room so I don’t disturb anyone as I land on the floor, allowing myself to fall to my knees. Then, I fist my hair and scream until my voice is hoarse and dry. Only when I’m done do I drop the shield.