The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4) by C.J. Aaron (graded readers txt) 📕

Ryl struggled against the oppression that held him down. The burning glow of his arm begged for release, yet he couldn’t muster the strength. Not that it would have amounted to much in the face of such overwhelming odds.

Leiroth stepped from behind the king. He moved with a wraithlike gait, silent, yet every step seemed to radiate darkness that covered the ground around him. He paused between the king and Elias.

Leiroth stood a head shorter than the ancient lord. He stepped in close, whispering in the king’s ear for a moment before taking his subservient place by his side. He crossed his arms behind his back. Though Ryl couldn’t see his eyes, the wicked smirk on his face was chilling.

“Their fate matters not,” the king said. “Your blood will suffice. From what I understand, it is quite a potent blend.”

“I’ll never give you what you want.” Ryl struggled to form the words through the oppressive hatred that choked him.

The king chuckled. It was a raspy, weak murmur that seemed to rattle the entirety of his withered frame.

“And yet, I’ll have it nonetheless.” He glared. “What you see before you is the dawn of a new age. With the strength of the Horde in my hands, we will ensure our peace for generations to come.”

“Peace?” Ryl growled as he interrupted. “The demons massacred a city. You marched through the blood of your own citizens to get here.”

The king fixed him with a glare that would have withered a normal man.

“Yet it was you who led them here,” he hissed. “It was you who brought them to the gates. The blood is on your hands. They obey my command and mine alone.”

Ryl opened his mouth to argue. Leiroth clenched his hands into fists, pummeling him with a sensation so desperate he struggled to breathe through the pain.

“I grow weary of this episode,” the king muttered. “Finish this, Leiroth.”

With a snarl, the king spun on his heel before shuffling back to the carriage. The Lei Guard assisted his weakened frame into the wagon.

Ryl was helpless. Even with the combined strength of the phrenics, there was little respite from the overwhelming power of the thousands of Lei Guard who filled the courtyard. He feared Leiroth alone would have been more than they could have handled. The Horde were simple; they fought with fear and numbers alone. For their part, they forced no emotions from their darkened bodies. Their power was in their strength. In the inherent fear of the unknown.

Somehow, through the ages, Leiroth had twisted that power. Forged it not only into a power that could be harnessed but into a power that could control the lustful hearts of men.

Leiroth watched the king enter the wagon before turning his gaze back to Ryl.

“I feel the power that has grown in you.” His voice was soft, merely a whisper, yet it hissed around him like the whipping winds of a storm. “Harvested a cycle early, if I recall. Come with me, and I’ll let them go free.”

He waved his arm toward the palisade.

Ryl’s heart surged with a momentary glimmer of hope, though he knew it to be merely a ruse.

“You know as well as I who the Horde truly obeys. I can see it in your eyes.” He paused; his icy glare focused on Ryl. He could feel the chill sweep through his body. The alexen steamed through his veins in protest.

“If not them, then perhaps her.” He grinned. “Your friend did well to bring her to me. You’ve abandoned them all to seek the girl. The foolishness of youth. The curse of emotions. You have failed them all. They have nowhere to hide. They’ll never make the safety of their mountain. Not without you. You’ve cursed them all to death.”

The cackle that rumbled from his body was sickening. A racking rumble that spewed notes of twisted joy across the courtyard.

“The decision is yours to make,” Leiroth added. He nodded to Elias at his side.

Ryl watched as his friend tightened his hold on Kaep’s cloak, pulling her head back with his left arm. The blade in his right hand indented the skin of her neck. A soft whimper choked from beneath her gag. A tear streaked from her eye, tracing a line down her cheek. Elias’s mouth was curled into a snarl of vicious mirth.

It was then that Ryl finally met eyes with the shell of what was once his friend.

For a moment their eyes locked. The hatred that remained was crushing. Ryl felt the last of his willpower evaporate under the withering look. The Elias he remembered had eyes so full of wonder. Of joy. Of hope.

Ryl’s strength was failing. Faltering under the oppressive hatred of Leiroth and his guard. He had so little left to give. His voice was silenced under the force of the emotion. The noise failed as his lips mouthed the soundless words.

“Elias, please,” he begged.

The darkness of doubt clouded his mind. The seeds of fear took root, blossoming as they grew.

He had failed them.

Failed them all.

There was no hope.

Ryl was left to communicate only through his eyes. They were riddled with agony and fear. Tears welled in their corners. His look swelled with the guilt of words left unsaid. Promises left unfulfilled. They pleaded with Elias. Begged for the brother he was to return. His eyes fell on the exposed skin of Elias’s neck. The brand, still red after all the cycles, poked out from underneath the collar of his shirt.

H1349.

The words he’d heard his friend utter time and time again returned with a jolt.

Ryl closed his eyes, struggling against the weight of the assault that muted his voice. The alexen in his veins surged with agitated fury. His voice registered as little more than a whisper. Though feeble, he forced out the words.

“They can never take away who you are.” He fought to form cohesive sounds. “One day, you’ll get the chance to show them.”

Elias’s glare was locked onto his fragile gaze the