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  DAMNED

  Copyright © 2019 by K. R. Leikvoll

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  rev. date 7/01/2019

  by

  K. R. Leikvoll

  Acknowledgements:

  A huge thank you to my colleagues Alena Anarlie Zhukova, Varden M. Frias, and Miranda Mayer. You guys are my champions. I appreciate all that you do for me.

  For Megan, Ashley, and Jen,

  Thank you for keeping me sane on this trip down insanity lane.

  “Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds,”

  - Robert Oppenheimer.

  Table of Contents

  PRELUDE

  LEAVING THE LIGHT

  THE EVERGLADE

  TRIALS

  THE VOID AND THE VOID LORDS

  DAMNATION

  THE DARK ESSENTIA

  THE EMPIRE OF ZAAR

  WAR

  THE FALL OF LUX

  RETALIATION

  MISERY

  PART ONE:

  DAMNATION

  PRELUDE

  The age before my ascension to power is hazy, like a story I had heard rather than experienced. I recall being an Evyan woman. I recall being close to the light… though I do not remember the sensation of it remotely. I may or may not have been partners with an Evyan man. Perhaps we had only been lovers. I remember his name – Illyswen.

  My name was not always Lazarus Lyon. It was Nyzara Vakaya. I learned that from Illyswen himself many, many years after meeting my Masters. Do not let my familiar tone fool you; my first Master was the only true beloved in my life and death. However, before his entrance into my existence, I would say Illyswen was his temporary stand-in. I used to have tanned skin, a willowy frame, and mismatched blue and silver eyes. My fellow light-worshipping Evyans believed my silver eye to be the mark of the Divines, though it was the opposite.

  A'roha was the name of the northern Evyan Kingdom I hailed from. Because of its proximity to the border of Duskwraith, we were the first target of their regime. My Master had formed a fragile alliance with the Evyans after he took Duskwraith for himself, as it was his birthright. His attack on A'roha was one to prove his dominance to the world. One I would have supported had I been blessed to have known him beforehand. Unbeknownst to me in that other life, he was coming to free me and take me to my destiny as the prophet.

  The day he came was the last day of my servitude to the light. I do recall feeling trapped in a cage in A'roha. Society had indoctrinated me into their sacred worshipping grounds in Kaeda to better serve them. I do not remember my kin as they took me at infancy. Each day before his foretold coming was filled with a strict structure of meditation and communing with the sacred lux that guided their world. The only freedom I had was with my lover or consort, which ever he was. A secret no doubt, though I cannot be bothered to recall if it was or wasn't.

  We had been bathing in the brook together seeking privacy from the city when fire filled the sky. It disrupted our view of the cosmos and replaced it with the inferno of Levia. The Evyans believed all of the dragons were extinct after my Master's genocide, as they were supposed to. She purified the city in the distance starting with the gates to let his army in.

  Had Illyswen and I not fled, it was likely that we would have perished immediately at their hands and ruined all of our plans, but the Void does not give false prophecies. My lover at that time led us to his lodging which sat outside the city limits. We armed ourselves and we retreated into the further gate to assist in defending A'roha. I do believe everyone knew it was doomed from the start. No kingdom in existence was prepared to defend themselves from a dragon – the reason the world had sat silent when my Master purged them. None had known that he would make a pact with the fiercest of their species.

  The northern walls fell before her might, making it easier to destroy our home built into the trees. I was separated from Illyswen when the army burst in, slaughtering everyone in sight without discretion. He forced me to leave and run toward the temple – a move I thought for a long time resulted in his death.

  "I don't want to leave you," I clearly remember saying.

  "But you must," he replied.

  Fire tore apart my sacred homeland like it was made of parchment. I must have collapsed due to inhaling the smog, but it was ultimately a falling pillar that crushed me from the waist down. I pleaded for the light to help me. I pleaded for it to protect and save my home. It did not offer us aid that day, or any day. On the eve of death, it was the darkness that took me instead.

  And when I awoke, amidst the smoke, decay, and destruction, I found myself to be alive and seemingly the sole survivor of the onslaught. I was barely able to stay conscious; the pain of my shattered body was trying to take over. My eyes deceived me, for I saw a figure in the flames. At first, I thought it to be an enemy, but my fear faded as no foe would look as that being did. He was Femoran in form, but I could not call him merely a man as he stood before me with the presence of a god.

  "Help," I barely begged, reaching out into the smoke.

  "Why should I help you?" a soft, emotionless voice asked from every direction.

  "I'll do anything," I pleaded.

  "Anything?"

  "Anything," I reassured his shadowy form through my agony.

  And with that affirmation, my Master rescued me from the flames, sealing our fates together, forevermore.

  LEAVING THE LIGHT

  My body gained the strength to bring me back to life too soon. We were in a warm cove. My Master had lit a fire to stave off the frigid air from the eastern sea and was illuminated enough for me to discern his face. He had distinguished, Femoran onyx-colored hair that hung nearly to his shoulders. His face was rather angular with features that were almost feminine in nature – full lips, the upper more than the lower which made him look somewhat pouty. The ashy color of his skin and the hint of youth in his appearance clashed with his eyes. They were startling and timeless as though an entire universe could exist inside them. Where the whites of his eyes may have once been were concealed in black, barely revealing his blood colored irises. I was so awestruck that I did not speak. I returned my gaze to the flames lest he catch my gaping.

  Thoughts of my homeland paralyzed me: my sacred temple, my fellow priestesses, my lover, my way of life… gone – nowhere in the world for me to truly return back to. The more I thought about it, the more the grief consumed me to the point of weeping like the feeble-minded fool I was. I attempted to conceal it from my savior, but it was in vain. It was the first instance of him proving he always knew what I was deliberating in my mind, or my emotions. When our eyes did meet, I immediately averted my stare. Even during our first moments together, his grandeur made me experience the sensation that I was a lesser being. The feeling of being completely nothing in comparison is not something one can forget.

  Upon seeing me awake, my Master gave me water. He did not hand it to me, nor force it in my grasp. It was set on the ground and pushed deliberately to my side by his pe
rfect fingertips. My parched throat craved anything to stop the pain from the smoke. I drank all that he gave me, wanting more. My greed forced me to look at him to plea. It was hard to tell through the intensity of his eyes whether or not he pitied me. Another flask was sent my way, never parting with my gaze. Perhaps he was daring me to drink, to succumb to my physical form's gluttony. Of course, I did. That is what any person operating on their will to survive would do.

  "Where am I?" I asked when I gained the ability to speak. Outside of our cover, there was a forest I couldn't see from the distance or the tightness of the blanket cocoon I was encased in. It was not the burned remains of A'roha or any woods in the Evyan Kingdom. My hero did not reply with the answer I sought.

  "You ask too many questions," his complicatedly soothing voice responded. "Do me the favor of remaining silent unless spoken to."

  My curiosity and untrained mind did not know how to keep quiet in its distress.

  "Will I live?" I asked, unsure of the state of my injuries, nor the being's intentions. His aura was troubling. It begged me to give him everything: my mind, my body, my spirit, but with malice not attempted to be smothered. It was as if he had a knife at my back while holding me in a smiling, welcoming embrace.

  "Oh… I doubt it," he said with a vicious smile. His teeth were abnormal in the way that several pairs were sharp like razors hidden behind deceivingly beautiful lips.

  "But –"

  My Master did not wait to hear my words. His face was nearly touching mine in less than a moment.

  "Don't disobey me. I saved your life, girl. I ask very little in return."

  "What is it you want? I wish to return to Evya," I said, shrinking away from his fangs. Even his sweet scent invited me to trust him.

  "Your soul," he replied simply. "After that, you are free to return."

  His frigid hands grabbed my face; nails scratching my flesh. Vertigo gripped me and I clutched his grasp, knowing he was the source of my discomfort. Only it proceeded to worsen. Every nerve and fiber responsible for delivering the sensation of pain to my brain lit up in distress. It felt as though I had been born, had lived, and died in that singular moment. My cries were stifled; my body was incapable of doing anything but going limp in shock.

  "Rest now, beloved," his voice wickedly demanded.

  A warm wave that differed from the light washed over me. Every part of my being was buzzing with absolute pleasure. It was the cloud nine of my Master's loving touch. It soothed me. Everything would be more than fine; it would be marvelous, as long as I was near his side. And I believed it as I drifted away once more.

  I awoke in a black room. The only light source was that of a torch behind my heavy head. All of my appendages were tied down to the large wooden table I laid upon. I was bare of clothes and the chill the room retained was felt down to my core. It was uncomparable to the aching from my waist to my feet. Bruising, cutting and some penetrating bone fragments covered my lower half. I thought I might perish from the agony, but a cold touch brushed my forehead.

  Flinching away, I expected to see my Master's form. Instead, a man appearing to be on the cusp of entering maturity was staring at me with violet colored eyes. They were obscured by medium length shadowy hair. He wore elegant orchid robes, made of fabrics I had only seen Evyan royalty wear. Despite his exquisite fashion, his body appeared starved and hollow.

  As much as I desired to question him, all I was capable of doing was weeping in pain. I tried to struggle against my restraints, though I was too weak to escape. The man waited for my cries to end before he raised an olive colored flask to my lips. It smelled of nightshade – pleasant compared to the dankness of the room I was held in. I did not allow myself to drink it and turned my face away.

  "For pain," he said reassuringly.

  The opening of the flask was pressed against my lips again. That time, hoping for relief, I gulped it down. It tasted foul, but as the man told me, my pain began to numb. The density of my injured body was still felt; only my ability to experience pain was affected. It was a respite from the agony, enough to make me feel drowsy. I almost did not mind that he was pulling out metal utensils. I was too far gone in my daze to assume they were going to be used on me.

  The man slipped on a pair of leather gloves and straightened my left leg. The pressure was overwhelming, but still no sting. He took an unfamiliar object and clamped it onto a piece of exposed bone on my calf. I was unprepared when the man put a strong hand on my leg and used the other to snap off all that was puncturing my flesh. That I felt through the potion.

  He repeated the process with every piece of bone protruding from my legs. The fear of being crippled filled my mind; for how would I walk without all of my being? I wept, feeble to my restraints. His violet eyes did not look to my face, nor did he show any emotion to my suffering. Hands working rapidly, he finished by cauterizing the wounds. My cries were repressed by his palm when the heavy door swung open.

  It was incredibly dark with the reduced glow of the torch. At first, the form of my Master was only distinguishable by his fiery eyes. He approached the side of the table, wrapping an arm around the man that had been providing me what he considered aid. My Master's hand stroked the man's hair and he pressed his lips to his cheek with fondness.

  "Your analysis?" my Master's soft voice inquired.

  "The bones we will regrow. Physically, that is all that I can see. No serious organ damage," the man replied.

  "And...?"

  "She is instilled with the light, Master.”

  He leaned over my pathetic body and his lips curved into a pleased smile. While he stared at my broken form, the other man fumbled with his tools. He unsheathed a small blade; one I was scared they would use on me. Instead, he held it out for my Master. He took it from the man and pulled his sleeve back. With a swipe, he brought it across his wrist. The man quickly took a glass and hovered it just below his arm to catch the blood as it drained. After the cup was filled to the brim, my Master pushed his wound to the man's mouth. I did not understand why they did what they did at that time. I was confused by the man's lust for the black wine, as I had never seen demonic practices before. My Master met his soaked lips with his, embracing until my uneasy whines separated them.

  Without speaking, the man moved closer and held my face still. It distressed me, as I was fearful of what they might do. My Master lifted the glass to my lips. I attempted to fight the man's hands, to refuse something I felt to be unholy and impure. The man used force to open my mouth so my Master could pour his hallowed blood down my throat.

  The taste of such a tremendous gift was unforgettable. It is not every day that someone awakens a god within you. It was the sweetest wine; a flavor tailored to my palate. After the first sip, I welcomed it. The man no longer held my face forcibly, for there was no need. Each swallow pulled me further from the light. And so began the years filled with yearning for more.

  A side effect of the blood, for reasons unbeknownst to me, was a healing factor. Such should have been expected as it was the gift of the angel of death. Growing bones in a short duration of time was not a pain free process. I cried out for the pair to help me, but instead my Master exited first. The man removed his leather gloves and dipped his bare fingertips in the glass, tasting some of the remnants before marking my chest with a sigil I did not yet know. With a wave of his hand, the torch flickered out.

  "Rest now, Lazarus," the man said in the darkness, calling me by my demonic name for the first time. And with that, he left me tied in the stone room to cope with the unfamiliar sensations of my Master's blood, alone.

  I do not recall the exact length of time I spent agonized in the dark. With the intention of destroying the light's essence within me, my Master and his ebony-haired companion refused anything that might hinder the process – such as food, water, clothes, or socialization. Deep voices I could not comprehend whispered nefarious things in my ears. I beseeched the light to guide me through the torture, but it never sent aid. Af
ter a taste of my Master's blood, it is unclear if it ever had a chance of reaching me.

  "I will give you all that you want; I will make you omnipotent," dark whispers taunted from nothingness.

  My deepest desires were promised, though I did not know I longed for such things. Those wishes were buried deep inside my subconscious, ready to burst into reality. The light had smothered my true nature my entire life and I was unaware what lurked in my own mind. From birth, society believed I was marked by the light, when it was really the touch of the Void that stained me.

  My Master's blood had far more sinister effects than what I could have imagined. It healed my body, but it instantly sickened my emotions. Despite the torture and my desperate cling to the light, I could not help the thoughts of him that invaded my mind. I wanted the pleasure of his touch; I became consumed with the idea of his black poison. I wanted it more than to return home – more than any possession or wealth. It was more soothing than the air in my lungs, no matter how much I denied it to myself.

  I knew unquestionably that there was no one coming to rescue me. I was their prisoner so how could I not submit to their will? If A'roha could not be bothered to save me, why should I die in their honor? These intrusive thoughts barraged my mind as I laid in the darkness and suffered. Doubtful that it was a test of the light; the light had forsaken me.

  The second dose brought in of my Master's blood was far too generous. The man from before brought in the goblet without his presence, but I could tell it was his from its sweet scent. He lit the torch, leaving my eyes to sting fiercely. My time spent in the darkness made me think that I had finally gone blind.

  "Are you ready to accept your gift?" the man asked, wiping my face with a damp cloth. My wrists forced their way against my restraints.