Darkness, Kindled (Fire Spirits #4)(28)
Author: Samantha Young

This was so worth it.”

PART TWO

11

Darkness, Kindled

The State of Zubair hummed with anticipation. Its people, its land, its mountains, its waters, and its emeralds vibrated with the excitement pulsing from its king. They had no idea what was going on but they knew that something—something monumental—was afoot.

The White King stood upon the dais within his palace, presiding over the huge ballroom filled with his army—Jinn of all kinds: Shaitans, Ifrits, Marids, the Nisnas. They stood before him awaiting their orders. At his side were his brothers, Gleaming and Shadow, and the energy throbbing from their own auras was as intoxicating as White’s.

The time had come. Azazil had granted Ari her wish and now he was weaker than he’d ever been.

Lilif, his mother, was almost in his grasp.

“The power around the palace has waned with the Sultan’s weakness,” White informed the army. “We appear as one inside the palace grounds and we charge. Your duty is to protect my brothers and me, and clear our path to Azazil. Understood?”

They stomped their feet in answer, and White turned to his brothers with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “Let us begin.”

A moment later the White King strode casually through his roaring army as they charged the main gates to Azazil’s palace. Their combined magic burst against the waning protection enchantments around the building, sending flares of brilliant light up into the sky. The Gleaming and Shadow King walked on either side of White, strolling through a thick air of spells as battle cries rent the air.

Azazil’s Jinn flowed from the main entrance of the palace. Charms, spells, and enchantments created a song in the atmosphere; fists, knives, and swords splashed vibrant blood into the mix.

Brave Jinn attempted to stall

Azazil and his brothers, but they were waved aside as if nothing more than irritating flies. Smiling in exultation at his brothers, White led them inside the main reception hall, leaving much of their army behind in a violent struggle for victory. Some of their men were already inside the palace, attempting to clear their way. White marched down the wide, opulent corridors with his acinaces sword strapped to his hip, his heart pounding as he neared his own conquest.

They turned sharply around a corner, heading for their father’s chambers only to come to an abrupt halt.

Asmodeus stood before them, blood smearing his face and torso, his expression blank but his body tensed for war.

Scattered around him were pieces of Jinn—arms, legs, torsos, heads—and in Asmodeus’s fist, a heart drew its last breath. He dropped it to the floor with a squishy thump, and tilted his head to the side.

“Children,” he tut-tutted softly, “you don’t really want to fight me, do you?”

No, White really didn’t. He’d leave his brothers to that. He telepathed to them both, Get the ring off him and bring it to me. I’ll secure Father’s room.

Without another word, he let the hallway dissolve around him and quickly teleported into his father’s room.

Immediately he was assaulted by a red-eyed Shaitan.

White drew back, blocking the enchantment she threw at him with one hand and swinging his acinaces sword with the other.

Her head rolled off her body just as White felt the sharp bite of a blade in his back. He bit out a curse and spun around to find another Shaitan dancing nervously, his bloodied dagger shifting between hands.

As the wound in White’s back began to heal, he shook his head disapprovingly at the Shaitan and wrapped an enchantment around his throat, squeezing the life out of him. The Shaitan fell to his knees, his eyes begging for mercy as his face purpled with asphyxiation.

White would not grant him that mercy. A coward who would stab a king in the back deserved to die slowly.

White had only a moment to spy a glimpse of his father lying frail and weak in his bed when three more Shaitans burst into the room and engaged him in a fight. Impatient to be done, he swiped a hand out around all three and watched his deadly curse create fragmentations in their bodies, until their panicked shaking caused the pieces to shatter like ice cubes onto the chamber floor. The cubes melted, and the heady scent of copper filled the room.

Brother, a little help here! Gleaming’s outraged cry blasted through his head.

How on earth was it possible that Asmodeus was fighting off two Jinn kings? Shaking his head in fury, White reappeared in amongst the small battle Asmodeus was waging against Gleaming and Shadow. His brothers busied Asmodeus while he looked for a weakness. Shadow was helpfully allowing Asmodeus to pummel his face while Gleaming tried to breach the protection enchantment Asmodeus had put up around himself. White tried to find a way in and spied the rope that held the ring of Solomon around Marid’s neck. So close … so very close.

And then he saw it.

Shadow’s fingers gripped tight to Asmodeus’s wrist, begging for relief as the Marid held him down. He was able to touch Asmodeus when the intention was not to attack.

The enchantment was a defensive one only.

Ah, Asmodeus.

White shook his head smugly, your paranoia will be the end of you.

With thoughts of harm quashed beneath his obsession to find his mother, White reached out and snapped the rope from Asmodeus’s neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw fire explode in the hallway, the vivid hue of blue and red warning him his brother’s Glass and Red had arrived to join the fight. White instantly teleported back to his father’s room, knowing the fight would definitely be out of his favor once Red and Glass joined ranks with Asmodeus.

It was possible that every Jinn in all of Mount Qaf was alerted to Asmodeus’s realization that the ring had been stolen.

The lieutenant’s roar literally shook the palace and the mountains beneath it.

White slammed the doors to his father’s chamber, blocking out the war cries that seemed to pound down on the palace from every side. He slipped on the Seal of Solomon, feeling its power, his mother’s power, rush through him. He stroked the brass and iron ring with tenderness. Within it resided his mother’s spirit and very soon, she would be reunited with her body.

Quickly, White strode around to his father’s bedside.

Azazil looked up at him with a strange mix of pride and rage. “You have no idea what you are about to unleash.”

White shook his head. “Mother is balance. Our world is not the same without her. And if you are going to blame anyone for this … blame yourself. You were the one who granted my daughter the favor that brought you so low. You knew something like this might happen. You invited it.”