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This is not a simple possession by the shadows. It is a harmonious infusion, a claiming of power—formidable and beautiful.
As I turn back to our weaver, I ignite my torches to light her way.
“Harness it, Zenya,” I whisper. “Embrace the darkness and the light. They are yours to command.”
She has kept some reavers like trophies. Once fearsome and uncontrollable, they move with a fluid grace under Zenya’s command. I watch as she directs them with precision, her movements a dance of elegance and might. The scene testifies to the power of the dark feminine—a reminder that true strength lies in embracing all facets of one’s being.
Upon Zenya’s approach, the reavers tightly bridled, I sense our deepening bond, a shared understanding.
Zenya has crossed the threshold, stepping into a new realm of power and potential. And I, ever the guide at the crossroads, will support and nurture this transformation.
She is ready for the Trials.
“Hello, Beastie,” I say with a smile.
The dark queen fronting for Zenya lowers her chin toward me, narrowing her eyes. And then, the smile of a demoness unfolds upon her face. “I think it’s time for a family dinner.”
She unleashes the reavers.
And Morpheus bursts into outrageous laughs as all the creatures lunge for Nyxion, attacking him and dragging him to the ground.
Chapter 22
“Angel to some, demon to others.”
MORPHEUS
“See Who I Am” by Within Temptation
Nothing gave me more pleasure than watching the reavers justifiably taking my oldest brother down. Of course, they won’t kill him. But he will suffer as they rip and tear his flesh and break his bones until he overthrows them.
He’ll be nothing but a walking bag of bones in the end. Appropriate revenge on the part of this dark protector. After all that has happened, I could see her bringing him to his knees until he crawls, groveling for the right to touch her again.
Now, the temporal storm is no more than the size of a chemistry set twister. One I easily snuff with my power.
Whoever this alter ego is, she merely wrinkles her nose at me before directing her gaze to Hecate. “Hail, Goddess.”
Hecate touches her fingers to her brow and lowers her chin in a gesture of respect, of equality not submission. “Will you give us the honor of your name?”
She lifts her chin and strokes the side of the stallion. “I like Beastie…for now.”
Oh, Hecate’s eyes gleam with an animalistic lust. She wants Zenya more than ever. And while I don’t mind sharing, Nyxion obviously does.
He will likely need to live with it unless Zenya chooses the Trials.
We return in short order to my throne room. Nyxion is still dealing with the reavers, but I imagine he’ll be along soon. Phantasos likely will, too.
Beastie has woven a grand buffet of squid ink pasta, flavorful and hearty. There is black bean and lentil stew with black rice, a mushroom risotto with black truffles, and blackened salmon. Blackberry and Black Mission fig tarts for dessert complete the ensemble.
Relaxing my wings, I lean back in my seat, sampling the fare, allowing Hecate to take the lead as this Beastie pays her more homage while disregarding me. She does not eye me with disgust as she does Nyxion, but it’s clear she favors Hecate. After what I witnessed tonight, I have no desire to get on her bad side—even if all her sides are quite fine.
This soul bond with multiple identities is not unknown to me, considering how much manifests in the territory of dreams. Nyxion and I have had experience in this realm as dreams can be symbolic or opportunities for oneself to work out their inner psyche. Shadow work occasionally accompanies such subconscious projections.
Hecate swirls her black currant wine and matches eyes with the alter. Neither of them blink. On equal ground, sharing the same territory, they vie in a silent test of wills. The hackles on Hecate’s dogs prick up, more aroused than angry.
I don’t permit my shadows to disturb the alter.
“I’ll give you three questions,” says Beastie, leveling with Hecate while twisting her fork around strings of pasta.
