The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 386: A child of Deity King

But her true weapons were flame and will.

Her sword, a blade of folded steel with runes etched along its length, burst into fire with each swing. The flames didn’t consume the metal; instead, they wrapped around it like living extensions of her intent. Each strike left trails of burning light in the air.

When the paemons tried to flank her, she dissolved her sword into pure flame and reshaped it instantly into a bow.

"Pidraq," she whispered, and the weapon responded.

The bow was magnificent, constructed entirely of condensed flame held in the shape of recurved wood, the string a line of concentrated heat that shimmered like a desert mirage. She drew back, and an arrow of pure fire materialized on the string.

She released.

The arrow screamed through the air and struck a paemon in the chest. The creature exploded, flames consuming it from the inside out.

She drew and fired again and again, each arrow finding its target with perfect precision.

The paemons that tried to rush her during her archery simply met her burning blade, which she could reshape from bow to sword in the space between heartbeats.

She fought like a flame goddess, beautiful, terrible, and absolutely merciless.

The last black creature fell, its body dissolving into ash and shadow-stuff that would fade before dawn. The woman stood among the carnage, breathing heavily but controlled, her sword still wreathed in dying flames.

Then she froze.

Something had changed.

A sensation, subtle but distinct, rippled through her awareness like a stone dropped into still water. It came from the direction of the capital, from Cahns’ar itself.

Divine presence. Multiple signatures are gathered at one point.

Her head snapped toward the city, her eyes narrowing. The tattoos on her skin flared brighter for a moment as she extended her senses, trying to identify what she was feeling.

"Hmm," she breathed.

She raised her hand, fingers moving in a complex pattern as she spoke words in a language that predated human civilization.

The air around her shimmered and twisted, and reality responded to her summons.

The next second, something roared in the sky, and in the next few seconds, a giant creature was flying towards her.

The beast was enormous, easily twelve feet tall at the shoulder, with a body that combined features of great cats and birds of prey into something that had never existed in nature. Its form was covered in white feathers that seemed to radiate their own light, each one sharp-edged and gleaming like polished blades. Its face was elongated and predatory, with intelligent golden eyes and a beak-like muzzle filled with teeth. From its head flowed a mane of longer feathers that expanded outward like a crown of white flame.

But most striking were its wings, six of them, arranged in three pairs along its powerful back. Each wing was massive, constructed of those same blade-like feathers that could cut through steel as easily as air.

This was a Heggu, a divine beast of the highest order. Only a handful existed in the world, and they bonded only with individuals of exceptional power and worthy spirit.

"Azraen," the woman said, placing her hand on the creature’s massive head. The Heggu lowered its face to her, rumbling with a sound that was part purr, part growl.

"We need to move."

The Heggu’s golden eyes reflected understanding. It lowered its body, allowing her to climb onto its back, settling between two pairs of wings.

"Fast as you can," she commanded.

Azraen’s six wings spread wide, each one catching the moonlight. Then they beat it once, twice, and the divine beast launched into the sky with enough force to create a crater where it had been standing.

They rocketed toward Cahns’ar, covering distance that would take horses hours in mere minutes. The woman held tight, her mind racing through possibilities.

Divine beings converging in the capital. It could be a coincidence.

*

The Road Beyond Cahns’ar - Midnight

The carriage rolled smoothly along the road that led away from the capital, its wheels crunching over packed earth.

Inside, Jolthar slumped against the cushioned seat, his head swimming in wine-induced fog. The world kept tilting at odd angles, and maintaining focus required enormous effort.

Syrene sat beside him, closer than before, her hand still resting possessively on his thigh. She was smiling, that same beautiful smile she’d worn all evening, but there was something different about it now.

Something sharper.

"Almost there," she murmured, her voice taking on harmonics that human vocal cords shouldn’t produce.

Jolthar tried to focus on her face, but it kept... shifting?

No, that wasn’t quite right.

It was more like there was another face beneath the beautiful human features, something trying to surface through the illusion.

"Where..." he managed to slur.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere private," Syrene replied.

"Somewhere we won’t be interrupted."

The carriage came to a stop.

They were several miles outside the capital now, on a stretch of road bordered by dense forest on both sides. The moonlight was the only illumination, casting everything in silver and shadow.

Syrene opened the carriage door and stepped out with ease.

She turned back to Jolthar, extending her hand.

"Come. Just a little further."

Jolthar took her hand and stumbled out of the carriage. His legs felt disconnected from his body, and the ground seemed to undulate beneath his feet. He would have fallen if not for Syrene’s surprisingly strong grip steadying him.

As his feet touched the earth outside the carriage, something changed.

The air grew heavy with power, not oppressive, but present. Like standing near a waterfall, feeling the spray and hearing the roar of something massive and inevitable.

And Syrene was changing.

Her form shimmered and expanded, the beautiful human facade dissolving like mist. What remained was still beautiful, devastatingly so, but in a way that was fundamentally inhuman.

She grew taller, her proportions shifting into something that was almost human but not quite. Her skin took on a faint iridescent sheen, like scales catching light. Her eyes remained the same shape, but the pupils became vertical slits, gleaming with power that had nothing to do with reflected light. And around her form, barely visible, the suggestion of something else, multiple forms, serpentine and coiling, existing in the same space through impossible geometries.

"Forgive the deception," she said, and the voice was layered now, thousands of whispers speaking in perfect unison.

"But mortals are so much easier to guide when they see what they expect to see."

Jolthar’s wine-soaked brain struggled to process this.

"What... what are you?"