Page 1 of Toward Immortal Ruin

Chapter One

Exhaustion wasn’t something mostRaeths ever experienced. Recoils and a temporary depletion of reserves called an energy drought were far more common and curable with time and rest. Enervation and fatigue, fueled by depression, was rare.

As the sovereign of the Osé, one of the most powerful Raeth clans in the world, Nero was many things to many people. Leader, protector, confidant, friend: he’d had centuries to shape his image as one of the most compassionate and levelheaded sovereigns to rule their immortal breed. That status came with little peace.

He was often approached by other sovereigns seeking an intermediary to settle disputes, and he hadn’t yet found it in his heart to say no. Though mediations generally didn’t take longer than a week, those sovereigns remained in close contact with Nero for decades afterward. Mentoring younger Raeths had always been rewarding for him, but it came at a cost.

Within the last few years, he’d signed up to represent Raethkind at an intraspecies peace summit. Through thatexperience, he’d personally penned the Peace Accords documents, signed by every immortal species that walked the planet.

The Heat, a short period of fertility experienced by his breed, had come and gone, and things had only become progressively busier since then. Petitions to enter his clan had exponentially increased. Many of the mated couples expecting a child had sought out the stability brought by a clan, and he’d fielded more requests in the last year and a half than at any other point in his sovereignty.

Eventually, they had run out of room, even with the continuous building expansions. Zia, his second in command, was leading the charge on that front, but it still seemed unfair to burden her with the entirety of the project. He helped behind the scenes—sometimes too much and too often.

Yesterday morning, he’d met with four new couples about the possibility of pledging loyalty to his clan. At lunch, he’d babysat two toddlers so their mothers could have a break, and in the afternoon, he’d helped install the electrical wiring in one of the new houses. He’d made it back to the office to answer any urgent emails that’d arrived while he’d been out, and finally dragged himself to sleep in a cold, lonely bed around midnight. No matter how many people he welcomed and houses he built, his home was still empty.

Nero hadn’t slept more than two hours the night before because his mind was far too busy. Sleeping medications were ineffectual on Raeths—their metabolism was simply too fast—and he couldn’t risk being drowsy through an emergency and leave his territory open to attack.

Sure, he’d put himself in this position when he fought for the sovereignty, but he was simply exhausted.

The words on the page blurred together. It was the seventh application he’d reviewed this morning, and it was far from thelast. At some point, he was going to have to say no—his territory wasn’t big enough to house every family that needed shelter.

Even that tore a hole through his heart. After twelve centuries of reading the emotions of others, Nero was very familiar with the devastation, despair, and sadness that news would create in the immortals who would find themselves without shelter.

Through his gifts, those emotions would funnel back directly onto him. One of Nero’s psychic abilities was to intercept, influence, and sense emotions. As a Reader, he was capable of both perceiving and altering emotional states, able to make his enemies cower in fear or feel such happiness they’d never come down from their high. When it came to the new refugees, he would experience their anxiety on the same scale they did—and he would be the cause of it.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nero sighed. No matter what he did, someone would always get the short end of the stick.

A telepathic ping broke his overthinking streak. The urgency behind the hail had him responding immediately.What’s wrong, Zia?

Sovereign, Remmus has reached out and asked for help. The Citizens have staged an attack on Chicago, and he’s asked for your and Jeremiah’s help immediately.

Nero bared his teeth.What type of attack?

They’re set to release rabid werewolves on city streets. Remmus intercepted the communication just minutes ago, and estimates their numbers to be around ten to fifteen wolves. He didn’t have much more to say.

TheCitizensgroup, a terrorist organization dedicated to the eradication of immortal beings, had escalated from one-off abductions and baseless threats to full-blown terrorism. This wasn’t the first time they’d released infected werewolves in the middle of human civilian populations. Their intention was to expose immortals and create negative public opinion.

Every muscle in Nero’s body screamed with fatigue. He knew what the situation on the ground called for, and going in with an empty tank meant he’d inevitably put other people in harm’s way.

If Jeremiah is up for it, he’s welcome to join them.

And you, sovereign?

I can’t, Zia.He wouldn’t admit the truth to his lieutenant and load her with remorse about the clan workload.I’ve scheduled meetings with potential new clansmen in the next hour, and I don’t want to leave them in a lurch.

Zia hummed in agreement.There are other people who can go—I’ll reach out to Remmus and let him know.

Guilt twisted with relief in his gut.Thank you, Zia.

Inside his mind, he had developed the unique neural network that tied him to each member of the clan. The mental bonds were as diverse and varied as the people on the opposite end. While some links were strong and hardened with time, others were new and untested. Those who’d joined his clan within the last two years were prime examples of the latter, and he’d instinctively kept a closer eye on those members. It was through these bonds that he could feel Zia’s fear for her mate, Jeremiah, as they prepared for his departure.

Collapsing backwards in his office chair, Nero closed his eyes. He rarely said no to intervening in crisis situations, and every time he did, he felt the weight of every life involved. The rational part of his mind told him that this was for the best—but the emotional side argued that it was his job to protect the immortals deployed to address the dangerandthe humans who’d be caught in the crosshairs.

Massaging his temples, he braced against the sound of footsteps drawing near. He knew it was Key even before he opened his eyes and saw the foreseer in his office. Her normally optimistic expression was set in a disapproving frown.

“You said no?”

The odd note in her voice was mixed with a hiss of anger. All at once, Nero was on alert. “I said no.”

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