Page 82 of Between Imminent Fates

Derikles stuffed his feet into navy-blue Vans and emerged into the oppressive heat of the Utah desert. As he had for the last three weeks, he began the trek to Isaiah’s home on foot, allowing the members of the clan—hisclan—to approach him at will.

Several brief but productive conversations led him to Isaiah and Rukia’s home. The sound of Isaak’s laughter and water splashing greeted his approach.

On the terrace behind their home, Isaak and Rukia splashed in a rubber-rimmed kiddie pool. The child who looked just like Isaiah was beaming, his cheeks pink from exertion and his downy-soft wet hair whisked up in a mohawk.

Rukia’s smile was ready, but dull. As a Raeth without a fated mate, Derikles couldn’t pretend to understand the pain of what she was going through. He didn’t claim to.

“Rukia.”

She gestured at the second story. “He’s still sleeping.”

Derikles nodded. On some level, Rukia understood what they had said about Isaiah never waking. But the hopeful part of her heart never gave up. Regardless of how many times they reiterated the depth of Isaiah’s psychic trauma, Rukia didn’t stop believing.

“I’ll check on him.”

He offered the grieving woman a tight smile as he entered through their front door. Without Isaiah’s presence, the home felt smaller somehow.

The silence inside had once been commonplace, but now it was almost oppressive. Rukia had changed everything for Isaiah, given him Isaak, and proved that a fundamental shift in a man twelve centuries old wasn’t impossible. Isaiah had become kinder, more forgiving, and less prone to violence. He smiled more and sneered less. He’d truly become Derikles’ closest friend. That alone made everything so much harder.

The stairs creaked slightly as he ascended onto the second floor. Rolling his shoulders to ward off the overwhelming feeling that he was somehow intruding, Derikles opened the door to Isaiah’s bedroom. There, beneath the pristine white comforter, lay his sovereign, a great man reduced to nothing but a shell.

Derikles’ gaze hardened. Familiar ire sparked, as he simply stared. No intravenous lines or whirring machines broke the silence. Exhaling a shaky breath, he closed the distance between them. His teeth ground together, and he struggled with containing his anger. With what Isaiah had done, abandoning all of them and hoisting the responsibility on Derikles’ shoulders without permission, it was impossible for him not to be angry. The thread of guilt that wrapped closely around the anger was like a red-hot poker.

While the rage was all-consuming, it simply proved how selfish he was. Isaiah had given everything—as had Key and Nina—to ensure they won the war. And here Derikles stood, alive and well, while his sovereign lay comatose for his efforts.

Try as he might, Derikles couldn’t loosen the bitterness that’d gripped him. Isaiah had somehow transferred the sovereignty to him, and with it came a host of obligations he had never asked for nor wanted. How could he be so angry with a man who’d saved his life? How could henotbe?

Hot tears blurred his vision, and he dashed them away before they had a chance to fall. Attempting to regain some semblance of balance, he moved to the side of the bed, and gently placed his hand over Isaiah’s heart.

As he had every day, he poured psychic energy into the depleted well of Isaiah’s power. What’d once been overflowing was now bone dry, drained completely from the catastrophic effort of defeating theCitizens.

He had little doubt that Nina would be similarly afflicted.

It was Derikles’ last-ditch attempt at restoring Isaiah to health when nothing else seemed to be working. Daily, he funneled power into his sovereign in a potentially futile bid to right the man’s energy drought.

No one wanted to discuss what would happen in the future. Isaiah couldn’t exist forever in this state. Already, he’d lost a considerable amount of weight, and his skin held a distinctive grey pallor. His eyes, normally a deep brown, had remained frosted white since they’d brought him home. They had never returned to their natural color.

At some point, Derikles and those who loved Isaiah would have to have a very honest and heartbreaking discussion.

A Raeth with his abilities was dangerous. On the battlefield, Derikles had seen the pure destructive force Isaiah was capable of and the damage he could reap. If his gifts returned and his mind didn’t, he could unknowingly murder everyone in the clan.

Though Derikles had been sovereign for less than month, he’d never let that happen.

Chapter Five

Celeste

Loneliness was an uninvitedguest. When her solitude felt less like freedom and more like a cage, the quiet began to whisper that no one cared. For years, Celeste had been without a mate but surrounded by friends and clan. Until these last few weeks, she had never truly felt lonely.

In the morning, before the children of the clan had woken their parents, Celeste would teleport to the rooftop oasis built on the clan center and simply watch the sun rise. Sometimes, she brought her camera along. The Canadian sunrise was beautiful, and she had dozens of photos to prove it.

Here, away from the clout and pollution of heavily populated human cities, the quiet was almost oppressive. Tucking her legs further in, she rested her head atop her knees and sighed. What had once been peaceful had now become unsettling.

In the silence, she was left alone with her thoughts. It had only taken her a few weeks to realize the truth. Nina and Blair had shielded her from many of the evils of immortal life. That protection was now gone, and she found herself exposed.

Being abandoned was nothing new to Celeste. Orphaned at an early age, she’d depended on Nina and Kaien in her younger years. Under their tutelage, she’d risen through the ranks in the clan, eventually becoming a lieutenant.

In light of what had happened, Celeste was determined to prove her worth—even if that meant putting herself on the line. There had been little need for it when Nina was sovereign: a Raeth of her caliber was nearly unstoppable. With Nina gone and Zeke balancing on the edge, Celeste felt called to bridge the gap.

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