Page 117 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

So be it.

He flicked his hand, palls of coal-black smoke exploding either side of him as the baying of his Nether-hounds echoed through the strand. It had been centuries since Hael had called upon his shadow jackals, and he bowed to the skeletal beasts, nodding.

For his hounds would be ever so hungry.

Then Hael turned, slashing the head of Ozumbre’s dead King from his shoulders, and left his Nether-hounds to hunt.

‘As the realm shall learn, I possess a long memory. I will right my former wrongs,’ Hael murmured, advancing on the highest-ranking official left in Kolyath’s army.

Commander Sullian scrambled across the jet sands.

I will avenge you, Emperor Brulian. For Cahra and all who came before her.

It was time to set about ridding Kolyath of its villainy, once and for all.

Time for the leviathan of Hael’s third and final form.

But before Hael could trigger his darkest transformation, he sensed something.

Hael!Wyldaern’s voice cried, desperate and wavering, as if unsure of her new powers.

He shot into the air in a flurry of ash and smoke, searching the battlefield.

An agonised howl, raw and rageful, sounded from Luminaux’s end of the plain – and he felt a tremor within the dirge of life expiring.The fires of destruction. Of ruling life, lost.

Hael, not having met Luminaux’s Prince, nonetheless somehow knew the man’s voice. And despite the young man’s feelings for Cahra, woe swelled in Hael’s chest as he watched Prince Thierre rip King Royce from the grip of the sword that gored him, the two of them sagging to the ground. Thierre raised his head, vengeance in his eyes.

The King of Luminaux was dead.

Above him stood the King of Ozumbre’s twin, Diabolus, sword dripping with blood.

CHAPTER 47

Cahra and Wyldaern raced back through Hael’stromia’s raised gate and onto the battlefield. Its sands were cracked, the crevices filled with rapidly cooling molten rock and the smell of liquid ore and charred meat saturated the air. The bodies of Kolyath and Ozumbre soldiers were broken, flung and laid to waste – hundreds dead – the splintered plain eerily silent, except for the sound of someone weeping. Cahra kept running, past Kolyath’s army and to—

A devastating sight met her eyes. Thierre was kneeling on the ground, with his father, King Royce of Luminaux, dead in his arms.

And standing before them was Hael, one arm raised as his Nether-magicks suspended Commander Diabolus of Ozumbre high in mid-air. The Reliquus extended his other arm and wind lashed at the battleground, the clouds darkening, the heavens looking ready to rip open. A monstrous pack of skeletal dog-like creatures, positioned defensively around Hael, howled.

‘No soul will harm a sister kingdom’s ruler and live to tell of the deed,’ he boomed, his eyes walls of jet flame. ‘Not while I defend the capital.’

The tri-kingdom armies stared, frozen in awe and horror, as Hael flicked his wrist and unleashed a fireball, striking Diabolus true, the Commander’s body bursting into flames. The inferno writhed, a swirling firestorm climbing to the sky with a deafening roar that sent a sweltering shockwave across the land, the force knocking Cahra and Wyldaern from their feet. Around them, the ground trembled, as though the very realm was quaking with sheer terror.

Then as quickly as it had come, the storm ceased, the sky clearing as clouds scattered to the corners of the realm. Only singed ashes drifted to the sands.

Ozumbre’s army Commander was no more.

Wyldaern’s eyes widened as she stilled to witness Hael’s merciless precision. ‘The Reliquus. He really is…’ Her voice was a whisper.

…the ultimate weapon.Cahra swallowed.

How had she ever thought she could control Hael’s magicks?

Death inhabited his every step as Hael prowled away. But then his gaze found Cahra and Hael’s fires sparked back to life, his features softening. He pointed.

Cahra followed his line of sight until she settled on the subject of his attention, Kolyath’s army Commander Sullian, kneeling, blood-spattered, on the ground.

She spun to Hael. He simply raised his face to the morning sun, basking in its glow.

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