Page 102 of Joy Guardian

“You can’t leave here,” I reminded. “You will die with me.”

She nodded serenely. “That’s our vow, is it not? I’m prepared to die for our cause.”

There was a time when I was too. I had given the vow, fully believing in its meaning. I was ready to kill or be killed to protect the Joy.

But so much had changed since.

“Oria, we’ve been mistaken. Humans aren’t just Joy Vessels. Theyarethe Joy. They create it in abundance and share it freely with those they love. The very origins of our Joy might be human too.”

Pity shone in her eyes directed at me.

“They say that human joy creates an addiction and poisons one’s mind,” she said somberly. “I can see now how it happens. You dedicated a century of your life to the service to our Joy. But you abandoned our cause and your purpose after only a short while spent with a human.” Oria raised the dagger in her hand. The blade sparkled with the red of the deadly Nerifir iron. “I regard you as a brother, Kurai. It saddened me to come here, knowing what I had to do. But I also see it as an act of mercy. Once your spirit is free of this affliction, I know you will forgive me.”

She took a step toward me, and my muscles tensed. The guards had taken away my daggers, but I wasn’t helpless or harmless without the weapons. I fisted my hands, ready to defend myself.

“There is no need to fight me,” Oria spoke evenly and softly as she did when we used to pray together. “If you could think clearly, you would understand this is for the best, Kurai. Then, you would use this dagger yourself to leave this cell the only way we can. And when your mind is finally free from the trap of human joy, we will both enter the afterlife side by side, like in the procession for the morning service in the temple, remember?”

“But I’m not ready to die.” I sidestepped her in anticipation of an attack. “I have so many reasons to keep living, Oria, now more than ever.”

Muffled voices sounded behind the door. Oria jerked her head in that direction, momentarily distracted. I jumped, aiming to grab the dagger from her hand. She pivoted on her heel, slashing with the weapon across my torso, before snatching the weapon out of my reach. The blade scraped across my chest, breaking skin on my shoulder.

The door flew open.

“Kurai!” the beloved voice called in horror.

The blood in my veins turned cold. Ciana was here, and Oria whipped around to face her with the dagger raised.

“What do you know? There will be one less left of you before I leave this world.” Oria lunged forward.

“No!” I moved to stop her but hit my head on the fucking ceiling.

The blow blinded me. Pain sent stars dancing in my vision. I pressed forward, not quite seeing where I was going, but I couldn’t let a single hair fall from Ciana’s head. She was mine to protect. That was my life’s mission now, one that didn’t require any rituals, tattoos, or vows, and one that I couldn't fail. I would die to fulfill it.

“No,” I growled, falling forward and grabbing Oria’s legs.

Her dagger slashed through the air as she crashed to the floor with me. Prince Rha appeared next to Ciana. He grabbed her and hauled her backwards—out of the harm’s way.

Oria’s body tensed suddenly. Her every muscle seemed to momentarily turn to stone under me. She flipped onto her back.

A blood-curdling scream pierced the air. The normally quiet, mild mannered Oria growled and hissed, writhing on the filthy floor. She didn’t just try to get out of my grip, she seemed to want to crawl out of her own skin.

Clawing at her chest, she tore apart her beaded armor. The gold and onyx beads rolled and bounced on the floor all around us.

“Kurai! You’re hurt.” Ciana struggled to get free from the prince’s grip, but he held her tightly, keeping her away from Oria.

A human woman with yellow hair peered around the prince’s bicep. Guards crowded behind them, but there was no space in the tiny cell for anyone to intervene.

“Let me go!” Ciana snapped at the prince in frustration.

“It’s not safe.” He shook his head, not taking his eyes off Oria.

Oria screamed and mumbled something ineligible. Her body arched from the floor, as if the rock burned her skin. She scraped her chest, drawing blood with her nails. It stained her hands. Foam bubbled around her mouth, dripping from her fangs.

“What’s happening to her?” the prince demanded to know. “She’s acting like a cursed one.”

I held on to Oria’s legs as she tried to kick her feet. Her strength seemed to multiply, giving her jerky movements the power of punches. Except that those punches were no longer directed at me. She hurt herself. Raising her head, she hit it hard against the floor, staining the rocks with her blood.

The woman behind the prince cried out in terror. “What’s torturing her? Why is she doing it?”

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