|About the Book|
Concluding The Books of The DeadAll was Darkness, whether his eyes were open, or shut. In his mind, in his heart, the mist had crept in and made itself a new home. No longer did the Dark mist belong to her, to Seraphina Drake. Instead, it livedMoreConcluding The Books of The DeadAll was Darkness, whether his eyes were open, or shut. In his mind, in his heart, the mist had crept in and made itself a new home. No longer did the Dark mist belong to her, to Seraphina Drake. Instead, it lived inside of Dylan Green.He did not know if it had felt this way for Seraphina Drake when the Dark mist was a part of her, but Dylan felt as if it filled him, leaving very little room inside his skin for his own consciousness. There were times when he thought that the mist sought to suffocate him and other occasions when he knew what it really desired- the Darkness wanted to be set free, to be loosed upon the world.Always, when the bad times threatened his hold upon his resolve, she appeared, like a shining angel with her golden hair and sweet smile. His Angelica. If not for her, he would have given in long ago.She had helped him leave the obelisk unseen by the others when the shock of his actions hit. He had acted without hesitation, with one thought guiding him- he could not allow Violet-Ann to be killed. As the weapon forged by Seraphina Drake’s hatred made its way towards the exposed throat of Violet-Ann, ready to slash open its whiteness and stop the words of summoning, Dylan had known that her Death would unleash something inside of him which he could not control. She was the Deadspeaker and a symbol of their fight against all that would give in to The Dark. Without her, they were lost. He was lost.“Samael Drake, I call you to me. I am the Deadspeaker and I command your spirit!”Violet-Ann as Deadspeaker, had sought to call the spirit of Seraphina and Aldous Drake’s child, intending to free it of the curse of its name. Instead of Samael, the spirit would be known as Ormarr, as the ‘Serpent Army’. Better this than be the blighted pawn of a twisted mind bent upon destroying the one being she had ever loved, merely because of the fact of that affection.His hands had found the athame almost of their own volition. It was his ceremonial blade, not his every day, working knife, but he had kept it sharp, anyway. His boline was sharper, but the black-handled blade had been sharp enough to pierce the heart of Seraphina Drake when combined with his will and a briefly uttered prayer to his God and Goddess. As the blood gurgled from the lips of the Witch, Dylan told himself that it was they, the God and Goddess, who had helped him to do what needed to be done.And yet he knew, in his heart, that he would be the one who paid the price for this sin. His was the hand that took a life.“I am sorry,” he had told his victim as the blood ceased to bubble at the corners of Seraphina’s mouth, “but I could not allow you to kill Violet-Ann.”Those few simple words had been enough to convey all that had to be known. He could not give in to the Darkness of despair which would rise up to swallow him if her Light was taken from the world. Once, he had felt love for Violet-Ann, the love of a man for a woman. But his feelings had changed and this was not why he felt compelled to save her. She was the Deadspeaker and her efforts had done much to unite the realms with a common purpose. Her Death would unleash in him a threat as great as the one she had just nullified, as Dylan understood both the nature of his own power and the strength of The Darkness which lived within him. He would do anything to avoid that Fate.All understood as Dylan Green turned away from the sight of what he had done, collapsing into the arms of Angelica Masters. Leaning down, he buried his face in the golden mass of her hair, seeking comfort in her nearness.