Prophesy 3: His Righteousness by A.E. Via

 

 

Adres watched his brothers approach from all directions, until they came together and landed on the ground with such force that the earth quaked as far as the peaks of the mountaintops.

I am not looking forward to this, Wrath grumbled. He attempted to stand but was still too weak. Belleron crouched over his cherished and extended his sword as the men galloped towards them.

“He is the one that sent you to the underworld, yes,” Belleron grated, his hard gaze on the brother in the middle. His sky-blue robe flew out behind him on his easterly winds, the only parts of him visible were his tattooed hands and the determined grimace stretching his wide mouth. Zepharali Cavalerie.

Notalus was a couple paces behind him on the left, his emerald-green cape dragging the earth as he stood in his horse’s saddle, crouched in a perfect fighting stance. His hood was lying over the bridge of his nose as he wielded a Hwando sword in each fist.

The Lord of the North’s light flung his blizzard-white robe off one of his shoulders and drew a spear from behind his back that shone a brilliant gold before it extended five feet in his hand. It had been too long since Adres had laid eyes on his middle brother, Boraleashe.

Notalus dismounted his horse in mid-run and bolted into Adres’s arms. He and his baby brother had always been the closest. As the light guardian of the south winds, Notalus’s core radiated a warm comfort that matched his own. “Orestes. It was a relief to feel your wind again.” He leaned back and gripped him on his shoulders, his mossy-green eyes roaming his face. “Even your distressed one.”

“I can see this time you are prepared, brother.” Boraleashe eased off his pearl stallion with the grace of an angel, not like the seven-foot Titan that he was.

Though Adres was the oldest and more serious of all his brothers, even the lesser winds, Boraleashe was the most disciplined.

“It is your destiny.”

Notalus glanced towards the mountains where a shadowy figure fled in the opposite direction. “He must not escape this time, Orestes. You have what you need to defeat him. Your light is clearer and greater than it has ever been.”

Adres threw a protective shield around his friend—who looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but near Zepharali—as Belleron and Wick rushed Wrath into the house.

Adres stood amongst his brothers, harnessing the wind that bolted from their weapons. It’d been centuries since they’d fought together, even longer since Adres had wielded such strength. His body shook with the force to control it as he felt Macauley ease his righteous energy towards him. Adres gripped his sword, placing the cold steel to his lips and whispering the curse of death into the blade. He summoned a tornado with their collective powers that was so devastating that he struggled to contain it.

Notalus’s swords shimmered with bronze light, his words floating around him. “Steady, brother. We are with you.”

And my love is with you too, mate.

Warmth and goodness were pushed into his heart as a jolt of strength and courage hit his core. An image of Macauley’s growling beast flashed before his eyes, and Adres shot his sword into the mountains, sending all of his force and wind behind it.

His weapon tore through the trees towards the shade that had almost reached the territory border. Mere seconds went by before Adres felt his blade make contact. The twister ravaged the mountain, drilling through its core and taking his enemy down with it. To the Underworld.

Adres had lost this battle once because he had been alone. Because he had been outside of the order of the prophesy. He was not meant to go against the sorcerer that brings devastation to their species until he had been touched with love. And it had cost him over three hundred years.

But the prophecy was predestined by fate. Even if it was delayed a while, history had shown that it would always come to pass. She would always have her way.

Macauley pulled Adres into his arms as soon as he stepped through the front door of Justice’s home. His exhaustion was evident, but he stood strong against him with his arms around his waist.

I am okay, young wolf.

I know. I had no doubt that you wouldn’t be.

Adres turned his face into his throat and inhaled. I love you too.

Macauley squeezed him tighter, relieved that the battle was over but still crippled with fear for his sister.

How is she?

Orion is with her. He said the fairies gave him the ability to heal. Macauley’s hands trembled. He’s still working on her. It… it was a lot of poison.

Macauley felt Adres’s guilt and regret like acid in his stomach. He cupped his cheek and tilted his mate’s flushed face towards him. “Don’t. Do that.” He kissed him, lingering on his cool lips to soak up some of his comfort. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“She’s awake!” Ramon blurted, flashing into the entryway. “And she’s okay.”

Farica! Farica! Macauley tried his link to his sister for the millionth time and slumped against the wall when she finally answered.

Ouch! Stop yelling at me, Mac. I have the worst fuckin headache.

Macauley released a fatigued laugh as he hurried into the living room, almost dragging Adres behind him. Farica was lying on the couch with her eyes closed, but she wasn’t ghostly pale anymore, and she was lazily stroking Ramon’s cheek with one hand where he knelt beside her.

Orion had his hand over her heart, his head bowed as if he were praying while Henry and Taleb embraced him from behind. A faint purplish glow radiated beneath his palm until Farica blinked her long lashes and smiled into Ramon’s watery eyes.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, and Adres put his hand up at the shocked expression on Justice’s face as he stared at the immaculately dressed Titans standing in his living room. Adres introduced them by name and the direction they hailed.

Justice’s enforcers assembled around him and his sister. “Thank you for your assistance. We have never faced a threat of this magnitude before.”

“It was not your battle to fight, Alpha Zenith. The sorcerer of strife can only be defeated by a Titan or a giant.” Boraleashe—as he was introduced—glanced around the room, as if he was taking in everything he saw, including Orion. Their skin was the same creamy pearlescent complexion and hair the color of new-fallen snow. “I am glad your sister is healed.”

Zepharali walked past Justice, his long blue shawl trailing on a warm summer breeze behind him. Macauley was stunned when he knelt behind Ramon, where his head lay on Farica’s chest and drove his long fingers through his hair. “She is not your cherished,” he spoke in a romantic, silky tone, “but she can be. If she so chooses.”

“Yes,” Farica croaked, as if she wanted to shout it but couldn’t, so she went with nodding profusely. “Gods, yes. Please.”

“My summer light brings the blossom of new love and passion.” Zepharali caressed Farica’s cheek, whatever was radiating from his touch making her lean farther into it. “Why do you think there are so many June weddings?”

Farica smiled, her serene chuckle filtering around the room and doing what it had always done for the pack—easing their worry. Macauley felt their sibling link spark with love and tranquility as the Lord of Summer’s winds bathed his sister in a powder-blue aura that traveled over her body.

Orion pulled his hand away and opened his eyes. Macauley frowned at how calm he was. He didn’t appear surprised by Adres and his brothers as he stood and bowed in their directions, as if he’d been expecting them all along. He wondered if perhaps Orion knew them?

Adres answered his thought. He has our blood inside of him. I believe he has always sensed us around him. Even from the Monstrous Reef.

“Your pack doctors are tending to your shifters, Alpha. My south winds bring the fall season and the beginning of new life. I will assist them to ensure they are well and your lands are repaired,” Notalus said gently.

“Blessings, thank you.” Justice clasped his hands in front of him and gave them each a respectable nod.

Boraleashe turned to Adres and put his hand on his shoulder. “We will see you again, Orestes.”

“Indeed.” Adres clutched his brother’s hand.

“And if we send for your wind,” he asked.

Adres was staring into Macauley’s eyes when he answered, “Then my young wolf and I will answer the call.”