The Last Theiro

40

Tessa
•••

His grey eyes lit up when they fell on me, his thin lips stretched into a vile smirk. There was nothing handsome about the man standing in front of me. His sharp features were taunting, his smirk manipulating.

"The Last Theiro." Erebus's voice boomed across the sky. "How are you?" he asked the question smoothly, the baritone of his voice reverberating through my bones. The low rumble of his voice was comforting as it wrapped around me and carried me off to a world where sound was the power that could change everything wrong.

When I didn't answer his question, Erebus walked up to me and extended his hand. "How rude of me?" He scoffed. "My name is Erebus." He took my hand in his and brought it up to his lips. His touch was cold against mine and, if it wasn't for the stiffness in my body, I would have flinched away from him.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look rather pale, like a corpse." His laugh reverberated around me. The Theiros that stood behind him laughed simultaneously as if they were forced to do so.

My eyes flickered to Reign. Her gaze was fixed on Erebus's back as her fists balled at her sides. "Erebus, this is no time for silly games."

His eyes blurred for a second, but his smirk never faltered as he turned on Reign. "You're right. Now that we're all here, shall we begin?" He slung his snake-like arm around my waist and together, we approached Reign.

"Is that her? Is it really her?" Said a voice in the crowd.

"Why, Davies, I think it is. Brothers and sisters, for so long you have lived in secrecy. You were taught to control yourselves for them. But no more. I am here. I am back. And it's all thanks to Reign. But we do not thank her for that only. We thank her for gifting us with the greatest power to ever exist - The Last Theiro."

Erebus's blackened eyes lingered on me. "I can feel the power rolling off from you." He shrieked with excitement like a little girl, his hands flying up, his face squeezing. "You're so fresh, Tessa. I believe you've had your first kill."

"Two," Reign answered for me. She gleamed with pride. "She killed two. An Elder and," she paused and glanced with remorse at me. "An aunt." That's all I ever was to Reign, a trophy.

His lips stretched wider into a gaping grin and his eyebrows arched for the sky. "You have exceeded my expectations. You have accomplished what many of these could not," he pointed to the crowd of blazing Theiros. "Killing at such a young age is a gift. In this hominid species born of genocidal survivalism, killing has become something of a hobby. We, the Theiros, prey on the Wonteds. They're just so weak." Erebus erupted into laughter, and the Theiros followed him.

"No," I said clearly. The laughter stopped. Cold sweat trickled down my neck as all eyes were on me. "You can't kill the wonteds. It's inhuman. They have no way of defending themselves. Taking someone's life with your own hands, it takes a toll on you. Once you make that decision, you might as well just do the same to you, because you can't live with the fact that you're a killer."

Erebus's dark eyes flickered to Reign. Something flashed beneath the surface of his hardened expression and I hurried to investigate the sudden shift. It was too late, the emotion disappeared before I could identify it, like reaching desperately for an escaped balloon; the string dangling so tantalizingly close but the wind from the tornado surrounding us pushed it away and it's lost forever.