Ianis (Twin Souls Book #3) follows on from Fateless. Our Protagonists Annette Anderson and the seductive demon, Lilith, are trapped in Hell. Literally.
After taking up the famous sword Ianis, weapon of the demon Princes, Annette's soul was driven to a world of nightmares and torture. By rights, any other than the royal bloodline should die instantly. Annette holds on to life by a thread and may not be quite the same when she wakes. A dark entity was trapped in the blade, something far worse than a demon. O'ep, the brother of Lucas and their father Lucifer King of the Underworlds, are the only ones with the knowledge of what truly drives the power of the sword.
Read on for a short snippet of Ianis my WIP and book 3 in the Twin Soul series.
“Does she live?”
Lucas glared at the black, shimmering floor. Flecks of silver glinted up at him as a mockery of the night sky on the surface. The material was not of the human world, but made from demon rock deep in the lowest pits of Hell. His father’s domain. Lucifer. A name those who walked above only read about in books and mythical tales. The God of all that is unnatural, unholy. Of those who shy away from Heaven's light.
The legendary King of the Underworld sat upon his throne of bones and obsidian while Lucas had been forced to kneel before him, in his human form, for several days without sustenance.
“Does she live, my youngest son?” Lucifer repeated, an edge of compulsion lacing his words.
“Yes,”
Lucas gritted his teeth, hating his powerlessness in this Realm of Hell. He kept his head low, subservient. It was not wise to show anger, or any emotion, in front of his father. Emotion was for the beings that walked beneath the warmth of the sun. Here, it would get him killed or sent to the Pits.
“Though she does not wake.” The words were being ripped from him. “O’ep believes she will in time.”
Black smoke swirled around the foot of the grotesque throne. Lucifer called shadows to him wherever he moved. It responded to his every whim.
His father stood and paced before him. Lucas’ eyes flicked upwards. It never ceased to amaze him how human his father’s true form was. He had strikingly high cheekbones and a strong, angular jaw. Black hair fell past his shoulders, down his back and ended in wisps of smoke that smelled of brimstone. Those swirling black tendrils curled around Lucifer’s bare, muscled torso; fingers searching his pale skin. The same smoke covered his long legs like trousers, rippling with each step taken. A fallen angel indeed, with all the beauty and grace promised in paintings and carvings. Pity they failed to capture the cruel curve of his mouth and the arrogant tilt of his chin.
His father glared down at him, revealing his most demonic feature. Those eyes. Pure black. No whites showed, no pupil could be seen. They were soulless pools where no light could be found.
Lucas turned back to the glittering floor with his head bowed, hoping Lucifer had not heard his treasonous thoughts. He loved his father, but all feared his wrath and in this very moment his most important toy was dying on a bed in the human world, lost to him and his wicked schemes. The same toy Lucas had been charged with protecting. A toy his brothers were envious of. It showed the entire Hellworld that Lucifer trusted his youngest son above all his other children. Oh, how his siblings would enjoy his fall if Annette died.
“O’ep was tight of lip,” Lucifer murmured. “A clever son. A talented Weaponsmith. He chose words wisely. What is he not telling me, youngest of my spawns? Tell me why he chose to deceive me with pretty half-truths.”
Lucas bit his lip. His teeth were blunt against the softness of his mouth. He had no choice but to answer. “Annette may be…changed, father, if she wakes,” he said. “She absorbed the power of Ianis and the sword will accept no other wielder. It remains at her side as if it were a loyal pet.”
Lucifer stopped pacing, smoke settled around him and drifted along the floor lazily. “You have attempted to wield the sword?”
“Yes. Ianis was made for a Prince, yet it repels me.” Lucas frowned, remembering how its power threw him across Vale’s throne room when he tried to touch the sword.
“Interesting,” Lucifer mused.
Lucas found the situation far more than interesting. Annette was mainly human, though no doubt stronger than she should be and with a unique gift that posed as a threat to all. She was a Soulspeaker. One who can see and manipulate the soul of any being, whether it be born of light or dark or anything in between. The gift came to his attention when Lilith, an ancient and powerful demon from his Realm, became trapped and entwined with Annette's human soul. It should never have been possible.
The sword's dark power should have killed her. The fact Annette was even breathing after weeks of facing the internal torture she was experiencing was beyond his comprehension. In this world, she was nothing. She should have been nothing. Yet, she lived...barely... and there was a glimmer of hope she would wake.
“Annette may be something other when she wakes,” Lucas continued, unsettled by his father’s calm reaction. “O’ep poured his darkest wishes in to the sword, his unspoken desires and wretched nightmares. If her mind survives, I am no longer sure who she will be.”
“Oh, he did far more than that,” Lucifer's eyes gleamed. “A cruel son of mine. After my own throne, I am sure.”
After taking up the famous sword Ianis, weapon of the demon Princes, Annette's soul was driven to a world of nightmares and torture. By rights, any other than the royal bloodline should die instantly. Annette holds on to life by a thread and may not be quite the same when she wakes. A dark entity was trapped in the blade, something far worse than a demon. O'ep, the brother of Lucas and their father Lucifer King of the Underworlds, are the only ones with the knowledge of what truly drives the power of the sword.
Read on for a short snippet of Ianis my WIP and book 3 in the Twin Soul series.
“Does she live?”
Lucas glared at the black, shimmering floor. Flecks of silver glinted up at him as a mockery of the night sky on the surface. The material was not of the human world, but made from demon rock deep in the lowest pits of Hell. His father’s domain. Lucifer. A name those who walked above only read about in books and mythical tales. The God of all that is unnatural, unholy. Of those who shy away from Heaven's light.
The legendary King of the Underworld sat upon his throne of bones and obsidian while Lucas had been forced to kneel before him, in his human form, for several days without sustenance.
“Does she live, my youngest son?” Lucifer repeated, an edge of compulsion lacing his words.
“Yes,”
Lucas gritted his teeth, hating his powerlessness in this Realm of Hell. He kept his head low, subservient. It was not wise to show anger, or any emotion, in front of his father. Emotion was for the beings that walked beneath the warmth of the sun. Here, it would get him killed or sent to the Pits.
“Though she does not wake.” The words were being ripped from him. “O’ep believes she will in time.”
Black smoke swirled around the foot of the grotesque throne. Lucifer called shadows to him wherever he moved. It responded to his every whim.
His father stood and paced before him. Lucas’ eyes flicked upwards. It never ceased to amaze him how human his father’s true form was. He had strikingly high cheekbones and a strong, angular jaw. Black hair fell past his shoulders, down his back and ended in wisps of smoke that smelled of brimstone. Those swirling black tendrils curled around Lucifer’s bare, muscled torso; fingers searching his pale skin. The same smoke covered his long legs like trousers, rippling with each step taken. A fallen angel indeed, with all the beauty and grace promised in paintings and carvings. Pity they failed to capture the cruel curve of his mouth and the arrogant tilt of his chin.
His father glared down at him, revealing his most demonic feature. Those eyes. Pure black. No whites showed, no pupil could be seen. They were soulless pools where no light could be found.
Lucas turned back to the glittering floor with his head bowed, hoping Lucifer had not heard his treasonous thoughts. He loved his father, but all feared his wrath and in this very moment his most important toy was dying on a bed in the human world, lost to him and his wicked schemes. The same toy Lucas had been charged with protecting. A toy his brothers were envious of. It showed the entire Hellworld that Lucifer trusted his youngest son above all his other children. Oh, how his siblings would enjoy his fall if Annette died.
“O’ep was tight of lip,” Lucifer murmured. “A clever son. A talented Weaponsmith. He chose words wisely. What is he not telling me, youngest of my spawns? Tell me why he chose to deceive me with pretty half-truths.”
Lucas bit his lip. His teeth were blunt against the softness of his mouth. He had no choice but to answer. “Annette may be…changed, father, if she wakes,” he said. “She absorbed the power of Ianis and the sword will accept no other wielder. It remains at her side as if it were a loyal pet.”
Lucifer stopped pacing, smoke settled around him and drifted along the floor lazily. “You have attempted to wield the sword?”
“Yes. Ianis was made for a Prince, yet it repels me.” Lucas frowned, remembering how its power threw him across Vale’s throne room when he tried to touch the sword.
“Interesting,” Lucifer mused.
Lucas found the situation far more than interesting. Annette was mainly human, though no doubt stronger than she should be and with a unique gift that posed as a threat to all. She was a Soulspeaker. One who can see and manipulate the soul of any being, whether it be born of light or dark or anything in between. The gift came to his attention when Lilith, an ancient and powerful demon from his Realm, became trapped and entwined with Annette's human soul. It should never have been possible.
The sword's dark power should have killed her. The fact Annette was even breathing after weeks of facing the internal torture she was experiencing was beyond his comprehension. In this world, she was nothing. She should have been nothing. Yet, she lived...barely... and there was a glimmer of hope she would wake.
“Annette may be something other when she wakes,” Lucas continued, unsettled by his father’s calm reaction. “O’ep poured his darkest wishes in to the sword, his unspoken desires and wretched nightmares. If her mind survives, I am no longer sure who she will be.”
“Oh, he did far more than that,” Lucifer's eyes gleamed. “A cruel son of mine. After my own throne, I am sure.”