No way in Heaven or Hell - Afterlife Series Book 1

Chapter 2 - Thendaria - part 2

Khyros marched on through the streets (for lack of a better word). The ground crunched quietly under his feet. Maybe it was sand after all, he thought as he glanced at it. It sounded like it, and felt like it, too. Soon enough, he reached his destination. As austere and dark as the rest of Thendaria: the training ground. He spent more time there than in his lair or anywhere else. A small part of him was glad he was no longer on Earth. He no longer had the petty concerns of everyday human life. School, getting into college, pleasing his parents, following his father's footsteps and going to Harvard to be a business man like him... And now that he had time to think about it, he realized that he had no wish to become that person. A person whose footsteps were drawn out for him and feeling as if he was being pushed forwards in a way that prevented him from ever trying to make his own way. And he had come to understand that he hated that. In fact, he had to admit he'd never felt freer than since he'd been cast away to Thendaria. He had no expectations to meet, no one to please, no one to judge him... he could be who he wanted on his own terms. He hadn't asked anyone to train him. He'd done quite a few sports as a human, like kendo and karate. He'd rather enjoyed them, too. He appreciated the stress reliever. He only now saw how much pressure his parents had been putting on him all his life. "You're the eldest, you have to set an example," they would say, or "you'll be a fine Harvard student just like your father." and the like when he brought back a complimentary report card at the end of term, or a good grade after a test. He supposed you never saw things clearly until they no longer held you back.

My. Life. My. choices. No one else's. Khyros repeated over and again as he swiped the mannequin with his training sword. He had come to notice his body was a lot more responsive since he'd arrived in Thendaria. He felt tired, even if it was different from when he was a human, but it was like he instinctively knew where to move, where to look, how to angle his wrists, his footing... it was amazing. And quite exhilarating. But he found his physical practice made him very jumpy, so he turned to reading more to calm himself. This proved very effective. Khyros wasn't sure what his new body was about, but he knew one thing: he liked it.

"My Lord?"

Sitting in a large obsidian and ruby throne, a crown of gold and onyx on his head, lord Zerelus heaved a sigh. The door closed as his servant entered, his footsteps echoing on the black marble tiles. The room was very dark, lit by torches. Zerelus, wearing red and black velvet, looked up uninterestedly.

"Yes?" he asked wearily.

He did hate being disturbed.

"We have an intriguing new arrival, my liege. He was given the name Khyros."

Zerelus seemed suddenly very interested in his dagger.

"And why does this concern me?"

Welsius, the stout little servant, tried hard to keep his nervousness from showing.

"Well, he... He's proven impressive physical skill, and seems very driven."

"My question remains," said Zerelus testily. "Of what interest is it to me?"

His servant faltered, gulping slightly as he eyed the blade warily. His master hated many things, but the one thing he loathed above all was wasting time.

"I'm getting there, my liege..." he said. "We were discussing, just last night-"

"We were discussing nothing, I was explaining to your half-wit brain my plans." Zerelus said shortly.

"Uh, yes, of course, my Lord. But what I meant to say was... He could be your head of army, sir. He could assist you in fulfilling your plan!"

Zerelus paused a moment, thoughtfully.