The Twilight Thief: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (Thrones of Midgard Book 1)

by J. Levi

  Veryn summons his ball of magic again, though he slams his palm into the ground. Fissures burst through the crust, magma pillars from the earth, showering the field in molten rain. My twilight flames consume the globs of molten earth, absorbing it into its fire. I leap and dodge more pillars that erupt from the broken ground until my mother, casting an arc of twilight over us, shielding her from the raining molten rock. Veryn rushes us, sword drawn high above his head. With a sweep of my foot, I knock him off his feet. I slam the palm of my hand into his face, pouring as much magic I can fuel into his skin. He screams, kicks, and claws at me to release.

  Sharp claws lance into my back, pulling me into the air as the wyvern struggles to carry the added weight. The vylorian rider reaches over, a wavy scimitar in hand as he swipes for my head. I thrust a flame-covered fist into the wyvern’s underside until its guts spill out, coating me in a foul ichor. The wyvern goes limp, sending us crashing to the earth. I land on my back, luckily away from the wyvern, which crushes its rider beneath it.

  My mother rushes to my side, patting my face, calling my name—though it doesn’t feel like my name anymore. Aedan drowned in that river that night, and the boy who emerged became who I am today. Nova, the Twilight Thief.

  I sit up with the help of my mother’s support. She palms the side of my face, searching for something to say, I can tell.

  Veryn’s loud cry in a foreign tongue breaks us apart. I peer at the vylorian a few paces away, half of his face is nearly necrotic, flesh singed and peeling away—the faint sight of yellowed bone peeking through the burnt flesh.

  “It’s a shame your sister will probably die. I’d imagine I broke her spine.” Veryn taunts between his clenched teeth. I hesitate.

  “Sister?”

  “No, Aedan, don’t let him bait you. Run, please. Go now—” I hold a hand up, stopping my mother mid-sentence.

  “What do you mean, sister?” I ask, ignoring my mother’s pleas.

  “You haven’t figured it out yet?” Veryn teases. “She was beautiful, once upon a time, that mother of yours, but she bore imbeciles for spawns.”

  I rush forward faster than he expects as he fails to stop me from grabbing him by the hair, hoisting him up until he meets my burning gaze. I grab his crown from his head and force my flames to devour it. Slowly, the obsidian band turns brittle, and then cracks form against the rough finish until it fades into ash.

  “Speak about her like that again,” I growl, teeth bare, and my grip on his hair tightens as I give him a harsh jerk. “I dare you.”

  End him, the riosan prism whispers. Not yet, I whisper in return.

  Veryn raises his hands in defeat, but his lazy grin still tugs away at his bloodied lips. The stench of seared flesh is repugnant.

  “Sister,” I snarl. “What do you mean, sister?” Mother is behind me now, pulling at my shirt.

  Veryn snickers. “Please. If you’re going to pretend to be some hero, act as an intelligent one at least,” he spits. I slam my hand against his throat, crushing against his windpipe. I squeeze until I see the dark olive skin of his face turn dark. Bulging veins on his temples pulsate, sweat beads against his hairline, and his mouth trembles. Without words, he desperately begs for air. The wyverns above roar as their riders shout commands. A few ignite streams of fire, stretching across the broken rubble of the carnival pavilions.

  “Call them off,” I squeeze tighter. Veryn holds up a hand toward the sky.

  I release my grip slightly, allowing him to suck in a breath. I growl in his face. My teeth are only the width of a hair from his face as I speak again, slowly, “What do you mean…sister?”

  “M—muh—Merida. Sh—she’s your s—ster.”

  “Liar,” I snarl, inching my teeth closer to his throat, gripped tightly beneath my fingers. I can feel the racing pulse of his heart thrumming in his neck.

  “I w—wish I was. S—such a petulant child of mine,” Veryn struggles.

  “Yours?” I ask. I ease my grip so he can speak more freely.

  “That’s what I said. Mine.”

  Merida is…his daughter…my sister. Then I realize the meaning, the implication, the reality.

  I turn to mother. She refuses to meet my gaze. The truth is written on her face, the deep hollow of her cheeks, dark heavy sagging flesh beneath her eyes, the dull, lifeless sheen of her red hair. Veryn bolsters a thunderous laugh. His putrid breath brushing against my face when I return my gaze to him.

  “You. Touched. My. Mother,” I say, low and almost defeated. Veryn’s laughter grows louder, shriller.

  “Many, many times,” Veryn confesses poignantly.

  Red.

  Everything becomes red—like the summer sun that beamed on the Oaken meadow all those years ago. I remember one summer afternoon when my mother was in good spirits, we took a trip down to the river. Her bright, luscious red hair billowed in the wind. I remember chasing frogs along the banks of the river, getting mad when they would leap into the water and out of my grasp. I remember her laugher as she sat on the grass nearby, her legs outstretched, propped on her elbows, and her face angled to the sky to soak in the warm rays. I remember stomping to her side so I could pout and how she ran her fingers through my hair and said, “Oh, Aedan, my little ball of nova. You burn so brightly sometimes.” She said it fondly as if my anger amused her. She always called me her little ball of nova. Nova. A name she gave me without ever knowing. A name I chose for myself. It has meaning. A name contains power and truth.

  The memory burns and fills with red. I shove him to the side, tearing his half-torn cloak from his shoulders as he continues to cackle. I pull the red cloth over mother’s shoulders, returning her modesty.

  “Aedan,” my mother says.

  A half smile pulls at my lips when I say too softly, “I go by Nova now.” Recognition sweeps across her face as her eyes shimmer with glossy wetness.

  Veryn shouts something in vylorian, I don’t understand, but I also don’t care. The wyverns roar and screech in the smoke-filled sky.

  “We need to go,” my mother says, pulling at my arm, but I refuse to budge.

  “Not until this is finished. Not until Veryn is dead.”

  I reach far into the depths of my magic, farther than I’ve ever tried. I imagine it as a river, never-ending and all-consuming. The riosan prism whispers frantically, but I push it from my mind. Its magic still intertwines my own. I take ahold of it, my magic forcing more power from the sapphire until I wield it solely. The prism in my vest burns through the cloth, searing my skin.

  From the sky, far above the wyverns that squirm through the air, balls of light begin to form. They look like burning stars in the sky with black auras. They grow into novas, blinding spheres of blue and violet. Beams of twilight fire fall from the nova’s, burning so hot the wyverns near their radius instantly turn to ash and fade into the night. The beams cascade onto the earth, columns of white flames encircled by blues, blacks, and purples.

  I hear Veryn gasp below me and utter, “Moonfire.”

  The sky erupts in flame and ash as wyverns disintegrate as fast as they swarm from the city. It isn’t until I hear a familiar voice calling my name, do I realize I’ve lost control. My rage and pain wield me like a blade. It wreaks chaos across the earth. I turn to see Duck, standing beside my mother. His face is full of awe, fear, and terror. His fear moves me. It grounds me and allows me to regain control. I release my hold on my magic, allowing it to dissipate into the night sky—the pillars of twilight fade into darkness.

  Then, a burst of fire sears into my chest, scorching my skin beyond recognition. Veryn kneels before me with his nails digging into my flesh, fire pillaging into my body and consuming it. From above, the wyverns roar streams of red and blue flame and engulf the city in more fire. Everything burns.

  With a knee to my gut, I fall to the ground. Veryn grabs ahold of my mother, shoving her to the ground as a wyvern swoops down low enough for him to grab ahold of its s
caly talons. Another wyvern follows, sinking its crescent talons into my mother’s frail body, hoisting her into the sky and out of reach. I stumble forward, desperate the chase after, but the pain in my chest is overbearing, and I fall to the ground. The wyvern thrusts its wings until it disappears into the blackness of the sky, taking my mother with it. I pull at my magic, the swirls of violet and chaos. I yearn and plead and beg for it to take me into its void, wisping me so I can save her. But the wrenching twist of thorned vines on my arm and the faint glow of runes forces the void to slip from my grasp.

  I’ve failed her. Again.

  The rest of Veryn’s swarming army of wyverns and their riders move to the East, flanking Veryn’s escape. The torrent of flames still rampant across Andeil.

  Duck is above me, pulling my arm over his shoulder, holding me upright as he inspects the burns on my skin. His face is twisted. The sight of my body disturbs him, torments him.

  “I—I’m sure it l—looks worse than it feels,” I mutter. Duck nods, but I don’t think he agrees.

  “Cas?” I ask, my heart sinking as I finally realize that Duck and Cas ran into the city together with…Merida. The city that’s now engulfed in the inferno.

  “He’s safe,” Duck blurts out. “He’s on a ship in the harbor with Merida. We need to go.”

  I flinch at the thought of abandoning my mother again, but what can I do? I can’t wisp, let alone stand without Duck holding me up. She’s a survivor. I have to believe that. I have to believe that I’ll see her again, but this time I’ll find her.

  I wince at the pain the sears through my body, but I bite it back. I let the pain fuel the rage and feed into the strength of my legs. We run, though I stumble and fall every few paces until Duck braces more weight under my shoulder. We weave through burning streets where wooden structures fill with screams from trapped residents. I focus on the pounding beat of my heart, drowning out the grim shrieks of dying innocents.

  We reach the edge of the city that sits against the cliff edge of the seaside. Before we descend the final stairway leading to the harbor, Duck pauses. It takes a moment for me to look up to find the horrors before us. The entire harbor, the docks, and the vessels are destroyed. Scraps of wood and masts litter the harbor waters. The docks are nearly erased, and the water dances with blue flames against the wavering surface.

  “No,” I say aloud in disbelief. “No.”

  Duck is silent. I hate him for his silence.

  “Wh—where are they?” I ask, still clinging to my denial. “Where’s the ship?” I ask as if there were another harbor that Cas was safely hidden from the flaming chaos.

  Sister…and my sister, I remind myself.

  “Duck, where are they?” I scream as my voice cracks. “Where is he?”

  My cheeks flood with tears. Duck won’t look at me. Why won’t he look at me? I shake him, and yet he still doesn’t look at me. Instead, he stares at the burning harbor paralyzed.

  The roses on my arm shrivel into nothing. The vines ache as they decay into rigid twigs of dead thorns. The lively and vibrant tattoo looks like death and despair. The whisper in my mind thrashes, my rage now its rage—my pain, now its pain.

  My fingers trace over the black stone that hangs from my neck. A habit born out of seeking comfort, though nothing is comforting about the black sapphire: it’s a crude reminder of how much I failed. My rage returns as I rip the gemstone away, snapping the leather cord from my neck and tossing it to the ground. In an instant, my rage magnifies.

  I’ve lost her again. I’ve lost him. I’ve lost a sister I didn’t know I had. Oh, gods above, I didn’t know. Weeks…she was so close for weeks, and I never spoke to her.

  I fail everyone. That isn’t true, is it?

  I think of Ricon, who may be dead, disfigured at least since the last I saw him. I wonder if he thinks I abandoned him, just like I abandoned my mother. Even when I learned how to wisp, I didn’t bother to go looking for her. Too content with living in luxury from the spoils I took.

  Then I think of Cas. Oh, sweet Cas. He didn’t ask for any of this, yet I pulled him right into the middle of it. I should have taken him to the duchess before the fae assassin bound my magic, trapping us here.

  The rage that roars in my chest and engulfs me transforms into hatred. Hatred for the villagers that sneered and snickered at mother and me when I was a child. Hatred for the guilds who deemed me unworthy of brotherhood. Hatred for the fae assassin who started this. Hatred for Veryn, the coward, and his bastard kingdom of nightmares.

  Then I realize what I want…what I need. I need to get away from Orgard. Far away. Away from this place that’s done nothing but bring me agony and pain.

  I summon my magic in rage, only this time I call to the void. I let it crawl across my skin hues of twilight. Duck grips my shoulder. His voice is small and far away. I roar and sink my teeth into the flesh of his wrist, relishing the coppery tang of blood as it fills my mouth. I allow my magic to consume the flesh and pull it into my void with me. The piercing ring in my ears is crippling, and the wrenching pain that courses through my veins is blinding, but my rage and hatred are more powerful than the pain.

  The runic tattoos on my wrists burn as they emanate an ornate black aura. I feel my magic being wrenched from my grasp, but I am desperate, I am angry, I am chaos.

  Thump, thump.

  My heart strains in my chest as if someone grips their greedy fingers against its pulsing beat.

  Thump, thump.

  My lungs swell like the night I struggled in the river as a boy, desperate for a breath.

  Thump, thump.

  My eyes bulge and ache like crows digging their talons into my sockets.

  Thump, thump.

  I’m close to death. I can feel Eridh’s cold icy tendrils snake across my body, ready to take me to Undheim. Everyone I’ve ever loved has been taken from me unfairly, savagely.

  Thump, thump.

  My void sings to me, beckoning for me to release and allow it to carry me into the depths of its thrall.

  Thump, thump.

  With a final thought, I think of her words, echoing in memories—my little ball of nova.

  I will find you, I whisper in my mind, unable to believe their truth just yet. I’d almost rush into death if I thought there was a chance to see Cas in the afterlife.

  I release, and my void carries me away.

  Thump, thu—

  33

  Leluna

  “From henceforth, all fae and their half-kind are to be treated as enemies of Edonia and executed without trial. Those who defend or harbor the fae shall ensure the same fate. All magic wielders or those suspected of possessing arcana will stand trial before a jury and executioner to be executed if found guilty. Those who defend or harbor will suffer the same fate. As is commanded by your graceful rulers, King Gilderoy and Queen Morda of Edonia

  – official royal decree issued across the four boroughs 889 B.M.

  “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” a husky voice calls across The Tossed Coin, a stately tavern. I can’t help but preen at the lovely greeting as I cross the bar and jump into the arms of the tall, brawny black-bearded man. He pivots and swings me in a circle, a mug of ale still in his hand and sloshing about. With another final squeeze, he carefully lowers me to my feet. My hand cups his face as I recognize the scars and laugh lines and thick hairline.

  “Your beard is longer,” I notice. He chuckles.

  “Aye, that it is. You haven’t changed a bit ‘Luna,” He barks. He looks at me fondly, like he always does.

  “Listen, Joff. Is he here?” I ask. Joff’s fond smile falters slightly but not entirely.

  “Yeah, he sure is. You know where to find him. Hey, listen…I don’t know what the fuck happened over there in the capital, but I got your back, you hear me? If you think you made the right call, then I say you made the right call. Fuck everyone else, including the chain in command.”

  “C
areful, Joff—you sound almost jealous you missed all the action,” I flirt. He barks another laugh.

  I’ve known Joff for years. We’re the same in age and experience, though my kill count is much higher than his. I never fail to mention that fact, either. He joined the guild a year before I did, and we’ve been enjoyed each other ever since.

  “I better go and get the lecture over with,” I say, defeated.

  I’m not looking forward to facing the man in charge—the leader of the Order, who also happens to be my adoptive father. When I came to the guild, only eight years old, he’d taken me under his wing and even into his home. After a while, I hated living in a townhouse in Rhenstadt while the other guild acolytes had to bunk in the trainee barracks. I remember his thunderous laughter when I told him I wanted to live with the other trainees. He had a glint in his eye. I think at that moment, he was proud of me.

  He won’t be proud of me now.

  After I fled the capital palace, I painfully swam miles through ocean currents until I reached the harbor. I waited beneath the docks, hidden away as guards pilfered through every vessel in the harbor in search of me. During the twilight of dusk, I saw the faint ember glow from the capital palace and black smoke billowing into the sky.

  A cover-up, I realized. The queen probably set the entire cathedral ablaze to hide the evidence of what her fiendish monsters did—the carnage and bloodlust…and magic. Of course, she survived along with the king.

  I waited through the night until the faint traces of dawn slowly filtered into the horizon. My body was void of warmth and my magic so depleted I couldn’t even shift the color of my hair or eyes, the simplest of my glamours. I hoisted myself onto a ship by climbing its anchor chain. I hid below decks until the ship left the port and sailed north through Silver Pass until it reached Fondstadt, an island just a few miles off the continental coast.

  Now I’m here in the port town outside of the Fondstadt city limits climbing the stairs in an upscale tavern. I knew he’d be here. It’s in his taste. I reach the third floor and approach a set of double doors slowly. Two guards stationed outside with arms crossed against their chests. I can smell the machismo and smugness wafting from their egos. I recognize them instantly, Brig and Don. Brig is a spiny creep. I’ve never liked him and loathe working with him. Thankfully, being the guild commander’s adopted child, I managed to ensure I never had to work with him.