Eliza’s palms turned sweaty as she left the cover of the house; the streets were already alive and boisterous, and she found her grandfather leaning against their old BMW, parked on the street and covered in dust.
“What’s going on?” she asked, slipping into the passenger seat as her grandfather rounded the front of the car. When he finally started the engine, Eliza clicked her seatbelt into place and turned to him. She didn’t need to mention the strange rise in Cadiran magic—his worry was written clearly in the lines of his face.
With his brow furrowed in concentration, Eliza could clearly see his age written across his face; from the deep lines of his forehead, to the paleness of his lips, sometimes she forgot that her grandfather was hundreds of years old—and not the seventy-five he pretended to be.
He did not speak straight away, and instead drove for two miles before saying, “A breach in the warding, nothing too serious yet. But it is a good learning opportunity for you.”
Eliza’s heart skipped a beat in excitement; rarely did she get to see the wards that acted as the barrier between her world and Cadira. Keepers like her grandfather were spread all over the mortal world, protecting and caring for the portals, taking positions that would allow them to serve at all times. Her whole life, Eliza thought she was learning to take her grandfather’s place or be his partner on the other side of the portal. There were always two Keepers standing guard, one on either side, and she’d hoped to be next.
She didn’t bother trying to hide her excitement as she asked, “Am I going to handle this breech on my own?”
Davis gave her a silent nod, sparing her a single, unreadable look. For the remainder of the car ride, they spoke only to ask and answer questions; How does one close a breach? he’d asked, and she had answered dutifully, by winding the threads of our worlds separately, and as one, to create a wall rather than a doorway.
Finally, they drew closer to the decrepit dirt track that lead to the small, warded temple where the barrier of Cadira was safely hidden. “Did you get a sense of what was trying to get through?” she asked.
Davis glanced at her, face shadowed, but turned back to the road a moment later as if her question was something as simple as ‘How is the weather?’ When he refused to reply, she hunkered down in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought this was supposed to be a learning point.”
Her grandfather reached out and patted her leg. “Whatever is trying to get through will be easy enough for you to handle.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.
He sighed, retracting his hand. “I know. Perhaps you should feel for it yourself?”
This is progress, she thought, closing her eyes. Eliza reached for the threads of magic that bound the lands together. He trusts me enough with the wards.
As her magic touched those threads of power, the car slowly pulled to a stop in the humid marshlands that made up the Louisiana bayou, outside of what looked like a crumbling hunting cabin. Rotten wood made up the exterior, covered in moss and vines that crept over fallen trees and large stones that were piled up to one side. Darkness wound through the light like smoke around stars, greeting her with force. She recoiled and opened her eyes with a shudder.
A frown drew across her brows as Eliza craned her neck to get a better look inside of the cabin, but from what she could tell—based on the warding put in place and maintained by her grandfather—the interior was still shrouded in darkness, which meant that whatever was trying to get through hadn’t broken past the gates yet.
Mud squelched beneath the heels of her boots as she stepped out of the car. A shiver danced up the length of her spine, like a warning shot being fired, and carefully, Eliza looked around. Part of her expected to see the unsettling vision of a lost spirit, one who wandered the bayou searching for their grave or their murderer.
Another part of her searched for gold eyes and a silver sword.
She tried to lock that part of her away before it could do any more damage to her already precarious psyche.
The old cabin-façade did not have a front door. When Davis waved his hand, the stacked boulders shimmered to reveal the interior of the secluded, Cadiran temple: white marble walls with veins of gold and silver running through the stone. In the very centre was a pillar that reached Eliza’s waist. It held a golden bowl, holding a flame that did not extinguish.
And across from the entrance was a wall made entirely of glass.
Eliza could not see her reflection in the glass; only shadows and swirling figures—a darkness so deep it never ended. She knew the process of opening the gateway like she knew her times tables, and although the wards across from her enchanted her, she knew the risks in opening it.
Something flung itself against the glass on the other side, rebounding off the warding. Then another, its soft flesh making a wet sound as it slid down the clouded glass.
She flinched as a third body hit the warding. “What the hell is going on?”
Davis merely shook his head and crossed his arms as a fourth—fifth, sixth, seventh—thing hit the wards. He merely blinked, as if he had seen it all before. “Find a way to strengthen the wards and stop whatever attack is happening beyond. Where do you start?”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a step forward, only to hesitate. “Uh…” She bit her lip, surveying the space; the longer the barrier was physically assaulted, the greater they risked permanent damage. “Identify the attacker?”
Davis shook his head, arms crossed. “You’re jumping ahead. Step one, Elizabeth. How can you identify what you cannot see?”
She swore under her breath and squared her shoulders. “Clear the glass. Then identify.”
“Correct.”
A tingle ran up the length of her arm, starting at her fingertips as she summoned a handful of magic; it spread over her, encasing her like a second skin. Eliza focused on that magic as it swept through her. She envisioned the spell that would reveal what waited behind the mirror.
What waited in Cadira.
Light flared before her eyes, repelling the shadows that dwelled inside the mirror. As the light danced in the reflection, the shadows receded to reveal the Cadiran temple in ruins.
The ancient fire that never extinguished had been pushed to the marble ground, the bowl it resided in snuffing the flame. Standing in the shadows, Eliza could barely make out the form of a person, crouched over a bloody mess of white robes and tangled black hair.
There was a pause in movement as the creatures—demons, Eliza realised with a sickening thought—stopped to watch her and Davis through the now clear glass. They were small, spindly creatures that were enslaved to a master, and had no souls of their own. But they weren’t inherently evil. They drew together at the sight of her and Davis, their black, soulless eyes on her, then on each other. One turned its head to a figure in the back. They’re mindless, she thought, but watching them huddle together with reaching claws, she didn’t feel confident in her readings.
“If you look carefully,” Davis murmured, pointing to the robes, “you can see their master crouching over the Keeper.”
Eliza had noticed it and had tried to look away just as quickly. As if sensing their attention, the Demon Master stood, a hood covering their face. Their fingers twitched, covered in blood.
She swallowed thickly and tapered down on the magic that swelled in response to the threat. A sliver of shadow wavered at the feet of the fallen Keeper. Its spirit clung to the flesh, even though it had been expelled. Death had truly taken the Keeper if she was able to see the spirit finally form.
Slowly, as the spirit came into focus, the Demon Master took a step forward, towards the gateway. In a rush, the demons threw themselves at the mirror. Eliza could almost feel their bodies slam against the ward, slowly but surely disturbing the inner threads of the enchantment.
Davis stepped closer to her, and from him she could feel the crackling of his magic. Hers rose in response, a white light spread
ing across her fingers.
“This isn’t what you had in mind, was it?” she asked. Her grandfather shook his head. As another wave of demons threw themselves into the wards, Eliza could have sworn she heard a crack in the foundations. Something inside of her yawned open, and without thinking, she slammed a burst of white energy straight into the middle of the mirror.
Veins of white light splintered across the warding, forming a spider web of interlocking tendrils. Even as she threw her magic into stabilising the wards, she could not stop the next wave of demons from throwing themselves into the glass—could not stop the shuddering explosion of dark, oozing magic that hit the initial crack.
Behind the Demon Master, the dark tendril of shadow came into focus. Confusion and anger crossed the Keeper’s features as they gazed down at their fallen body, then at the wards and the demons that attempted to cross.
Only once before had Eliza tried to interact with spirits through magic rather than speech. It hadn’t worked quite to her expectations, but she focused on the spirit anyway. Since she could not risk going across the border, she could lend her magic to someone on the other side.
Sucking in a breath, Eliza focused on her power and sent a wave towards the spirit. Despite knowing how futile it was, Eliza sent a tendril of magic through the barrier. That kind of magic required a different side of her. But she focused, sending the spirit stability in sharp waves. If he could become solid enough, surely, he would be able to fight back.
At her side, Davis began chanting; his voice rang loudly in the temple, the words a slew of ancient spells in a dialect Eliza could not understand. But as his voice grew stronger, and the magic around him became greater, Eliza fought the hesitation within her and completely gave herself over to the spirit trapped on the other side of the mirror.
Eliza’s gaze was drawn to the Demon Master, to the way he continued to hold control over his minions. His mouth never moved once, but his eyes… if she could draw his attention, she could perhaps tamper with his control.
Pain sliced through her head, but Eliza focused on the spirit who dragged himself through the ruined temple. Demons bit at him, unaware that he was not entirely real flesh, but she could see the hesitation and fear in his face. Faster, she thought, grunting at the exertion, go faster.
“I can’t keep going,” she said through gritted teeth. Her heart raced, and black dots danced across the edges of her vision. More power. She threw herself into a rhythm of give-and-take, the pulse of magic swaying between her and the spirit.
Davis entwined another spell into his chanting, casting a wave of healing power towards the wards. The strength of his spells sent a shiver down her spine, but it did not stop the agonising thrum inside her skull as she gave her magic to the Keeper.
She watched in fascination as the spirit took hold, almost like a half-assed illusion cast by a Warlock in Cadira. The edges of the Keeper’s spirit shimmered, and the light that shot through the ward speared through his body. A dull ring started in her ears as she watched, not aware of anything else, drawn only to what her forbidden magic could do.
But it was enough of a distraction to make the Demon Master blink. His concentration lost, the demons scattered, no longer content on attacking the ward.
The moment wasn’t wasted; before Eliza could suck in her next agonising breath, blood spurted from the Demon Master’s mouth. The black-clad man crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood, limbs twitching before going still.
Eliza dropped her magic, withdrawing from the spirit of the Keeper. She took a shaky step back, away from the now strengthening wards. The demons disintegrated. Back to dust and dirt, the creatures collapsed on themselves, and blew away like ash in the wind.
Davis’s chanting came to a sudden halt. Eliza blinked in confusion, collapsing to her knees. In the shadows across from her, she thought she’d seen a figure—a man in armour—but when she blinked it was gone.
Slowly, the wards healed, light knitting together to reform the wall between them and Cadira. As it re-sealed, the shadows that separated them grew darker and denser, until she could no longer see the bodies of the Demon Master and the blood of the Keeper. Until she could see only shadows.
“Eliza?” Hands gripped her arms, and it took her a moment to gather herself enough to climb to her feet. “Are you alright?” her grandfather asked, his voice echoing in her ears.
Brushing the knees of her jeans, she blinked several times at the now secured gateway. “Yeah,” she said absentmindedly, nodding shallowly. “Fine. Did you see who did that?”
Davis, oddly quiet, patted her back stiffly. “Who did what?” His eyes darkened from silver to a deep grey. But she caught the recognition in his voice, the omission of truth.
She looked back to the wards, now fully restored. “Killed the Demon Master.” It hadn’t been the Keeper—Eliza wasn’t powerful enough for that. There had been someone else inside the temple. Of that, she was sure.
Her grandfather kept his hand on her shoulder and slowly guided her back through the stone formation, leaving behind the snippet of Cadira and entering the Louisiana bayou once more. Home, she thought, squinting up at the pale-yellow sun through the canopy of trees. This is home. Not demons and death and masked killers. Home was the smell of wet leaves and the loud jazz music down the road from her house and Bourbon street and tourists.
As she slid into the car, Eliza couldn’t help but think over the events of the morning—of the sudden death of the Demon Master and the killer who had disappeared before they could see him. How did her grandfather not catch that?
He did. He saw the person who killed the Demon Master. So why wasn’t he telling her?
She spared him an odd look from the corner of her eye. “Why do you think there was an attack today?” she asked finally. His pale lips were pursed, but she saw the shine in his eyes. “Do you think—?”
Davis stopped her with a quick look. “That attack had nothing to do with you.”
Why are you keeping secrets? she wanted to ask.
Even as he said it, she couldn’t help but doubt his words. “So, you think it didn’t have anything to do with the king sending for me?” Was it arrogant to think like that? Eliza couldn’t help but add up the mysterious occurrences from the last couple of days: the appearance of a Faery Knight and the gold-eyed raven, the ominous letter from the king, and now the attack on the wards by a Demon Master.
Surely, it hadn’t all been a coincidence.
Her grandfather said nothing more about it as they left the bayou and headed back towards the city, but she thought about it up until she got home.
Something wasn’t right, and she was determined to find out why.
4
AZULA
DEMON MASTERS.
Eliza crossed her legs beneath her as she flicked through the pages of her book. Dim afternoon light filtered through the blinds in their small library, illuminating the thin pages of the old book perched in her lap. White paint flaked from her hands from where she’d been trying to paint one of the walls in the spare bedroom. But rather than helping her keep her mind off the events of the morning, it had only given her ample time to reflect on the attack and her own magic, both of which troubled her deeply. Especially with the arrival of the king’s letter and the appearance of the raven and the Fae Knight days before.
The book in her lap held no noteworthy answers to her plethora of questions, but she had doubted it would. Demon Masters were rare in modern Cadira; they were born of a type of Blood Magic that was reserved only to the Blood Witches.
Closing the book, she sat back and huffed a breath. No information. Why am I not surprised? Without answers, she was forced to think about the king’s message.
And thinking about the king’s message would surely send her anxiety over the edge.
Releasing a breath, Eliza cast her eyes towards the darkening world beyond the window. A shadow darted across her vision, inky black wings flapping, the sound echoing inside her head.
The raven appeared at the open door and danced anxiously from foot to foot. Eliza sucked in a breath, her magic rising inside her. The raven cawed, its gold eyes meeting hers, as if telling her to follow.
Curiosity won out over worry. Standing, Eliza made it to the doorway as the raven took flight, leaving the floor and guiding her towards the second level, before disappearing.
Frowning, Eliza rushed up the stairs until she could see the bird again. It snapped its beak at her from the doorway of her bedroom, impatient, as if it expected her to understand what it wanted.
Eliza shook her head and entered.
“What…” She turned in a slow circle, searching her room for any sign of the raven.
But it was gone.
An eerie shiver danced down her spine as her gaze landed on a black feather resting atop an aged leather book.
Curiosity took a back seat as she hesitated by the doorway. She looked back down the hall for any sign of the missing bird.
She nervously closed her door and flicked the lock behind her. As if that would be enough to stop the powerful magic that surrounded the creature.
Floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she stepped up to the side of her bed. She reached for the feather almost without thinking and blinked in surprise when it turned to ash under her touch.
Weird. Eliza pursed her lips and waved a hand over the ash. It disappeared as magic tingled at the tips of her fingers. Ash clung to her fingers, though, from where she had touched the feather. It echoed with old magic, unfamiliar to her.
Shaking her head, Eliza picked up the book and read the gold lettering that danced across the cover: The Goddess Azula & A History of Cadira.
This is a distraction, she thought, to keep my mind off the king and his summoning.
A distraction that seemed almost like a blessing in disguise, thanks to the Changed One.
Eliza moved towards her desk and sat, tucking her feet beneath her. The book was heavy in her hands, though looked roughly the size of a common paperback. However, when she finally flipped it open, she realised it wasn’t a common history book usually kept in her grandfather’s library.
The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1) Page 4