The words woke me in the pitch black of night.
It took a moment to register where I was, why I'd awoken. Then it all came rushing back. We'd made camp on top of Mount Victoria. Away from the recovering city, but close enough to be reminded of what we'd overcome. Aktor confirming there was indeed hope, having made contact earlier through Fire with a friend in Pyrkagia, letting us know my balancing act, the storm-filled Stoicheio blast, had reached at least Auckland. Probably further afield as well. Despite that hope, though, we all knew there was more to come. Genesis was, after all, just the beginning.
Dance, Aether.
I sat bolt upright in our little tent, feeling the chill air coast over my bare arms, and shook my head trying to dislodge the panic that had taken root inside.
"What is it?" Theo murmured, eyes blinking up at me, from our shared sleeping bag, as he came fully awake.
Come dance.
Nero. Water was calling me, but I knew it hadn't Awakened. And I was sure, somehow, that the voice was not actually the Element itself. But the same voice that had called to me earlier.
Come, Aether.
I thought, perhaps, that it might have been a variation of Aetheros, but the longer it went on and with the absence of stars in my mind, I knew the god had retreated again, letting the cards fall where they may. I turned and looked down at Theo. Knowing everything was about to change.
We'd just spent a celebratory night with our friends in front of a fire. Followed by a glorious few hours in each others' arms. Unable to deny the longing we had for each other, that had never diminished, only grown stronger. Become more in spite of the hurdles, despite the agony along the way. I'd welcomed his arms and his body around me, over me, inside me, as he'd made love to me so gently, so reverently, so beautifully.
A celebration of life. Of survival. Of winning this battle and enjoying the moment before we went on to fight the rest of the war.
And as we'd both come together, Pyrkagia dancing across our feverish flesh, our delicious moans swallowed by our hungry lips and tongues, our tingling bodies gliding against each other, sated and complete, I'd known, no matter what, I was not alone anymore.
Battered and bruised, but not broken. Frightened and sorrowful, but not without hope. Theo was my guiding golden light amongst a dark world that had been beaten most mercilessly, and still had more to come.
Aether.
And the more to come had just arrived.
"Someone's here," I whispered, leaving blissful memories where they could be treasured but never forgotten. I watched the sleep leave his beautiful eyes on my words, then he immediately reached for my sweatshirt and handed it to me.
"Any idea who?" he asked, as we both donned more appropriate outdoor clothing.
I shook my head. Unsure if my guess was right or not.
We climbed out of our two-person tent, emerging into a moon bright night strangely devoid of stars, immediately turning our attention to what awaited. The owner of that tantalising voice.
A figure stood looking out over what was left of Wellington city. His back to us, arms clasped casually behind him, attention riveted on the decimation that lay below.
How the hell had this man made it to the top of Mount Victoria? He had to be related to the Nero, what with that voice, but where had he come from? Had he always been here in Wellington and we'd just not known?
I started walking toward him, drawn inexplicably to the stranger who continued to keep his back to us, as though we simply posed no threat at all. I felt Theo fall into place beside me, shoulder to shoulder, his body rigid with distrust, but my eyes were all for the shadowed figure.
The man did not look toward us, just kept his steady gaze over the destruction below. He had a strong jawline, stubble smattering along high cheeks, a nose that hinted at his Greek ancestry. Deep auburn hair that was cut short and surprisingly modern, and skin the colour of rich clotted cream, with eyes that shone ice blue, lighting up the sky.
He was magnificent, and power rolled off him in gentle, soothing waves. Stroking my arms absently, reminding me of the seaweed that played beneath the ocean, dancing with me within its arms.
Definitely a Nero.
"Who are you?" Theo demanded. I heard stirring in one of the tents at his raised voice. I couldn't look to see whose, my eyes wouldn't leave the strange man.
I was a little disconcerted that he elicited that type of response. As though he was a tantalising mystery I just had to solve. No matter what I tried, I couldn't look away. And then he spoke and reached right inside me and I knew I was trapped.
You know who I am, the voice, his voice, replied in my head, and looking at the surprise on Theo's, it had also resounded in his.
"You're a Nero," I surmised, voicing my earlier thought.
Not just any Nero, he offered, still whispering warmly inside our minds.
"A prince?" I asked, and Theo sucked in a breath of air, moving forward to block me. Placing himself between me and the man.
"The Nero Rigas," he hissed and the man smiled, finally turning to look at us both.
"Yes, Prince of Pyrkagia. I am their King." He turned his stunning frost blue eyes to me. "And I have come a long way to find you, Miss Eden."
"Why?" I blurted, as Theo growled low in the back of his throat.
The King's smile broadened, humour at Theo's reaction evident in his extraordinary eyes. "You are Aether," he said, not bothering to address Theo anymore.
"What do you know of Aether?" I demanded.
"I know, Miss Eden, that without Nero you will not succeed."
"It will happen," Theo pointed out and I nodded agreement. My Awakenings always happened, sooner or later.
"But not Nero," he smoothly replied, eyes still on me.
I wasn't sure what to make of this man. He was omnipotent, that was obvious. Beautiful and regal, just like Theo. But there was something hidden behind that mesmerising ice blue in his eyes. I couldn't name it, but I was wary of it.
"It will happen," I repeated Theo's words, refusing to show any fear before this stranger.
His smile turned intrigued, with a dash of wicked. I racked my brains for what Theo had told me of the Nero. Unlike the earthy Gi or the playful Pyrkagia or the strange Aeras, the Nero were considered welcoming, like a warm bath, or a spring shower.
I wasn't sure this man was welcoming me. I wasn't sure what he was doing.
"Did you not feel Nero attempt to reach you?" he enquired pleasantly. "When you swam with its children?"
Swam with its children? I guess he meant the crustaceans and sea creatures that mournfully called beneath the waves. And, of course, the seaweed that stroked tantalising fingers all over my skin.
"It's too soon," I advised, the only thing I could think of to say.
Because I had felt it. The moment too personal, too invasive to be anything other than that. Every Genesis episode up until then had barely touched me, I'd been protected in a bubble and left quite safe. But Water, when it had struck, simply pulled me, tugged me, called me to it. And I'd been unable to turn away. Like an Awakening.
"Child," he said, voice gentle, and somehow his use of the term "child" made Theo almost relax. "You missed your Awakening. You lost your chance. Aether you may be, but without Nero you will not succeed."
The repetition of those last words felt ominous. And a little too real. My disquiet aided by the fact that Theo swore softly in Greek.
Oh dear freaking God, Theo agreed with this man.
"I tried," the King went on. "I called to you, I invited you to dance. But you did not accept my invitation."
"How did you do that?" I queried, thinking he shouldn't have had access to his Stoicheio right then, when the rest of the Ekmetalleftis did not.
"I had assistance," he murmured, his eyes boring into mine. "An old friend, you could say."
"Who?" I pushed, unsure if I could trust a word of what this mesmerising man was saying.
"A friend who taught me to believe," was his reply, and I fel
t myself sway.
Theo steadied me as the King watched on, a type of understanding on his face which made his features soften, from the austere brilliance he'd displayed, to something almost human.
But he was not human. Neither was I.
And neither was my grandfather, an Alchemist who would have known how to protect his Stoicheio from Genesis and could have shown this King as well.
"What do you want?" I whispered.
"What your grandfather wants," he whispered back.
"Casey," Theo warned quietly beside me.
I ignored him, this was too important. I struggled to remember what exactly Gramps wanted. In the end he was against the Alchemists, imprisoned in CERN, trying his best to keep me out of their clutches. Did that mean I could trust this Nero Rigas?
"What do you want with me?" I pressed further. His presence here was not just to warn me, to point out a failing in the series of Awakenings I'd had. He wanted something more. Why else risk facing Theo, a Scout leader and prince of Pyrkagia? I had a feeling the Nero King knew Theo would be here. He'd not shown an ounce of surprise at his presence or his behaviour. Only mild humour and what appeared unending tolerance.
"To help you, Miss Eden," the King offered. "To call forth your Nero before it is too late."
"How?" I asked, dreading the answer, and conversely already knowing we'd have to accept whatever help this man could give.
Wellington lay destroyed beneath us. Auckland, my home, just the same. The world lay in tatters, the Elements still imbalanced, and I'd known, dear freaking God, I had known, that I was missing something. Unfulfilled. Incomplete. Not yet done.
How could I fight this if I wasn't a full Aether? How could Quintessence come to me, if I was missing Nero?
The answer was simple. One would not come until the other was already Awake.
The Nero King held out his elegant hand to me in invitation, palm up and open, ice blue shining kindly from his eyes. Theo started to growl again.
I flicked a glance up at my Thisavros' face; hardened Athanatos mask in place. But underlying it all was a fear so great I felt it. Visceral. Real.
"Theo?" I asked uncertainly, turning fully to face him.
"Now or never, Miss Eden," the Rigas urged.
We both ignored him as Theo pulled me further away to talk. I could see the calculation in his eyes now, the politician working through the information and determining what needed to be done. Part of me had already decided this was an avenue we had to pursue.
And part of me was so frightened Theo would agree. Where would that lead us?
Out of the corner of my eye I noted Nico and Aktor watching from beside the remains of our camp fire. Two men who had sworn allegiance to me. Having them present improved my mood. How bad could this get with three powerful Pyrkagia watching?
I wondered where Mark was. Still asleep? Maybe he knew this man if Gramps did. I wanted to ask him, but time was not on our side. And calling out to him in the thick air that chilled our bodies seemed harder to do than it should have. So much was happening. So quickly. I felt the ground shift beneath my feet and my body begin to fall.
"As much as it pains me," Theo whispered, interrupting my disjointed and turbulent thoughts. "I think he may be telling the truth. But Casey, you cannot trust him. He is an Athanatos. A powerful Ekmetalleftis." He closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath of air. "We go together," he suddenly advised, making my heart clench and my eyes sting with tears. "You need your Nero Awakening," he added. "Without it," he looked over my shoulder at the death and destruction Genesis had wrought, then golden hued eyes swept back down to meet mine, "this has all been for naught."
He was right. I had to take the chance that the Nero Rigas spoke the truth. Because not to trust could mean the end of the world. Even if Genesis was over, I knew there was more to come.
I nodded and opened my mouth to say something, when the King began to glow an ethereal ice blue, his large body vibrating slightly, ozone and fresh sea breezes on the air.
"My borrowed power is waning," he called towards us. "Without me, you will never find the Nero Pyrgos."
"Where is it?" Theo asked, no doubt hoping to catch the Rigas off guard, but I was sure the King wouldn't answer.
He surprised me, which was saying something, because right now I was drowning in shock.
"Ever heard of Atlantis?" he asked, a playful smile on his face. Theo let out a snort of incredulity. Which made me think the walls between these two men were starting to tentatively come down. It gave me hope that this next step was indeed right.
And then the ice blue glow in the King's eyes turned bright white, Aeras lightning brightening the night sky.
"Come dance, Aether," he said in a tantalising invitation that seemed to tug at something deeply rooted inside.
Dance with me. The words reached inside my mind again, tempting me further. Pulling. Tugging. Teasing.
Tantalisingly there.
I moved toward him, Theo slipping his hand inside mine. Solidarity.
I was not alone.
My eyes came up to the golden glow in his just as we reached the Rigas. The Nero's hand stretched out and I took it. Holding a King on one side and a Prince on the other.
Balance.
Then the dark night turned instantly bright white, blinding me as lightning struck. Ozone filled the air, crackling drowned out all other sound as my feet left the sodden ground and my body lifted up into nothing and my back bowed as electricity coursed through my veins.
I tried to cry out, but no sound escaped my lips. I tried to see something, anything, but all around us was bright white and nothing else. I could feel Theo's hand still, it gave me immeasurable comfort. I let a breath of air out, the sizzle of lightning stinging my flesh, the static of electricity surrounding me.
And then felt my hand slip free of Theo's.
No!
The King held on tighter, almost crushing my fingers in his. Denying me any escape.
As voices invaded the crackling, rising and falling over the hiss and sizzle of electricity. Aktor. Nico. Even Mark and Isadora. Screaming. Yelling, trying to get to me.
I couldn't see them. There was only white. So bright, blinding, all consuming. And I knew what was happening, even as I couldn't do a thing to stop it: My friends racing to reach me where I no longer fully existed anymore.
Part of me already gone, on the wind, in the blaze of an electrical arc, across the waves, far from home.
Part of me still hearing them. Fighting a losing battle. One of many more we would undoubtedly face. But I'd thought we'd at least be together when we faced them. A wish that was obviously not to be.
"Never two, always one. Alone Aether must face the sum." The Aeras shaman's voice sounded out in the memories of my mind. Reminding me. Chiding me.
I was destined to be alone.
And then my heart stalled, as the world continued to blaze white, and I heard in amongst the cacophony of buzzes and hisses, desperate voices and heartfelt cries, Theo frantically, achingly, yelling out, "Casey!"
And I knew I was alone.
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Find out more about Nicola Claire books at:
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Read on for an interview with Nicola Claire.
Get to know the author and what makes her tick...
Where did you grow up, and how did this influence your writing?
I'm a Kiwi, through and through. I had the wonderful luck of growing up in the North Island of New Zealand, or "The Land Of The Long White Cloud", (the Māori call it Aotearoa). I've lived up North, down South, and in the "Big Smoke" Auckland City,
all of which feature at some point in my stories.
Five years were spent as a Paramedic in Auckland, so I know that city pretty well. From its spectacular beauty, to its hidden secrets, I've probably caught a glimpse of it all. And that's why I choose Auckland as the setting for most of my books. Even though I've moved on, the City Of Sails managed to give me lasting memories of a vibrant, lively, young and slightly gritty place - what more could you want for the backdrop of a good novel?
Mixed with my time living overseas in England and Germany when I was young, New Zealand has shaped me, moulded me, into the writer I am today. We Kiwis have a sense of humour, are loyal to a fault, are passionate about our country, and are pretty down to earth kinds of folks. I hope that some of that abiding love comes through in the worlds I've created in Auckland, New Zealand in all of my books.
When did you first start writing?
The first memory I have of writing a "book" was in Primary (or Elementary) School. I was so proud of that story about a naughty little monkey and still have the stapled together booklet hidden away somewhere. Throughout school I wrote countless little tales, allowing my imagination to run free from time to time, but it wasn't until after I'd had children, lived life a little, seen a bit of the world, that I felt ready to really let those creative juices flow.
My first attempt at an adult full length novel was a science fiction story about aliens. Yeah, I know, a rather big undertaking. Suffice it to say, that story will never see the light of day. But I had the bug, I wanted to get some of those fantasies swirling around inside my head out. Even if it was just for me.
So I read, and read, and read some more. I analysed what genre I liked best, and what exactly it was I liked about it. Then I worked out what others liked about that genre too. At some point it all fell together and the first four books of the Kindred Series came to mind. I just started tapping away on the keyboard one morning and didn't stop for four or five months.
All the practice runs from when I was just a little kid, throughout all the daydreaming fantasy stories I'd played out in my mind, to my failed - but highly constructive - attempt at Science Fiction, paid off. I found my writing voice and haven't looked back since.
The Chilling Change Of Air (Elemental Awakening, Book 3) Page 26