So Dark the Night

by Elle Cross

  Table of Contents

  Part 2: Nightfall

  Part Three: Dead Of Night

  Chapter Twenty: Vagari Stronghold

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Text Copyright © 2018

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by:

  Crimson Phoenix Creations

  Formatted & Edited by:

  EAL Editing Services

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements

  Book Description

  Glossary of Terms

  A Fairy Tale

  Part 1: The Gloaming

  Chapter One: Once Upon A Time

  Chapter Two: In the Company of Ghosts

  Chapter Three: A Night With No Stars

  Chapter Four: Bad Juju

  Chapter Five: A Pair of Hunters

  Chapter Six: All Things Have Become New

  Chapter Seven: Dead And Gone

  Chapter Eight: The Things We Fear The Most

  Chapter Nine: Of Princes And Lords

  Chapter Ten: Dinner And A Show

  Chapter Eleven: Whispers In The Dark

  Part 2: Nightfall

  Chapter Twelve: Crossroads

  Chapter Thirteen: In Dreams Awake

  Chapter Fourteen: Counting Stars

  Chapter Fifteen: The Ties That Bind

  Chapter Sixteen: The Gathering Dark

  Chapter Seventeen: A Clash of Princes

  Chapter Eighteen: Taken

  Chapter Nineteen: Downtown

  Part Three: Dead Of Night

  Chapter Twenty: Vagari Stronghold

  Chapter Twenty-one: The Tangled Webs

  Chapter Twenty-two: The Vagari Court

  Chapter Twenty-three: The Aftermath

  Chapter Twenty-four: Primus

  Chapter Twenty-five: The White Room

  Chapter Twenty-six: Game’s Afoot

  Chapter Twenty-seven: River Stx

  Chapter Twenty-eight: Labyrinth House

  Chapter Twenty-nine: Battle Cry

  Chapter Thirty: Killing Circle

  Chapter Thirty-one: All The Way Down

  Chapter Thirty-two: High Rise

  Chapter Thirty-three: I Rise

  Chapter Epilogue: Family Game Night

  Coming Soon: So Bright The DawN

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  About the AuthoR

  Books by Elle Cross

  WRITERS WALK THEIR OWN journey. Still, I am forever grateful that I have had a supportive group who have been willing to walk a ways with me along my publishing path.

  My Litterbox Writers who have always believed in my ability to achieve my goals.

  The Indie Pub/RH/ author community for your kind words, encouragement, and mutual support while I was in the writing cave/sprint room. Your presence in my life has pushed me to get "just one more word" until my story reached "The End."

  My cover designer, Katrina, and editor, Elizabeth, for giving my story its shiny wrapping and polished prose.

  My beta reader team for giving me feedback on my story—no matter how small. Special recognition and glitter to Andrea B, Ann H, Ash B, Ashleigh J, Danielle S, Shelbi G, and Tiffany L for going above and beyond in providing ongoing beta reader feedback and support when I truly needed it. Thank you for letting me destroy your messenger notifications. Oh, and because you know I'm silly: "To Ash, the greatest person alive. You know which one." ;)

  Special shout out to my two PAs, Meagan Cannon West, Queen BAMF, and Chelsea Clemmons Moye, Queen of Dark Magic Mojo, for taking care of so many behind the scenes things so that my pre-launch anxiety would be more manageable.

  Endless gratitude goes to: Sarah Bale for always being a sounding board, beta reader, cheer squad, and supportive friend. Vivienne Hart for reading through my endless drafts of word vomit and wandering tenses, and patiently addressing and offering feedback on whatever I randomly text her. Yumoyori Wilson for being my sprint room's social ambassador. Thanks for always being down to sprint, your words of wisdom, and just being inspiring. When you say, "You got this," I believe you.

  Special shout out to my hubs, my love and partner-in-crime, for making sure I always have coffee, while also encouraging me to sleep.

  And just like the moon, you shined in times of darkness… C.W.

  So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. –TS Eliot

  ONCE UPON A TIME, I was the daughter of the Queen of Nightmares. Living in her court of darkness, any day that no one tried to kill me was a good day. I didn't have many good days...

  When Karina agrees to help the ghost of a murdered Oracle uncover a plot that could unravel the fabric of reality, she finds herself caught in the crossfire between mercenaries and her ex-bodyguards.

  Now she needs to reclaim the birthright and power she abandoned before she loses everything and everyone she loves

  ***For mature audiences, 18+ years old. This is a paranormal romance reverse harem series with steamy sex scenes and multiple happily-ever-afters.***

  Queen: a female strong enough to protect her dominion. Most Queens are marked with power by the Oracles. Her power resonates within potential courtiers whom she can choose to claim for her court. The strongest bonds are with her Inner Circle.

  Prince: a strong male with significant ability to wield power. He usually has one main power that he calls on that overshadows any secondary powers he has to call. When a Prince bonds with a Queen, he will bid to become her Primus, the first among her Inner Circle and guard.

  Lord: a male marked with power. He usually has two, one for each hand as a focus.

  Oracles: a female from a god-blessed line that speaks prophecy. When three or more speak as one, they speak the collective voice of The Oracle, prophecies that will weave itself into the fabric of the universe.

  Shades: a term used by the Fold to refer to mortal Humans. They see Humans as closer to death or living a half-life since they do not contain power nor the ability to wield power.

  Remnant Gods: once worshiped as gods by the mortal Humans. A millennia ago, most gods chose to leave the Shadow Realm—what they refer to as Enyo—to be able to wield their powers unrestrained in their various realms.

  Power Broker: a Remnant God who manages the transfer of power and other energetic currency to ensure the strength of the veils between realms. There are few stationed throughout the Shadow Realm, the most prominent being the Power Broker of Manhattan.

  The Fold: a pocket realm of lasting darkness where magic, imagination, dreams, and longing—and the monsters that thrive on them—dwell. It exists on the other side of the veil hidden from mortal Humans.

  The Shadow Realm: neutral territory governed by Power Brokers who are Remnant Gods that ensure power is balanced to protect the integrity of the veils. Mortal Humans mostly live their lives in the Shadow Realm. Note: the Remnant Gods refer to this territory as Enyo.

  Court: a Queen’s dominion, usually centered around one family or House. She draws her power from her Court, and she in turn protects and empowers them. More powerful Queens have multiple Houses that yield to her sovereignty.

  House: a family line, including its servants and property. A strong enough H
ouse can become a court if a Queen rises to claim it.

  The Fade: deification of the process of death.

  Fade/Faded/Fading: true death to those who live in the Fold.

  ONCE UPON A TIME, in the hidden realm of night time and dark magic known only as the Fold, the Queen of Nightmares and Death gave birth to a second daughter—a Brightling.

  The Queen did not know what to do with such a child. One that was golden and warm. One that radiated love and peace. But the Queen loved her child, and though she thrived on war and terror, she raised her Brightling with as much love as she was capable of giving.

  And so the Brightling grew up in her mother's Nightmare Court. The only one to shiver in the cold dark of night. The only one who longed for the light of the moon that only waxed full once a month. The only one with golden skin when others were shades of moonlight or dusk. The only one who was not marked with blessed tattoos that showed her power.

  The Queen did her best to keep the Brightling warm and safe, but that only made the Brightling a target.

  The courtiers resented her honored place when she lacked even a whisper of power. They spoke of the wasted blood that flowed through her veins. They doubted her worth.

  And so when the Brightling came of age, she was challenged to her first duel. For even the daughter of the Queen was not immune to challenges.

  The Brightling faced her challenger, and won. And she kept winning. She won so well that the court craved the blood lust that spilled within her Killing Circles. The Queen was the most pleased of all, glorying in her daughter's wins.

  And so the Brightling kept fighting, even though every day she struggled to live, scraped raw and hollowed out.

  One day, she prayed to the Oracles to take away her curse.

  The Oracles spoke in their collective voice, the one that could weave threads of prophecy into the fabric of the universe. "Curse? Lady Brightling, you do not have such a curse."

  Confused, the Brightling pressed on. "What do you mean, Oracle? I am my mother’s death hand. All I am is a killer."

  The Oracles answered back in their resonant tones. "Death may be what you do or have done. But it is not what you are."

  "And what am I?" she cried out in anguish.

  "Life." And then the Oracles breathed prophecy upon the Brightling. They spoke of dark nights and bright dawns and deep oceans.

  And power. So much power.

  The Brightling, always cold and afraid, had never known power in the land of eternal darkness. "How do I get such power, Oracle?"

  "First, little queen, you must die."

  "Die?"

  "Yes. Die. So that you may finally live."

  So, on the darkest night of the year, Karina, the Brightling, faced her last challenger in the Fold and died…

  “And like the moon,

  she had a side of her so dark,

  that even the stars could not shine on it.”

  –Abigail J.

  Karina

  A DROP OF BLOOD splattered onto the smooth surface of the mirror before sinking into the glass. I watched as it swirled like smoke before disappearing into the void. Hopefully the Oracles would hear my call and answer soon. Though they saw both past and future within the present, they always managed to answer me in my times of need.

  I stared at my reflection as I waited. What I saw—the softness and warmth—belied the fatigue and endless sorrow I felt. It also showcased how different I was from others in the Fold. My skin was too warm, golden and burnished like melted coins. My eyes were either aqua or violet depending on my mood. My facial features were off—my forehead too high, my cheekbones too wide, my mouth too plump. In fact, my body overall would be too soft if I allowed it. I trained harder with my mother’s weapons masters in order to tame some of this gentleness so I wouldn’t be such a target.

  My long, black hair was the only thing that tied me to this court.

  My bronzed skin hid the evidence of my sobbing session well, and at least my eyes were no longer red and puffy, but shone like glistening amethysts. I still felt that heaviness, though, like a weight tugging on my heart. That bone deep feeling of being scraped raw.

  Before more tears could flow again, I dabbed at my face with my still-damp towel. With a bracing breath, I swiped some more eye bright serum onto the delicate skin under my eyes, and dropped some more of the liquid in my eyes for good measure.

  Busying myself, I parted my waist-length black hair down the middle, pulling the ends in front so I could brush it. It was my one trait that I was proud of since it looked so close to my mother's raven hair—evidence that I was her daughter. Combing through the ends with my fingers, I braided it, weaving the thick locks together until eventually, the braids would become a crown on my head. If the Oracles didn't answer soon, at least I'd be ready to answer my challenger at the appointed time.

  I needed to stop being so fragile about all this. I was twenty-one years old, for crying out loud. I met my first challenger for my first duel when I was eighteen. Because I had won, I was challenged again the next week, and the next. The challenges continued to come every week for the last three years because I continued to win them all. I, the powerless Brightling.

  Tonight would be the one-hundred-and-fifty-sixth challenge that I would answer. I should be getting used to them, but instead, these challenges wore me down. As it was, my hands shook at the thought of facing the one for tonight.

  My reflection faded as shadow and smoke swirled in the mirror, and three hooded figures appeared, though I could feel the presence of more. The collective breath of the Oracle sighed and rippled along the glass. The power that they wielded was strong enough that I felt it like something physical on my skin.

  "Our Lady Brightling. We expected you."

  I swallowed. They did? "Oracle, tonight is the darkest night of the year... I thought maybe..." Emotion constricted my throat and made it hard for me to squeeze words out through the pain.

  "Yes, Lady Brightling. Tonight is the darkest night of the year. It is also the night that you have longed for all these years."

  Twin tears trailed my face, and I bowed my head both relieved and ashamed.

  "Why do you cry, Lady Brightling? You have so many choices open to you. You have not yet made your choice."

  I swiveled my eyes to them, grateful that they filled the mirror now and not my reflection. "Haven't I though? Haven't I planned on... leaving?" I couldn't voice what I really planned. I couldn't risk my words being carried to my mother's ear.

  They had tilted their heads in answer. As if they listened to something only they could hear. Instead of answering, they asked me another question. "Why does leaving bother you so, Lady Brightling?"

  Why did the thought bother me? Leaving what was familiar, perhaps? Guilt over hiding my plans from my mother. My bodyguard. Enver...

  I switched my thoughts elsewhere. If I focused on him too long, he would somehow feel it and come find me. "Just afraid..." As if that was a proper answer. I was always afraid.

  "Afraid of what, Lady Brightling? Do you fear what has been, what could be, or the now?"

  I smiled despite myself. "Yes."

  "We do not understand."

  Tears fell even more rapidly. I'd have to slather more serum on my skin to de-puff my eyes again. "I know you don't," I finally whispered. With another deep breath, I asked again to be sure. "So, tonight is the night?"

  "Yes, Lady Brightling. One of many possible nights. We can tell you when the timing is ripe if you like. You can make your choice then. There is no need to fear before then." They said it so matter-of-factly. I bit my lip before I said anything disrespectful to the conduits of the Deity. Smoke and shadows engulfed them once more as they cut their connection, leaving me with my wide-eyed and fragile reflection.

  The ladies in white, ghosts that waited on my mother, entered my room and laid out my battle gear, complete with armor and sword. I thrilled to touch them, but hated why I needed to wear them.

  I dress
ed in a hurry, smudging kohl around my eyes and dabbing my lips with berry stain to make me look less haunted and more like the fierce woman that the Queen of Nightmares would have raised. I blinked away the pricks of tears just in time. A familiar blue-black aura of darklight pressed against my bedroom door. Enver, and with him, my other bodyguards, no doubt.

  Shooing away the ladies in white from their last minute fussing over me, I opened the door. Enver, Prince of Darklight, filled the doorway, the black shadows of his aura rippled around him like a cloak. I swallowed a sigh as I took him all in. He was the epitome of darkling perfection with his ash-colored skin and inky black hair. Wrapped up in his leather battle armor, his deadly beauty was awe-inspiring.

  His sapphire-in-ebony eyes captured my gaze. Laughter danced in his eyes, which was a rare treat to see. And then I realized that he was laughing at me. Heat rushed into my cheeks. How long had I been standing here, ogling him?

  "My queen." He always breathed out the words just so. Like a reverent prayer and I was the object of his worship. "Are you ready?"

  I bit my lip, rolling my eyes. "Yes, thank you, and I've asked you to stop calling me that," I said raising my eyebrow at him in mock sternness. No one told Enver what to do. Or, rather, he did as he damn well pleased and had the power to back up his actions.

  Power that would be mine to call if I would only claim him for myself. But what kind of queen walked around without power? As it was, I always skirted around his offer to be more than just my appointed bodyguard and shadow.

  My other three bodyguards waited for me in the hall. West, Lord of Storms, his moonlight skin and silver hair setting him apart like a beacon from the rest of the Nightmare Court. Havoc, Lord of War with living tattoos that protected his skin better than any armor. And Taran, Lord of Thunder and Earthquakes, my gentle giant and juggernaut. Their formidable size made it feel like there were more people in the hall than there actually was. I greeted each with a kiss on the cheek.