Rachen looked into Alwyn’s eyes, almost dreading what he’d find there. In his heart, he had feared this moment, not knowing what he would do if it turned out to be true that there was another Alwyn out there.
He took Alwyn’s hand, noticing that it was just as soft as he remembered. And yet…there was something missing. The fire that had once made Alwyn initiate their first kiss, that had made him explode in jealous rants or moments of lustful passion, that fire wasn’t there. Physically, the two men were practically identical, but not even Rachen’s body was fooled. He missed his Alwyn so much it hurt, but meeting this one only made him ache instead of soothing him. It was like being taunted, provided with a sepia photograph when he needed the real thing.
Perhaps it was strange to think of it this way, since as things stood, it seemed his Alwyn was the one not real. And yet, for him, for his dragon, this man standing in front of him meant nothing. He was a stranger with no real connection with the beautiful mate who was waiting for Rachen back in Draechenburg.
He released Alwyn Cyraltin’s hand and shot him a neutral smile. “The honor is all mine. I must admit I didn’t know what to expect upon meeting you, but I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Alwyn looked a little puzzled. Rachen didn’t know what the young sprite had been told, but even his father seemed taken aback by Rachen’s reaction. “Alwyn, perhaps you should come with me and rest a bit. I need to have a discussion with His Highness.”
“Father, please,” Alwyn said. “I don’t need rest. I need to know what’s going on.”
“Come now,” Ferradul coaxed, his voice like honey. “These are Krite matters. You needn’t worry about them.”
“I suppose if you’re busy, I can’t intrude any longer,” Alwyn answered, his shoulders slumping.
Rachen’s Alwyn would have glared and demanded, would have refused to go. This Alwyn released a heavy sigh and relented. Without another word, he left the room.
Rachen couldn’t exactly blame him. If he wanted to be perfectly honest, the real Alwyn Cyraltin struck him as intelligent but naïve and too unaware of the complicated nature of the paranormal world. Rachen guessed that Ferradul had kept him very sheltered, which would certainly explain why he wasn’t scared of Rachen. He didn’t know enough about Rachen to be afraid. Meeting him made Rachen understand at least halfway why it had been so important for Ferradul to send someone else to Draechenburg in his son’s stead.
That didn’t mean Rachen excused Ferradul’s deeds. The real Alwyn aside, Rachen had his mate to worry about. He needed to get to the bottom of this because he had the feeling time was running out.
Once Alwyn was gone, Ferradul’s expression sobered. “Now, we’ve come here because it’s time to drop pretenses. You know about the illusion currently living in your palace under the guise of my son.”
“And you want it gone and replaced by the real deal,” one of the female Krites, Jazara Banniear, said.
Rachen chose not to address her statement, because it was falser than any illusion sprite could conjure. “We do know about the illusion,” he answered instead, “but we aren’t sure as to who exactly we received as our guest.”
“We aren’t talking about a who,” Ferradul answered, “but a what.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Rachen replied. “I know Alwyn, my Alwyn. He’s a good person. All this talk about him being some sort of creature…it’s insane.”
“So you’ve heard it from someone else before?” Jazara inquired, looking interested.
“How is that in any way relevant?” When Jazara just gave him an expectant glance, he decided to pick his battles and explained, “If you must know, Caelyn Sutharlainn suggested it. But I don’t believe it. I know Alwyn better than anyone. He’s my mate.”
Perhaps that wasn’t exactly the wisest thing to say, but his words didn’t shock the Krites as much as he had expected. “You’re mistaken,” a third Krite said. “Your mate is the young man you just met. The enchantment is messing with your head.”
Rachen glowered at him. “No, I’m not mistaken. My head is just fine, thank you very much. And the Alwyn Cyraltin I met today, while admittedly very attractive in his own right, isn’t the one I want. My mate is waiting for me in Draechenburg.”
At that, the Krites just gaped at him. “You can’t be serious. You can’t…Oh, Jenarra. You did it, didn’t you? It’s your fault the illusion is fading.”
Rachen was more confused than ever. “What are you talking about?”
“If you’re right…if you really are the mate of this…thing, which is something I still can’t imagine…” Ferradul shuddered as he spoke, as if just the memory of Rachen’s Alwyn was making him sick. “Well, the power of a mate bond could have sabotaged the enchantment I created, destroying the delicate balance between the façade that looked like my son and the creature beneath it.”
Rachen remembered the way his mate had behaved before he’d left Draechenburg. At times, he’d seemed so tortured, in so much pain. If Ferradul and the others were correct in what they were saying, it meant that Rachen had hurt his lover without meaning to do so.
“I’ll just stay away from him then,” Rachen said. Just the thought was painful, but he’d do it if he had to. He would do whatever was needed, as long as it meant Alwyn would be safe.
Ferradul shook his head. “It’s too late for that now. By this point, the creature is taking over. The Alwyn you know is likely almost gone.”
“What exactly are you saying?” Rachen stared at him, dread coursing through him. “That Alwyn is dying?”
“Your Alwyn,” Ferradul amended. “If not for you, the illusion would have easily withstood the passage of time. The power that fuels it is effectively never-ending.”
Anger swelled through Rachen, his dragon roaring in dismay and anguish. “And what power is that?”
Ferradul looked down, as if ashamed. “One I never should have messed with.”
Before he could provide any further explanation, the door opened again and Iasan Sutharlainn walked inside, leading two men and a woman inside. Britanni released a gasp when she saw her son, but Iasan only acknowledged her with a nod.
Rachen still didn’t understand the dynamics in the Sutharlainn family at all, but he’d lost interest in it when he’d heard about what could happen to Alwyn.
Fortunately, the new arrivals provided him with an answer to all of his questions. “I believe we can help you with that,” one of the men said. “My name is Ulysses Koepke, and this is my brother Hector and my sister Portia.”
“And who exactly are you people?” Rachen really didn’t have patience for more people pretending to know what was going on and only blaming Alwyn, his Alwyn, for everything.
“We’re part of the family who created the being you now call your mate,” Ulysses said. “A long, long time ago…”
* * * *
“Are you sure about this?” the avian asked, glancing nervously at his father. “I’m not comfortable with the idea of tampering with such forces.”
The older eagle-shifter gave him a scathing look. “We avians have a birthright. We need to soar higher and be more powerful that the rest. The draechen have robbed us of the chance to fulfill our potential. And then, there are the humans and all those other shifters who claim to have a place ahead of us. We have the resources to defeat them. Why shouldn’t we?”
The younger avian wasn’t convinced. “But, Father…it’s risky. And the sacrifice it entails…”
“It’s going to be worth it,” came the reply. “The lives we save would be more numerous than the ones that will be lost.”
There was nothing the young avian could say that would convince his sire this was a bad idea. Together, they entered the chamber and watched as the preparations for the rituals were made.
A circle was drawn in the center of the room, the symbol for eternity. Within it, several avians placed a gold stand. The elder avian retrieved an intricately carved box from his r
obes and placed it on the pedestal.
Finally, he and his son stepped out of the circle and left the ceremonial chamber, watching the proceedings from a safe distance. They’d studied the energies of the planet for decades before finally going through with this ritual. It could still fail and they were all aware of that, but the avian leader was willing to take the chance.
The box itself was carved out of bloodstone, hematite, ruby, and a special gold alloy. It bore intricate runes which, in theory, would bring the weapon they were attempting to summon under their control. It hadn’t been exactly easy to come up with those runes, but fortunately, they’d had help.
The sprite who’d assisted them appeared behind them. “It will work,” she said, sounding far more convinced than the young avian felt.
“I certainly hope so,” he replied. “We’re risking a lot with this.”
“It’s a calculated risk,” she argued. “You’ll all become far more powerful after the ritual. You’ll see.”
The avian didn’t answer, knowing he’d be ignored anyway. He just had a very bad feeling about this, like they shouldn’t be stirring powers they might not be able to control after that. But it was too late to turn back, much too late.
More sprites entered the room and took position behind the avians already there. Torches lit up all over the room. The young avian clenched his hands into fists, his talons digging into his flesh as he forced himself to remain still.
And then, the chanting started. At first, nothing happened, but then he felt it, felt the energy gathering, as if a storm was looming over them, ready to erupt over the chamber. The young man’s hair stood on end, his beast screeching to get out of there. Inside the ceremonial room, the ritual’s participants began to look afraid and apprehensive. They hadn’t been told about what would most likely happen to them, and that was so immoral that the young avian’s stomach roiled. They instinctively felt it now, like he did, but there was no going back.
The torches flared brighter, and the circle on the floor lit up. To their credit, the sprites didn’t falter in their chanting. Their magic was just as needed for the ceremony as the contribution of the avian shifters within. At last, the shifters in question, people he knew and had even grown up with, gasped and fell to their knees. A bright figure began to form in front of them.
The whole point of the ritual was using the connection the shifters had with the energies of the earth to create something new, something more powerful. It had never been clear what would happen to those shifters after that, if they would live, if they would lose their beast and become mortal. For a few moments, he dared to hope that there would be no other consequences to them messing with their planet.
Unsurprisingly, he was mistaken. Fire exploded in the chamber, consuming everything in its path, emanating from the now materializing figure. Men and women screamed as they fell, succumbing to the ruthless blaze. The young avian stood rooted on the spot, facing the creature they had summoned. A beautiful bird made out of pure flame screeched at him, eyes like rubies fixing him with a mindless glare.
The older avian and their sprite companion immediately tried to run. However, the young man knew that if they didn’t tame this creature, the entire world would be lost to its flames. He could see it. There was no reason in it, just the wildness of pure energy, the unpredictable and uncontrollable nature of the earth’s fires.
He reined in his panic and recited the chant that his father and the sprite had created for the purpose of the ritual. He didn’t even know how he still remembered the words, or what greater power supported him and didn’t make him shy away from the power of the creature. Either way, it worked. The fires began to dissipate, and the creature—the phoenix—settled down obediently next to the box.
Behind him, the sprite piped, “See? I told you it would work.”
The young eagle didn’t answer. In his heart, he knew that the fire bird in front of him was still as wild as ever and would not be tamed so easily. He dreaded the moment when it would break free of the enchantment. Because he knew that, when it happened, the phoenix would again turn against them, and there would be no stopping it.
* * * *
Rachen listened to the tale, trying to reconcile his knowledge of the past with what the avian was telling him. “Why don’t we know of this?” he asked.
“It was a long time ago, before the Shifter Directive war, before the existence of Ornoz as a nation. Even then, dragons were very powerful, and my people saw the potential in them. At the same time, we wanted supremacy, much like the dragons do now. To a certain extent, it worked. The phoenix was such a dangerous creature that most of the draechen who tried to go against it were destroyed. Sadly, my ancestors miscalculated, and they found that with every attack on enemy forces, the more volatile the phoenix became. In the end, it killed its creators, and only with great difficulty was it trapped within the Phoenix Chest. We took care of any records that might have existed of it, and in time, it became nothing more than a legend.”
Even as the avian shifter finished his story, Rachen was already shaking his head. “So now, you’re telling me that Alwyn is a phoenix,” he said. “Do you truly expect me to believe that outlandish tale?”
“It’s true, whether you choose to believe it or not,” Ulysses’s brother, Hector, said.
“The box was in our possession for many years, and it passed to the sprites after the Shifter Directive was created,” Portia continued to explain. “Our people were very tempted at that time to summon the phoenix again, but they were too afraid of it.”
“And yet, it seems that Ferradul Cyraltin wasn’t afraid.” Rachen narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, but that doesn’t make any sense.”
“I had no idea what I was getting into,” Ferradul answered. “I didn’t know what the box held. I certainly do now, and you have to be wary of it.”
* * * *
A few months earlier
Ferradul carefully arranged the runes around the platform where the box sat. Under normal circumstances, he didn’t need such additions to create an illusion, but this particular enchantment was far more complex than the ones he used on a day-to-day basis.
On a second platform, he placed a strand of his beloved son’s locks. “Will that work?” Iasan Sutharlainn inquired by his side. “Will just one hair suffice?”
Ferradul nodded. “Technically speaking, I can create a spell from just my knowledge of my son, but I want to be sure it’ll hold.”
He could understand the younger sprite’s confusion, just as he could appreciate his dedication. Like Elina, Iasan had supported him throughout his quest to come up with the perfect spell. Ferradul was glad that he’d managed to extract the sprite from the clutches of the draechen.
Finally, the preparations for the ritual were complete. “Step back,” he told Iasan. “I need as much space as possible for this spell.”
Iasan wordlessly complied and took a position on the other side of the room. At last, Ferradul opened to box, focusing on connecting the power of the artifact with the strand of hair and his own image of Alwyn.
And then, something unexpected happened. A strange presence rushed out of the box. Its power was so great that Ferradul was thrust back, hitting the wall with a crack.
Fortunately, the blow wasn’t strong enough to make him lose consciousness. When he got up, though, he thought that he might have hit his head and had started seeing things. A huge bird had appeared in the center of the room. It looked like a humongous eagle, only its feathers were ablaze and its eyes looked like dark, burning coals. Flame licked over the floor. Iasan stared at the bird, completely transfixed. He actually took a step forward, as if hypnotized by its presence. In the process, he drew the attention of apparition. It screeched, its fiery eyes fixed on Iasan.
Ferradul knew in that moment that he’d made a huge mistake. He also realized that his only hope to prevent the creature from running amok was to finish the ritual that had been interrupted.
The box had
contained the fire bird. Therefore, the strange creature was pure energy. In that respect, the information Ferradul had on it was correct. He hadn’t expected it to be sentient, but he needed to work with what he had.
Focusing the full extent of his powers on the huge bird, Ferradul summoned an image of his son. The bird released another screech, resisting Ferradul. But it had not expected the attack, and it still seemed weakened by the presence of the box.
At last, Ferradul won the battle. The bird’s fiery body shattered. In its place, a dazed-looking Alwyn appeared. “Father?” the fake Alwyn asked. “What’s going on?”
Ferradul forced a smile. He was exhausted, and his legs shook as he got up. “Nothing, son,” he said. “Come. You need to rest. Tomorrow we have to make the trip to Draechenburg.”
The creature turned sprite just nodded obediently. Ferradul thanked Jenarra for the strength She had given him and prayed that the illusion would hold.
* * * *
“So let me get this straight,” Rachen said. “You used the energy of the phoenix to create an illusion that would mimic your son perfectly.”
Ferradul sighed tiredly. “It should have held, since the enchantment I placed on it was very elaborate. And to be true, at the time, I didn’t know exactly what it was. There are a million legends of fire birds in history, and most of them are just that, legends.”
“Well, we know now,” Jazara said, “and we have to stop the creature from destroying us all.”
The way they spoke told Rachen that they had no plans to pull their punches with regard to his mate. They truly saw his Alwyn as nothing else but a mindless creature, a weapon to be used and put away once it became too dangerous.
Rachen took a deep breath and focused on calming down. “You said there was a chant that helped you control it,” he told the avians. “Do you still know it?”
Ulysses shook his head. “We’ve been actively searching all the records ever since we received news of this disaster, but after the Shifter Directive, our people became increasingly scattered.”
Fire's Embrace [Chronicles of the Shifter Directive 6] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove) Page 9