“Astra—” Mirae grunted when the woman pulled her down, pressing her lips against Mirae’s ear.
“Do not look into the shadows when they dance,” Astra whispered. “Or you will be consumed. Do not look into the shadows when they dance ... or Death will have you join him.”
“All right, my friend.” Mirae patted Astra’s hand, disentangling herself from the woman’s hold. She stepped back quickly before Astra had a chance to grab hold of her again. Turning, she started for the tent door.
“You should listen to her, Mirae Sundragon.” Braven’s low voice stopped her at the door. “Astra speaks the truth. Always.”
“She speaks in riddles. I cannot believe what she says, not when she’s like this. You know she’s not in her right mind.”
“Perhaps not.” Braven crawled over to the woman’s bedside, stroking her hair when she tossed and mumbled. “But her Seeing always comes from the Creator. A prophecy, and the knowledge pains her. You cannot imagine the destruction she’s seen, the pain and horrors she knows will come but can do nothing to stop. So, do not dismiss her words as irrational babble. Believe in what you cannot see, and you will understand her all the better.”
Mirae hesitated, watching the big man soothe Astra with just a touch of his hand—with a stroke of his fingers through her hair. Never had she thought to see such gentleness in the stony-faced guard who had watched over Astra for years, never leaving her side. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps they hadn’t completely lost Astra to the insanity of Seeing. Perhaps there was a message for her in the riddles of tonight.
Mirae returned to her own tent, settling into her cot with her sheathed sword wrapped in her arms. The wind whistled against the circle, making her tent tremble as she sought rest. A winter wind was passing through their camp, howling and moaning; bringing the storm. Mirae fell into a restless slumber and dreamed of Brecken Jandry’s eyes.
The Border of the Gracian Wood
Damari chewed her lip, watching Noelle dance around the fire with the other children. She hadn’t thought they would make it this far, much less nearly across the border of the Gracian. Master Fadin had agreed she could remain with them until they reached the Aulend. The Gracian had grown dark and heavy with evil, keeping them at a distance. Damari curled her fingers around her thick braid. If she could reach the Aulend and find the Woodland Paths, then she could be through the forest to the Night Wood within days. If she were unable to take the Paths, they would be traveling a fortnight before she reached the Night Wood. But reaching the Shadow Lands before her brother had a chance to catch her was imperative.
As much as taking the Paths twisted her stomach with nerves, Damari knew they were the only way. Her thoughts turned to Navaria, and she pushed the image of the mountain woman from her mind. She would be far out of Navaria’s reach soon enough, then she wouldn’t have to worry. Once she’d delivered Noelle into the safety of the shadow of the mountains, she would be able to return and find Adlae Sundragon.
The city bells rang in the distance behind them, announcing the first rays of dawn. Damari jumped at the sound, drawing several stares from the women who sat around the fire. She forced a smile and then stood, hurrying to the wagon where her weapons were being kept. She pulled the bundle down, glancing over her shoulder before ducking beneath the tall wheels.
Lying on her side, she unwrapped the blankets, breathing a sigh of relief when she found her sword. Her thumb grazed against the carvings on her bow, pausing on the tail of the dragon. Her father had carved this for her, engraving the signet of every noble and royal family onto the shaft. The bow had been made all the more precious to her because of them.
Shaking off her melancholy, she wrapped the weapons again, tying them off tightly with a rawhide string. There was something strange about this morning; Damari could sense the abnormality, and she didn’t like the feeling. Tucking the bundle beneath her arm, she marched across to her horse, tying her weapons with the rest of her provisions to the back of the saddle. She knew the animal would labor under the added weight, but she needed them with her. Damari didn’t plan to carry these things on her back, and Master Fadin had graciously offered to give her the animal, even though Damari insisted on paying for him in the end.
“Mama Damari!” Noelle called, and she turned quickly, pressing a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart. The child ran to her, launching herself at Damari. She fumbled slightly, unused to the feel of a child in her arms before she settled Noelle comfortably on her hip.
“What, little darling?” Damari rubbed her nose against Noelle’s, and the child laughed.
“Master Fadin says there are riders! They are coming from the Aulend.” Noelle pointed vaguely behind her.
“Riders?” Damari’s heart paused. “How many riders little one?”
“Two.” Noelle frowned as Damari lifted her carefully on top of the horse. “Mama Damari?”
“Stay there, hold on tight, Noelle.” Damari placed Noelle’s little hand on the pommel of the saddle before she turned, hurrying around the wagons. Master Fadin seemed to be waiting for her where he sat his horse beside his wagon, watching the two riders galloping toward the city gates.
“They had to have taken a Woodland Path,” Master Fadin commented, unsurprised to find her at his side. “All of the king’s men who are outside the city walls are in Quintaria, fighting Mirae Sundragon. They could only have come here so fast on a Woodland Path.”
“King’s men,” Damari gasped. Shaking her head, she backed up.
Her keen eyes recognized the big black horse immediately. Black Dawn stood out, a strong animal and fierce, larger than any horse in Sunkai. One that could even rival her brother’s. Brecken’s dark cloak billowed behind him, the silver panther etched into the back glinting against the early morning rays of light.
“I must go, Master Fadin.” She turned to him, forcing her gaze away from Brecken riding fiercely toward the city. “The child and I must be far away before those riders reach the city gates.”
“I know, Mistress Salene.” Master Fadin smiled gently, big cheeks red as apples and mustache twitching. “I do not understand you, but I pray we meet again.”
“We will.” Damari reached up, touching his hand lightly before she spun away, hiking her skirts up to her knees so she could run faster. She ignored the disapproving looks the women in the camp gave her, running directly to the horse’s side and launching herself up into the saddle. Noelle giggled, tugging on Damari’s skirt to straighten the hem.
“You look funny, Mama Damari.” She rubbed her little head against Damari’s shoulder. “I’m tired.”
“Then go back to sleep, little one.” Damari pressed a hand to Noelle’s hair, her head twisting around to look back at the city. Her heart leaped up into her throat as the horse lunged forward at her urging, racing toward the woods. Noelle’s little arms wrapped around her waist, hanging on as she sought sleep. “We’ll be there soon, darling.”
Black Dawn labored up the hill toward the High Village. He snorted and stomped, hooves clomping against the cobblestones. Brecken glanced over his shoulder at his brother, but Maxx was preoccupied, tugging his reins from side to side as he avoided people on the crowded streets. People from the Lower Village were scrambling up the steps, crossing on the back streets in their rush to the Blood Keep.
Brecken growled, the people cutting off Black Dawn, stepping in front of him and making progress impossible. He knew where they were going, and his stomach twisted at the thought. Brecken pulled violently on the reins, and Black Dawn reared, his front legs pawing at the air, causing the people to duck so they wouldn’t be struck. Shouting his frustration, he dropped the reins, leaping down out of the saddle.
“Make way!” he bellowed, trying to push his way through the crowd.
“Brecken!” Maxx called, coming up on his shoulder. “We should take the back way! We’ll get to the Blood Keep faster.�
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“They’re flooding the streets.” Brecken’s head swayed back and forth. “They’re all going to see her die!”
“Brecken!” Maxx grabbed his arms. “Brother, listen! You must keep your head. We’ll save her!”
Brecken nodded, shrugging away from his brother’s grip before he started back the way he’d come, ignoring Black Dawn where he pranced and screeched, calling for him in a panic. He had no time to soothe the animal. He broke through the crowd, taking the stone steps two at a time as he wove his way to the High Village. But the crowd grew thick again at the top, the Blood Keep barely in sight. The bells were ringing, announcing the procession of the royal family down the streets. Sweat beaded on his brow, his shoulders trembling as he turned back, coming face to face with his brother.
“Maxx, go to the barracks.” He swallowed, his throat dry. “Find Noelle.”
“I’m not leaving your side, Brecken.” Maxx shook his head.
“Find my daughter!” Brecken shouted, drawing his sword. “Get her out of the city.”
“Brecken don’t—”
“Do as I say, Maxx!” Brecken turned his back on his brother. “Find Noelle and take her to safety, before it’s too late!”
Raising the sword, Brecken pushed his way through the crowd, the people parting at the sight of the blade glistening in the dawn. Suddenly, the entire city went still.
The bells had stopped.
Brae’s wrists were bleeding into the rough rope tied tightly around them. She fisted her hands, holding her head up high despite the trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth and the bruises marring her face. The people were weeping, calling her name as the executioner led her up onto the scaffold. Raphaela stood there, her white cloak billowing like a cloud behind her, straining against the gold chain across her collar. Brae stared at her for a moment before the executioner turned her to face the crowd.
The bells ceased their ringing, leaving the city in eerie silence as everyone held their breath, waiting to see if Raphaela would really go through with the execution. To see if she truly intended to mar her family name with the death of another Sundragon. Slowly, Brae lowered herself to her knees, her gaze centering on the chopping block in front of her. Her breath quickened, and she twisted her neck, looking up at the executioner as he lifted his wide blade from its scabbard.
“You serve a tyrant,” she said, her voice thick. “But once, a long time ago, you served my father. If a piece of your heart ever loved him, if a part of your soul was ever loyal to him, you will not mutilate me. Offer me a clean death, but leave my body whole. For my daughter’s sake and my husband’s. Leave me as I am.”
The executioner frowned, looking to Raphaela only once before he went to one knee beside her. The tip of his sword pressed between her shoulder blades, and she nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. She looked at the crowd once more.
“People of Sunkai,” Brae said loudly, curling her fingers around each other. “There are no words to tell you how I love you. May my death serve as the purpose you need to rise against this usurper! May my death light the fires I know burn as embers in your hearts to take back what once was yours! What once was ours! Do not falter by this, but grow stronger!”
“Enough!” Raphaela snapped, striding across the platform. “You may not speak! You have come here to meet your death, and you will do so in silence!”
Brae looked up at Raphaela, her smile bloody as she whispered, “You cannot hurt me. You cannot kill a Sundragon. We are always here. We will always be here, and there is nothing you can do to stop us!”
Raphaela bared her teeth.
“Not for long little Sundragon. Killing you is only the start. A small pleasure for me.” Raphaela turned, swirling her cloak behind her as she returned to her place near the edge of the platform. Spinning back on her heels she raised her arm. Brae tilted her neck back, staring up at the sky.
“Blessed Creator, save my soul. Take me now into your keeping,” she sobbed, her body trembling against the point of the executioner’s sword. “Bless my daughter and see her safe to her father. Let them be happy. Let them live!”
Raphaela lowered her arm sharply.
The executioner thrust his sword.
In the deepest part of the Pilvaa Forest, Mirae Sundragon fell to her knees. The pain was excruciating, her heart burning into thousands of blisters in her chest.
Brae ...
“Your Majesty?” Lara knelt at her side.
Mirae looked up and saw Astra standing at her side. “My sister.”
“The link does not lie,” Astra declared, the clouds rolling back from her eyes as she became lucid once more.
“Brae ... not Brae! Not her!” Mirae threw back her head and screamed.
Starlight reared her head, shrieking as Adlae toppled from the saddle.
The sensation came suddenly; emptiness poured into her like a flood as the pain assaulted her and then dissipated in the next instant with one clean stroke. Adlae landed hard on the ground, falling onto her back. She stared at the clear blue sky. The men gathered around her, calling her name, trying to bring her back to her feet. She could see Krow and Navaria, rushing between the riders to her side; she felt the sting of Glaydin’s hot skin against her arm as he pulled her up.
Adlae turned onto her knees, her body trembling as she pressed her fingers into the soft dirt.
Brae. A low moan vibrated in her throat, all other sounds around her gone even as her friends spoke to her; even as they tried to make it better.
Brae Sundragon has gone to the Creator, Winter said sadly. She is gone, and the first prophecy is fulfilled.
“NO!” Adlae screamed, raising her staff to the sky.
The Winter Queen’s wails filled the wind ... and the first snow fell.
“Brae!”
With a roar, Brecken launched himself onto the platform, his sword sliding with ease through the chest of the executioner. The city exploded in screams and shouts, the men and women flooding the market, knocking down stalls as they charged for the gates of the Blood Keep; the soldiers fighting them back, shedding blood onto the streets.
Brecken stared, his heart cold as he looked at Raphaela. She knelt beside Brae’s body, her hands swirling in his wife’s blood where the flow pooled and seeped through the cracks of the platform to the street. Her lips moved in quiet murmurs, a swirl of wind lifting her hair from her shoulders. His wife’s blood started to move beneath her palms as she lifted them, the thick red liquid dripping down her arms when she raised them to the sky.
Brecken stormed forward, kicking Raphaela hard in the chest. She grunted, falling onto her back before she scrambled away, fear filling her eyes. He’d never seen Raphaela afraid before, but at this moment, his fury was enough to instill fear in the evil sorceress. He raised his sword, hovering over her with the end pressed against her chest. But suddenly, he couldn’t move. His arms were still before him, his hands gripped in white-knuckled fists around the hilt, unable to thrust the blade into her chest, yet unable to let his weapon go. His hands trembled as he fought the magic which held him captive. Raphaela stood slowly, forcing him to back away from her.
“Do not raise your hand to me, Brecken,” Raphaela cooed. “I needed Sundragon blood, don’t you see? I have been given a magnificent gift! He has chosen me, Brecken! But I needed her blood to show my loyalty. Now we can be together, my love. Freely and truly together! You will be mine at last.”
Brecken struggled, a low growl rumbling in his chest until he finally freed himself from her, his sword clattering to the ground at their feet. Reaching out, he grabbed her by the throat, and her lips parted in shock. Her hand pressed into his chest. Fiery heat scorched him, but he ignored the pain, his fingers only tightening around her thin neck.
“Brecken ...” Raphaela gasped, her eyes popping.
“I will never be yours,” h
e spat in her face. “You evil witch! I will kill you one day, Raphaela Kael. When you think you’re safe, when you believe you’ve won ... then I will kill you!”
He pushed her back, and she stumbled, gasping for air and rubbing her throat. Raphaela raised her palms hastily, black clouds seeping from her fingers, but they didn’t frighten him.
Brecken turned his back on her, falling to his knees. Tears soaked his face as he lifted Brae’s limp body in his arms, her once vibrant eyes now dulled and staring blankly at the sky, her red hair falling loosely over his arm to touch the ground. Her beautiful face had paled; her skin turned cold in death. There was no sign of life, no chance he could kiss her once more or tell her how he loved her. No chance for him to say goodbye.
Brecken placed his hand on the thick, horizontal wound in her chest where the sword had pierced directly through her heart.
“Brae,” he whispered against her lips. The sweet taste that once was Brae was stale now, tainted with the taste of her blood. “I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry!”
Brecken tilted his head back, tears streaming down his neck. A light snow began to fall, layering the pools of blood in white before they melted into its warmth. Brecken cradled her, rising slowly to carry her away when suddenly, something cracked the back of his head. Brecken’s grip tightened on his wife as he dropped to his knees, refusing to let her go even as he fell into darkness.
So it was the first snow of winter fell upon Nfaros, and the Abyss entered the heart of Raphaela Kael, as was foretold by the Tree Prophetess, Astra. And the world wept for the lost Sundragon princess, whose soul lifted from her body to be forever illumined in the Creator’s keeping.
To Be Continued …
Erica Marie Hogan was born in New York but now calls Texas home. She has three cats and two dogs, was homeschooled, is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers, and when she’s not writing, she’s reading. Erica can be found on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads, along with her monthly blog, “By the Book: Diary of a Bookaholic.”
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