Copyright © 2019 by Stephanie Fisher
All Rights Reserved.
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To my husband. I never thought I’d say this… but thanks for the puns.
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CONTENTS
Map
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Thank You for Reading!
Map
Prologue
As Breena sat on the garden wall, sipping her tea and watching the colors of the new day ignite on the horizon, she had no way of knowing that this would be the day that she died.
It was a day just like any other day, following the same rhythms and patterns. Breakfast, then lunch; she cleaned the kitchen and swept the floors. And since she was as of yet completely unaware of her impending demise, when the sun began to set, marking the end of another ordinary day filled with ordinary tasks, she was content with its mediocrity and the safety that being average provided.
The sky had already turned dark when Breena finally set down her quill. She stood carefully, her bones cracking in protest. The aether was noticeably thinner on the island, and most days, it left her feeling tired.
Shaking out her braid, she took a moment to survey the meager cottage. The scuffed wood floors and whitewashed walls were a far cry from the luxury of her youth, but she had managed to make the space comfortable. The rugs may have been threadbare, but they warded off the chill of the morning, and the quilts on the beds, though secondhand, were soft from age.
The little garden beyond the open window was just beginning to bloom, and sprays of snowdrops and irises blanketed the ground outside. In this small, isolated town on the western coast of the island of Tempris, a cottage with its own garden was a rarity. Most of the villages in the region, though not lacking for space, were packed tightly together. The nights could be dangerous, especially when the gates were charging.
A peal of laughter rang out, and Breena smiled, stepping over to the window to observe the dynamic force of kinetic energy that was her daughter. A man with auburn hair and a plain canvas coat was trying to herd the rebellious child inside, but the little bundle of scraped knees and golden curls was having none of it. She kept darting in between his outstretched arms, disappearing and reappearing at will. First, in front of him, her tongue sticking out in a playful taunt, then behind him with a barely suppressed giggle.
Breena frowned. Oh dear.
It seemed Cori’s magic was progressing more quickly than they expected—which meant that even more of the girl’s aether would need to be locked away.
A familiar pang of guilt fluttered in her chest. Breena hated to do it, even if it was necessary. Until they could smuggle the girl through the Aion Gate and into the mortal cities, they needed to stay hidden, and taking away Cori’s magic was a small price to pay.
The man still hadn’t managed to capture the elusive child, so Breena called out in a forceful tone, “Corinna! It’s time to come inside.”
Her six-year-old daughter’s silvery gray eyes searched for the source of the reproach, and a mournful pout blossomed across the girl’s face when she saw her mother’s stern expression. Surrendering, Cori allowed herself to be escorted inside the cottage. Breena was still amazed at how much her daughter was starting to resemble her. When the girl was older, they might very well be twins.
Breena took one last glance at her desk. Five wine-colored crystals sat inside a circle of faintly glowing runes, each one pulling in aether from the air and storing it away for a time when it might be needed. She knew she was being overly cautious, but she wanted her supply of shadow crystals fully charged just in case they needed to run.
She studied the various items scattered across the desk, plucking a half-empty inkwell from the clutter. Blood caked the sides and congealed at the bottom, turning black as it dried.
Holding her hand over the pot, she began to channel what was left of her magic, and slowly, the remaining fluid started to glow and roil before dissolving into the air.
A wispy, crackling haze of energy now hovered beneath her outstretched palm.
Breena took a moment to admire the apparition. Raw aether. As a shadow mage, her magical ability was tied to the manipulation of the very building blocks of magic. She waved her hand and felt the aether particles dance around her fingers, prickling her skin.
Placing the now empty inkwell into a small wooden chest, she waved the cloud over her other hand, where a large, half-healed gash traveled the length of her palm. The haze seemed to hang in the air around the cut before reabsorbing into her body, seeping into her veins and bolstering her depleted reserve of magic. She watched as her skin slowly knitted itself back together before kneading the unmarred flesh. Only a dull ache remained.
A thundering patter of footsteps echoed from downstairs, and Breena quickly put away the rest of her supplies—various quills, loose leaves of paper, and a small, ceremonial dagger her older brother had gifted her when they were children.
“Mommy! Mommy!” A small bundle hurdled its way up the stairs and into her arms. “Wanna see my new trick?” The little girl smiled, revealing a row of delicate baby teeth.
Breena couldn’t help but smile back. While she knew she needed to teach her daughter to be more sensible with her magical abilities, she couldn’t resist the contagious joy in the girl’s expression. “I saw it already. But sweetie, I’ve told you before—you shouldn’t use your magic outside the cottage. Your Uncle Esmund is going to stop taking you into the forest if you don’t behave.”
Cori, unfazed by her mother’s gentle reproach, patted the older woman’s cheek. “No. Not that one, silly. I learned a new trick.” Jumping out of Breena’s arms, she ran over to Esmund as he crested the stairs.
Though still quite young to be a Knight of the Crystal Guard, the faint weblike network of scars across the man’s cheeks and brow made him seem older than his mere 3,200 years. Like most members of his order, he kept his reddish hair cropped close to his head and his beard neatly trimmed.
As he turned the corner of the stairs, Breena could see the subtle, pointed tips of his ears, an indisputable indicator of his fey parentage. He smiled indulgently at the small girl as she clung to his leg, handing her a glass jar. A single, blue butterfly flitted about inside.
“Watch, mommy.” Chubby hands clumsily unscrewed the lid. As the butterfly rushed to escape the confines of its glass prison, the girl extended her arm, and a look of rapt concentration screwed up her delicate features.
After a few moments, the air began to crackle with energy, slow at first but building in strength and intensity. A golden fog formed around the child’s outstretched palm as she summoned her aether, and the magic rippled through the air, weaving itself around the butterfly. Cori waggled her fingers, and the tiny insect abruptly froze mid-flight, entangled, suspended and motionless, in a web of flickering, gilded threads.
Cori giggled as she deftly twirled her arm, and the butterfly blinked out of existence. Breena followed her daughter’s eyes to the far side of the room, where the butterfly now continued its frenzied
dance, its movements speeding up and then slowing down like a dancer that couldn’t quite find the tempo. Another wave of the child’s hand and the butterfly could do nothing but obey, sluggishly retracing its path through the air until it settled back into the jar. The haze of sparkling aether dissipated as time once more found its correct rhythm.
Breena clapped excitedly as her daughter bounced at her mother’s feet, thoroughly satisfied with her performance. “Fantastic! You’ll be ready for your first crystals soon!” While the child was preoccupied with the quivering insect, Breena shared a worried glance with Esmund. Then, taking the jar, she stepped over to the open window to let the butterfly escape into the still night air, saying over her shoulder, “Alright, my dear. I think that’s enough for today. Time for bed.”
On cue, the small girl squealed theatrically. “No! No. I don’t want to go to bed. I’m not…” A large yawn cut off the rest of the sentence, effectively silencing the child’s desperate plea.
Breena leaned down to look her daughter in the eye. “Go peacefully, and you can take your bath tomorrow.”
“Okay!” The young fey girl placed a sloppy kiss on her mother’s cheek before lunging for the bed. She bounced once, then twice before throwing the faded quilt over her head.
“Eyes closed!” Breena said, watching the lump on the bed suspiciously. Almost immediately, the blankets started to rhythmically rise and fall.
Satisfied that her daughter was truly asleep, Breena dimmed the lamps and followed her brother down the stairs.
The main room of the cottage consisted of a sparsely furnished, open space with a blue door that led to the garden path outside. A ceramic sink with a rusted iron spigot occupied one corner of the room, and a plain, wooden table and three mismatched chairs had been carefully arranged in the center of the kitchen area.
Breena slumped into a chair, shaking her head when Esmund offered her a cup of wine from an unmarked bottle.
“Someone almost saw her today.” The knight leaned against the sink, scowling into his own cup. “I thought you reinforced the spells.”
“I did,” Breena said with a tired sigh. “She burned through them again. Her magic is developing too quickly for me to keep up. Every time I try to lock it away, more bubbles to the surface.”
Esmund watched her impassively. “We’re only a few weeks out now. Once the Aion Gate opens—”
“I know. We’ll be back in Faro. Cori will be safe.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
Breena sighed, picking at a crack in the table. “You were there that day. You saw the same thing I did, Essie.”
“That was just a human walking in the woods.”
“If you believe that, then you’re a fool.”
Esmund went quiet. Because he had been there that day. He had seen the afternoon light dissolve into shadows. And just like her, he had quietly been making his own preparations.
After several long moments, Esmund pushed himself off the sink and strode for the door. “It’s time for my patrol.”
“Essie,” Breena called out, rising from the table.
Esmund paused, but didn’t turn.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ve said it before, but… thank you.”
“It was my duty to come.”
“No, it was your duty to hand Cori over to the Crystal Guard.” And that’s exactly what he had tried to convince her to do—before she had shown him why that wasn’t an option. “This went beyond duty. You didn’t have to come, you didn’t have to believe me, but you did. So… thank you.”
Esmund jerked his chin. “You’re my sister, and Atlas is my friend. There was never a decision to make.”
Breena smiled sadly, sinking back down into her chair as she watched her brother retrieve his sword and slip out into the night.
The soft snick of the door felt strangely final.
The first thing that Breena noticed was the heat. It was still early spring, and the chill of winter lingered in the air. Most mornings, she would bury her nose further underneath the blanket at the first sign of wakefulness.
But the heat was oppressive. It demanded her attention. Even in her languid state, she could sense the sweat beading and rolling down her skin.
“Breena! Wake up!”
Someone was urgently shaking her now. Finally coming to, she opened her eyes to find a very distressed Esmund standing over her.
“Essie? Whatever is the matter?” she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“The village is being attacked.” He moved frantically about the room, a blue aura emanating from his form and filling the tiny space. He held a crystal in his hand, casting water dousing spells in each corner of the bedroom. The heat began to abate, bit by bit, as the harsh glow of the flames outside started to dim. “There was a commotion in the town square when I was doing my rounds. A mob—maybe 15 fire mages and a handful of water and shadow mages. They were asking about a girl. A time mage.”
Dread coiled in her stomach as Breena spurred into action, rushing out of the bedroom and into the main room. She could sense water magic casing the walls, holding back the tendrils of flames that already lapped at the exterior of the little cottage. Water crystals had been placed at each corner of the room, anchoring the spells that had been haphazardly woven together into a protective web.
“Hurry,” Breena mumbled, silently reprimanding herself. She didn’t have time to dawdle. There was too much at stake.
The glass from the windows had already shattered, and it crunched beneath Breena’s boots as she made her way over to the stairs. Thankfully, the original dousing spells Esmund had set when they first moved in were still intact on the upper level, effectively blocking the heat of the fires outside. Cori slept peacefully, unaware of the encroaching danger.
“Baby, wake up.” Breena gently shook the slumbering girl.
Cori struggled to open her eyes, blearily gazing into the distraught face of her mother.
Breena said nothing as she picked up the child, and Cori’s slight arms instinctually wrapped around her mother’s neck. Balancing her daughter in one arm, Breena moved across the room to collect the small chest of enchanting supplies sitting on the desk. When her eyes flitted to the window, she could see a line of robed figures standing just outside the edge of the cottage property.
Her throat tightened. It had finally happened. The Sanctorum had finally found them.
An angry violet light saturated the air around the line of mages as they methodically dismantled the glamours and aether concealment spells she and Esmund had spent weeks cloaking beneath the stones of the garden wall.
Beyond the vanguard, the village was ablaze, and pillars of smoke blackened the night sky.
Muttering a silent prayer and wishing that she still believed in the Shards’ mercy, Breena rushed down the stairs and followed her brother into the cellar.
“They’re already outside,” she snapped as she placed Cori on the mattress of a small bed stuffed into the corner of the dank room. She haphazardly dumped out her enchanting supplies, spreading them across a quilt that had long ago turned yellow with age.
“Something doesn’t seem right.” Esmund paused to pull out another glowing water crystal before continuing to cast a line of protective spells across the back wall. “I could see fires off in the distance. I think they may have hit Plum and Bago too.”
Breena’s mouth went dry. “You think they’re burning the entire western coast just to find one little girl?”
“I don’t know,” Esmund admitted. “It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense. Even if they did discover us, to come into the Marquess Castaro’s territory and start burning his villages… it’s madness.”
Breena forced herself to breathe as she began organizing her supplies. “We can figure that out later. What are our options right now?”
Esmund hesitated, still preoccupied with the various enchantments that now shrouded the room. The walls, the floor, the ceiling—every sur
face was awash with water magic. “If they’ve already made it as far north as Bago, that means the roads to Ryme won’t be safe. Our best option is to defend ourselves here.”
Right then.
Brandishing her dagger, Breena sliced open her palm and filled the small inkpot with a flood of fresh blood. Her heart pounded in her ears, her hands shook—but she paid her rising dread no mind. The stakes were too high to give in to panic.
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she set to work, placing the shadow crystals she had charged earlier in a circle around the trembling fey child and sending out small wisps of her magic to each one.
The air started to feel richer as the crystals released their stored aether, and Breena breathed it in. Her shoulders straightened, and any lingering traces of fatigue melted away as she felt the aether saturate her blood. Grabbing Cori’s arm, Breena waved her hand, methodically extracting the aether from the water glamour Esmund had cast to conceal the underlying web of spells. Braided lines of runes surfaced on the girl’s pale skin, flickering to life and spiraling out from a crescent-shaped shadow crystal that had been embedded in the base of her palm.
The little girl had been uncharacteristically quiet, and she looked up at the older woman, fear clouding her expression. “Mommy, I don’t understand.”
Breena cupped her daughter’s cheek with her undamaged hand. “I know, baby. I know. But I need you to be very brave right now. Can you do that for Mommy?”
Cori nodded resolutely even as the tears overflowed and spilled down her reddened cheeks.
“Good girl. Now I need you to drink.” Breena held up her bleeding palm. When her daughter hesitated, she added, “Please. I know you don’t like it, but we don’t have time to argue right now. This is important.”
Cori nodded and took a tentative sip from the pool of blood welling around the cut, her face scrunching up at the taste.
Esmund paused, turning to face them. “What are you doing?”
“I need to seal away her magic—completely this time. She’s too vulnerable like this.”
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