Confusion clouded his eyes. Followed by stark realization. “That’s forbidden magic. And outside your specialization. How would you even know that spell?”
“You made your preparations,” Breena said, “and I made mine.”
Esmund stopped completely. “That spell requires a full contingent of mages. Where are you going to get the aether?”
Breena didn’t look up. “I’ve been charging crystals,” she said as she began to pen new runes across Cori’s skin.
“And you have enough in reserve?”
A pause. Barely a heartbeat of hesitation before she said, softly, “No. Not unless I give her my anima.”
Esmund crossed the short expanse of the room and stood over her, watching her work. “You’ll die if you do that.”
Breena stopped long enough to look up at the man who had given up his entire life to escape with her to this little island on the outer edge of nowhere. Over a year ago, he had left his own family behind to defend hers.
“Look around,” she said tearfully. “Those monsters don’t care who they kill. We’re all going to die if we don’t do something.” Her face crumpled as she turned back, the crimson runes becoming sloppier and less evenly spaced as she failed to control the tremble in her hands. Cori’s eyes started to droop as more and more of her aether—more of her essence—was sealed away inside the runes that now crawled up her arm like blood-drenched ivy.
Esmund stood by, silent, his arms hanging limply by his sides.
Breena worked quickly and quietly, pushing down the fear and doubt, and soon—too soon—the final enchantment was complete.
Placing her quill to the side, she laid both hands on the mattress and closed her eyes. Her breath came in gasped stutters, and her heart beat erratically in her chest. The color was already draining from her cheeks. She had completely depleted her anima casting this enchantment—tapped into the magic of her soul.
She didn’t have very long left.
Esmund knelt beside her. Removing his final water crystal, he waved it over the complex mass of spells that were now etched into Cori’s skin. The glamour slowly crept across the child’s arm, hiding away the glowing crimson markings behind a wave of concealment magic.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “It’s not too late to undo the spells. Please, little sister, there are so many things that could go wrong.”
“That was the Sanctorum outside,” Breena said sadly. “Even if we survived the fire, they’ve already condemned the town. They plan to kill everyone. Including us.”
Esmund hung his head, recognizing the truth in her words.
Shaking her daughter, Breena smiled sadly as Cori’s eyes slowly fluttered open. She looked dazed, as if she was half-dreaming already. “Cori, you need to listen to me. Very soon, you’re not going to remember this. You’re going to go to sleep, and when you wake up, you’ll have a new life.”
Kneeling, Esmund gingerly handed his sister a polished mahogany box, steadying her hands as she felt for the clasp. The lid came away easily, revealing a small tear-shaped bauble resting upon a bed of crushed azure velvet. They both shared a look before Breena threaded the simple rose-colored crystal onto a piece of string and tied it around Cori’s neck.
“The person who gave me this,” Breena whispered, trailing her fingers across Cori’s cheek, “said that as long as you have this with you, someone would always come to find you. Never take it off—understand?”
The girl nodded weakly, but her eyes were already drooping. She fought valiantly, her hand grasping at her mother’s sleeve, but she couldn’t overcome the fatigue that claimed her as the remaining aether in her blood burned away. Tears flowed freely from Breena’s eyes as she looked at the face of her child for the last time. “I love you. One day, I hope you remember that.”
Esmund tucked the blanket around the girl. “Have you given her a new name?”
“Yes,” Breena said, refusing to look away from her daughter’s face. She caressed the child’s delicate features, committing them to memory. “Atlas should find it amusing.”
Esmund watched the scene quietly, his face falling as Breena stroked the child’s flaxen hair. Moving to stand, he said, “The dousing spells are strong enough to protect her from the fires, but I still need to fortify the concealment spell on the door from the outside. I’ll come back if I can, but—”
“I know.” The Sanctorum was already here, already beating down their door. They were working on borrowed time.
Breena could barely hold her head up as she tried to turn to face him. “Take me with you, Essie.”
“Breena, that’s not necessary. Stay here. Spend your last moments with your child.”
“No. If you don’t make it back, and I’m found down here with her, it will just raise suspicions. I won’t take that risk.”
Her entire body trembled as she struggled to rise, and when her legs gave way, Esmund caught her, slinging an arm underneath her knees as he lifted her. “Take me upstairs, brother. Let me face our attackers. Let them look me in the eye as they burn my bones. Let my spirit rise to the heavens on a cloud of smoke and ash. I can’t think of a more fitting burial.”
Her strength was fading, but instead of pain, she just felt a cold numbness creeping in as Esmund carried her up the stairs.
The door to the cellar snicked shut, and she knew she wouldn’t live to see it open.
“Do you think she’ll remember me?” Breena asked as Esmund set her down at the same table and chairs where the three of them had eaten a peaceful dinner just hours before. If she concentrated, she could still smell the faint aroma of burned stew and fresh bread lingering on the air.
“I know the spell… but do you think it’s possible?” Her body went limp, and her eyes were already starting to flutter closed as death drew nearer.
Esmund laid her head down gently upon the table, folding her hands underneath her cheek as if in sleep.
“Yes, little sister.” He tried his best to smile reassuringly, despite the tears that rolled down his cheeks. “She’ll remember. Every child dreams of their mother’s face.”
______
15 years later
______
Chapter 1
-An excerpt from Practical Spellcasting for the Modern Mage
The study of magic inevitably begins with a single question: what is aether?
At its core, aether is a gaseous element, naturally occurring in breathable air. It is the building block of magic, the cornerstone of modern science, the foundation upon which the Fey Imperium resides.
In short, aether is everything, so ubiquitous within our society that even class divisions are defined by the genetic predisposition to absorb, refine, and transform this substance into various forms of magical output. The fey, as natural magic users, stratify themselves into sub-classes based upon birth and ability, whereas those that cannot wield aether to perform magic reside at the bottom of the social hierarchy and are given a single designation: shardless.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Taly muttered between gasping breaths, her legs pumping frantically.
She could hear the wyvern behind her. Its claws scratched across the rocks that dotted the forested cliffside path overlooking Lake Reginea, and a feral yowl pierced the chill morning air. She spared a glance over her shoulder, and immediately regretted it.
The beast’s body was a gangly, hulking mass, and the scales coating its skin looked like jewels—shards of ruby, agate, jasper, and emerald that glinted in the scant patches of light shining through the treetops. Great leathery wings protruded from its back, each one adorned with a long, bony hook that kept catching on the low-hanging tree branches as it barreled after her.
Taly veered off the overgrown hunting trail she had been following, sliding under a fallen tree and ripping the fabric of her trousers as she changed course. She could feel blood trickling down her leg, but she paid it no mind as she wove her way through the densely packed woods.
A series of
snarls and growls trailed after her as the beast tried to press its way between the thickening tree cover. Twigs snapped and leaves crackled as they were shaken loose and thrown to the ground. The beast was frantic as it flung itself against the trees, splintering those plants whose trunks had yet to become gnarled and hardened with age. It had been slowed down, but so had she.
It was gaining.
Rays of morning sunlight peeked through the trees up ahead, and Taly was almost blinded when she finally emerged from the woods. The worn soles of her boots found little traction on the rocky outcrop, but she didn’t slow down—not even when she approached the jagged edge of the cliff.
Saying a short prayer to the Shards, Taly jumped.
The sound of wind filled her ears as the world rushed by in a blur. Hugging her body, she braced herself for the cold shock of water as she dove feet-first into the placid waters of Lake Reginea almost 30 feet below.
Taly closed her eyes as she plunged deeper and deeper, and she jolted, biting her lip against the pain that rippled up her legs when her feet collided with the lake bottom. Golden tendrils of hair floated in front of her face as she peered up through the murky depths, and she hooked her foot beneath one of the various pieces of rusty scrap metal that littered the lakebed to keep from floating to the top. A dark, winged shadow passed overhead. It circled once, twice, its silhouette distorted by the rippling wall of water—like someone had swirled their fingers through a painting that wasn’t quite dry.
Wyverns didn’t usually venture this far south, so it had come as a complete surprise to Taly when she had accidentally stumbled upon a nest as she was walking through the woods that morning. Thank the Shards there had been a lake nearby. Wyverns hated water.
Her lungs began to burn, so Taly released her makeshift anchor and swam to the surface. Gasping for breath, she groped for a nearby piece of driftwood, her eyes scanning the trees. Although she could no longer see the wyvern, she could still hear a low growl coming from the forest’s edge just beyond the scattered perimeter of junk and debris that decorated the shoreline.
The underbrush began to rustle, and a long, hooked beak poked between the trees. The strange bird-like jaws parted to reveal rows upon rows of jagged teeth as the wyvern stepped out of the shadows and took a long, languid sniff.
Shit. Why the hell wasn’t this thing giving up?
Its eyes found hers, and it let loose a ferocious snarl as it pawed at the edge of the water with razor-sharp talons. Its massive club of a tail swung from side-to-side impatiently.
With a shake of its head, the wyvern’s wings extended, and swirls of gravel and dust flew into the air as it began to lift itself off the ground. It flew higher and higher, and when it turned and began drifting over the treetops, Taly was sure that it had finally lost interest in her. Her stomach dropped when it did a surprisingly graceful somersault midair, coasting back over the forest canopy as it began circling the lake once more.
“Go away, you overgrown lizard!” she screamed, getting ready to dive again. Wyverns wouldn’t usually risk flying over water, but on days like today, when the aether was so thin that even Taly, a mortal, could tell that something in the air felt off, the magical beasts could be unpredictable.
The creature arched its back, and its body dipped, but before it could attempt a dive, it gave an indignant squawk as a ribbon of water shot out of the trees and hit it square in the face. The beast shook itself, nearly falling out of the air as it struggled to recover from its surprise. Streams of water continued to lash at its body, and it eventually fell to the ground with a heavy thud that rippled the lake’s surface.
“Go on! Get out of here!” A man that looked far too young for the gruff timbre of his voice stepped out of the trees. His skin was tanned from the sun, and the sandy mop of hair curling around his shoulders was windblown and swept to the side. He held a glowing blue crystal in one hand, and tendrils of water magic curled around his body. “Damn pest!” he barked. A wave of his hand sent out another lash of water magic.
The wyvern snapped its beak at the man but slowly backed away as the mage carefully picked his way through the scrap that littered the shore. The creature’s beady eyes flicked back to Taly even as it retreated another step, its body already disappearing behind the tree line. A mortal wasn’t a good enough meal to risk taking on a water mage.
With a final yowl, the creature disappeared into the forest, leaves rustling in the wake of its departure.
Approaching the edge of the lake, the man squinted. “Taly Caro?! I thought that looked like you falling from the sky. Shards bless… When I checked the forecast this morning, it didn’t say anything about raining humans. The weather here on Tempris gets stranger every year.”
Taly did her best to wave as she let go of the piece of driftwood and started to swim to shore. “Syn,” she said when she was close enough for her toes to touch the bottom. The man laughed as he waded out to meet her. “You beautiful fey bastard. I owe you one.” Slipping when her boot hit a particularly slick patch of rocks, she struggled to regain her footing as the water dragged at her sodden clothing. Her shoulder-length hair was tangled and matted as it clung to her neck.
“What the hell are you doing out here, girlie? Did that cheap bastard you call a landlord break your plumbing again with his so-called repairs? You know, if you’d wanted a bath so badly, I’d have given you a few coins for the bathhouse. All you needed to do was ask.” Syn was still chuckling to himself as he wrapped an arm around her waist, practically lifting her off her feet as he helped her back to shore. Taly couldn’t help but feel guilty about the line of water that now marked him from the waist down. Even though his worn leather boots were far from new, he’d likely be walking around with wet shoes for the rest of the day.
Taly gave him her best glare. “Despite Jay’s continued failure to fix my shower, my hygiene is impeccable, thank you very much.” Peeling off a dark canvas coat that was almost two sizes too large for her, she shivered when the chill air greeted her bare arms, making her pale skin prickle. Although it was still cold enough to be distinctly uncomfortable, maybe even dangerous for a human under the right circumstances, a wet coat wasn’t doing her any favors.
Scowling, Taly kicked at a piece of junk that was half-buried in the mud. The object was rusty and jagged, and although she had no idea what it was supposed to be, she knew enough to see that it was worthless.
“No, I’m out in this hellhole this morning because I took some bad advice,” she said, gazing out over the lake and letting her eyes trace the flat violet-and-gold crystal planes that loomed in the distance. The Ios Gate was just one of the many dimensional gates peppered across the island of Tempris. No longer functional, what had once been a shining edifice swirling with glistening eddies of aether was now nothing more than a dark wall of stone. “I heard that a new wave of scrap came through the Ios Gate last night, but, unfortunately for me, the site was already picked clean before I got here. I even searched the cliffs behind the gate since I’ve heard that stuff sometimes falls through in that area, but I didn’t find anything good. Just a bunch of trash and a really cranky wyvern.”
Syn clapped a hand to her shoulder, and she followed him as he began to push his way through the dense underbrush of the forest. Bright streaks of warm, buttery sunlight sliced through the trees, illuminating the overgrown forest path. Although it was almost spring, some of the winter frost still stubbornly clung to the ground.
It was a short walk back to the main road, and a skinny piebald mare hitched to a plain wooden wagon was waiting patiently on the recently repaired cobbled pavement. Syn drew back the tarp covering his wares and pulled out an old blanket.
“Well, I’m not surprised you didn’t find anything,” he said, taking her coat and then wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. Taly’s teeth had started to chatter, and all she could do was nod in thanks. “The Fire Guild came out last night. Given how close it is to Ryme, they’re always quick to jump on Ios. No salvager wor
th their salt ever bothers coming out to Lake Reginea.”
“Yeah, I figured that out the hard way,” Taly managed to say between shivers as she accepted a thermos of coffee that Syn had produced from beside the driver’s seat. The brew tasted old and weak, but it was warm and made her almost feel alive again.
Syn smiled and shook his head. “Well, you’ll know from now on. Sometimes I forget that you’ve only been at this a year. You learn a lot quicker than most salvagers I come across.” Crouching down, he began dabbing at the scrape on her knee with a cloth soaked in blood wood, a plant native to Tempris that produced a small amount of earth aether in its sap. The salve burned, but the flesh was already starting to mend itself as the healing magic soaked into her skin.
“Thank you, Syn. I know blood wood’s not easy to come by right now. I’ll pay you for that as soon as I’m able.”
Syn waved her off. “I don’t want your coin, Taly. If you want to repay me, just tell me how you managed to get that wyvern so riled. They don’t usually mess with humans—or anything without magic for that matter. What those beasts are after is aether. Any kind they can find.” Giving her a wink, he added, “Except water aether, of course. Even though I have no doubt that wyvern would’ve loved to drain my blood, it would’ve had to get wet to do it.”
Taly leaned against the cart, sipping at the thermos. “I wish I had a good story for you, but all I did was stumble into its nest.”
“I’ve never heard of a wyvern nesting south of Litor.” Syn rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “But then again, stranger things have happened when the Aion Gate was charging.”
Taly nodded in agreement, pulling at the edges of the blanket. The Aion Gate was one of the only two remaining gates on the island that still functioned. In the wake of the Schism, the great disaster that had resulted in the closing of every gate on the island of Tempris, the Gate Watchers had been formed to repair and oversee the gates. However, with their limited resources, they could only focus on the two interdimensional bridges that had been deemed essential—the Seren Gate, which led to the fey mainland of Lycia, and the much larger, far more temperamental Aion Gate.
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