by Helen Scott
When the wind gusted again, the smoke cleared a little and I found that we were in a frozen countryside. Dead brown grass and rocks were under my feet as I straightened from my coughing fit, and that was most of what I could see for miles. The sharp peaks of mountains seemed to rise out of the nothingness around us. The longer I looked the more I realized we were on top of a hill. There was a small farmhouse in one direction and the smoke was coming from the other direction.
"We couldn't portal to the castle. My guess is the queen has blocked things off," Dres said.
"Where are we?" I asked, turning to face my stoic warrior.
"That is my childhood home." He turned and pointed at the farmhouse. "I thought we could gather ourselves there and then try and get to the founding families."
I nodded. "Let's go." I didn't like the smoke that seemed to be swirling toward us any more than I had liked showing up at the wrong portal in Atlantis.
We set off over the snow-covered fields and down the hill until we were standing in front of a small cottage. The building we had been able to see from the top of the hill was actually the barn. The cottage was less than half the size and the thatched roof came down from the top all the way to about two feet off the ground. There were small slats that were windows on each side of the wooden door, but where I would have expected some kind of light shining out from inside, there was nothing.
"Dres..." I whispered my companion's name, unsure what to say or how to vocalize the dread that was pooling in my stomach.
It seemed like the others sensed it as well because no one was making a move toward the door, although that could also have something to do with the streak of black paint that had been splashed across it. There was no smoke coming from the chimney or any kind of indication that the house was occupied. After a while, Dres seemed to steel himself and walked forward to knock on the door. I couldn't help but think it was an odd gesture given what he'd said about his people being able to read any and everyone's minds.
The door swung open and the scent of death gusted out. I covered my nose and watched as Dres walked in. The inside was small, nothing special, just a working family's home. A fire pit sat in the middle of the room with a spit over it and herbs hanging from the ceiling around the chimney opening. There was one door in the back and a ladder that went up to a loft area.
Dres moved with purpose toward the door, but when his hand landed on the doorknob, I saw him hesitate. We all knew what was going to be behind it from the smell, and I wished he wouldn't open it, but as he squared his shoulders his hand turned and the door swung open. The smell overwhelmed us again, and I had to fight the need to retch. The psychic warrior in front of me took one step and fell to his knees.
As much as I wanted to turn and run the other way I couldn't. There were some things that you couldn't outrun. This was one of them. Quietly, I moved toward him, my eyes not making sense of the room in front of me at first, but then after looking a second longer, I wished they hadn't. The bodies were clearly a few days to a week old, having started to decompose. From what I could tell, the man, who I assumed was Dres' father, had been killed in his sleep, his throat cut, with the spray of blood decorating the surrounding area. Dres' mother must have woken up because she was half out of bed. Her nightgown, which was cream in parts, was mostly a dull reddish brown from where the blood had dried on it after she met her own end.
There was nothing poetic about what was in front of us, nothing that would do Dres any good to look at, only death and sorrow. I squatted in front of him and hoped I had enough strength to get him to move. "Dresden, come with me," I said. My voice was soft but unyielding. I could sense that, at that moment, he needed a firm hand or he was going to lose it. His dark eyes blinked at me without a shred of recognition in them. "Come on, let's go." I took his hand and tried to haul him upward.
The others stepped forward to help, but it was too late. Dres screamed in my face. I couldn't tell whether he was saying words or not, somehow I doubted it. This was a scream of anguish, of grief. It was the sound of a child's heart breaking. The only problem was that he wasn't a child. He was a warrior who could control the wind itself.
When he lashed out, I took the brunt of it. He sent me flying backward into the wall of the cottage, only the wall wasn't there anymore. The entire cottage was gone, blown apart like a bomb had gone off. I flew through the air for longer than I would have thought possible, but then this was magic that we were dealing with. My scream was wrenched out of me as flew through the air. The ground came up to meet me like a linebacker tackling a quarterback.
The air rushed out of my lungs and I was left on the ground gasping, my mouth opening and closing as I tried to fill my lungs even though they weren't working. My vision faded around the edges as pain overwhelmed my body. Every scrape and bruise from the last few months seemed to echo into existence inside me. As the darkness overtook me the last thing I saw was a face peering over me that I didn't recognize, surrounded by gray and white armor glinting in the weak sunlight.
Be on the lookout for Air in March 2019!
Don’t miss the start of the Salsang Chronicles that I’m cowriting with Serena Akeroyd in February either! Preorder your copy here!
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Don’t forget to check out Helen’s other series.
Four Worlds
Water
Fire
Air - Coming March 2019!
Earth - Coming soon!
Salsang Chronicles
Stained Egos
Stained Hearts - Coming soon!
Cerberus
Daughter of Persephone
Daughter of Hades
Queen of the Underworld
Wardens of Midnight
Woman of Midnight (A Wardens of Midnight Novella)
Sanctuary at Midnight
The Siren Legacy
The Oracle (A Siren Legacy Novella)
The Siren’s Son
The Siren’s Eyes
The Siren’s Code
The Siren’s Heart
The Banshee (A Siren Legacy Novella)
The Siren’s Bride
Fury’s Fire
Fury’s Valentine
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank you most of all, as the reader, for giving me a chance to entertain you and invite you into my world. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed it!
Thank you to Amanda Munson for suggesting the awesome band name of Forsaking Midnight!
A big thank you to my cover designer, Natasha Snow, for helping me bring these books to life, and to my editor, Missy Stewart, for making sure that the readers get the best possible version of the book.
Thank you to my family for helping me pursue my dream and putting up with my wandering mind.
Last, but not least, thank you to my husband for pushing me to share my stories with the world. Thanks for putting up with me every day, babe. You’re amazing!
About the Author
Helen Scott lives in the Chicago area with her wonderful husband and furry, four-legged kids. She spends way too much time with her nose in a book and isn’t sorry about it. When not reading or writing, Helen can be found absorbed in one video game or another or crocheting her heart out.