Dawn of the Forgotten

by K.N. Lee

  Sona had stolen the Silver Elves’ talisman.

  Now, it was time to steal another.

  27

  Horrified screams had become the only sound Wilem and Jorge heard as they stared out the small window, looking out of the palace tower to the green garden mazes below.

  They couldn’t see where the screaming was coming from, but many of the bushes below were on fire, and soldiers were running, armed, and disappearing into an area where their frightened eyes could follow.

  “What do you think is happening?” Jorge asked, turning to Liam, his big brown eyes full of fear.

  Wilem shrugged, moving closer to the glass until his forehead was pressed against it. He couldn’t see any more than Jorge.

  “Don’t know,” he replied.

  With a frustrated sigh, he sat back down on the platform beneath the window.

  Hunger began to set in, despite the guards bringing food every day, it was less than what he was used to. Even when they traveled, Vleta hunted and provided Wilem and Jorge with feasts of roasted meat.

  Now, he ate like the Silver Elves of Dunhaven, nibbling on vegetation and thick soups with little flavor.

  Hunger wasn’t their biggest issue. He longed to be free to join Liam on his quest. If only he’d tried to join him, then he and his friend wouldn’t be in such a state.

  He missed Liam, Rowe, Sona, and Nani. Most of all, he missed Vleta. To have his dragon stolen from his grasp was the worst that could have happened. When he’d last seen them, they’d been boarding a ship from the fairy village of Tolrinia.

  Nothing had been the same since they left, and he doubted it would ever be the same again. Now, it looked as though the city they were prisoners in was under attack.

  Defeated, he turned away from the window as a tapping on the door took his attention away.

  Probably the same guards they’d see in the morning and evening to bring them food, or worse; invaders.

  Wilem could only hope that it was Liam, come to rescue him.

  When the door opened, he and Jorge leaped to their feet, and looked to their visitor in shock.

  “Sona?” Wilem called, stunned to see someone from his past.

  He was right.

  Someone had come to rescue them.

  The joy that filled his heart was untamed and took over his face as tears pooled in his eyes, and a sudden burst of energy ignited his legs as he ran toward her.

  “Sona!”

  She knelt down, sword covered in blood, blood splattered on her face, and tears in her eyes.

  “My dear boys,” she shouted as he crashed into her arms. “Thank the spirits, you two are all right.”

  He sobbed into her chest, unable to fight the emotions.

  She hugged them both, her arms wrapped around her as they fought for space against her body.

  When she pulled back, Wilem smiled at her, such relief overwhelming him.

  “You’ve come to save us,” he said, and she nodded, returning the smile.

  “Yes,” she said, her smile widening. She stroked his cheek with a bloody thumb. “Yes, I did.”

  The red sky was highlighted by the sun’s vibrant rays as Sona flew with Wilem, Jorge, and the Tryan talisman she’d plucked off the dead Dunhaven queen.

  Every mile she flew led her closer and closer to the one man she would risk it all for.

  Liam was alive.

  Her throat tightened. What she’d done to him was unforgivable. Though he had been her mission, he was also her one and only love.

  There was much to do, and she wasn’t sure if she could face him once again.

  She closed her eyes as they flew toward the sunset. She held her hand across her growing stomach, and tears fell from the corners of her eyes.

  Soon, she’d come face to face her one and only love.

  Her child’s father.

  Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving an honest review. The adventure continues with Prophecy of the Seer very soon. Also, check of Waking the Dark, one of the crossover series where you can learn more about Ocura Maga, or Goddess of War.

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  Magic. Betrayal. Vengeance.

  We lost the war...

  ...but not our souls.

  After nearly a century at war with the blood elves, the humans have lost and now serve their enemy. As my age to serve approaches, I battle not the elves who stole everything from us...but my own people and an ancient magic that brews inside of me.

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  Flip the page for an exclusive excerpt!

  An Exclusive Excerpt from Waking the Dark

  Whispers. Beckoning. The trees in the distance rustled as if in greeting, urging me to take the leap, and shed my dismal life.

  If only I had the courage.

  I scraped caked-in blood from my ragged fingertips. Me and the other workers had toiled for hours while the cold wind blew at our backs. As I stood at the top of The Wall, overlooking what was left of the Old World, I coughed and rubbed at my frozen nose. Wetness smeared on my knuckles, only making me colder.

  From this high up, the quiet and peace was worth every frozen finger and toe. For a moment, I pretended to be free, picturing myself at the helm of a ship as it sailed across the Aranthian continent.

  “See anything, Ava?” Ford asked, breaking me from my thoughts. He called up from the platform just below mine. “Any monsters? Anything at all?”

  I glanced down at him, his murky, brown eyes hooded by thick black hair that constantly whipped into his face as the Northern winds continued their assault.

  I shook my head. “Nothing,” I said, glancing back up as I held onto the black pole at the top of the stone structure meant to protect us from the creatures on the other side.

  The unnerving silence on the other side always captivated me since I’d taken this job. While we were slaves within the walls, there was such eerie beauty on the other side. As I gazed into the horizon, mountains emerged from the thick green of the forest, and the sea stretched all across the east.

  This was just my first week helping tar and stack heavy stones onto the top. For years, the humans had made the wall taller and more fortified, and each year we began to wonder whether it was meant to keep something out…or to keep us in.

  I already knew the answer to that question, but we worked nonetheless, feigning ignorance and convincing ourselves that the Blood Elves who had invaded our land had our safety in mind.

  “Oy,” a loud shout came from far to the right.

  I shuddered, turning to meet the hawk-like glare of Hyatt, the task master. Golden hair whipped around my face as our gazes met.

  His pointed ears were red from the cold, yet the cruelty in his glowing amber eyes betrayed nothing of his discomfort.

  I dreaded the lashing of his long, enchanted whip, lip trembling as I eyed it, waiting for it to snap out and slash my face or back open.

  Damned Blood Elf. It was as if our peace only angered them. And so, we kept our heads down, executed our tasks, and sealed our mouths closed.

  “Get back to work,” he ordered, and everyone turned their attention to their respective jobs pulling stones up from the ground.

  There were hundreds on the wall, old and young, children, and the outcast class of gnomes. No matter where we came from, we were all slaves.

  Quickly ducking down, I accepted the next block of stone and used all of my strength to slide it to the top of the wall. As I leaned down and got the next one, a wyvern swept in, stunning me. Black wings blotted out the faint light of the sun, silver claws glistening.

  Instead of flying away, it lunged into my face, knocking me from the safety of my spot on the platform.

  I screamed. Though I tried to catch myself, another gust of wind blew at me and my descent into the foggy abyss began.

  Ford reached for me.

  He
missed, his hand sliding up my arm and catching nothing but air.

  My scream caught in my throat as I realized I was falling to my inevitable death. The Wall was hundreds of feet tall, so tall that most days the clouds met us halfway, leaving mist on our faces.

  No matter how much I flailed, the fall continued to pick up speed. A cry of pain ripped from my lips as something wrapped itself around my ankle.

  I slammed into the side of the wall, foot, ankle, and leg burning with pain—pain that was nothing compared to the cracking of my skull against the stone.

  I heard them screaming my name.

  Yet, the darkness called it the loudest.

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  An Exclusive Excerpt from Throne of Deceit

  Coming soon to Kindle Unlimited!

  My mother and I were summoned just after dawn. The king’s guard must have ridden through the night, for we’d barely started our breakfast when they came knocking on the manor doors.

  We dressed, and packed a trunk for the journey, and just like that, we were ripped from our lives to heed the king’s call.

  As we walked to the carriage, I couldn’t help but glance at the guards as they watched us.

  The king’s whore.

  The king’s bastard.

  I knew that’s what the kingdom called us, but at least the guards were kind enough not to whisper it in our midst like most.

  We cuddled in the back of the carriage as the wind blew in and bit at our faces. My mother wrapped a heavy blanket around us, and back to sleep we went, prepared for the long journey.

  I always knew my father was a cruel man.

  He never hugged or kissed me, and when I was just a child, I’d watched him beat my mother for simply saying hello to one of the lords of court.

  He didn’t care that the lord happened to be her cousin, and that she’d denied all offers for marriage to be his mistress.

  No. King Aleron was a jealous man—one driven by power and lust—and we all bowed to his commands.

  Dutiful subjects.

  Fools.

  Nearly a full day rolled by as we rode through the countryside to the capital city of Perth. As soon as we crossed the bridge over the Crystal River, where enchanted waters flowed, the shining white palace glinted in the sunlight in the distance.

  An Exclusive Look at The Way of Thieves

  Water splashed on Sera’s face, awakening her from a feverish dream that left her choking and gasping for air.

  The cold water affronted her nose and mouth, and blurred her vision as she struggled to see in the inky darkness.

  “Who’s there?” Her voice came out coarse, timid.

  Weak.

  For a moment, she’d almost forgotten what a dismal situation she was in—that, or she just didn’t want to believe it was true.

  With hands bound behind her back, the memories flooded her, leaving a churning sensation in the pit of her stomach. It had been just another job, on just another shitty planet. The rules were always the same: steal, repent, repeat. Except, this time, it appeared that she’d been set up.

  This time…she’d had to get her hands dirty.

  “Seraphina Friel,” a metallic voice whispered, and the tiny red hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  She swallowed, too afraid to reply. That was her name, but she wasn’t ready to admit it. So far she’d hidden from the world and those who knew her name, and her misdeeds—from those who would see her dead.

  “Do you know how many men you left dead on Turimex?”

  No. There were too many to count.

  “We’ve been watching you. Studying you.”

  With brows lifting, she kept silent, working the ropes around her wrists as stealthily as she could afford.

  Keep talking, you bastard. One more minute and I’ll knock your head off your shoulders.

  Sweat pooled between her breasts, mixing with the cool water that had awakened her, and just as she almost broke free from the ropes, bright light flooded every inch and crevice that surrounded her.

  Her scream caught in her throat at what she beheld.

  A cavern, with a tall ceiling that stretched too far for her to see. In the center was a single pillar.

  She was tied to it.

  Cloaked figures stood on a bridge, watching her, their faces too dark to make out despite the sudden assault of light.

  “Who are you?”

  She’d wanted to sound demanding, but once again, her voice came out in a strangled cry.

  A whoosh of air lifted her hair, and with it, the cloaked figures unsheathed themselves and floated in the air like colorful wisps.

  Her blood ran cold as the voice returned, ringing in her ears.

  “We are your savior,” it said, and finally, her scream was set free as heat Emric from below and swallowed her whole.

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  A Look at Fallen Empire

  They say the Age of Dragons ended after the War on Magic, but hiding in the forgotten lands remains one clan destined to reclaim their ancestral home.

  From Chapter One

  A FIRST KISS was supposed to be special. Memorable. As Tomas pulled away from Amalia, her eyes opened with confusion.

  Is that it?

  Her silver-gray eyes filled with disappointment.

  Was that what she'd been waiting for all of her life?

  The taste of onion was on his tongue, and the coarse feel of chapped lips didn't help the experience.

  He gave her a grin—a gap-toothed one she had hoped she'd grow to appreciate, maybe even love one day.

  Amalia couldn't afford to be picky. Though Tomas wasn't the most handsome, or even the smartest lad in the village, he had proclaimed his love for her. He knew a trade and was kind.

  She licked her lips and forced a tight smile.

  He'd have to do.

  It was a fact that not many would even consider marrying a Mage. Especially one like Amalia—one marked by the gods. Not when Mages were being hunted down by Wolves, or even worse, the Brotherhood.

  Skal was neutral territory. But, invisible borders meant nothing when the people within them held the same prejudice as those outside.

  “So,” he said, his cheeks reddening. “What do you think?

  “It was lovely,” she lied, blinking.

  The look of relief on his face was reassuring. Within a month's time, Amalia would be fifteen and of age. She'd be Tomas' wife.

  “Good,” he said. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this moment. Seems like all of my life. For as long as I could remember. At night, all I can think of are the way your eyes remind me of the night sky, and how I’d give anything to look into your eyes every day until the day I die.”

  Her smile turned genuine. She should set aside her selfish vanity and desire for a handsome boy, one who would make her heart sing. The time for silly childish ideas about what life would hold was coming to an end. It was time for her to accept her fate and prepare for a simple life with a simple man.

  “I had no idea,” she said, reaching out for his hand.

  “Of course, you didn’t. You barely looked at me until our parents made the arrangement.”

  She ran her fingers through the tangles of her hair. Somehow the long, black strands always seemed to knot around one another. “That’s not true. You are a very nice young man. Any girl would be happy to have you.”

  “That’s nice of you to say. But, I know I’m not a knight or a raider or anything special like that.”

  “It is the truth. I can’t think of anyone kinder than you in the village,” she said and glanced at the paling sky. The smell of rain was faint in the air, but the clouds were darkening by the minute. “Perhaps we should return to the village. It looks like a storm is coming this way.”

  He followed her gaze, combing his long dark hair from his mahogany-colored eyes. “I think you're right.” He reached for her hand. She accepted and he pulled her to her feet.

 
She brushed grass from her faded blue gown and gray smock and stretched her arms above her head. By the bubbling brook at the foot of the Weeping Mountain, they had feasted on ripe mango and warm honey bread her mother had prepared for their first excursion alone as intended mates.

  Tonight, there would be a feast. Their families would dine together and their fathers would discuss matters of joining their resources.

  It was the way of the Skal.

  A way Amalia wished she could forever be free of.

  Together, they gathered their blanket and basket, and the scent of burning wood wafted their way.

  Her brows furrowed as she stood to her full height—almost as tall as Tomas.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She sniffed the air. “Do you smell something?”

  “I do, actually,” he said, frowning. “What is that? Is something burning?”

  The air smelled of charcoal and sulfur. Realization washed over Amalia and her face drained of color. She knew that smell.

  Her heart sank and she dropped the basket and turned to run toward the village. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a bad dream.

  “What is it?” Tomas asked as he ran after her.

  “Dragons!”

  Dawn of the Forgotten Playlist

  Pax Deorum- Enya

  Cursum Perficio- Enya

  Exile- Aine Minogue

  If I Had a Heart- Fever Ray

  Devil and the Huntsman- King Arthur Soundtrack

  The Foggy Dew- Sinead O’Conner & The Chieftans

  Of This Land- Clannad

  Samain Night- Loreena Mckennitt

  Gates of Istanbul- Loreena Mckennitt

  The Misty Mountains Cold- The Hobbit