Walking numbly, she tried to even her breathing and steel her heart. But that did nothing against the crashing voices in her mind, memories from long ago slicing through her.
“Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like, living in Sarthaven? In a city where you could be anyone? A place filled with culture. With adventure?”
She rolled her eyes, looking out from their perch on the rock wall outside the Academy, the rolling forests stretching out in front of them.
“What? Being a part of one of the most influential families in Kiero isn’t enough for you then?”
Adair looked at her, smiling lopsidedly. “Not even close.”
Her pulse picked up as she dissected every detail, her blood running cold at the memory. Adair had been her best friend, understanding better than most the dream to break away from the pressures of the Academy. The dream of what life would look like when they were adults.
And now, he was a Mad King, and she was the martyr who would end him. Beneath her anger and fear, a tiny sliver of hope bloomed. What maniac king would build this for his world? What king so overpowered by his destruction would nourish vibrancy and culture?
Each step brought her closer to Adair, as she absorbed the families, the homes that made up the kingdom in the mountain. The sweeping arcs of the architecture, of the towering staircases that made up this splendor. Each step brought a sliver of doubt, wedging into her that maybe the boy she knew was still in there. The boy who was a dreamer, misunderstood, and uncaged. Who just wanted a taste of being lost, to find exactly who he was.
Exhaling hard, Emory looked forward. They passed underneath a carved archway, and the guard pushed open another oak door. The howling wind met them, and as the door shut behind them, she stopped. The ledge was small, the wind tearing at their clothes as she looked out at the expanse of Kiero-or the skeletons that were left of it. Panic froze her, and she ripped her arm out of the guard’s hold, flushing her back against the mountain. Heights were one of her worst fears.
The guard smirked. “The king should be here shortly.” And with that, he left, locking the door behind him.
Chapter Six
Adair
His mind was spinning. Reeling with the possibilities, with his mistakes; his surroundings a blur. The voices were quiet, like the calm before the storm; always looking to drag him back down in their grasp. Quickly finding his way back to his room, he threw the door open and strode across the space.
Adair took the old weathered book from his cloak and slammed it on his desk. The room dropped several degrees, and it took all his restraint to not scream as he snapped, “Explain. This. Now.”
With an unseen wind, the cover flipped open, flying back and forth as thick blackness oozed from the yellow pages, voices cackling from within. Shadows encircled him, semi-visible in the half light as the tang of magic filled his soul.
“Our King, what could there possibly be to explain?”
He hissed through his teeth. “This changes everything. You swore that if I fulfilled what you wanted, I would conquer this world. Now...” I lost my soul. I lost everything. “Now the Fae girl saunters in and casually tells me not only that she escaped me six years ago, but escaped to another world? And the man who was the key to this is dead!” He was yelling now as he continued, “Were you aware of this information?”
A hushed silence followed before the silky voices cooed, “You are following your destiny as you should. Train Emory. Make her suffer and then make her yield. The Rebellion will show their hand for that. We cannot answer what you wish, but you are playing your role beautifully, Adair.”
Treacherous lying creatures. Before they could say anything more, he tossed the book across the room, their presence disappearing as fast as they came.
Riddles, always riddles.
Even as a teenager, their voices had called to him, promising him a life he could have never imagined. They told him beautiful and terrible things, and he wanted it all: So he took it. Their poison flooded in his bloodstream, clouding his heart. His mind. Making him hardly human.
Six years following their instructions, death and destruction was all that was left in his wake on the climb to be King. He had built an almost indestructible army, including hundreds of dabarnes, and had allowed these demons to play him for their pawn. Adair never questioned the lust for power overshadowing everything else. He had unlocked that part of himself as well, and he loved it.
Running his hand over the smooth edge of the desk, he tried desperately to sort out his thoughts. But all he could think about was her.
Pacing now, each step fueled his rage. He should have known, should have seen it years ago. Of course, Carter would try to manipulate Emory. Try to cage her. As for Brokk... Through a thousand possibilities, he had never foreseen that an orphan mutt would possess such raw power, that Brokk would be the one to stand in between him having Emory.
In his indignation, Adair threw open his desk drawer, shoved the Book of Old in it, and slammed it shut. With a flick of his wrist, it locked. And he gave himself one second. Breathing unevenly, he clenched his fists, and then he was gone, dissolved into smoke and ash.
Cutting through his kingdom, propelling himself faster, he sliced through time and space. The wind hit him, fierce and refreshing, and it was only a second before he materialized before Emory, her features stretched in fear, her already pale skin white, emerald eyes blazing.
His voice was too calm as he held his hand out to her. “Your first lesson begins now.” Tilting her head, she didn’t move. Another silent battle of unsaid words and his fingers shook, the beast inside of him trying to overtake him. Her eyes flicked down as he tried to steady his hand.
Raking her gaze up to his, he could taste the fear rolling off her as she croaked, “My sword?” The tang of magic surged through him, and smoke enveloped around her, the leather materializing in seconds in a sheath. Her eyebrows flicked up, as she secured the sword in the sheath.
His patience bled into nothingness as he snapped, “Now, are you with me?”
She stepped forward, her muscles trembling. The wind ripped at her hair, the red ends catching in the light, radiating. Her hand met his, and he wove their fingers together. Heat surged up his arm as he pulled backward, and they freefell. Her screams ripped through him as her body slammed into his. He wrapped his arms around her as they soared up, his magic blanketing them.
It was freedom and ecstasy, and Adair lost himself in it. Her nails dug into his arms. And when he looked down, he saw fresh tears spilling from her eyes. He smirked before then dropping like a comet being pulled into their orbit. Again all he could hear was Emory’s screams as they picked up speed, and his mind became clear, sharpened by her fear and his wrath.
In an explosion of smoke, they landed into the heart of the Noctis woods, the deep purple hues reflecting around them. She dropped from his grasp, emptying the contents of her stomach.
“Get up. Now.”
“You are out of your mind,” Emory said breathlessly as she stood.
He stalked up to her. “So, I’ve been told. It’s your choice whether you stand by your decision.”
Her features darkened, sweat slicking her skin. She unsheathed her sword, arms shaking as she asked, “Where are we?”
Prowling around her, his sword materialized, its double- edged side blade a mammoth beside hers. The stillness pressed around them as he murmured, “The Noctis Woods. Better known as the Heart of Midnight. I only dare pass through, the residents here can be ... not very understanding.”
Circling around, he came face-to-face with her. “Now, it’s time to forget everything you think you know. Whatever Carter taught you is child’s play. You claim you want to stand by my side? You claim you want to be one of us? Then you have to earn it.”
He shivered in pleasure as ice encrusted his blade, the air around them dropping several degrees. Destroy her. That electrified rush ran through his veins as she furrowed her brows, setting her jaw. He smirked, w
hispering, “Now, show me what you are made of.”
Emory charged, roaring. Running to meet her, ice raced around them as flames erupted from her blade, and they met in the middle. Water hissed, sparks flew, and Adair twisted, becoming smoke before materializing behind her. She cursed, twisting around as he landed a blow, slicing with aim at her neck. Their blades clashed together, her arms shaking.
He was relentless, not stopping, each blow filled with fury as she parried, stumbling over her feet. Again, he spun, appearing at her back as she ducked down just in time. Adair pressed his lips in a thin line, slicing at her calves as she rolled out of his reach. She was fast, he would give her that.
The metal tang of magic filled him as his ability exploded forward, pinning her in place. Ice cracked beneath his boots as he prowled toward her. Her eyes started rolling back, and she quivered beneath his claws.
“Always know your opponent. Always know when it is a lost battle. Always think one step ahead. Always weigh your strengths and weaknesses.” Adair brushed a finger against her cheek, her wide eyes, taking him in as he whispered in her ear, “And always remember, that you will never beat me.”
Letting her go, Emory dropped to her knees, gasping. “Your ability is budding, but it is weak. We will start there. You must work at it every day, a muscle you train and strengthen. Fighting with your heart is never enough. You must fight with your mind, you must plot and plan, and execute with a lethal grace. Fighting isn’t a reaction. It is an essential part of you, like breathing. Always with you but not overthought.”
Stopping, he tapped his blade underneath her chin, bringing her gaze to his. “Again.” Her lip trembled, but she stood, leveling her sword in front of her. He sighed, “Now, let’s break it down, starting with our feet first. If you don’t work on your swordsmanship, then your ability is just a fraction of your advantage.”
His words poured from him, and in a slow tempo, they arced their swords, bowing against one another. Sweat plastered her forehead, matted her hair, as time after time, she failed. Her feet stumbled, her movements clumsy and always too late. Adair shook his head. “Without the swords. Emory, focus.”
Frustrated, she drove her blade into the ground, chest heaving. He mimicked her and strode up to her, speaking softly, “You have to find that place within yourself. Where everything goes quiet, except you and your intention. Where you find that peace and that endless rage, and it feeds your soul, ignites your purpose.”
“I’m not a soldier!” Emory seethed.
He stalked around her. “Not yet, but that’s what you want to become. So, you will achieve it. Or has everything you claimed been a lie?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not.”
He nodded. “Then do not throw it away.” Grasping her wrist, he brought it up to eye level. Placing another hand on her hip, he breathed deeply. “Your body is slow. Also, clumsy.” Stepping forward, he pushed her back, then smiling, he raked his gaze up to hers. “See?”
Slowly, he started the dance, his hand never wavering from her hip, his other leading her hand, arching slowly, sweeping wide and far. Pushing her back, her body naturally reacted: Back, forth, side to side. Parry and react. Parry and react.
Nodding, he said, “Now I’m going to break away, but continue this. We will add our blades.”
Pulling back, his gaze never wavered as he flicked his hand, her blade appeared in her grip and his in his own. Her held his, raking over his face, but he didn’t break their focus. His body responded, turning in to the fake blow, and her body met his, coming face-to-face. “Good.” He lightly pushed his blade down, making her back bow, and she swiftly twisted out, her feet carrying her.
He twisted with her. Twist. Parry. Block. Twist. Parry. Block. Continuing in silence, their bodies responded to one another, and he lost himself in the rhythm of it. Minutes slipped into hours until dusk splayed across the sky, the leaves surrounding them becoming luminescent, flickering like hundreds of lanterns. Stopping, he held up his hand.
“Enough. That’s a good start. We will continue this every afternoon, but once you get the basics down, then we will incorporate your ability.”
Sheathing her blade, she wiped sweat out of her eyes, her silence absolute. What was she thinking? Did she feel it? That deep down, he had always been here, always would be. Instead, he held out his hand to her. “That’s all for tonight.”
Emory’s eyes flashed in the twilight. “And what waits for tomorrow?”
Adair’s words were soft when he answered with, “Another trial.”
Before she could say anything more, he took her hand, and in a moment, they were nothing more than ash and smoke, leaving the unnerving woods far below them. Her screams echoed around him, sharp and piercing, but in seconds, they flew through the mountain range, through levels, weaving through doors and stone. He could feel her body tense, waiting for the impact she was so sure was coming. He exhaled, and they appeared outside of her chambers, solid ground underneath them once more.
Stepping back, Adair swept his gaze over her before he turned, stalking down the hallway without a word, smirking as he heard the steady stream of curses behind him.
Chapter Seven
Azarius
The last trace of moonlight bathed their cottage in enough light that they could easily maneuver around the various bookshelves and jars of herbs that made up most of their home. Looking out the window, Azarius could see the trace of dawn breaking the horizon. The promise of another day.
“Azarius.” It wasn’t a question, or a command, Lana said his name like it was her conviction, every lingering hope apparent in her voice.
Clearing the table in front of her, she moved with a feline grace. He stood frozen, lost in the fire in her eyes, completely transfixed by her.
“Our paths didn’t cross by accident. Six years ago, when Adair came in to power and this world was cast into his shackles, Kiero wasn’t the only world that was affected.”
Only world.
At those two words, his world slowed, time suspended in air between them. Lana stepped closer to him, taking a deep breath and, with trembling fingers, reached for his hand.
“My true name is Lana Steethea, and I am heir to the world of Langther. The world of windwalkers. I have stayed here, hidden, to help right the wrongs of the past.”
Windwalkers. Another World.
His mouth was dry, and he watched as she rubbed her hands together, a soft white light pulsing from her skin, inky tattoos stretching and winding up along her arms. Images of ancient worlds and creatures filled her skin with eerie details, as if they were watching him.
Her voice sounded husky and far away as she continued, “Many years ago, a group was formed to achieve balance and prosperity across the lands and, in so, across worlds. They were a hidden organization. Nei Fae wasn’t wrong when she stated that the magic wasn’t only born into people but into the channels as well and has a ripple-effect reaching out to every world surrounding Kiero. Nei married Roque to ease the tensions building in Kiero for political reasons, and in building their government, they formed the Original Six: A member from Kiero, Langther, and Daer. And from the world of windwalkers, the fey, and here.”
He couldn’t breathe. She held his gaze as she placed her hands onto the table, and the light pulsed beneath them as a map of Kiero started to form before Azarius’s eyes, spilling like smoke.
“The group was built to make sure that the magic was always distributed equally and that they pooled their knowledge together to log and cherish each culture of each world. They called it the Book of Old. They could travel from one world to another with Damien Foster, who was a time manipulator.”
Azarius scoffed. “Time travel?”
Lana whispered, “Yes.”
He couldn’t utter a single word in reply.
“But things went wrong,” Lana continued. “You must understand the magnitude of the secrets written in this book, and the utmost trust that was put into the group to protect them
. In the wrong hands, it would be horrific. There were secrets of magical spells and covens from every culture. A group called the Oilean from Daer infiltrated the group, trying to steal the Book of Old away for themselves. They succeeded.
“Their magic bled into the Book of Old like a poison, corrupting its power. Transforming it from a book into something more. My mother’s sacrifice trapped them in an in-between state where they could not follow us.” Her eyes hardened as she became lost in the memory.
“I went into hiding. I was young and scared of what the future held for me. Lana, the healer, could blend in, and that’s exactly what I did. I stayed alive. But now, the tides of the world are changing again, and we cannot hide anymore. Too many whispers, too many lies have circulated around Adair, but I believe he had achieved this through the means of the book. And we must destroy it.” She took a shuddering breath, her eyes never leaving his.
He didn’t realize that throughout her tale he had been gripping the table, his ability giving away his emotions as a cold wind cut through the room. He tried to digest the information, but questions battered against him.
Choking out a harsh laugh, he asked, “Why wait until now? Why wait for hundreds of people to die?”
His own personal losses clutched against his heart as he stared at Lana; the quiet healer he once knew was gone. The woman who stood before him surged with power, and he didn’t recognize her. In a few minutes, the person he thought he knew was ripped away from him. Knowing she kept such a big secret from him, he found himself torn between anger and denial.
“I couldn’t risk drawing attention to myself. Before my mother died, she left me one mission. Above all else, wait for the one who can manipulate the channels. Before the Faes were murdered, my mother told me a secret, one that has made me comply all these years.
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