by Meg Anne
Contents
Map
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
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Sneak Peek
Afterword
Newsletter
Acknowledgments
Also By Meg Anne
About the Author
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2019 © Meg Anne
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-7322867-5-7 (Paperback Edition)
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the author.
Permission requests can be sent to Meg Anne via email: [email protected]
Cover Art by Story Wrappers
Edited by Analisa Denny
Proofread by Dominique Laura
Created with Vellum
Karma,
You are the owner of the sweetest doggie grin I’ve ever seen.
Chapter 1
The room lengthened and stretched until Effie felt like a great distance separated her from the others. One of the children at the Holbrooke’s Estate had a toy that created a similar effect. He’d hold it up to his eyes and cackle with infectious joy as what had once been mundane transformed into something foreign and therefore incredible.
Effie did not feel incredible.
There was not a word yet created that could perfectly capture the sudden terror that had stolen her breath, made her stomach drop to her knees, and robbed her of the ability to form coherent thoughts.
She wasn’t aware of anything except the sounds of her ragged breaths as she struggled to make sense of the words the Triumvirate had just uttered.
The Shadow Years.
Their spectral voices echoed in her mind, bringing about another ripple of dread. Effie blinked, and the room snapped back into focus.
It was a death sentence.
“Are you alright?” a low voice asked.
Effie jolted, her hand clutching the fabric of her tunic as she attempted to catch her heart before it flew from the confines of her chest. “Mother’s tits, Reyna.”
The lithe female laughed softly, squeezing Effie’s forearm. “I didn’t mean to catch you off guard, but you haven’t spoken since the hooded ones . . .” she trailed off, looking in the direction of Ronan and the Triumvirate, who were gathered in a loose semi-circle to their right.
“Told us the world was ending?” Effie offered with a tight-lipped smile.
Reyna returned it with a wry one of her own. “That’s one way to put it.”
Tilting her head, Effie asked, “And how else would you categorize the Chosen’s greatest nightmare coming true?”
Clasping her hands in front of her, Reyna shrugged. “The Night Stalkers have no such nightmare.”
Effie barely kept herself from gaping. She’d grown up with the threat of the Shadow Years. It was a legend as familiar to her as her name. One that children shared with great relish, knowing that they were safely tucked away in their beds and the horror of it would never touch them. It was hard to imagine that there were some in Elysia who hadn’t heard the whispers.
“I forget sometimes that your people are from the Lost Tribes,” Effie said.
Reyna nodded. “It is easy to forget about the Forsaken.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Effie said, practically speaking over the dark-haired woman in her rush to explain. “I didn’t mean to imply that your people are forgettable, only that our origins are different. I do not see you or the Night Stalkers as other.”
Until Helena rallied the Lost Tribes, seeking them out and convincing their leaders to fight beside her and the Chosen, it had been centuries since their people had any contact at all. They referred to themselves as the Forsaken because the Chosen had exiled them for not believing in the Mother or recognizing the Kiri’s right to rule.
Despite having only met them recently, Effie had always felt a certain kinship with the Forsaken, since none of their people were blessed with the Mother’s magic either. Which was not to say they were not powerful. The Forsaken had gifts the Chosen could never hope to replicate. Unfortunately, their ancestors did not understand that different did not mean less than. Apparently, some of the Chosen still hadn’t learned the lesson.
“Let us hope our enemies forget as well; it will make them easier targets,” Reyna murmured, although her eyes twinkled and her smile was kind. “Do not worry, Effie. I understood what you were trying to say. No offense taken.”
Effie grinned, although her relief did little to quell the undercurrent of fear still racing through her.
The Night Stalker’s leader squeezed her arm once more before asking, “So what are the Shadow Years, and why are they”—she gestured with her head—“so worried about it?”
Smile fading, Effie met Reyna’s eyes. “Do your people have ghost stories?”
“Stories about the dead?” Reyna asked, her dark sculpted brows veeing over her green eyes.
“Not really. More like spooky stories that are told as entertainment.”
Expression clearing, Reyna nodded. “Oh yes. We share such stories.”
“The Shadow Years are such a story, or perhaps story is not the right word. It is more of a warning passed down through the generations about what would happen to the Chosen if they strayed from the path of the Mother to the extent that She abandoned them.” Sighing, Effie wrapped her arms around her body, chilled despite the warmth of the room. “No one ever thought that it could be real. It was just something parents told their children to make them behave.”
“Ah yes, we call such tales a parabal. They are the stories that contain important lessons for my people.”
“Yes, exactly. The Shadow Years are one of the Chosen’s parabals. I’m sure there are hundreds of variations of the tale, but at its heart the message is always the same: if the Shadow Years begin, then the Chosen have failed beyond redemption.”
“Beyond redemption?” Reyna asked.
“They’ll be wiped out.”
Face grim, Reyna asked, “So your vision means—”
“Judgment is upon us.”
Reyna and Effie spun toward the Triumvirate, who must have been listening in on their conversation. Effie wasn’t sure if it was Smoke or one of the Mirrors that answered, but it didn’t matter. She was too caught up on their word choice. Judgment implied there was still a decision that needed to be made.
/> Reeling with the implication, her question burst from her, “So it’s not too late? There’s a chance we can still stop it?”
“Your vision was the first of the markers.”
Effie bit back a groan. Leave it to the Triumvirate to answer a question without providing any actual information. She should have known better, or at least anticipated the vague response. They might be masters of non-answers, but she was persistent. The Triumvirate might not realize it yet, but they’d met their match.
“How many markers are there?” Effie pressed.
“Dozens.”
Her relief was both potent and short-lived.
“But only five must come to pass.”
Mother save them. Only four more markers between the Chosen and complete annihilation. Effie gripped her hands together behind her back, trying to hide the tremors that racked them.
“Can they be stopped?” Ronan asked, picking up Effie’s earlier question.
“We do not know.”
“It has been decades since there’s been any mention of the markers in our prophecies.”
“Until now.”
Effie squeezed her hands tighter, her nails digging into her skin as the memory of her vision pressed against her mind. She could still make out with perfect clarity the tendrils of corruption as they’d converged into a single being. Her lungs burned with the lack of air as she recalled how the creature sealed its mouth over hers until she’d turned into its likeness. Shuddering, Effie shoved the remnants of her vision away, not prepared to deal with any potential personal implications just yet.
Ronan’s eyes were like shards of ice as he stared at the hooded faces before him. He was a warrior preparing to head into a battle he wasn’t sure he could win, but he wasn’t about to back down. “So what do we do now?”
“Cleanse the land as quickly as possible and pray it is enough.”
Ronan and Reyna exchanged a look.
“If the Shadows are the source of the corruption, then we need to track them down. I will send word to the other realms, asking if there have been any sightings. It will give us a place to start if nothing else,” Ronan said.
The Triumvirate dipped their heads in a nod.
“Should I warn them about the marker?” he asked.
“No.”
“All it will do is spread fear.”
“The Chosen are already on guard; it should be enough to keep them safe.”
For now. The words were left unsaid, but they rang through her mind loud and clear.
Tingles raced under Effie’s skin, and she rubbed her arms trying to alleviate some of the uncomfortable burn.
“Effie?” Reyna asked, missing nothing.
The Night Stalker’s voice was pitched low, but it didn’t prevent the men in the room from hearing. She could feel the weight of the others’ stares as their unwavering attention landed on her.
“I’m fine,” she hedged with a wan smile. “Just lingering side effects of the vision and too little sleep.”
In reality, it was a very reasonable excuse, although Effie doubted it was the actual reason she currently felt so unsettled.
Ronan’s eyes roamed over her face. “You look like you should be in bed.”
Effie rolled her eyes. She knew he meant well, and had no doubt it was an accurate assessment, but no woman ever wanted to hear that she looked like a steaming pile of shit. Still, she couldn’t argue the idea held appeal. Effie hadn’t wanted to get out of bed in the first place, and that had been before her vision slammed into her. Aren’t they supposed to be affecting me less by now?
“Maybe you’re on to something,” she said.
“I’ll escort you to your room,” Ronan offered.
She glanced at the Triumvirate. “Do you need anything else from me?”
“Rest, Daughter.”
With a small wave at the others, she wove her arm through Ronan’s and turned for the hall that would lead her back to her room.
They walked in companionable silence, and Effie enjoyed the slight reprieve from having to act like she wasn’t still overwhelmed by the morning’s discoveries. First there’d been the run-in with her Guardian and tutor after the prior night’s series of terrible decisions, not to mention the part where she was still technically recovering from her battle with the Shadows the day before. All of that followed by yet another horrifying vision and the realization that while the war might be over, death still hunted all of them.
“Lovely,” she breathed, not fully aware she’d spoken the thought aloud.
Ronan peered down at her with a raised brow. “I highly doubt you’re referring to the empty hallway.”
Effie smirked. “Just reflecting on the mess we’ve found ourselves in.”
He grunted. “We’ve dealt with worse.”
“Have we?” she stopped, turning to face him. “The Corruptor was one thing, but this . . .” she waved her arms, at a loss for words.
“Most battles feel impossible until they are over.”
“Ronan, this isn’t just any battle—”
“We have enemies to defeat, and we’re trying to protect those we love. It is exactly like every other battle. You cannot give what lies ahead more power by amplifying its importance in your mind. That kind of thinking will paralyze you with fear. In battle, decisions need to be made based on instinct and speed. Fear will only slow you down.”
“Fear makes you cautious.”
“It’s what will get you dead.”
Effie crossed her arms and stared up at him, shaking her head. “I’ve missed you.”
His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “And I you.”
“It feels like months since I saw you last.”
“A lot has happened since you left camp,” he said, clamping a hand down on her shoulder, squeezing slightly.
Effie winced. The touch was not painful, but it caused her skin to pull where the Shadow had bitten her. Gingerly, Effie rubbed at her fresh scar, feeling icy pinpricks shoot down her back at the slight contact.
Ronan frowned. “You’re injured.”
She knew better than to try to lie to him. “As you said, a lot has happened.”
He ran a hand over her newly shorn curls. “So it would seem. Why this change?”
“A Shadow bit me.”
Ronan cursed and gently peeled her tunic back to look at the silvery scar. His expression darkened, and Effie pressed her hand over his.
“The healers fixed me up. I’m fine, Ronan. No need to worry.”
Her words did little to clear the storm from his eyes.
“Effie.”
Her stomach clenched before her eyes shifted to the towering figure a few feet away. “Guardian.”
A quick peek showed her that Ronan wasn’t any happier about his appearance than she was. The Shield’s frown deepened as he stared with blatant dislike at Lucian. For some perverse reason, the knowledge filled her with glee. Finally, there was someone else around who didn’t immediately cower at his feet.
She was doubly glad for Ronan’s presence because it also meant she didn’t have to face her Guardian alone. After last night, Effie wasn’t certain she could be trusted.
“Did you need something?” she asked.
As if punishing her, Effie’s eyes drank him in as she waited for his answer.
Lucian’s dark eyes were unreadable under his heavy brow and thick lashes. The metallic flecks she knew to ring his pupils were barely visible in their depths.
It was impossible to ignore the pang in her chest as she recalled the feel of his stubble scraping over her skin as his lips moved against hers. Effie swallowed and struggled to tear her eyes from his mouth. Some of last night’s madness must not have worked its way out of her system yet.
“I wanted to check and see if you were okay,” he answered in his low rumble.
She blinked. “Oh, um. I’m alright.”
He stared down at her in that unflinching way of his, and she fought the urge to squirm.
“I’m taking her to her room to rest. Triumvirate’s orders,” Ronan interjected.
Lucian’s jaw clenched. “I’ll see her to her room, Shield. She’s my charge, after all,” he added, throwing Ronan a pointed look.
Ronan tilted his head, returning Lucian’s glower with one of his own. “Didn’t seem to care about that too much when you let that monster take a chunk out of her.”
Her Guardian’s eyes narrowed into slits.
Effie moved fast, placing herself between them, not sure who would win if they came to blows and not eager to find out.
“Ronan,” she said, pulling the red-headed man’s attention back to her, “why don’t you go send those requests to the other realms? The sooner we hear back, the better.”
He rolled his lips together, about to argue the point.
“Please.”
He lifted his gaze to stare at Lucian over her head. He didn’t speak, but the threat was evident in the harsh lines of his face.
“I’ll check on you later, Effie,” he said, moving back the way they’d just come.
Alone now, Effie realized her palm was pressed firmly against Lucian’s hard chest. Heat crept into her cheeks, and she dropped her hand. She knew they’d end up alone together eventually, she just hadn’t expected it to happen quite so soon.
It was hard to meet his eyes, so she stared at a spot in the middle of his forehead instead. Should an immortal have such a heavy crease between their brows? Maybe immortality couldn’t completely counteract all of Lucian’s time spent scowling.
Effie’s lips twitched. Serves him right.
“I heard about your vision.”
