Magic is sin
Aidan desires only one thing: to rule. Arrogant, headstrong and driven by the element of Fire, he will stop at nothing to bring the evil Howls that destroyed Scotland to their knees. But Fire is a treacherous element, and the very magic that brought him to power could burn his world to ash.
Especially with the blood of his fellow Hunters on his hands.
Driven by a bloodlust he can’t control and dark whispers that may not be entirely in his head, he and his magic-eschewing friend Kianna will do whatever it takes to liberate their broken world. Even at the risk of confronting the Church. Even at the risk of losing his humanity.
But power isn’t the only thing on Aidan’s mind. He’s falling for the intoxicating Tomás, an Incubus who offers everything Aidan desires. For a price.
And if that price burns the world down, well...Aidan is used to playing with Fire.
Praise for Runebinder:
“Dark, fascinating, and intense—Kahler has created a new hero and world you’ll want to lose yourself in.”
—Cindy Pon, author of Want and Serpentine
“A roller coaster ride through a world of chaos and blood.”
—Carrie Ryan, New York Times bestselling author of The Forest of Hands and Teeth series and Daughter of Deep Silence
“Smart and original, this devastating fantasy has irresistible characters and startling twists around every corner. And can I just say: Sexy. As. Hell.”
—New York Times bestselling author Andrea Cremer
“Runebinder is the deliciously dark love child of an epic fantasy and a stark dystopian that will keep readers up all night.”
—Delilah S. Dawson, author of the Blud series, the Hit series and Star Wars: The Perfect Weapon
“Runebinder is what the dark side of magic looks like. Bloody and brilliant.”
—Erica Cameron, author of Island of Exiles
“Wall-to-wall elemental magic and mayhem. Alex R. Kahler knows how to rock some socks.”
—Kendare Blake, New York Times bestselling author of the Three Dark Crowns series, on Runebinder
Also by Alex R. Kahler
THE RUNEBINDER CHRONICLES (in reading order)
Runebinder
Runebreaker
(written as A.R. Kahler)
Love Is in the Air
THE RAVENBORN SAGA (in reading order)
Shades of Darkness
Echoes of Memory
THE IMMORTAL CIRCUS TRILOGY (in reading order)
The Immortal Circus
The Immortal Circus: Act Two
The Immortal Circus: Final Act
THE PALE QUEEN TRILOGY (in reading order)
Pale Queen Rising
Cold Dream Dawning
Black Ice Burning
(written as K.R. Alexander)
The Collector
THE RUNEBINDER CHRONICLES BOOK TWO
RUNEBREAKER
ALEX R. KAHLER
Alex R. Kahler is many things, but first and foremost, he’s a Sagittarius. He’s taught circus arts in Madrid, drummed with Norse shamans, studied writing in Scotland and watched the Northern Lights from a hot tub in Iceland...and that’s the abbreviated list. He writes fantasy for adults and teens, with a special focus on LGBTQ+ characters and immersive mythologies.
Alex is a nomad at heart.
Visit Alex online at www.ARKahler.com.
For those who burn
Contents
QUOTE
PART 1
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
QUOTE
PART 2
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
QUOTE
PART 3
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
QUOTE
PART 4
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
“Repent
and pray our Lord will forgive.
Repent
and bathe thy darkest sins
in the fires of His mercy.”
—Sermon of Brother Jeremiah,
2 P.R. (Post Resurrection)
PART 1
TO BE A MONSTER
CHAPTER ONE
Fear pulsed through Aidan as he knelt by the grave.
Fear, and something darker. Something stronger.
Power.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’ll save you.”
He pressed his hands into the soil while lightning strobed above and rain lashed against his skin. Reached deep into the Sphere of Fire burning within his chest, that magical center of energy that guided him forward like a second conscience. Power blossomed within him, flooded him with heat as flames wrapped through his veins and twined down his fingertips, traced crimson lines across the rumbling earth.
Not just rumbling. Someone screaming.
Distant screaming. A boy, begging for him to stop.
He couldn’t stop. He had to save her.
He had to bring her back.
Aidan reached deeper into that damnable light within. Power reached back. Fire burned through him, cast away all doubt, all fear.
“Stop!” the boy called.
Aidan ignored him. Barely heard him through Fire’s siren song. Why should he stop, when he was so close to getting everything he’d ever dreamed of? Why should he stop, when he was so close to making things right?
“Please!” the boy called. Closer, but not close enough to douse Aidan’s flame. Only enough to be a nuisance. Fire raged that this boy—this nothing—should try to stop him. Nothing could stop him. No more.
Not even death.
Aidan looked up.
The boy ran toward him, and in that moment Aidan knew the boy was a Hunter like him. From the accent, American—like him. The boy wore the same blacks, albeit a different cut. Water pulsed in his gut, sending thick raindrops whirling around him. And he carried a bladed quarterstaff.
Aidan knew something else in that glance.
The boy wanted to end him.
The boy was too late.
Lightning flashed and the ground rumbled, graves spilling
forth bones as the soil before him churned. Power was everything. Fire was everything. And there, deep below the earth’s surface, he felt the power connect. Felt the spark of life flare.
Felt her awaken.
A hand shot from the earth. Black nails. Soot skin.
Fire pulsed in his heart. Victory. Victory.
“No!” the boy screamed.
Aidan narrowed his eyes. “You are too late, Tenn,” he said in a voice that was not his.
Aidan raised his earth-covered hands. Reached deep through the flame within while the buried woman pulled herself from her grave.
And when he sent his power forward, a billow of hellfire and rage, he saw the boy try to defend himself. A shield of water, hissing and steaming against the fire that burned brighter than a star. His water was no match for Aidan’s fury.
There was no match in the world for Aidan’s hate.
Fire burned through him. So bright he was a sun. So bright he felt nothing but flame, but ecstasy. So hot, he was no longer himself. In Fire’s embrace, he was omnipotent. He was a god.
He gave in to that glorious heat, that terrible strength, and poured every last piece of himself into the fire burning against the intruder’s shield.
The barrier disintegrated. Flame engulfed flesh.
And then, like choir music to his ears, Tenn screamed as his veins boiled to ash and steam.
* * *
Ash and steam.
Ash and heat and steam.
And screams.
Aidan woke covered in sweat, his dream burning away as awareness broke through the haze.
Flames coiled through his room.
Fire licked up the walls, curled over his bed like crimson petals. Billowed from him.
He stared at his hands in distant fascination as fire twined around them, making his tattoos writhe like serpents on his skin. The tattoos on his knuckles: BURN THEM. A promise. A demand.
Another scream, and he looked up. Someone stood at the foot of his burning bed.
Someone covered in flame.
The figure before him screamed out again, clawed at the flames eating his skin alive. Fire billowed from Aidan, cocooned his room in heat, in ecstasy. Curled against the intruder like a lover.
Aidan wondered if this was another dream.
It had to be. There was no way his Sphere had opened up in his sleep. No way Fire had acted without his will guiding it. This was a dream, his subconscious acting out, because the alternative was beyond impossible. Yes, he felt the flame. Yes, his lungs choked with smoke. But he had had similar dreams before—dreams of flight or fire or sex, dreams that felt more real than waking life. He’d even been aware of them before. Just as he was aware now.
Aware, but completely detached. Completely unable or unwilling to stop it.
He watched. And he waited for the dream to end as some small part of him wondered, idly, who the burning figure was, and if it mattered when it was all just a metaphor.
It was only when the figure dropped to the floor and the screams stopped that Aidan realized it maybe wasn’t a dream.
Realized he wasn’t waking up.
And when Fire winked out from his chest and the flames disintegrated like an afterthought, Aidan realized he had killed someone in his sleep.
Maybe it was the trace of Fire still burning in his veins, but he also realized, deep down, that he didn’t truly care.
CHAPTER TWO
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Trevor’s voice sparked a note of frustration in Aidan’s chest. The man standing before him didn’t even have the nerve to sound angry. He just sounded defeated. No—worse—he sounded disappointed. Bloody Water mages and their bloody emotions.
“I had a bad dream,” Aidan replied.
Even though Aidan was American, his voice had taken on the semblance of a Scottish brogue from three years of being stranded here. Too much time hanging out with Trevor. Too much time shagging Trevor.
As he stared stoically at his co-commander, however, he knew that there wasn’t such a thing as too much when it came to that. Trevor towered above him—not that that was surprising, since most people towered above Aidan’s 5’5” stature. Years of using Water might have paled Trevor’s skin, but his eyes held no watery softness.
“This isn’t a joke, Aidan,” Trevor said.
“And that’s why I’m not laughing.”
Trevor’s room was next to his. He had been there, at Aidan’s door, moments after the fire—and Vincent’s screaming—had stopped. One glance at the ash and destruction, at the body still smoldering on the floor. One glance, and Trevor’s hand had gone to his mouth in horror. Aidan would never forget the way Trevor’s eyes had flickered from the body back to him. He would never forget the low, shocked tone in Trevor’s voice when he’d dragged Aidan back to his office.
Aidan wondered if someone had been sent to clean up the mess, or if this whole incident was just between the two of them.
Something in Trevor’s face told Aidan that this wasn’t going to be swept under the rug. Although whoever was left in my room could easily be swept under a rug. He bit down the thought and suppressed a giggle.
“You killed a fellow Hunter,” Trevor growled.
“I didn’t do anything,” Aidan replied. Despite himself, his words shook. Not out of emotion, but out of dawning truth: the Sphere of Fire had opened unbidden in his sleep. One could only access the Spheres with concentration. Even after being attuned to Fire three years ago, he’d only been able to use the elemental power by reaching for it. He’d never heard of a Sphere opening on its own.
As if it had a will. A consciousness.
He could only imagine what sort of sentience a Sphere like Fire would have. The thought filled him with awe.
“You expect me to believe Fire opened on its own. Killed on its own.” Trevor’s voice rose and grumbled with anger, his fists trembling. “Vincent is dead because of you!”
Aidan took a step back.
He’d seen Trevor sad. He’d seen Trevor frustrated. They’d led armies together and suffered as many defeats as they had victories. But he had never seen Trevor struck so suddenly by rage.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Aidan said. He hated how his voice sounded small. Hated how he felt like he no longer had the upper hand. It didn’t suit him.
Instinctively, he wanted to reach for Fire, wanted to coax the Sphere to life from the embers in his chest. If only for the strength. If only for the assurance that it was—and would always be—there.
That would definitely not be a wise idea.
“You’re right,” Trevor said. He stepped back. Leaned heavily against the desk. “It’s my fault.”
“Because you’re the one who sent him in to wake me up?”
The moment he said it, he knew he’d pushed Trevor a centimeter too far. Those strong eyes widened, fists slammed back against the desk.
“Because I knew you were dangerous!” Trevor yelled. “And yet, I kept you around anyway.”
Aidan had pushed him too far, but that didn’t keep Aidan from pushing his co-commander further. He hated pity. He hated self-deprecation. Both were weaknesses and he refused to empathize with those who wouldn’t fight.
“Then I guess his death is on your conscience,” Aidan said.
The worst part was, that did the trick. Trevor practically deflated against the desk, and Aidan felt the tables turn.
“I should have you executed for this.”
“Like hell,” Aidan said. “Scotland’s army follows my lead. Kill me, and you’ll never overtake Calum.”
Trevor didn’t say anything, not at first. The guy stood there, staring at his feet, and Aidan knew he wasn’t just thinking about the truth in Aidan’s words. They were so, so close to overthrowing the Howl that ruled Scotland. Calum was one of th
e Kin, one of the six original Howls that had taken over the world and turned it to shite, and he lived in his castle in Edinburgh like a damned king, ruling over them all.
Aidan had spent the last year devising a way to overthrow the bastard. Trevor wouldn’t toss that away, not when so much was at stake.
But as he stared at his co-commander, Aidan knew that the logic of victory and defeat wasn’t the deciding factor. He could see the faint glow of the Sphere of Water churning in Trevor’s stomach, and that told him everything he needed to know.
Every human carried the five Spheres within them. One for each element—Earth, Water, Fire, Air, and Maya—all lined up along the spine, all invisible to the layman unless attuned to a Sphere. To the majority of the population, the Spheres were simply energy centers, vortexes that kept the body and mind functioning.
Then, maybe four years ago, someone had learned how to tap into the Spheres. Had taught mankind how to use the Spheres residing within to manipulate the elements without. A few simple tattoos, a hell of a lot of concentration and willpower, and bam. Magical fucking powers.
The modern miracle, ads proclaimed. The ability to heal any ailment with a touch of Earth. To change weather patterns with Air. To coax crops to grow with Water. To win wars with Fire.
Magic should have been the end to world hunger and poverty.
Obviously, it didn’t take long for mankind to weaponize it.
Cue the creation of monstrous Howls and the Resurrection and the end of civilization. Cue the need for Hunters like him. People trained in magic who could fight back against the evil mages who followed the Dark Lady, and the monsters those necromancers created.
Howls were human, once. But necromancers learned how to tap into the host’s Spheres, how to drain them to the point of exhaustion, and further. To the point where the Sphere didn’t create energy, but consumed it. The process twisted the human host into something otherworldly, a creature craving whatever Sphere had been drained. Howls were just the blanket term for these monsters. Kravens were born of Earth and needed flesh. Bloodlings, Water. Incubi, Fire. And Breathless, Air. So far, no Howl had been born of Maya. Yet.
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