Magic Awakened: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by K.N. Lee

  “Listen,” she began, “I don’t care if you believe me or not, but I take my dreams seriously. I had a similar nightmare about Klurt and look what happened. You can’t ignore this.”

  Shadow held back the response pressing on the forefront of his mind. Nothing ever pointed to goblins having such an ability. Some draes were born with innate magic, but goblins were stock standard. No fairy dust. While a part of him insisted he not overreact, the other part dominated and refused to accept. Surely, if she possessed this vision thing, she would have bragged about it. Or the whole community would use her power to protect themselves. Instead, she lived on the outskirts alone. She might be a tarot reader at the markets, but perhaps that illusion went to her head.

  “I appreciate you looking out for me, but I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’d better leave; I have a ton of things to do before tonight’s ceremony.” He wasn’t in the mood to get into a conversation about her dream. Find the killer, sell the Wart Markets, and return to his post in the realm. Simple.

  Zana strolled past him and opened the door, letting in a flurry of cool morning air. “So, where are we headed?” Her voice was sharp and clipped.

  He straightened his posture. “We aren’t going anywhere, but I am.”

  With one hand on the door, the other on her hip, she cocked an eyebrow. “Everywhere you go, I’ll be there. You’re in danger, and I plan to protect you.”

  The sunlight lit up the side of her face, her golden eyes gleaming, and his attention fell to her kissable lips. What had she done to him? Since when did he behave like a goblin drunk on sex?

  He stepped outside, where the surrounding greenery swayed in the breeze. The sweet morning smell of freshly-cut grass infiltrated his nostrils.

  The door snapped shut behind him. He turned to find Zana outside with him, tucking keys into the front pocket of her pants as she approached with a forced smile. Oh. She was mocking him all right.

  “Look, Zana. I don’t need a chaperone. I appreciate the concern, but, honestly, I’m trained as one of the queen’s Guardians.” He marched away from her place, eyeing the cobblestone footpath amid trees in the distance. Time to chat to locals, maybe even visit Sivath, the goblin chief who, at last memory, lived a fair distance from Pryvale. He usually knew who was doing what in town.

  Zana caught up to Shadow. “Here’s the deal,” she said. “Yesterday, I let Klurt out of my sights after I warned him about the vision. Then he died. So, today, nothing you do or say will push me away. Understand? Suck it up.”

  Running a hand down his face, he stormed forward, unsure what to say. Perhaps that was part of Zana’s grieving process; focusing on him rather than the loss of Klurt. Who was he to steal that from her?

  “Where are we off to?” She moved alongside him, cutting him a look that challenged him to argue.

  Shadow scanned the woods on either side of him. If he bolted deep into the forest, would she follow? Definitely yes. So he’d go a different angle. “Thinking of paying Sivath a visit. He lives a half day’s hike out of town over rough terrain and hills. We’ll probably encounter wild trolls.”

  “Why? You think he’s involved in Klurt’s death?” She studied her boots for a moment. “You’re probably right. I hear he’s corrupt, so you might be on to something.”

  Fire struck Shadow, and rage burned through him at lightning speed. “You, of all goblins, are judging others? Have you ever met Sivath, or are you just being a sheep?”

  “Screw you.” She stopped beneath an enormous oak with low-hanging branches crammed with dark green leaves. “Where have you been the past four years? Sivath’s minions have been breaking into goblins’ homes and stealing their possessions. An elderly man last year was killed when he tried to stop them.” Her hands were animated and flying all over the place. “Get your facts straight before acting like Mr. Know-It-All.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched on one leg, unsure if he wanted to debate her, although he was convinced he’d win, or simply kiss the nonsense out of her system. She definitely did something to him last night if the latter was even an option in this argument.

  “So you’ve personally seen Sivath’s so-called henchmen wreak havoc in the village?” he asked.

  Her mouth opened, then shut. “Well, no, but others say they have.”

  Shadow huffed and shook his head before beginning to walk again. “Goblins hate change, and anyone threatening their ways are deemed monsters. How long have you been living here again?” He turned to find her still several feet away. “Right. You live on the outskirts because they won’t fully accept you as a half-blood, but you believe their gossip. Sivath worked with Klurt to build the Wart Markets and was working on an orphanage to help children with no families. Did you know that?”

  She shrugged and wore a puzzled expression. And that right there was what he loathed about goblins in that town. They judged without knowing shit.

  Refusing to let bitterness consume him, he returned to his walk. The earlier anger was smothered by a new emotion shoving forward. Disappointment. He could have sworn Zana was different to the rest of the monkeys in the town. Maybe he was right after all. There was nothing in Pryvale for him.

  Chapter 7

  Visions sucked balls!

  Zana sprinted along a dirt track through the forest, keeping up with Shadow as she had for most of the day. Twigs crunched underfoot; branches tugged on her hair.

  Apparently, Klurt’s murder wasn’t enough. Now the universe tossed Shadow into the ring of death. In Zana’s dream, Shadow had been wandering through a thick fog. The voice in her head kept screaming his name, “Shadow. Shadow. Shadow.” Just as it had called for Klurt the previous night.

  Yep. Her visions were a curse. She was a freak, destined to watch those around her die. Desperation closed in around her lungs, her breath shallow and racing. This can’t be happening again.

  Shadow marched forward without a care in the world. He studied and surveyed the village. It took every inch of strength to hold back the words brewing in her mind. He’d been a major dickhead that morning, and she’d contemplated throwing a rock at him.

  She’d been the one living in Pryvale, the one who’d seen the terror in goblins eyes, witnessed the aftereffects of the break-ins. Personal belongings trampled, doors destroyed, and valuables stolen. The tears of the families she helped comfort alongside Klurt. Those weren’t in her imagination, or made-up gossip. But Shadow had his head so high up his ass, he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. Sivath was at the bottom of the problems in Pryvale. The goblin chief pretended to help goblins, but everyone said the guy stole from them and kept the wealth for himself. He only helped those who paid him. Rumor had it he wore so much golden jewelry he got his minions to steal for him, and he never left his home because he was paranoid he’d get mugged. So much for wanting to aid those in need.

  “What exactly are you doing?” she barked, simply to stop the churning thoughts in her mind—otherwise, she might end up throwing that stone at him.

  Keeping his focus on the path dotted with patches of sunlight from the thick canopy overhead, Shadow replied, “Learning my way around the town.”

  “Why? You grew up here.” She stepped alongside him. To her left were the huts, while in the opposite direction, trees and the terrain sloped upward toward the mountains.

  “So much has changed,” he said.

  “Really? Like what?”

  The whole time she’d lived there, the only differences were additional houses. Even the meadow used for community activities remained the same, minus grass, replaced with trampled soil.

  “Hunting grounds have expanded, and several storefronts are now near the river.”

  “I could have told you that in two seconds rather than us spending hours slogging through the woods.”

  He cut Zana a sharp glance, as if challenging her. “And looking for anything suspicious.”

  “Just ask someone? Maybe they saw someone new in town. Well, be
sides you.”

  He shook his head and kept traipsing onward. If it weren’t for her prophetic dream, she would have let him go on alone. But, instead, her thighs ached from climbing the bumpy terrain, and her pounding headache worsened by the second.

  In her entire life, she had experienced four death premonitions. Each of the goblins died the next day. Her visions should serve a purpose besides making her witness their deaths in horror before they even happen. So no matter what it took, she would change fate!

  Zana pulled the cloak’s hood over her head and folded her arms. Then she dropped them by her side. It was the first time she’d been inside a pre-ceremonial tent, let alone one the size of her kitchen. No matter where she stood, dread pushed against her, owning her. Klurt was dead. Gone forever—his body somewhere outside. Her stomach locked up tight.

  “Are the volunteers ready?” Povian asked, whistling whenever he said the letter ‘s’. He held several roles in town, including midwife, local medic, and gardener, growing most of the vegetables for the community. Dark hair peppered with white stuck out just above his ears while the top of his head was bald. He threaded his arms into a robe—a necessity for attendees at a farewell ceremony.

  “Cruz has everything under control.” Zana wiped the sweat from her upper lip. “Why’s it so hot in here?” She dampened her neck with a sleeve, feeling as if she’d been swallowed by an inferno. Shadow didn’t seem to notice as he stood deadly silent.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him.

  When Shadow looked up, something flashed beneath the surface of his hardened expression, an emotion too quick for her to catch. “Yeah. All good.” His dismissive voice said enough; butt out of his business. Except he’d lost that privilege the moment she’d witnessed his death in her vision.

  The flame from the single candle crowded the room with distorted figures, adding to the darkening mood. Each second ticked in slow motion, bringing her closer to Klurt’s ceremony. She couldn’t take back the events of the day before or reverse time. Helpless, she waited as her heart beat against her ribcage.

  “Take my hand,” Povian said. She did as instructed.

  Shadow’s fingers threaded through hers, his touch clammy.

  “Close your eyes.” Povian’s piercing whistle was like a nail to Zana’s temple. “Think only of Klurt.”

  Zana inhaled deeply because, since arriving at the tent, Klurt had been on her mind endlessly. Rawness rushed forward. She pictured her last conversation with Klurt in the Wart Markets. Maybe she shouldn’t have left him alone even for a minute, despite the customers waiting. Her chest tightened, but she swallowed the agony, because falling apart wasn’t helping. Goddess, if you’re listening, please leave Shadow alone. Taking Klurt is enough. Don’t take another life.

  A deep guttural thrum ripped her back to the present moment, and she opened her eyes to find Povian still in a trance. Her hand slipped out of his and Shadow’s. He also dropped his hand holding on to Povian.

  Shadow cocked an eyebrow at her, and she raised a shoulder in response. She’d never seen that ritual, and had no idea what Povian was doing. But she didn’t care. Get through the night without falling apart. That was what mattered.

  “Done.” Povian’s voice made her flinch. He pulled back the flap of the tent.

  A gush of wind fluttered inside, engulfing Zana. The chill left her covered in goose bumps. She emerged from the tent and entered a meadow in the middle of the woods. Several feet away stood a podium on a dais encircled by goblins.

  Povian climbed the steps, faced the villagers, and broke into a welcoming speech. There had to be close to five hundred attendees, each wearing their ceremonial cape. The Lunar Festival was usually filled with chatting, laughter, and eating food. A huge bonfire would blaze and everyone threw in an item for burning. The act represented releasing the negativity from the previous year. Not today.

  Shadow stood next to Zana, his face rigid with tension.

  “It’ll be okay,” she whispered. Despite his major cockiness since she met him, in that moment, he’d misplaced his confidence. Was he terrified of public speaking? Beneath the evening moon, his skin glistened in a cold sweat.

  “Thanks.” He offered her a forced grin and climbed the steps to the platform.

  She wanted to say more, to help him, but the words were stuck in her throat. Instead, she joined the watchers and waited.

  Shadow was a prime target, so instead of listening to Povian, she scanned the goblins. Most heads were covered. No one nearby seemed suspicious, but, then again, she hadn’t seen the killer’s face.

  Lanterns hung from poles at the corners of the podium. Their illumination threw splatters of lights on those in the front rows. Povian nudged Shadow forward.

  Shadow slid the hood off his head, his shoulder-length hair fluttering in the breeze. He stared out into the crowd. When his sights landed on Zana, she smiled. Despite his accusations that morning, staring at him up on the stage, she felt a sense of pity for his situation.

  With a deep breath, he began, “It is with a heavy heart that my return to Pryvale coincides with the death of a most beloved member of the community. My uncle. As a child, I was fortunate that Klurt took me into his home and offered me the family I never had.”

  Hushed whispers rose.

  “That’s Shadow? Thought he abandoned us,” someone nearby said.

  Another goblin wasn’t keeping his voice low. “He’s an orphan.”

  “Returned from the kingdom, where he’s supposed to our ambassador, but spends his days training to be a Guardian. Must think he’s better than us.”

  “Shhh,” Zana said, not that anyone paid attention when gossip spread like mosquitoes in breeding season.

  “Yes. I’m visiting from the realm for a few days.” Shadow’s words carried across the masses. “Today isn’t about me, but about a fellow goblin who had been a lifeline for many in Pryvale. Klurt…” Shadow’s words wavered, but he cleared his throat. “Klurt was a father to me, and refused to judge a soul based on race. To me, that is the legacy he leaves behind. To stop judging each other and accept our differences.”

  The whole time, Zana assumed Shadow was full of himself; that nothing touched him. Yet, as he stood there, he was clearly not afraid to declare his thoughts on the unjust treatment some goblins perpetrated. She couldn’t help but admire him. Seemed they had more in common than she had thought.

  The chatter continued, but Shadow didn’t stop. “Everyone should remember the great moments Klurt brought to our community. He would have wanted that.”

  Grief pressed through Zana and split open a chasm of emptiness. She let out a strangled cry. Tears blurred her vision. Her gaze fell to her feet as she blinked fast to stop the crying. Her fingers clasped her cloak, and she was convinced she’d never fill the hole in her heart. After her parents’ death, Klurt had slowly patched her loss. Now, it consumed her entirely.

  A loud clap resonated from the goblins. Someone shouted, “Who are you to stand there and preach when you don’t even belong in our community? Go back to your kingdom.”

  Shadow wiped his mouth with a hand while he squared his shoulders. But Povian’s voice streamed out. “Drun, was it not Klurt who offered you a home when your hut burned down? And to the rest of you—who did you turn to when you needed help? What would your lives be like without the Wart Markets? Klurt believed in the goodness of goblins, so let’s be kind to our neighbors.”

  Silence shrouded the meadow. Shadow then spoke again. “Tonight is filled with sadness for many of us. I urge you to share a story about Klurt with a fellow neighbor you don’t normally talk to.”

  A loud horn blared in the distance, and the crowd parted, creating a path to the podium.

  On the wind, a hum floated, and, soon, everyone joined in. Zana slinked forward for a better view, wiping the fat tears that refused to stop falling. Two goblins walked up the pathway, each holding a glowing lantern. Behind, eight volunteers carried a giant wooden rabbit on their shou
lders. As the ritual dictated, Klurt’s body lay inside. The lullaby song on everyone’s throat fluctuated like cicadas on a hot summer’s night.

  Waves of hollowness engulfed Zana as she hummed louder, driving the grief into her tune.

  The pallbearers hung their heads low as they carried the ceremonial casket. Once they passed the platform, they laid the coffin on a nest of prepared wood.

  Goblins circled the area. Zana rode the wave of bodies, the hypnotic beat drowning out her thoughts.

  Just yesterday she had laughed with Klurt then had gotten mad at him for not believing her vision. Today, he was being cremated.

  Goodbye, Klurt.

  Povian approached with a fire stick and set alight the rabbit. As always, the timber had been pre-soaked in alcohol. The flames took fast and ferocious. Heavy smells infiltrated Zana’s senses, burning her nostrils. Unfettered light illuminated the circle of goblins.

  “Goddess, guide Klurt,” Povian called out. “Free the soul from his physical body. Let Klurt be liberated to remain by your side or inhabit a new form.”

  Golden licks of flames lapped at the casket, swaying in a dance from the breeze. The air tugged on the smoke upward in a spiral. Sparks and crackling erupted; dirty flakes floated to the ground.

  Zana turned her back to the blaze along with the throng of goblins, and, in slow motion, they moved away. The humming faded against the screeching snap of the fire. Staring at a soul ascending was considered ill luck.

  When someone nudged her arm, she looked up to find Shadow beside her, despair crammed behind his vivid, green eyes. Without a word, they walked together, lost in the continuing melody.