Dark World (Book I in the Dark World Trilogy)

by Q. Lee, Danielle

  “Good day, Shaman,” Ever responded with a smile. “How are you this fine day?”

  “I am well, princess,” he said, his sightless eyes shifting in the dragon’s direction. “Just visiting Arcanum, are we?”

  She nodded, wondering for a moment if the dragon had confided his identity to anyone else, but thought better of her worries, knowing he wouldn’t risk his life so frivolously. While she was certain the old Shaman was harmless, she knew even the most well-intentioned folk could be persuaded—or tricked—into divulging secrets. And this secret was one that could never be violated.

  “I see, I see,” he muttered, absentmindedly fishing for something in his pockets. “And where is your friend, the shade?” He panned the space surrounding Ever as if trying to sense Fate’s presence.

  “She…left.”

  The old demon nodded. “Well, if you see her again, here is the potion you requested.” He handed her a small vial carved from amethyst, the contents sloshed against the lavender walls as she cradled it in her palm.

  “Potion?” Excitement stirred in her stomach. “To cure her?”

  The elder shook his head. “Cure? It won’t make her human again, but it should suppress her hunger quite sufficiently,” he stated happily.

  “Thank you! I will give it to her…” immediately, she wanted to say, but stopped. What was she going to do? Fate needed this. Without it she’d get worse, needing souls more and more to survive.

  She had to find a way to get it to her. Her father believed that Fate was the future of his people. Without her, they would soon be overtaken by the Queen.

  Ever’s gaze fell on Arcanum, his amber eyes shining as he read her thoughts.

  He nodded, accepting her proposal.

  “Ego sum legio!” he called to the powers of darkness, whipping his obsidian sword overhead. “Ego sum legio!”

  His voice echoed like thunder, red lightning crackled and clawed the covered sky.

  A colossal face formed within the clouds, eyes glaring red and narrowed. Ba’al’s head emerged from the writhing tempest, his body a hurricane of black and purple. Enraged winds whipped the desert, stirring the sands and stinging Kane’s exposed skin like a swarm of hornets.

  The seven death worms immediately lost interest in Kane, their full attention on the angry storm elemental. Relinquishing a squeal of terror, they attempted to burrow into the sand.

  Ba’al, however, appeared to have other plans for the loathsome worms. A mighty fist manifested from the billows of his atmospheric body, smashing down onto one of the less fortunate ones. The ground quivered under Ba’al’s clenched hand, a crater forming under the impact. Guts and grey goo sprayed in all directions, the death worm reduced to mere chum beneath the monolithic hammer.

  Releasing a mighty roar that embraced both anger and macabre amusement, Ba’al took chase after another worm that was attempting to flee.

  Kane saw his opportunity to escape. He wasn’t sure why—or how—Ba’al had been summoned. In fact, he was completely confused. Only the Devil could summon the great storm beast.

  His own words echoed in his head. Ego sum legio. What did it mean? And how did he know it? What was this strange power he could suddenly tap into? For three hundred years he’d dwelt within the subversive realm and never once had he any abilities beyond the norm. It was always the Devil who had all the power, all the magic of the ages swarming within their veins. First his father, now his mother. But why would she call upon the elusive elemental? Certainly not to save a son she believed to be dead, and not in the middle of the desert where she was nowhere to be seen. None of it made sense.

  All he cared about was that Ba’al wasn’t interested in squashing him at this particular moment, and he wasn’t going to hang around to see if the winds would change. The elemental wasn’t known for mercy. If you weren’t the Devil, look out! No one else mattered in the sky beast’s eyes. And Ba’al himself wasn’t the most fearsome part of his awesome powers—it was the rain.

  Kane again made a break for the Crystalline Forest, still too many strides away. The wails of the death worms arced through the air, their cries of torture and demise reverberating off the distant volcanic mountains.

  Kane almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

  The storm clouds dissipated overhead, lingering over a spot of desert in the distance. Roars and whale-like keening saturated the air. Fate shuddered, wondering what poor creatures had met their end with the one known as Ba’al.

  “Come on, we have to move,” Vale’s voice harbored anxiety as he took her hand and pulled her from the safety of the mushroom cluster. It reminded her of the fungal forest she and Kane had encountered on their way to his kingdom.

  Kane. Her thoughts lingered on his name, his image, his aura. Uninvited tears crowded her eyes. Why had he turned on her so suddenly? Was it simply her race that led him to despise her? Had she done anything to give him reason to distrust her?

  She stifled a sob, not wanting Vale to know she was crying.

  He was her only friend right now. Her only salvation in this unforgiving world. She had no way of knowing where to go next. All her instincts drove her to seek out the voice that called to her, but she was certain she knew who that voice belonged to. Malus. And from what she’d learned of the current Devil, she wanted nothing to do with her. Or did she? Maybe the Queen was her destiny. Maybe she should surrender herself to whatever fate waited for her.

  “There, I think we’re far enough away now,” Vale said breathily, slowing his pace as he eyed the now distant storm.

  “What was that thing?” Fate inquired, catching her breath.

  “Ba’al,” he reiterated. “The storm elemental.”

  “Elemental?”

  “Yes, he’s a sylph, an air spirit. He can manipulate the air element at will,” he explained, raking a pale hand through his tousled silver hair.

  “Sylph? I thought they were just a myth? And I thought a sylph was a delicate—fairy-like—creature.”

  His eyes laughed. “Ahh, Surface myths, always good for a chuckle. You can’t believe what you heard on the Surface, the truth has been distorted over time. Sylphs can manifest however they like. Some are fairy-like. Some are like…him.” He tilted his head towards the horizon of blackness behind them.

  “Elemental…so there’s one for each of the four elements?”

  “Five,” he corrected.

  “Five sylphs for every one element?” She frowned.

  Tossing her a ‘duh’ expression, he responded, “Five elements.”

  She turned to him, an eyebrow arched. Maybe this guy wasn’t as swift as she gave him credit for.

  “As far as I know, there’s only four,” she said lifting her hand and counting each of them off on her fingers. “Air, earth, fire, and water.”

  He gave her a sideways glance, the one that people used when they knew something someone else didn’t. A secret.

  Self-doubt nagged her. But no, four elements, that was right…wasn’t it?

  “Okay genius, what’s the fifth?” She stopped walking and set her hands on her hips.

  A surreptitious smirk slid across his lips. Annoyance crept into her system. This feeling was familiar. An image of her Surface brother, Greg, forced its way into her thoughts. She missed him and hated him all at once.

  Grinning, Vale leaned into her, his breath feathering across her cheek as he whispered, “Aether.”

  Blood Rain

  Kane ran for his life, the Crystalline Forest too far away to seek safety. Again he thought of his useless wings. The bane of his existence. If he could fly, he could climb above the clouds. Safety dwelt above the storm. A place he could not reach.

  If the rains of the elemental fell upon his skin—even one drop—he would die an unimaginable death. The venomous liquid would spread throughout his system like a cancer, exploding each cell one at time.

  He imagined himself spreading his wings and propelling into the atmosphere, the blistering winds kissing him, welc
oming him back like a long-lost family member.

  But Kane knew better than to try. The steel circlets, barbed with their needle-like spikes, would show him no mercy, not even now, when he needed his wings most.

  Then it began. First, a metallic reek possessed the air, seizing his lungs like a vice, then the sound of a thousand dams bursting. A waterfall of blood fell from the covered sky. A veil of crimson horror pounded the earth behind him, drowning the sands, seeping through the cracks.

  The only way out was to fly—and he knew it.

  The rains edged closer. His hooves beat the ground at a frenetic pace—but it wasn’t fast enough. The wall of blood was gaining on him. It would envelop him in seconds.

  Exhausted, he was running out of options. He was tempted to test his wings. The pain would be excruciating. It had been years, centuries, since he’d even tried. But right now, he had no choice.

  Bravely, he summoned the muscles on his back, his leathery wings extending. Slowly. Weakly. The barbs bit the center of his back, punishing him for his insolence. A warm stream of blood trickled down his spine, warning him not to proceed.

  I have to! I have to try!

  A breath of air grazed the underside of his wings. All he had to do was give one hard flap and he would take off. Hopefully.

  The cuffs chewed his skin, gnawing with every subtle movement, threatening to separate his wings from his body.

  Pushing the pain away, his heart brimming with hope, he beat his wings for the first time in two hundred years.

  “Aether?” Fate let the word roll off her tongue. “Isn’t that just a myth?” Her thoughts shifted to the Surface and the theories spun by one of her favorite scientists, Albert Einstein.

  Vale shook his head. “No,” he stated firmly, then continued. “Just because something hasn’t been proven by science doesn’t mean it’s not real. Aether,” he spoke softly now, waving his hand as through conducting an invisible substance, “is what makes magic possible.”

  Fate caught herself staring at him. What an interesting character he was, so full of mystery, yet quite plainly human—in an undead sort of way. In most respects, Vale was similar to the boys she remembered on the Surface. Macho and cute, yet mildly annoying. The memory spurned an ache within. A longing to go home.

  A distant crack of thunder nudged her from her thoughts. Ba’al was still unleashing his fury. She hoped no creatures were being harmed in his wake. Glancing behind her, she noticed a burgundy curtain of darkness drape over the land.

  “What is that?” she asked, pointing at the shadow on the horizon.

  Vale followed her finger, then replied, “Blood rain.”

  She shuddered. “Excuse me?”

  His eyes fell on her gravely. “Every one of the elementals has a terrifying power, each with the capability to destroy, maim, and desecrate,” he explained. “Ba’al has blood rain. Nephele, the water elemental, has surge, a tsunami of unfathomable proportions. Ardor, fire, can annihilate using huge fireballs…and I do mean huge.” His eyes widened and he set his hands widely parallel. “And Catal. She can summon devastating earthquakes with a mere flick of her finger.”

  “And aether? Who is the elemental for that one and what can they do?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Fate scrunched her eyebrows at him.

  “My master knows, but won’t tell me anything,” he elaborated. “But I’ve heard rumors,” he said, kicking a wayward stone, sending it skipping over the dry sands.

  “Oh? What kinds of rumors?”

  He gave her a sideways smile. “That she’s not just an elemental…she’s a new race.”

  “New race? Like what?”

  “Dunno,” he said lackadaisically, raising his shoulders, then dropping them. “Just a myth, I’m sure.”

  “Weird,” she said, noticing an enormous stone hedge coming into focus. “What’s that?”

  He grinned. “The gates of Necrosia.”

  Oh yah. Her face fell as she gazed at the barrier guarding the distant metropolis. Shades.

  Monsters

  Pain gripped his shoulder blades, the shackles tearing through his skin like shark teeth, razor-sharp and unforgiving. Kane cried out, but fought through the agony.

  Despite the torture and vice-like grasp of the circlets, he rose. Though it was only a few feet off the ground, exhilaration possessed him. How he’d missed this!

  Dark World’s hot breath rolled over his body, sending power to his wings. Lifting him.

  Warm, sticky blood streamed the length of his back, his flesh ripping with every stroke of his membranous wings. But he persisted. Ba’al’s bloody hurricane was falling behind, barely.

  Come on, Kane!

  He pushed his body beyond the limitations. Beyond the burden.

  The Crystalline Forest was in reach now, the glimmering stalks cheering him on. If he could reach the forest, he could find shelter from the ghoulish red rains.

  Ba’al roared in the skies above, his battle cry seemingly meant only for Kane.

  If I could just get higher!

  If he could climb higher, reach the canopy of stone, he might be safe. But all too soon, his wings began to weaken. The shackles bit chunks of flesh from the stems that held his wings to his back, promising to tear them from his body if he didn’t stop.

  He felt the pull of gravity lure him to the dry sands, soon to be saturated with Ba’al’s scarlet poison.

  Slowly, his hooves touched the earth and he again broke into a run. His hopes of salvation dwindled as his wings folded in on themselves.

  I’m not going to make it!

  He considered stopping, to allow the toxic rains to simply envelop him. What good did it do to fight? Everything he’d ever done seemed to end in failure. Maybe this world would be better off without him? Maybe everything he’d ever done to make Dark World stronger, only weakened it.

  Kane made a decision.

  He stopped running.

  Bravely, he turned to face the deadly squall, chin held high. The warrior within ordered him to fight while the soul inside was ready to face death.

  The rains, only meters away, raced at him with renewed lust.

  That’s it then, he thought. I’ll just allow it to take me.

  His own cowardice disgusted him, but he realized it was for the best. Maybe he truly wanted to be with his father again. And Seren. Did the mourning ever truly stop? The pain? Would the longing for them ever cease? He’d rather just join them.

  And now he was.

  The curtain of blood was just inches away, just moments from ending his misery.

  No more. No more pain.

  Kane closed his eyes—and waited for the rains to wash him away.

  Suddenly, he felt a powerful force seize him. A great strength grabbed hold of him by his waist, massive talons wrapping the circumference of his torso, elevating him high into the air.

  Ba’al’s wrath quickly fell into the distance, the deafening howl of his defeat thundered for miles.

  Bewildered, Kane looked up, face-to-face with the belly of a winged beast. Something had him. Something big.

  A flock of shadowy birds, reminiscent of eagles, soared overhead. Their bodies hazy. Ghostly. Vale didn’t seem alarmed, so Fate simply admired them.

  This world was so odd, so foreign compared to the Surface. It moved different. Breathed different. Like an ocean devoid of water, this realm without a sun, without a sky, felt...wrong, unnatural, somehow.

  “So, who were you on the Surface?” Fate inquired as they strolled towards the great wall.

  Vale raised his brows and gave her a curious grin. “Why?”

  She frowned playfully. “Just nosey, I guess.”

  He laughed out loud. “I was just a teenage boy.” His eyes shadowed over and he looked away. “A silly teenage boy.”

  “What was your name?” Fate prodded.

  “Vincent. Vincent Kavanagh.”

  Fate’s stomach dropped. She knew that name.


  “Vincent Kavanagh! You…your sister…you were the first teens that went missing in Edmonton!”

  He exhaled, a sad expression consuming his face. “Your memory serves you well.”

  “Where is Sybil?” Fate probed, her voice fast and frenetic. She couldn’t believe it! All those years. All the mystery surrounding their disappearance, and here he was, flesh and blood before her. Alive. Sort of.

  He gazed into the distance, a soft breeze ruffling his silver hair. “I don’t know, I haven’t found her…yet.”

  Silence fell between them. Fate sensed his agony.

  “So, she was damned,” Fate offered quietly, “then you…went after her?”

  He nodded.

  “How?”

  A sigh escaped him. “I found out who had…hurt her,” he said, meeting Fate’s stare, “and I begged him to tell me what happened. What he’d done to her.” His sight locked on the ground. “And he did.”

  Fate set a comforting hand on his shoulder, the only thing she could think of doing at the moment. No words would have sufficed. Nothing said could have ended his sadness.

  He continued. “He took me to an opening in the forest, sacred land he called it,” Vale scoffed. “He told me to drink this…liquid…or he wouldn’t tell me any more. So I did.”

  Fate swallowed hard.

  “Then he showed me what he did to her.” His teeth ground together, heat rose to his cheeks. “He did to me what he did to Sybil. He damned me…to Dark World.”

  A flood of images suddenly unleashed in Fate’s mind. Her hands shook with the recollection of her own night of terror. The moon. The vial of liquid. Frozen before the moonlight. Sinking into the ground.