Dark World (Book I in the Dark World Trilogy)

by Q. Lee, Danielle

  “What do they get out of this?” Fate asked crossing her arms over her chest, her voice cool and empty as she nodded towards the zombies clambering round the field.

  Vale turned, a glimmer of compassion rising behind his glowing eyes. “The winner,” he started, “is brought back from the dead.”

  Fate felt her eyes widen. “What? They can do that?” she asked, bewildered.

  “Yes,” he said with a cryptic smile. “That, and so much more.”

  “So, one of those…things,” she said with some effort, “gets to be human again?”

  He raised his eyebrows twice and stated, “No, something much better.”

  Uncertain

  Destinations

  Arcanum’s scales shifted from chocolate brown to creamy white as he landed softly on the ground amidst the pearly stones of the Opal Meadows. He huffed once, tucking his talons beneath his body and quickly settled in for a nap. Ever crawled down from the mighty dragon’s back, Kane following behind.

  The beast’s breath came in long, arduous drags, an occasional tendril of smoke escaping his flared nostrils. A trickle of guilt meandered through Ever.

  Poor Arcanum, he’s too old for this kind of adventure.

  Her lips downturned, she then glanced at her father. His brow was pinched, eyes glowing dim, movements slow. She suddenly realized what was wrong.

  “Father, have you had any bloodstone today?” He didn’t need to answer, his expression spoke volumes. Seating herself on a large opal boulder, she immediately reached for her pack, fished around for several of the powerful stones and extended her hand to him. “Here, take this.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t need much persuasion. Upon accepting it, his talons tightened around the stone. He then tilted his head back, mouth open, and savored the liquid magic. Sitting across from her, his eyes closed, he allowed the enchantment to enrich his blood.

  “You can’t let yourself get so weak,” Ever stated as she reached for her own bloodstone supplement, squeezed it and let the thick, red sustenance rain down the back of her throat.

  His eyes opened and he nodded, not meeting her stare. A sense of disquiet drifted from him.

  “What’s wrong?” she inquired.

  He sighed, his eyes searching for the right words. “I…don’t know what to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His large, black shoulders slumped. “I don’t know if acquiring all the scrolls is the right thing to do. What if…what if I obtain them all and…” His voice trailed off.

  “And what?” she prodded carefully.

  “And it’s a mistake,” he surrendered.

  “How could it be wrong?”

  “What if I bring them altogether and it opens the fissure to the Surface? And I end up helping Malus rather than stopping her?” Worry pulled at his forehead.

  Ever pondered his words carefully, then replied, “Do you know what each of the scrolls say? Do they say that simply bringing them together will open the crevice?”

  Her father shrugged, a grave expression crossing his face. She understood his conundrum. Regardless of who brought the pages together, Malus or her father, the fracture could be inadvertently opened and all Hell could break loose. Literally.

  “Do you know what our scroll said?” she asked of the page that had dwelt in the demon city.

  His eyes lit up, gaze meeting hers, and he cracked a small, humble smile. “Yes.”

  She grinned back. “Well? What did it say?”

  He turned his face upward, his thick, dark brow crinkled in concentration. His baritone voice recited,

  “I am legend,

  I am lore,

  I am the essence of nightmares,

  The dawn of fear,

  A fallen angel,

  A winged beast,

  Spawn from the seeds of evil and black magic,

  I am Lucifer,

  Lord of the dark.”

  The dark poetry bled from his lips, sending a shiver down Ever’s spine. Her grandfather’s words. His legacy, spun like gold from her father’s mouth.

  “That…was beautiful,” she whispered, certain she saw her father blush. “What does it mean?”

  “That’s the problem,” he started, grimacing. “One page—one sonnet—is useless without the others. But when brought together…”

  “Wouldn’t they all have to be spoken aloud? Like an enchantment?”

  He bobbed his head once, but still looked unconvinced. “Yes, I suppose. I just don’t know if I should do it. Maybe it’s the biggest mistake I’ll ever make. I don’t know if I should take that chance.” His eyes closed and his hands wringed in torment.

  “Daddy,” Ever began, taking in a steadying breath. “Sometimes you have to take chances in life. You can’t dwell on what might be. If you live that way—you’ll never truly live, do you understand? Life isn’t about the risks you don’t take; it’s about the journey and the mistakes in between. Life isn’t looking for you—it’s out there, waiting for you to find it.”

  He stood, his arms open and tears gathering into the corners of his eyes. Ever rose, meeting him halfway, embracing him.

  “How did I get such a smart, beautiful daughter?” he asked quietly, stroking her long silver hair.

  She laughed against his chest. “Must have gotten it from my mother.”

  Suddenly the races didn’t seem so bad. If the winner was awarded with the chance of living again, Fate had to find it in herself to accept the grotesque competition as a positive thing—as disgusting as it was.

  It was obvious who she was rooting for: the feisty girl in the pink dress. Already she’d proven far more resourceful than the rest, what with using the trailing intestines of others as a lasso and roping them like babies calves. Unlike the rest of the zombies, she seemed to be the only one strategizing. Planning her attacks.

  “How many times do they have to run around the track?” Fate inquired, her voice low as she leaned into Vale.

  “Three,” he replied, his eyes focused intently on the arena below.

  Fate held her breath a moment as one of the larger zombies set his sights on the girl in the pink dress. He swung his large, lumbering arm in her direction. The girl ducked, but only narrowly missed being struck by a powerful blow. The giant zombie then swung the same arm at another competitor, hitting the poor soul in the face thus sending its head flying off of its body. Fate gasped, holding her hand to her mouth and taking deep breaths, hoping she wouldn’t faint.

  To her chagrin, the crowd, including Vale, laughed hysterically at this. Fate scowled at him, but he pretended not to notice.

  “The contestants are rounding the last lap!” the announcer yelled excitedly through the loudspeaker as the group of dwindling zombie runners persevered round the arena. Only seven remained in the race. The bodies of five, damaged beyond repair, lay inert on the track.

  An uninvited flutter of excitement went through Fate’s stomach as her favorite little zombie raced ahead of the others. Tattered pink dress streaming behind her, a glow of determination graced her decomposing face. But the pack of rabid zombies behind her had suddenly picked up pace—and appeared to have a plan. Working together, four of them ganged up on the young girl, charging her from several directions.

  “No,” Fate whispered under her breath.

  Vale’s glowing eyes shifted towards her, a smirk playing on his lips. Irritated at his smugness, Fate leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. How dare he think she was enjoying this? This was beyond barbaric! What a terrible way to entertain themselves.

  The necromancers should be ashamed of themselves!

  Though Fate tried to look away, tried to ignore the callous acts before her, she couldn’t help but worry about the little girl in pink.

  The pack of bullies threw their heavy, decayed bodies at her in attempts to halt her progress, but at the very last moment, she stopped mid-stride and sprang out of the way like a gymnast, causing her attackers to run into one
another with a putrid smack!

  Beside herself with relief, Fate clapped eagerly, then hollered, “Yay! Good job!”

  What remained of her competition fell far behind, leaving the young zombie girl with only meters left to run. She’d won. She would be rewarded with renewed life. A second chance. Fate felt a twinge of jealousy fire within. She wished she could have a second chance. Another moment on the Surface as a human. As Scarlet. What would she do with such a gift?

  A swell of cheers erupted around Fate, the little zombie in pink was everyone’s favorite. Grinning, Fate watched as the petite abomination ran clumsily across the finish line, her decayed arms raised in triumph.

  Fate nudged Vale’s shoulder. “So when do they make her human again?”

  His brow furrowed and he shook his head. “Human? I never said she’d be human.”

  “But,” Fate stammered. “You said they’d reward her by giving her life back?” Fate’s heart sank in her chest. Had he lied?

  “They will bring her back to life,” he explained with a cryptic twinkle lighting his eye. “She just won’t be human.”

  Second Chances

  Kane made Ever swear at least a dozen times she wouldn’t follow him to the gate of Necrosia. No matter what. If he didn’t return by the next day, she and Arcanum were to fly back to Legion and get help. He didn’t have a clue if the necromancer’s were to be trusted. For all he knew, they could be loyal to Malus. He couldn’t risk the Devil finding out about Ever, her true heir. Malus would be unfathomably powerful if she transferred her soul to Fate’s body, but if she knew of Ever’s existence, and possessed her, Malus would be unstoppable.

  The dark gate loomed before him. Necrosia lay shrouded on the other side. What awaited him there? Who were these mysterious and elusive beings that had remained veiled for hundreds of years? Why did they hide so?

  And how was he supposed to open this door?

  “Hello?” he hollered, his deep voice slicing the hot, still air. Neither a breeze nor ashen snow fell as he stood waiting. Alone.

  Far from the range of volcanic waterfalls, near pitch darkness owned the skies. Kane again wished that Dark World harbored just an iota of the Surface’s wonders. A moon. Stars. Something to light the way. Something to squelch the loneliness of the dark. If not for his infrared sight, he’d be blind. Lost in a cloaked realm that was forever a prisoner of the night.

  The stars, he thought, lingering on the memory of Fate in the planetarium. How she had lit up his dark world, and he had been too afraid to tell her. Would he ever find her? Would he get a second chance?

  His head hung, he realized just how much he wanted to see her again. Needed her.

  Amidst his longing, Kane suddenly felt eyes upon him. Someone—or something—was watching him. He yearned to reach back and retrieve his sword, but hesitated. It wouldn’t induce trust if he were to arm himself straight away. He would wait. For now.

  His indigo eyes scanned the width of the wall, and while he could see no one, he could still feel them watching.

  Am I just being paranoid? Kane wondered as he started to pace alongside the blistering river of lava that separated him from the wall.

  The eerie silence gnawed at his stomach, taunting his warrior instinct. Something wasn’t right. The air felt wrong. As though manipulated. Charged.

  Movement caught his eye, high above him. Two sets of eyes, swirling silver amid pools of black ink, glared down from the ledge of the wall. Kane contemplated backing away slowly, then decided to hold his ground. Whatever these things were, he knew they had the upper hand.

  The two beings sat statue-still upon the wall, perched, as though scrutinizing every inch of the uninvited stranger. Kane narrowed his eyes, focusing on the two creatures. What were they? Were these necromancers?

  The two figures suddenly took flight, their glimmering eyes locked onto Kane as they circled the sky like vultures. Tracking them, Kane could now determine that they were owls. Huge, silver owls. Feathers the color of steel and rippling like liquid metal, they continued their surveillance for several minutes before simultaneously diving to the ground in front of Kane. In the blink of an eye, both of the owls liquefied, their metallic skin pooling like smelted steel, then slowly melding into a new shape. A human shape.

  Sheathed in dark blue cloaks, hands tucked into the sleeves, the monk-like beings gazed at Kane.

  “Hello,” Kane offered first.

  Their eyes twinkled, spinning in one direction like a whirlpool of stars.

  “What do you want demon prince?” one asked, his voice hollow and wary.

  He knows who I am?

  Disconcerted, Kane responded, “I come to speak with the guardian of your scroll. It is urgent in nature.”

  The two necromancers turned and gazed into one another’s eyes as though communicating through unspoken means, then nodded at Kane. “Very well, follow us”

  They turned, leading Kane towards the tall, dark barrier, and summoned the gate to open. A large, heavy drawbridge lowered before them.

  Kane looked back, a final glance at the lonely desert, and hoped Ever would keep her promise.

  Fate watched the activities in the arena with intensifying curiosity. The zombie girl in the pink dress had won the race and, according to Vale, was to be rewarded by being brought back to life. A second chance at existence.

  Vale said she wasn’t going to be human though. If the zombie girl wasn’t to be rewarded with the gift of becoming human, what would she be? She intended to ask Vale just that, but when she tried, she was abruptly silenced with an impatient shh by his necromancer friend, Xia.

  Fate pressed her back against her seat, arms over her chest and teeth grinding in irritation. This place—this city—was getting on her nerves. Maybe it was the hunger. Since she’d arrived, she’d felt the beginnings of the ache crawling through her system. The unicorn’s soul had only sustained her for a few days. Less than the sphinx had. Her hunger was gaining momentum. The monster inside was growing, demanding more. Her humanity was being held by a thread—a thin one.

  Oddly, the necromancers carried only a weakened scent. As if their souls were smaller somehow. Quite like the shades, empty. The demons’ scent had been mouthwatering, impossible to ignore. Here, Fate felt no need to wear the intrusive mask, the necromancers held no interest for her. Almost as though they were protected from her lust. Shielded.

  After the mangled bodies of the unsuccessful zombies were cleared away, a hush fell over the crowd. Everyone watched in awe as a large slab of what looked to be clear block of crystal was carried onto the track. The twelve red-robed necromancers waited patiently, the zombie girl standing quietly by their side, while the stage was being set. Upon setting the block of crystal ice atop four supports, the necromancers led the dead girl by the hand and assisted her to laying. With her torn and bloody pink dress draped over the side and short, blonde hair defying gravity, she crossed her arms over her chest with the drama of a vampire settling into his coffin, and closed her eyes.

  An altar, Fate considered, feeling her eyes widening. Everyone in the crowd carried the same expression. Wonderment.

  The twelve necromancers surrounded the altar, their hands and faces raised to the covered sky. Low chanting echoed through the stadium, words of magic dancing on the air, summoning. The air churned with energy. Hummed with power. Even from where she sat, she could sense the dark arts breathing, coming to life.

  Blue and white lightning sparked, clawing the girl’s body from the cloudless sky. Fate noticed Xia, her head hung and eyes closed. Glancing around, she saw that all the necromancers in the crowd looked as though they were meditating. As the power surged on the field below, bluish streams of light began to flow from each of the necromancers in the audience. Feeding the zombie girl’s broken body. Nourishing it with life.

  The energy pulsated. Grew. Began to climax as it gathered force from the crowd. Fate’s heart raced as a sapphire force field cocooned the girl. The twelve necromancers spun en
chantments from their lips at a furious pace. With pressure thickening the air, Fate wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

  Then, without warning, there was an ear-splitting crack. Releasing the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, Fate watched as the energy field burst into a million sparkling pieces, showering the crowd with blue glitter.

  A curtain of turquoise draped the air, veiling the field from her sight. A dense, bluish fog swarmed the stadium, then suddenly lifted as though someone had commanded it.

  Fate hastily scanned the length of the arena, searching for her favorite little zombie in pink. But she was nowhere to be found. Lying on the slab, where the petite dead girl had been only moments before, was a new, sleek, silver body.

  A necromancer.

  Assumptions

  The silver beings strolled ahead of him, guiding him through the gaping mouth of the black wall. Their bodies were lean, moving with smooth, graceful strides. They didn’t look back. Didn’t speak.

  Kane fought to disregard the knot in his stomach, which soon proved to be an impossibility as a city made entirely of bones came into view.

  The drawbridge rose behind him, sealing him in with the echo of a tomb. His thoughts shifted to his daughter, waiting for him on the other side. He swallowed hard, his heart beating too fast. Could he trust these beings? Should he? The energy they emanated felt both calm and powerful, yet there was an unsettling sensation buried beneath. One that Kane couldn’t name.

  He followed them down a path to the right, his ebony hooves clicking on the odd cobbled streets. On either side of him sat building after building comprised of skeletal remains, forged into homes and markets. The empty eyes of a thousand skulls gazed at him, like sightless sentinels lingering within a city of the dead.

  Poor souls, Kane sympathized, his heart aching with the memories of his lost father and wife. He knew their bones were not amongst the city’s collection, but the thought of all the people who might be missing their loved ones, possibly hidden amongst the bony rubble, tore at his soul.