Two lefts turns, a right, and a quick trip down an alley brought us to a street lined with trees, backed up against a massive field. Between street and field was a line of tiny cottage houses, the thatched roofs and sloped window exactly what I had expected to see from this ancient village.
I breathed deep, a surreal feeling of home hitting against my chest as we walked past the first two, and turned to face the third.
It was a tiny thing, with white shutters and porcelain blue stucco, it looked like it was right out of a storybook. It was beautiful.
But mostly, it was safe. It looked like a home.
I could tell at once why she had chosen it.
“Are you ready?” Joclyn asked from beside me, her hand a tight vice around my own.
I could only nod as together, we walked up to the door. Joclyn rapped on the door so fast I wasn’t sure if it was a knock or the sound of my heart in my ears.
I had been in situations like this before. While the anxiety I felt now was nothing near the moment that I had seen Joclyn for the first time, sitting at a battered old desk in school, it was at least in the top twenty.
“I like that memory too,” Joclyn whispered, running her thumb over my hand just as the door opened and the nut brown eyes of the girl who had given everything to save me looked into me for the first time in years.
I could see the confusion there for only a moment before her hand flew to her mouth, soft sounds of emotions bleeding through her fingers.
“Kaye?” I whispered, my voice broken from tears. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ilyan Krul, and this is my wife, Joclyn.
It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The King of Imdalind is Arriving
The Story of Imdalind is far from over.
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About the Author
Rebecca Ethington is an internationally bestselling author with almost 700,000 books sold. Her breakout debut, The Imdalind Series, has been featured on bestseller lists since its debut in 2012, reaching thousands of adoring fans worldwide and cited as “Interesting and Intense” by USA Today’s Happily Ever After Blog.
From writing horror to romance and creating every sort of magical creature in between, Rebecca’s imagination weaves vibrant worlds that transport readers into the pages of her books. Her writing has been described as fresh, original, and groundbreaking, with stories that bend genres and create fantastical worlds.
Born and raised under the lights of a stage, Rebecca has written stories by the ghost light, told them in whispers in dark corridors, and never stopped creating within the pages of a notebook.
Find me online
www.rebeccaethington.com
[email protected]
Other Books by Rebecca Ethington
The Imdalind Series
Kiss of Fire, Imdalind #1
Eyes of Ember, Imdalind #2
Scorched Treachery, Imdalind #3
Soul of Flame, Imdalind #4
Burnt Devotion, Imdalind #5
Dawn of Ash, Imdalind #6
Crown of Cinders, Imdalind #7
The Through Glass Series
Book One: The Dark
Book Two: The Blue
Book Three: The Rose
Book Four: The Cut
Of River and Raynn Series
The Catalyst: Act One
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A Spark of Vengeance
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Prologue
The plan was simple. Excavate an ancient tunnel system and blow the dome from the outside.
We had the found the tunnel years ago when a mission in Poland had sent my team and I underground. Desperate to escape back home before our cover was fully blown, we took shelter in the mountains, hoping that trees and caves would be our savior before we could be extracted.
What we had found instead was ultimately more valuable.
An ancient man-made tunnel that weaved through mountains and who knows what else. We traveled through the intricately carved paths for days, carefully documenting the ornate creations that lined the walls, doing our best to mark each turn and fork we crossed lest we get lost.
We had expected to die in those caves, lost in an underground trove forever. Instead, we found a door. The surface was carved in stone and iron in a scene full of animals, people, and what we could only assume were fireworks. It was beautiful, but it was also sealed shut.
No matter what we did, we could not open it, despite hearing the loud crowd just on the other side.
Eventually, my team and I crawled out of the cave a month later, reported what we had seen and everything was filed away to be forgotten.
That was until an explosion covered the city of Prague, the entire metropolis swallowed by a large red dome.
Within weeks every government had rallied together to conquer this foreign invasion. It was quickly determined that the dome extended underground and that explosions from the top did little to nothing. After months of foolishly fighting this stationary enemy, they realized what needed to happen.
A powerful explosion, directly against the barrier.
It was then we knew exactly where to go.
It was this mission that had brought me back to this cave, and to the bright red barrier that covered it.
“Klotz!”
As much as I wanted to jump at the loud voice behind me I stood still, arms folded over my chest as I stared at the wall of red. The glistening surface sparkled as I stood before it, as if it knew I was here.
As if it knew what we were here for.
“Klotz!” The yell came again as the heavy fall of feet ran up behind, Commander Ramdoir and a few of his man rushing up to surround me.
“Sir,” I acknowledged his presence with a snap of my heels and a quick salute, but I still did not remove my eyes from the glistening surface.
I couldn’t look away.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The awe was clear in his voice.
I wanted to agree, but I couldn’t. As much as the beauty called to me, as much as it enticed me, there was something else I wanted all the more. Something that it was hiding.
“Are you referring to the surface, or to whatever is behind it?” I finally looked away from the deep red wall to look at the man beside me, his tall frame trimmed perfectly in the deep blue uniform of Ukraine.
Commander Ramdoir had trained me from the moment I had been recruited from my local police in Kiev. I was his pet project so to say, and while I was sure he had interests in me beyond training me as his replacement, I was not interested in entertaining them.
I had a career I wanted to build. I would take over his position as the head of the Security Service. Even if he wasn’t ready to vacate it.
“You are the only woman I know who sees beyond the surface,” he whispered, obviously wanting to keep his voice low enough that the equally as mesmerized soldiers couldn’t hear.
The way he spoke drove nails into my spine.
“And you are the only Ukrainian I know who cannot take no for an answer.” I did not hide my disgust.
He did not notice it. He only laughed and stepped closer, his voice reducing to a low hum.
“Don’t play coy, Nastya.”
“Don’t be…”
Any retort I had left as the barrier we stood beside vanished, a rush of hot air pressing through the cavern. I almost lost my balance at the pressure, feet stumbling as the air rushed over us in a wave. A few of the soldiers ran back toward the others several hundred yards away, yelling in fear and warning as they went. Their voices echoed, rippling and growing as they began to multiply. As something else began to join them.
The feral yells rippled down the cave toward us, they screamed a
s a million nightmares where awakened.
At first, I thought they were bats, but everything about that was wrong. The way they flew through the air, the way they screamed, the way they looked at us with filthy sphinx-like faces.
They weren’t bats, and whatever had popped the barrier, had released hell right toward us.
The swarm of bats rushed around me, their claws ripping at me as they screamed, as their teeth sunk into the skin on my lower back.
I felt the teeth, felt the acid that followed, the acid that burned and roared and sent me to the ground in nothing but screams.
Everything was on fire. Everything burned as though it was going to explode.
Everything in me had changed.
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