“Desmond,” Reynolds said, with a smirk. He was defiant, even now. “Have you come to gloat? Your happiness is sickening.”
“I have not,” Desmond said. “Although I have come to inform you of some news.”
“What? Has the Jurors elevated your defiant ass once again? You always did manage to get away with murder.”
“I am leaving the Order,” Desmond answered, and Reynolds fell silent. “I have left my Tiro, and I am leaving magic behind. Mariah and I pledged ourselves to each other.”
“What?” Reynolds couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Are you mad?”
Desmond had not expected that reaction.
“No? Maybe?”
“You can't just… arr,” Reynolds replied. “You just threw away your whole life.”
“No,” Desmond said. “I walked a path I thought was right for me, until I realized it was right no longer. You feel my happiness because I am now on the right path. There are other ways to be happy, Reynolds, besides magic. Besides darkness or light, the whisk of our hands. And I wanted you to know that.”
Reynolds fell silent, not expecting this kind of lecture.
“If there is a glimmer of hope in all of this, Reynolds, I hope that you find it.”
“Desmond, I walked away from you and from the Order. I used Acheronian magic, I killed hundreds, if not thousands. I was your first Tiro and I screwed everything up for you. And now you come and tell me about hope?”
“I do,” Desmond replied. “And when the Jurors lay down your verdict for the crimes you have committed, I will be there, beside you, supporting you as I should have done.”
Reynolds looked at Desmond in disbelief. His mouth gaped open several times before he spoke.
“And what of the girl?”
Desmond tried to smile.
“Sienna has found her own path, as well, outside of magic. If you have diabolical plans, you should know that the drugs have wiped magic from her system. She knows death awaits her if she comes off of them. She is useless to your cause now.”
“And your brave Nathaniel? Has he surged forward?”
“Nathaniel has stayed with the Order,” Desmond said. “So you may hear his name from time to time. That is the path he believes is right for him, and I'm not going to stop him.”
“Of course, he did.” Reynolds shook his head. “So much for different paths”
“We have each found our own,” Desmond answered. “And I know that you will as well.”
“Unless they execute me.”
“They won't,” Desmond assured him. “You are too powerful, too blessed by magic to lose such a force to the world. Try to find a way without it, a way to be happy, and you will find yourself free.”
“Not from prison bars,” Reynolds replied.
“No, maybe not,” Desmond answered. “But your mind will be at peace.”
The two stood in silence for a long moment, and then Reynolds spoke, softly, “You weren't a bad Maestro, Desmond.”
Desmond was surprised by this.
“I—”
“You weren't. It was nothing that you did or said. You were a good Maestro, and it was I that strayed. Don't blame yourself for it. I hope you do find happiness with Mariah.”
Desmond decided to accept this, bowing his head.
“Thank you,” he said. “I will leave you now.”
“Could you…Could you stay?” Reynolds asked, sounding so much like the boy Desmond had trained. “Not for long, I mean…but just a while?”
Desmond smiled at this, taking a step closer. “I could,” he said. “If you wish it.”
He settled down in a chair placed outside the cell. The two fell into a natural rhythm of conversation, as if the past few years had never happened. They spoke of their time on quests, of their moments at school, of the people they had known. Desmond felt himself go back twenty years, to a time when Reynolds filled him with hope and when nothing was too big of mountain for them to tackle.
The path ahead was clear for him, but he knew it was only because of the moments that were difficult that he could walk it. It had taken forty years to get the courage to walk away with Mariah, and it was because his courage had been tested so many times before. He didn't fear what was to come, for everything behind him had been fearful enough.
And despite having not taken Reynolds through to the tests, he felt he had succeeded with him. For despite the darkness, the past, his former Tiro still had strength within him, and still saw that he could live beyond all of this. He had taught him that. He had taught all of them that. Broken Christa, after the death of her Maestro, Nathaniel in the face of anxiety, Sienna in her daily struggles. And they had taught him patience and hope. They had taught him how to live.
There was a life beyond the magic, and he was eager to live it.
Epilogue
“Did you translate all of those?” Eliza asked in surprise Sienna had only been working for her 10 months, but it seemed that she learned a new language every week.
The former witch smiled as she handed her the tablet. “I did,” she said. “Some of them may be a bit shaky, but they are fine for the purposes you use. If that's all, my Queen…”
“It is all,” Eliza replied. “Baroness.”
Sienna blushed at the rank Eliza had given her. “It's Devon's birthday,” she said. “So we'll be off for the evening?”
“Of course,” the Queen replied. “It will be a relaxing…”
Just as she was finishing her sentence, the doors to the palace flew open and Jonah burst in.
The captain of the guards was normally cool and collected, but at the moment, his eyes were wild.
“Your highness,” he said. “The rebel forces are marching on us.”
Eliza's eyes hardened.
“Then attack. I won their throne here on Natrine. They need to accept that. Teach them a lesson.”
“No,” Jonah said. “They've had help. There're three outer rim planets that have come to their aid.”
“What?” Eliza asked. “Who allowed this?”
“Your highness, they took us by surprise,” Jonah said. “But regardless of semantics, we are currently outnumbered. You need to call Jeffro's forces, but we will need more back-up then that.”
“This is treason,” Eliza growled. Sienna, however, put a hand on her shoulder, calm.
“You took the throne,” she said. “The witches defend the thrones at all costs, as natural leaders must be protected.”
Eliza held her gaze.
“Will they send us aid?”
“Yes,” Sienna replied. “I believe they will.”
“Then call for it,” Eliza said. “Jonah, call the Jeffro forces. As many as we can spare.”
“My concern, your highness, is that if Jeffro is left half-defenseless, they will storm on there, as well.”
“No,” Eliza was defiant “We will defend both fronts. Call the witches now, Sienna. Ask for aid.”
“Aye,” Sienna nearly dropped the tablet and headed out of the large marble hall.
Devon was waiting just outside the door, expecting her to be finished work. Their life together on Natrine was much different from the rigid life the Order had demanded of them. Eliza was a kind mistress, expecting the work to be done when it was due and not much more. Sienna found herself happy, light and free. With her magic blocked, she was finally able to see what life was beyond the Order. With Devon's hand almost constantly in hers, she thought it was beautiful.
Today, though, her eyes were wide with panic.
“I need to call Nathaniel,” she said, as they ducked into a quiet corner. “We're under attack.”
“Mm,” Devon answered. “Somehow, I knew this day would come.”
“So did I,” she said. “We'll be flooded with witches in a few days. It's odd, this is the warrior excitement I always wanted. And now that it's here...”
“Now that it's here, you realize you are happy with your other path,” Devon answered. “Regardless, i
t will be nice to see our friends. I can call Laura, if you like.”
“Probably needed,” Sienna said, as she dialed through.
Nathaniel looked tired when he answered, his lighting dim. She could make out that he was at the school, in his room, and it was early morning. She hadn't thought about the time change.
“Maestro,” she said. “The day has come.”
“Oy,” Nathaniel replied, sitting up a bit more. “Do you need us to come now?”
“I do,” she said. “You and your Tiro. I'm going to put quest bids up. We'll need several teams.”
“We're ready,” Nathaniel replied. “Prada is stronger than any Tiro here. We will protect you.”
She remembered the days that he said that about her, and smiled.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Just stay safe,” he replied, and she sensed a grin in the darkness.
“Nathaniel…are you…excited?”
“I am a warrior after all, little one,” he said, as his tablet jiggled with him getting up. “And you always wanted to see me in action.”
“I did,” she answered. “I'm going to put a few calls out. Let me know if there's anything else I can do.”
“Look at us,” he replied. “Working together on intergalactic quests. Did you ever think that would happen again?”
She smiled.
“I didn't,” she said. “But we've found a way.”
“There's always a way,” Nathaniel said, “if you believe. I'll see you soon.”
“Bye,” she hung up, passing the tablet to Devon to call Laura. Despite the oncoming danger, Devon grinned at her.
“Well, this is exciting,” he said, as he keyed in Laura's number.
“It is,” Sienna drew her knees up as she perched on the window seat. “And I'm ready for it.”
“We're together,” he said. “We're ready for anything. And with you here, we can call in teams in any language. You're magic.”
His choice of words made her smile. “I didn't use to think I was,” she replied. “Not until you made me feel differently.”
“So, my love,” he said, as the call began to ring. “Are you ready for a new adventure?”
“I am,” she said, as Laura picked up. Like everything in life, it wasn't going to be easy. A year ago, she couldn't believe that she ever would have been happy with this reality. But today, with Devon by her side, and her skills sharp and making a different, she felt happy, and strong. It had taken walking away from her once dream, and from magic, to make her feel like she was indestructible
There was always another path, and she was so glad that she had found it.
***THE END***
Dragons of Umora Box Set (1-5)
Book 1: Cole
Chapter 1
You are not my son.
Those were the most devastating words he could think of. He would rather hear that his parents were dead, that his older brothers, the Crown Prince and the Duke, had disowned him. Anything but the fact that he was not who he thought he was.
His blood boiled in his veins as he stood in the middle of the grand hall, the gleaming thrones mocking him. Cole had been born the third Prince of Umora, a planet so advanced in civilization that there was no pain, no suffering, and virtual immortality through science. Everyone on Umora was some sort of shifter, some sort of magical creature–whether it be wolf, lion, or otherwise. The dragon shifters, however, had always been the royal family, ruling over those beneath them. The witches, the werewolves, and the lions all bowed down to the dragon shifters.
Cole always believed his place in the world was at the top with everyone bowing down to him. He knew that his magic was better than the rest of his family's, but he never thought anything of it. It was a gift, after all.
What he didn’t know, however, was that he was a half-breed witch and dragon shifter–a bastard orphan left on the door steps. He could now claim potential royal blood from both sides. Or, from neither side. He was everything and nothing at the same time.
He should have inherited the richness of the witches and the power of the dragons.
Instead, he lost it all when his father admitted the truth.
There would be no throne for Cole on Umora, no happy ending here. He had been cheated out of everything by matters of his birth.
Cole saw only red as he spun around, looking at the murals on the walls.
This explained so much about his life, about his feelings, and about why he felt like he never fit in. Growing up, it became apparent that he was different than the rest of his family. His magic did not come in the same way theirs did. He could not focus in the same way, could not create the same things. Cole needed to eat more than the rest of them, and more frequently. Alexander seemed to only nibble twice a week, and Nicholas took great pride in large feasts and social meals. But Cole was always ravenous, always strong, and always a moment away from rage.
His rage was so different than Nicholas's rage. Nicholas was simply a kind soul and fiercely loyal, but also ready to destroy anyone who came near those whom he loved. Cole seemed to rage out for no reason, and he, himself, admitted that he threw tantrums when he didn't get his way.
Everyone was unfair to him. His brothers were allowed to do things that he wasn't. His parents let his brothers lead wars and lash out. But Cole was punished unfairly, even by his brothers. They always treated him like a mischievous child, who didn't know how to handle himself.
Death was nothing to him. Feeding for the sake of something to do was nothing to him. He loved the attention, loved the power, but hated how they scolded him.
And now, it was clear that this was not the place he belonged. All these years of trying to fit in, and he wasn't really one of them anyways. They didn't want him; that much was clear.
He continued spinning, barely seeing, barely thinking. His anger was uncontrollable, and his rage lay in front of him. He wanted power. He wanted control. He wanted to show them what he was capable of. He was not a child to be scolded, nor was he someone to be put aside.
And that is when he spotted Earth–painted blue, small, and fragile–in the upper corner of the wall.
If he could not have Umora, if they thought he didn't belong here, he would show them where he did. He would find his own Kingdom; he would make his own throne.
He knew how to take control of a planet. That was nothing foreign to his family. They kept peace and ruled over several planets in the system. One simply needed to purge the planet, control its people, and make them fear you. Only then would they bow down.
Cole turned on his heel and stalked out of the throne room and into the records hall. The records hall contained scrolls of all nature, including rules for unlocking magic on each planet. The Gods who had created the planets, millenniums ago, had written down the secrets to unlocking each one, in the ancient tongue of each planet.
"Cole," a not-so-distant voice called.
The unexpected sound startled him; he had thought he was alone in the hall. But his brother, Alexander, was standing there, looking majestic and comfortable. But then again, why wouldn’t he be? He belonged here.
"We've been looking everywhere for you."
Cole smirked, "And why would that be? Seeing as how I don't belong here? Do you want to lock me up, too? Toss me out of the only home I've ever known?"
"Cole," Alexander took a step further. "I know we've had our differences. But there was no reason for the tantrum you threw."
"Tantrum?" Cole sputtered. "Tantrum? Is that what you call a reaction to finding out your whole life is a lie?"
When his father had finally told him the truth, Cole barely remembered what he had done. All he remembered is rage; all he remembered was his dragon brain taking over.
It was only after coming back to his human form that he heard about the destruction he had caused. He had flown–flown until his wings hurt–and killed whatever had lay in his path. The reports said that he went to neighboring planets, breathing fire, tearing up village
s, and leaving civilians dead in his wake.
They had trembled in fear when they saw him coming, bowing to their knees and begging for mercy. But he didn't care about their pleas, nor did he care about their tears.
If his family was going to tell him that he was some half-breed monster that didn't belong, he would show them how he didn't belong.
Let them say he was a criminal; let them say he was a monster with a black soul.
"That is what I call it when it was followed by the amount of destruction you caused, yes," Alexander replied. "Cole...the people...."
"You and father have done much worse in your so-called 'peace keeping missions,'" Cole spat. "Following in his footsteps, as if he's always been around to encourage us."
He knew it wasn't much of an excuse, but there was no excuse that mattered, really. If Alexander was questioning him, then he would not see reason. Alexander was always calm, controlled, logical, and frankly, in Cole’s eyes, boring. He thought carefully about every word that exited his mouth.
"He is not the kind of King I want to be," Alexander growled.
“Poor, poor Alexander,” Cole teased him. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Always acting as the martyr. Had Peter still been alive, your life would be so easy, wouldn't it?”
Alexander's eyes flashed at the mention of their oldest brother. Peter was supposed to be King, and Alexander would have been his second in command. But Peter struggled with his own identity, trying to come to terms with what his life's purpose was, and it was never meant to be. It had been two years since Peter vanished, flitting into the black magic world that was simply known as the Other. No one had ever returned from the Other, and the weight fell heavily on Alexander's shoulders. He had lost his confidant, his mentor, and his best friend. And suddenly, he would rule the land when their father perished.
“Don't you mention him,” Alexander said, although his voice trembled with emotion. “Peter fought a fight he could not win. But the rest of us are still here. And it does not change the fact that–”
"The fact that I am no longer your brother, just some bastard orphan," Cole cut him off, standing tall.
The Hidden Truth (Shadow Claw Book 7) Page 66
