His breath was ravaged, but Brokk already had the knife palmed in his hand, as he and Memphis came into a defensive stance, their backs flush to one another. The wind howled viciously, and Brokk shivered, his breath coming in puffs in front of him. The moonlight reflected off the snow-covered forest floor, illuminating the definition of the landscape more.
Nothing stirred.
His palms were so clammy, they turned stiff and frozen from the dropping temperatures. But there, to his right, was a flicker of movement, and Brokk bared his teeth.
From the night, Bresslin Stratton materialized. Her skin was pale, her hair drawn back. Locking her gaze on them, she smiled softly, her eyes empty. Gortach appeared by her side, as well as the sound of hundreds of scraping claws and silver eyes staring back at them.
Brokk’s hand started to tremble as Bresslin stepped forward, unsheathing a monstrous sword, the edge dipping in toward the middle of the blade, creating twelve wicked looking teeth along its edge. His mind unraveled the history from their weapons class: The Curse, it was called. A blade embodied with unbreakable teeth, while also capturing the opponent’s blade, destroying it.
The snow crunched under her leather boots. “Well, boys, it seems we find ourselves at a crossroad.”
The rumbling snickers of her army sounded all around them. Memphis tensed against him, and Brokk clenched his teeth so hard the pressure was overwhelming.
Bresslin raised an eyebrow in mock shock. “Oh, nothing to say? No words of great chivalry? I’m slightly disappointed.”
The snickers transformed into full blown animalistic chortles, and Brokk’s cheeks flushed.
Behind Bresslin, Gortach rumbled, “Why not start with the shifter? He drew his blood and unleashed me. We owe him our deep gratitude.”
“Is that so?” Bresslin assessed Brokk, and he wanted to fade away underneath her stare. Jutting his chin out, his lips pressed in a thin line.
“Well, it does seem to be our lucky day. I assume this is yours too?” She held up his worn pack, and in her grip, the book, Myths of Kiero, was clear to see. Brokk swallowed hard. Bresslin’s lips split, showing her gleaming teeth in a pointed grin. “Oh, do we ever have much to talk about.”
Sauntering toward them, the ice thickened, and the snow howled until all they could see was her cunning smile. Her voice drifted on the wind, “The Academy is done. It’s time for you to decide which side you stand on.”
“We are with the Faes.” The words erupted from Brokk almost like a guttural growl, and Memphis shifted uneasy behind him.
“Really?” Bresslin appeared in front of them, and Gortach trailed behind her. Their reflections flashed in the flush metal, wide eyed.
“And here I was, willing to give you two a break to join our ranks, even given your status.” Chortling, Bresslin moved closer. “You see, boys, I think it’s very unfair that such power can be born from nothing. Especially you, Carter. Weren’t both of your parents desolates outside the capital? I dare say we took care of them.”
No.
Brokk watched as those vicious words crumpled his best friend, fracturing his control. Memphis lunged, screaming, “What did you do?”
The edge of the sword dug into Brokk’s throat faster than he could register. Bresslin tutted, her breath hot against Brokk’s cheek as Gortach lunged to Memphis, his long fingers closing around his throat, pinning Memphis to the ground. His choked screams bounced off the ice around them.
“Don’t move another muscle, if you want your friend to live,” Bresslin demanded.
The blade pressed harder, and swallowing, he felt the small incision cut and heal, cut and heal. His hands trembled, and blood trickled down his skin. Gortach froze, and Memphis drove his foot into Gortach’s stomach. Breaking free Memphis rolled, ice slicing through his clothes. Brokk watched Gortach’s gaze narrowing. Brokk knew Memphis was throwing every ounce of his ability into the fight, but it wasn’t enough.
Roaring, the ancient creature charged and slammed into Memphis. He instantly crumpled onto the ground.
Memphis’s scream tore through Brokk just as Bresslin’s fist connected with his gut. Wheezing, he doubled over, and she followed, whispering into his ear, “This is just a taste of what is coming.”
She slammed the pommel into his temple. Dropping to his knees, dots dancing in his vision, ice tore through his pants, skinning his knees.
The blade caressed his cheek, trailing down his chest. Memphis was screaming, the sounds like a dying animal.
Bresslin smirked. “This seems like a good place to start.”
Blade met blood, and pain encompassed his world until it was all he knew, all he could taste and breathe. And he lost himself in it.
Chapter Fifteen
Adair
There was something strange hanging in the air. A shimmering, tangible energy that quaked the ground with each step he took, each breath, every longing glance behind him. The tang of magic and promise clung heavy around him, making him tremble with anticipation.
Adair would no longer hide.
Sweat slid down his nose as he peered around the corner. The hallways were empty, and he had avoided all contact with the patrols so far.
At the end of the hallway, the smooth oak doors of the Faes’ office stared back at him, that light seducing him, gliding around the frame of the doorway, curling and unfurling with an elegant grace.
Stepping forward, he heard his soft footfalls, his breath catching as he closed the space in strides.
“Adair?”
Emory appeared behind him, stepping out of the shadows, worry etched into her every feature. She wore a loose green shirt and fitted pants. Every day that passed, they were both growing into the people that could carve the world. She stepped closer. “What are you doing?” Every word was pronounced.
He faced her, feeling his lips turn up slowly. She blanched, stopping as she took him in, sensing that something was different.
“Why, Princess, you shouldn’t grace me with such a late visit.” His voice sounded alien, even to himself. Smooth, silken, and full of mockery. Her face darkened, and she stood taller, as she strode closer, striking him fiercely across the cheek.
“Listen, whatever you’re going through, whatever this is, just talk to me, Adair. This isn’t you. I want my best friend back. I need him back. Please.” Her chin wobbled, her eyes brimming, and she reached out to take his hand. “I know what the other students say. I know what you have heard. You aren’t like your father, Adair. You are so much more.”
He stalled, tilting his head, searching every detail of her face, noticing the tears streaming down her cheeks. Running a hand through his hair, he whispered, “You’re right.”
He stepped closer, and she radiated light. “I am more.” He felt that power stir in him. “You could have been as well.”
Fear sparked in her eyes as every ounce of her blood drained from her face, and she lunged at him, trying to latch on, to drain him of his ability. He had always been faster. Emory crumpled as he slashed through her defenses, shutting them down and knocking her unconscious. Gently lowering her body, licking his cracked lips, he whispered down to her still form, “I’m sorry.”
Adair continued down the hallway, leaving her behind. The light flared and exploded, like thousands of his own personal constellations, the smooth edges of the captured light forming hundreds of orbs, glistening like polished emeralds. It stole his breath away when they parted, forming his own personal walkway, and as he passed, they ebbed, dying slowly. His heart was pounding, and he could practically feel the heaviness seeping through his bloodstream, curdling him until he was only the darkness trapped within him; that had marked him.
Reaching the heavy doorway, he turned the handle. It swept inward seamlessly. Roque looked up, startled and wide-eyed, as he looked at Adair, bewildered.
Shutting the door quickly behind him, Adair didn’t miss a beat. “Sorry for the interruption, Your Highness. I was hoping we could talk?”
; Sighing, Roque murmured, “Please, Adair, come in. And don’t worry about the titles. I doubt by this point there is much of a country left that will recognize me as their highness.”
His adrenaline stirred, and he took a seat, trying not to stare at the pulsing wall behind Roque, practically screaming out to Adair. “Oh, really?”
Roque barely heard him, his focus on the map laid before him. His eyes roamed frantically, as he whispered to himself, “We need more time to reunite the borders with the Risco Desert and the raiders there before heading into another war. The North is our only ally with Sarthaven fallen.”
Adair swallowed hard, feeling that familiar tug of his ability climbing through him. “My father won’t grant any more time than what we have already had.”
Roque raised his gaze, squinting at Adair. He smiled, his voice surprisingly soft as he said, “The time to act is now.”
A hunger engulfed Adair so fiercely he didn’t have time to act before his ability shattered through him. Gripping Roque’s forearm, the King of Kiero was frozen, his mouth gaping noiselessly as Adair rampaged everything he was. He had always imagined what breaking into a desolate’s body would be like. It was a sick fascination he had. His ability was what made him feel strong first and his character followed.
As his grip tightened and his talons ripped and shredded through Roque’s memories, it was like he was the siren, and Roque was sailing toward his deadly rocky shore, frozen and entranced.
Years flickered through his mind, bright and sharp. He shifted quickly until Adair found what he was looking for. The memory lurched through him.
Nei clutched his arm as he slammed the hammer into the concrete and brick wall, “Roque, can you just listen to me for a second?”
Roque paused, thrusting the weathered book into her grasp. “What is there to talk about, Nei? I should have never made this secret society in the first place. I thought I was protecting Kiero in keeping the secret that there are other worlds connected to ours. I thought I was ensuring peace by creating the Original Six, by meeting with each world leader to negotiate politics. Now, I have helped create the one thing that could end us all.”
She tenderly rested her hand on his arm. “We cannot have it here. The world of Daer has betrayed us. This time, we must do something. Instead of hiding the artifact, let’s destroy it.”
Roque choked out a laugh. “How, Nei, do we begin to explain that Damien Foster has made treaties of peace with these worlds under our command? It sounds insane. Illegal, and insane.”
She rebuttaled, “The world is defined by a lot of things: Magic. Power. Love. Status. But it is the people who shape it. It once sounded insane for me to marry a pompous prince who I thought knew nothing about sacrifice. You proved me wrong. Now do the same for me. Prove that you aren’t acting out of fear.”
His hands shook, stalling, then he looked up; his eyes filled with sorrow. “No. It will stay here, hidden until the time is right. No one will know. Not even Cesan and Bresslin.”
Nei’s face darkened, her light demeanor vanishing. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she said nothing as the wall crumpled, and Roque started burying the book within the walls.
Adair was slammed back into the present, staring at Roque Fae. Heat flushed over his entire body as his grip tightened. “What did you do?” Roque paled as Adair pinned his ability sharper and deep. His pulse raced faster and faster as he demanded, “What is in the book?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roque rasped, his lips starting to turn blue, his skin greying with every second.
“I highly doubt that,” Adair said, then slipped from his body.
When he used his ability, usually it was like circling around the consciousness before assessing his obstacles, and then he would land the blows where he wanted. This was striking with his will, and he gripped every nerve, every ounce of the king’s physical anatomy until he commanded every ounce of it.
It was like snuffing out a candle, backing the other soul into a corner and keeping it in check. They moved as one toward the wall, and looking through Roque’s eyes, he could see the light calling them. Calling him. He moved, Roque’s memories telling him that it was surrounded by magic, shielded by it. It was created by the professors, and out of their loyalty, no questions came. They moved, and the wall transformed for the only person it would.
Roque.
Gold infused pillars appeared before them like smoke, shimmering but not fully solid. Not fully real. In between them, a small shelf was created, and an ordinary weathered book lay in the middle.
They stepped closer, and inky words sprawled in the air before them, appearing from nothing.
“I can be fickle, yet strong.
Attained, yet used,
Desired, yet shunned.
What am I?”
Pausing, Adair impatiently read through the riddle. Shifting through memories, he knew if he answered wrong the consequences would be dire. Roque fought against him, his feeble attacks laughable, and Adair sunk him deeper in the folds of his ability. As that darkness tightened around him, drowning them both, the answer became clear, and Roque faded into nothing.
Smiling, Adair still controlling Roques body, whispered, “I am the truth.”
The words disappeared at his deep voice, melting and dripping away any shield, laying the book bare before him. The light disappeared, the essence that had drawn him forward, whisking away with the gold pillars in a cloud of sparkling mist.
“Adair,” those familiar and icy whispers sounded.
Excitement trickled into his stomach.
“Adair.”
Reaching for it, Roque’s hand shook. The voices cooed, wrapping around him, comforting yet still foreign. The world vanished behind him, and he barely breathed as he picked it up.
The front cover flipped open, the pages flailing wildly in an unseen wind. Smoke stirred only the spine and started to ooze out of the book, circling him. Breathing heavily, Adair watched as his veins and skin were drenched in the same smoke, one trailing after the other, a cosmic pull. Uncontrollable and undeniable.
The power of the book collided with them, and the world exploded.
Shards of smoke flattened and crystalized into pools of black shimmering mirrors that made up his surroundings, as he freefell through space and time. Capturing glances, his reflection showed him in his true body, his jacket flapping wildly and his unkept hair. Choking back his screams, he fought gravity, plummeting faster, his eyes burning from the wind.
Deeper and deeper, he fell, his hands grappling for anything to hold on to. To stop. Faster and faster, he was pulled, the mirrors intensifying around him. Distorted flashes of himself were splayed in them, his wide eyes and mouth open.
But then in the darkness, those pale faces and sickening smiles reflected at him, so fast he barely thought he saw them correctly. But all around him, captured in the flawless surfaces, those creatures that haunted his waking moments followed him down into the darkness.
Gritting his teeth together, he pressed his eyes closed, tears seeping from his lids as he plummeted. The wind howled all around him, and sharp giggles tainted them, making a sick orchestra climbing and crashing around him. Always, they played just for him.
His breath wheezed out of him, his eyes flying open. Underneath him, the light curled around his body, weaving together likes vines, cradling him. Choking on his panic, a manic laugh bubbled from his lips. Patting his body down, he was in one piece.
Beneath him, the light started to pulse once more, a soft and comforting heat flooding through him. On shaking legs, he stood slowly, and the light unfurled. Before his eyes, a beautiful and intricate staircase formed, leading him into the unknown of this place.
Magic hung heavy in the air, and Adair paused, looking up into the darkness. Back to where he had come from.
Straightening his jacket and popping his collar up, he breathed deeply, wrenching his gaze forward: to where a world of mystery and enchantment spa
rked to life before him.
The staircase had solidified, its curving rails inlaid with a deep green hue, the staircase itself, having bled out any color, turning it into a shimmering black. Embers floated around him, silver instead of fiery tones. They spun lazily through the air, creating the illusion of a starry sky, each constellation blinking into existence.
His steps echoed as he walked, slow and unsure.
“Adair Stratton, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.” The voice was smooth and commanding, filling with promise.
“Who’s there?” His voice was surprisingly steady, and he was thankful for that. Internally, he was quaking, the shards of his old self and life ripping away, fading.
Reaching the bottom, his boot hit the floor, and a hissing filled his senses. Twisting, particle by particle, the stairs dissolved, floating up to become one with the shadows around him. Swallowing hard, he forced his body to move forward.
“It is not so much who, but what.” The voice shook through the marrow of his bones, steady and resilient.
“I’ve had enough of riddles for one day, thanks. Where am I?” His questions echoed, bouncing off walls unseen to him.
Instead of answering, before him the ground tilted, and he slipped down. Finding his balance, Adair steadied himself, his eyes adjusting to the pristine light emitting from the pool before him. The surface was so still, it looked like glass. Below, the water crystals made up the bottom of the pool, their defined edges emitting a dazzling display of colors: greens, golds, blues, reds, all sparkled up at him as he lowered himself onto his knees before its edge. He was enraptured.
“Come closer, to find your truth.”
Complying, he leaned forward, blinking down at his reflection. Then, the water churned, plunging him into darkness as the crystals winked out. His breath came fast, and he couldn’t rip himself away. Before him, in the swirling waters, a world formed that he didn’t recognize.
Flames consumed everything, whisking away the capital, the Academy. Everything he had ever known was gone.
Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Page 16
