“Sometimes, Adair Stratton, we find ourselves at a crossroads unsure of which direction to take. I see your heart, and the fracture running through it. Of the fear, and hate, and desire. The world is spinning out of control, and it is time to find your purpose. Look closer.”
The scene changed, the ashes clearing, and Adair blanched as he realized he was looking at himself as a man. A city made up of stone and light bustled around him, and people passed him radiating kindness and respect, bowing their heads, their murmurs igniting his heart. “My King.”
The world before him exploded, showing a flourishing, rich place filled with discipline and trust. Because of him. For him. He hungrily drank every detail in before it faded into an inky blackness once more. He panted in the darkness, whispering, “Is this true?”
“This world can be yours and more, if you want to accept your fate. Claim what is yours, Adair. The Faes have hidden us out of fear of power. Your parents are blinded by rage.” The voice paused. “But you, you are different from them all.”
The crystals flared back to life, and Adair stared down at his hands, the inky swirls staining his skin; tainted by darkness. He curled his fingers, clenching them into tight fists as he whispered, “What would you have me do?”
“For a price, you will have access to unlimited power, unseen by this world. There will be forces working against you if you choose this, but together, we will be unstoppable.”
Scrambling back, he watched the water begin to rise, forming the outline of a man.
“I have been locked away for centuries, waiting for the right person to come along. I was sealed in this book, my wielders wanting to poison this world, wanting to destroy it. They are using all the forces they can raise to work against me.” The crystals flared brighter. “I wish to purge this world, not destroy it. Cleanse it, and then allow it to flourish. For true magic to rise again.”
Adair watched the water churn, and he shook his head. “How is this possible? You’re magic?”
“Ancient, but essentially yes.”
Gaping, he was speechless. From the shadows, giggles formed, and the four figures he was all too familiar with strode slowly toward the pool, gazing at him hungrily.
“And your friends here? Who are they?” he asked.
The water flickered, the form moving, gazing behind at the creatures.
The voice sighed. “These are echoes of my once masters. Bound within my magic, they are like ghosts. Unable to hurt you, but stubbornly present.”
Their giggles crawled toward him, making him shiver. Rubbing his hands together, he realized that the inky smoke had started to churn on his skin.
“They marked me.” Adair’s voice was hollow as the magic rippled in the air, stirring.
“You and I, and even the essence of them, are all connected. There is no turning back now, Adair. Follow the path that we both know is true.”
He stood, looking all around him in wonder. It was a flicker of recognition of that pull of gravity that had brought him here. The darkness that he always thought he should hide, that worked against him... Maybe he had been wrong all these years. Maybe the forces of this world had been leading him here. To this moment.
Air hissed between his teeth as he exhaled, and he murmured, “And the price?”
The shadows pressed in, the pool dimming, and the whispers closed in. It was laden with heaviness as the ancient voice replied, “Blood for blood. The price to access your power is to spill the blood of those who have hidden us here. You must destroy the Faes.”
Ice ran through his veins at the lust in those words. Adair opened his mouth but then closed it tightly. A humming filled the air, and he could practically taste the endless possibilities. He stepped forward. “And how is this power worth it?”
Laughter echoed around him. “Anything you desire will be yours, Adair. Raise a city, raise an army. It will be endless. This book contains unlimited knowledge and unlimited resources and power. You will remake this world.”
His hands trembled, and Gortach’s previous warning clung to him. He took another tentative step. “And I will be king?”
“Yes.”
Adair’s cheeks flushed, the thrill surging through his stomach. He was so close to the pool. He stood taller, his mind racing, giving in to who he was...what he was, and always had been.
This time, he wouldn’t bow to anyone else.
Without hesitation, he stepped down into the pool, the water sloshing. “I will do it. I will end them.”
The light died at his words, and Adair dove into the cool water. Whispers exploded through his mind, unrelenting and sharp, as the water turned black.
“You are ours, Adair. Ours.”
Pain shocked him. It felt like his bones were shattering and splintering, his stomach turning to molten. The taste of ash filled his mouth, and screams echoed around him. Was that him screaming?
Being dragged deeper, an unseen current ripped at his clothes. Water clogged his senses, filing in through his nostrils, spilling in his mouth. His lungs burned, igniting, begging for oxygen. Dots danced in his vision, and he flailed, screaming, “Help me!”
No one answered.
He succumbed, stilling his body and mind to the pain, to his fear, and he leashed it. Water filled his lungs, choking him. Steadiness filled him, intoxication of power coursing through his soul. Onward, he was dragged down, the pressure popping his ear drums, until beneath him, the crystals flared a deep crimson red.
Roaring filled his senses, as the water started spinning and spinning, the cyclone raging against him. His body contorted, twisting and splitting, and he was pulled violently up, tearing through the water. For a moment, he was suspended in the air, choking and dragging in wet breaths.
Then, he crashed down.
Wind howled around him before he slammed onto hard sand, his ribs cracking. The water was gone, leaving a coolness in its wake. Coughing and sputtering, water spewed from his mouth as his lungs desperately took in oxygen. He was sodden, and shakily, he raised his head.
He was in a small, clear space, the wet sand hard beneath him. Fresh bruises had already started to form from the fall, and wheezing, he stood. All around him, the crystals radiated, bathing him in light. The ground beneath him shuddered, and he turned. Behind him, on the opposite edge of the pool, stood a shadow of the magic, the shadow’s voice was laced with anticipation when it spoke.
“You and Adair, will be one.”
The air trembled as the ancient magic roared around him. Panicking, Adair stumbled back as he watched as the shadow before him yawned, stretching wide, turning opaque. Adair couldn’t move, his breath caught in his chest as he watched the gleaming crystals dim, turning black as night.
And then they exploded.
Flying back, his head and back cracked against the hard shards, nausea rocking through his body. Sticky warmth crept down the back of his neck. Cursing, he tried to sit up and was thrown back again by another shock wave, the shards of crystal turning to dust before his eyes, the particles clogging his throat, coating his skin.
“Adair.”
Gasping, he sat up; they were waiting for him. Those familiar pitiless eyes, the edges of shadows clawing toward his heart. Coughing, the iron taste of blood filled his mouth, oozing out of the corners of his lips. Pale hands grappled at his chest, his clothes, pushing him back and holding him still, their faces barely visible in the darkness. He watched in horror as that looming darkness stirred and shot forward, slamming into him. Inky dust particles bled and sank into his skin, in his mouth, into his soul.
And he was met with a pain he had never known before.
Screaming, he felt the tendons in his neck rip, his limbs flailing, fighting against the ancient force. Laughter rattled in his consciousness, and he was slammed back.
His body was flush to the wet sand, and he bared his teeth as the voice commanded, “Do not resist me.”
Whimpering, his core was ignited into fire, and everything he knew shattere
d and all he knew was this. He watched as the magic of the Book bled into him, grain by grain, shadow by shadow, wriggling under his nails, rippling under his skin. He felt each pump of his heart battling against the rushing heat in his veins, pumping faster and faster and faster.
The magic splintered through his chest, and he roared in agony, bowing against his invisible restraints. Coos and whispers circled around his mind, filtering through every thought and every memory with hesitation, and he felt the stain of blackness seep into every single one of them. The darkness swept through him as quick as flames, the magic binding and securing itself deep within Adair. The world started to spin on its axis as gravity gave way once more, and he was falling again.
His entire world had no rhyme or reason as the magic ravaged him, swelling and crashing repeatedly. The wind howled, and he was drowning in ash and malice that took over him. Centuries could have passed, or maybe it was just an illusion of the drawn-out seconds. His breath evened out from the wet rasps of his lungs to smooth fluid breaths. The heat within him dulled and cooled, leaving him hollow. His muscles, previously having been ripped, bruised, and bloodied were filled with newfound strength. His cracked skull and ribs knitted together and mended, the blood drying off his skin.
His eyes flew open, adjusting to the dull light around him instead of the midnight he had grown accustomed to. Lying on his back, the study was a newfound perspective, the bookcases and table coming into focus. And Roque, unconscious, was sprawled next to him.
“The Book, Adair.”
He stood, grabbing the worn leather from the floor, and a welcoming warmth spread through his fingers at the touch. Straightening his jacket, he caught his reflection on the mirror as he slid the book in his pocket. His skin was pale and drawn, but his eyes were pitch black, no definition, no dimension. Just empty. Crossing the room, he quietly stalked toward his reflection, every movement sharper to him.
The glass fogged with his breath as his gaze roamed, drinking in every ounce of him. Or them.
“Finally.”
Adair furrowed his brows at the strong voice settling within. Flexing his fingers, he brushed the glass, smearing the mist.
“Finally.”
Shaking his head, Adair pushed the magic back, wrenching his gaze away. He was in control. Crossing the room, he knelt by Roque’s side. “Now. What should I do with you?”
“Kill him.”
His pulse purred with the calling, his bloodlust rearing its ugly head. Swallowing, Adair quickly formed a plan.
“You promised us, Adair. Kill him.”
This time, it was the voices from his nightmares, their sharp, chilling words shivering down his spine. He leaned in closer, his hands starting to shake. Roque’s pulse was weak, his irregular heartbeats flickering against his jugular.
“Do it now.”
He breathed, “If I’m ending a kingdom, I want to do it smartly.”
Looking up, the trace of dawn bled into the sky, washes of pinks and golds smearing across it in bold strokes. He rubbed his jaw. “The funeral is in a couple of hours. I need some answers first, and there is only one way to do that.”
Looking down at Roque, Adair’s plan slowly started to piece together. The dark magic pulsed in his blood, as the voices drawled, “If you betray us....”
Clenching his jaw, he whispered to himself, “I know. Just trust me.”
“Until Roque and Nei Fae are dead, the power will remain dormant.”
Rolling his shoulders, he murmured, “That’s exactly what I am hoping for.”
Adair worked quickly and steadily, and by the time the sun crested the horizon, his plan was set in motion.
Chapter Sixteen
Memphis
The sun blazed over the horizon, illuminating the world into clear brilliance. Sunlight kissed the forest, sharpening their landscape. Blood oozed slowly and thickly from Memphis’s mouth, as his head hung limp, his hair unbound, staring at the ice encrusted ground. Each snowflake lying delicately on the ice, the swirls and twists of each, mesmerized him as he stared, pink slowly staining the peerless white. The cool weight of the silver handcuffs and choke collar dug into his bruised skin, and snippets of the night flashed through his mind.
Bresslin’s fists connecting over and over with his flesh, breaking him. Brokk screaming in the distance, having been taken away by Gortach. The hours had blurred with his pain of what had happened.
His family, gone. Years of him dreaming of what he would say to them, what his parents would be like. Making the trip back to their cottage by the sea and forcing them to see he had changed. He had always been, and would always be, their son. And the hope of them becoming a family again was brushed away in the matter of a few words. In the matter of a war that his parents were defenseless against.
Tears slipped down his frozen skin, his breath coming in forced drags. Cutting pain rippled through him, making him wince. He was sure some ribs were broken.
“Well, well, I have to say. I am surprised of your resilience.”
Lifting his head weakly, Bresslin stalked toward him, her hawk eyes cutting into him. Daggers flashed against her black leather pants and knee length boots. Her blood red cape flowed behind her, her armored chest glinting.
“I will end you,” Memphis promised.
She smiled, flashing her brilliant teeth as the air churned behind her, the monsters and creatures born from darkness creeping behind and closing in on him.
Their yellow and orange eyes, their twisted long bodies, their blackened flesh and long snouts. Some had wings; some were as tall as trees. Some had fangs that jutted out below their jaws. Prowling toward them with lithe predatory grace, their talons sliced into the ice effortlessly.
Bresslin lowered herself, her breath hot against his face as she purred, “No, you will not. You and Brokk can’t seem to wrap your heads around the fact that things are unfurling, have been for years with much planning, years of waiting for the right moment to act. Years of gaining the Faes’ trust, so they would be exactly in the position they are in now. Scrambling for a broken crown when they can’t even see the war coming right for them.”
“Through the means of dark magic!” Memphis sputtered, blood dribbling down his lip.
She unsheathed her blade, stroking the steel along his jawline. “Our means, though of power long forgotten, have been most successful.” She grinned and straightened, addressing the prowling monsters behind her, “Shall we go for a stroll with our guests? I do believe we are late to a certain funeral.”
The answering roars and pounding of clawed paws collided into him, vibrating to his core. Bresslin twisted back to him, pulling at the long chain attached to his collar. “Now, you will be coming with me, Mr. Carter.”
The heaviness of the chains bit into his skin, every ounce of the contact leaching him of his ability until the familiar buzz in his mind was nothing more than just an imprint, an empty hole carved into his chest.
Yanking the end, his neck snapped in whiplash, as she demanded, “Now.”
Memphis felt the sharpness of claws slice against his wrists, cutting shallowly as two lumbering dabarnes unlocked his chains from their icy confinements. Their breath was hot and heavy on his neck, reeking of decay. His shoulders screamed in protest as one loosened, and then the next. His hands fell heavy to his sides, and he staggered up, slipping on ice. Chuckles resonated around him as he straightened, clenching his teeth.
Smiling wolfishly, she ordered, “Bring the other.”
Memphis focused on Bresslin, and she winked. “He is a little worse for wear. Gortach’s methods...are thorough.”
Lunging, he snarled at her, and she whipped the chains, making him bow. “I would not try that again.” Yanking him up, she dragged him behind, the snow and ice cutting into his numb limbs.
On the far side of the clearing, Gortach came into view, and Memphis’s heart dropped into his stomach. Brokk was dragged behind, unconscious. Blood and bruises flourished every ounce of his skin. Dar
k and polished claws sprouted from his knuckles, stuck in transition, his usually short cropped golden hair was bloodied and ragged.
“What did you do to him?!” His scream sounded far away, like he was yelling underwater.
Gortach tilted his head, his stare unyielding, and Bresslin nodded. Like the pumping of blood, the hundreds of dabarnes started pounding their feet against the ice encrusted ground, the pounding growing and growing.
Striding forward with Memphis in tow, she yelled, “For years, you have hidden in the darkness! For years you have been forgotten because of the manner of kings! We live in a world where Mixed Bloods are protected, yet such raw and ancient magic is crushed, killed, and shunned. Well, I want to change this.”
The monsters bared their teeth, low growls rippling amongst the ranks as their excitement grew.
“For years, my husband and I have waited, gathering information and resources and building their trust. For years, we have bowed, but no longer. The Faes are weak, their dreams, dissipating. The time for magic and ability to rule is now. What have I told you all?”
“All is might!!” they roared back, the ice shield cracking behind them.
She grinned toothily. “Exactly.”
Spinning around, she unsheathed her sword, dragging Memphis behind.
Bresslin started running, Memphis breathing raggedly as the shield exploded. The dabarnes roared, galloping behind them. Smoke oozed from their movements, then darted forward like inky comets, weaving as chunks of ice smashed against the ground. They broke through, the sunlight fracturing through the remaining ice, splashes of colors dappling their skin.
Sweat rolled down his nose, as they gained momentum, cutting through the forest. Snowflakes started to fall once more, blanketing the heaviness of the end of summer with a biting cold.
Ice followed their trail, as they rushed toward the Academy.
He watched the winds roar, his chains leaching his energy with every passing second. Ice encrusted the world, freezing it in this moment, with war raging toward the last remaining thing he cared about in this world. Bowing his head, he could do nothing but run, the metal tearing at his throat.
Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Page 17
