Divine Blood

by Beck Michaels

  Lyra returned to the bed, curled up beside her, and covered them with a blanket. She yawned, eyes falling heavy. The dawn’s morning light filtered in through the window and graced her cherubic face. Her lashes cast faint patterns on her soft cheeks. “Will you tell me about it?”

  Dyna shook her head no. The past had not reached her sister, and she would keep it that way.

  “Please?”

  “Perhaps one day.”

  Lyra mumbled a complaint. She nestled closer and soon drifted off to sleep again. Dyna rested her back against the headboard. She watched the candlelight flicker on the exposed rafters constructing the sloped ceiling, attempting to quiet her mind.

  Not all of her dreams were of shadows. Sometimes she dreamed of flying with the warm wind carrying her over a gleaming sea. Invisible wings wove her through the wisps of clouds, where the endless sky waited.

  The bedroom door creaked open and Grandmother Leyla peeked inside. Long gray hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her round timeworn face and soft brown eyes full of worry.

  “I heard the screams. Oh blossom, look at the state of you. You’re as pale as cream. Are you all right?”

  “It’s nothing, Grandmother,” Dyna whispered. She reached out for her grandmother’s soft hand, catching the comforting trace of clove and lavender, and the strength she bore. It was a miracle her grandmother had survived that night. Dyna may not have been able to recover without her. “I’m fine.”

  Grandmother Leyla gave her a sad smile. She glanced around the room at the many candles and at the disorderly desk, its smooth, beveled edges. “It’s been quite a while since you have had those dreams, but this is the fifth occurrence within a fortnight. It has stemmed from your relentless study of The Seven Gates and the dark things we have no business delving into.”

  Her petite frame settled on the end of the bed. “Which dream was it this time? The Shadow pursuing you up the mountain? Or the Glass Tree?”

  “No.” Dyna glanced at Thane’s bed. “The moment before.”

  The creases of her grandmother’s face deepened with sorrow. “Perhaps it is time to store the wee thing away. It only serves to remind you of memories best forgotten.”

  Her grandmother had lost many loved ones in her life, and Dyna wondered who she thought of now.

  “If I had been taken that night, would you have forgotten me?”

  “Oh, no, I would never.” Grandmother gently squeezed her hand. “I thank the God of Urn every day for Zev. No one else could have found you in the snowstorm.”

  Beyond the window, the sparse forest climbed up the base of the mountains. A tree stood taller from all the rest; its knotted pewter trunk and gossamer leaves catching the morning light. The Glass Tree the villagers called it, but its proper species name was Hyalus. Its magic had shielded her from the Shadow, but the ice would have claimed her if not for her werewolf cousin. It was his keen sense of smell that tracked her down. Although Zev had recovered her body, her mind had been gone for some time.

  Grief was a peculiar thing. It knocked her to the ground, pinned her under its weight, and carved a hole in her chest. It smothered her in a bitterness that fed off her cries until she had no more to give.

  Dyna stared blankly out the window. “I was lost when he found me.”

  “But you returned,” her grandmother said.

  She had to when her emotions gave away to fear. Grief crippled her body, but fear seized her mind. It lived in the corners of her consciousness, a sardonic voice that murmured in her ear each night. It laughed at her failure to protect her family and reveled in her pain.

  Fear promised the Shadow would return for her sister next.

  Dyna looked down at Lyra, and a tear spilled down her cheek.

  “Nothing will happen to Lyra,” Grandmother Leyla reassured her, wiping it away. “The village council is preparing for the next coming. They have not stopped attempting to replicate your father’s cloaking amulets, though the reeds he used are native to Magos. Who knows how he found them? The council hopes the leaves of the Glass Tree will be of some use. And there is talk of bringing demon hunters.”

  Dyna sat up straight. “They will allow outsiders to come here?”

  Their secluded village rested within the Zafiro mountain range on the southern edge of the Azure Kingdom. Centuries ago, the Mages of Old perpetually spelled North Star to remain hidden. The village paid no taxes to lords nor did they pay fealty to the Azure King. No one knew they were there, and it was for a reason.

  “Well, the decision is being debated, but I believe they will see reason. North Star needs help or we will not survive the Fourth Shadow Winter next year.”

  But demon hunters would be useless.

  Of all the books Dyna had read on Netherworld lore, she found little on shadow demons. There were no documented weaknesses or methods to fight them. The Shadow was an intangible wraith, transient like smoke. Neither traps nor weapons would be effective against it.

  Not that the village council would grant her the audience to tell them so. When her father said the Shadow would return, he was ridiculed and removed from the council. It took the deaths of children to convince them he wasn’t raving mad about the Netherworld Gate opening every decade. What hope did she have of convincing them?

  It didn’t matter. This time she would not stand by helpless again.

  “My dear,” Grandmother Leyla frowned at her. “I found the pack you hid in the barn. It had enough clothing and food for a week’s travel.”

  Dyna stuttered in reply, unsure of how to explain herself.

  “Did you plan to leave without saying a word? Did you think I would allow it?” Her grandmother’s mouth thinned in a stern line. “You will not go to Magos. I forbid it.”

  Magos?

  Her grandmother looked to the desk where an open tome rested. The encyclopedia listed the flora found in the Magos Empire—the territory of the mages.

  “You were thinking of going in search of the Luna Reeds, weren’t you?”

  Dyna lowered her gaze and nodded. She hated lying. She had planned a journey but not there.

  “Please, stop reading those books. It’s time to let it be and trust the council to keep the village safe.”

  “The council knows nothing,” Dyna said, echoing her father.

  Her grandmother pursed her lips. “Dynalya Astron, I’ll not have you fret over this any longer, you hear?”

  She dropped her head in her hands. Nine years ago, she had been too young to understand her father’s anguish and paranoia, but they now clung to her like the sweat on her skin. This curse had to end. “It won’t work. None of it will work. Even if the council replicates the Luna Reeds, it is not a permanent solution. The amulets will only cloak them under the moonlight. It does not banish the Shadow.”

  “The Glass Tree—”

  She shook her head in exasperation. “The light of the Hyalus leaves only appear at night. We need an absolute solution or the Shadow will continue to return.”

  “I know you are worried, blossom. I am as well.” Grandmother Leyla tucked a lock of Dyna’s hair behind an ear. “There is a village council meeting at midday. You can voice your concerns there.”

  “No one will listen to me.”

  “Lady Samira may listen. She is the least arrogant of them. Occasionally.”

  Dyna stiffened at the mention of that name and tried to ignore the sour twist in her stomach. “Why is there a meeting today?”

  “Lady Samira is stepping down and is to announce her replacement.”

  Dyna watched her grandmother, reading the touch of resignation on her face. “Is she unwell?”

  “She needs all of her strength now. There is not much of it left.”

  Then Dyna understood. Lady Samira’s Essence was not replenishing. It happened in old age. Unfortunately, they cannot survive without it. Essence was not only the energy source of all magic itself it was also the enchanted life force for mages and sorceresses.

  “We
ll, the sun isn’t up quite yet. Rest a bit more.” Grandmother Leyla stood. “Autumn has arrived and we have much work to do in the garden before the frost sets in.”

  “Yes, Grandmother.”

  She shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Dyna settled down on her bed again, eyeing the cabinet lining the wall above her desk. Organized within the many squared drawers were several glass jars containing a variety of dried herbs, extracts, and powders. A small replica of the apothecary in the main room of the cottage.

  For years, she studied all the ancient tomes of medicine that belonged to her father to fill in his place as Herb Master. She read all the magic books in his study, hoping to find the casting spell he used to send the demon back through the Netherworld Gate.

  She never found it.

  Even if she had, the books contained spells far beyond her ability. But magic lived in her blood, as it had in the many generations before her.

  Dyna reached under her pillow, finding a familiar rectangular shape, and pulled it out. The journal was hefty. Its cover was made of smooth black leather, and the corners were cracked with age. Two gold clasps kept it locked tight. The journal was one of many others stacked inside an old wooden chest beneath her desk.

  A current of the journal’s old magic that hummed through her in welcome. Her palms glowed a faint green with the awakening of her Essence.

  She traced the heraldic sigil embossed on the cover: a crescent moon with a swirl of vines. It was the sigil of House Astron, one of the oldest mage families who hailed from the Magos Empire.

  And the journal contained the answer she needed—a way to obliterate the Shadow.

  Dyna checked to make sure Lyra still slept before waving a hand over the cover. The green light emitting from her palm grew brighter. The enchanted journal recognized her as kin, and the golden clasps unlocked. She opened the cover and the yellow pages crinkled in her fingers as she turned them, admiring the faded, elegant penmanship and sketches of plants and ancient relics.

  A single blank page emerged in the middle of the journal. It had taken her months to realize it was blank on purpose, and a few months more to decipher the phrase needed to unveil the secret hidden there.

  She brought the journal close to her lips and whispered, “Tellūs, lūnam, sōlis.”

  Her hands flared with a brilliant green, triggering the embedded spell on the page, and fine gold dust whirled across the surface. It radiated with a swirl of purple magic and a hint of green from her own. Black ink appeared in the center and snaked outward in calligraphic strokes, twisting and curving as it formed a beautiful, detailed map of a continent in the shape of a stout chalice—the country of Urn.

  She would need to cross its entire width to get what she needed, and the journey would take many moons. A little over a year remained before the Shadow returned. One meager year to find the weapon to vanquish it.

  Dyna slipped out of the bed, wincing when her feet landed on the icy floor. She moved to the window layered in frost and peered out. Her home sat on a knoll overlooking the valley below. A light fog hovered over the sleepy village, smoke swirling out of chimneys. Beyond it glimmered a lake, the rolling hills spotted with sheep and grazing cows. North Star was peaceful and beautiful.

  But it was no longer safe.

  Dyna looked down at her little sister. She would make the council listen to her.

  One way or another.

  Chapter 2

  Dynalya

  Morning sunlight shone bright over the valley. Its idle warmth brushed Dyna’s cold cheeks as she took the dirt road into the village. Her thoughts were in knots trying to prepare a speech to present before the council. The plan of facing Lady Samira filled her mind with the last image of her father’s smile, stained by the crimson trails dripping down his face.

  Dyna squeezed her eyes shut against the memory. She focused on Grandmother Leyla’s voice giving Lyra a lesson on commonly found plants and their uses.

  “It’s important you learn this, Lyra. You will become a Healer’s Apprentice in the coming spring, and you must have the basics committed to memory. Every plant has a purpose, be it—”

  “Sustenance, remedy or toxin,” Lyra recited in a flat tone. “Yes, I know, Gran.”

  “Oh, do you? And pray tell what is the name of this plant?”

  Dyna glanced over her shoulder at where they had stopped. Among the colorful carpet of flowers growing on the edge of the path, Grandmother pointed to a weed with broad hairy leaves.

  Lyra scrunched her lip as she studied it. “Foxglove?”

  Grandmother crossed her arms, and Lyra squirmed under her disapproval.

  “Comfrey,” Dyna whispered to her, winking.

  “It’s comfrey!”

  Grandmother Leyla gave them a stern frown. “Learn their differences, Lyra, or you will have grave results should you mistake the two. Foxglove is poisonous.”

  Lyra winced. “Oh.”

  “She’s learning,” Dyna murmured. “It took me some time to learn the difference, Grandmother.”

  Grandmother Leyla arched a brow and Dyna smiled sheepishly. “Comfrey is medicinal. Do you know its use?”

  Her little sister dithered on the answer. Dyna caught her eye and subtly rubbed the scar on her elbow. She had earned it three seasons ago when she fell on a sharp rock and cut her elbow straight to the bone.

  “Skin and bone repair,” Lyra replied with a victorious smile as she bounced on her toes, her cloak and dress flaring. Dyna stifled a giggle.

  “Yes, it is also known as knitbone, which makes it easier to remember.” Grandmother Leyla pointed to another tall spindly plant with dark purple petals. “And this one?”

  “That one is easy,” Lyra piped up. “It’s wolfsbane. Very poisonous.”

  “But it can also treat fevers if you’re careful,” Dyna said with a frown. “It shouldn’t be left out here to cause trouble.”

  Seeing it reminded her she needed more wolfsbane extract for Zev. She prayed he managed well until they could meet again.

  She pulled the poisonous plant from its roots and wrapped it in a cloth taken from the pocket of her olive cloak. A gentle whoosh of energy settled over her as its magic worked to keep her warm despite the brisk breeze. The cloak was old; the fabric frayed and faded, but the runes embroidered onto the ornamental hem maintained their power even after two centuries.

  She brushed a finger over the rune with an inverted triangle. The last time her father had worn the cloak, he pointed to each rune, testing how many she and Thane had memorized.

  The squelch of wagon wheels in the mud and the bustle of people drew her attention back to the road. More villagers had joined them, and the crowd only grew as they passed an intersection splitting from the north and south of the village.

  Farmer Wendell marched down the road with his family, his face set in a stern glower. The large and burly man towered over his petite wife, Fleur. Her feet moved swiftly beneath her muddled brown dress to keep up with his long stride as she carried their baby daughter in her arms. Their eldest child, Wren, playfully tugged on Lyra’s braid. She snatched his cap, and they ran off together into the fields alongside the path, laughing and chasing each other.

  “Don’t go too far,” Dyna called after her.

  Lyra and Wren joined the other playing children, so bright and innocent.

  A filling meal.

  She banished the horrid thought to the pits of her mind, burying it beneath the mountain of fears and nightmares. Roiling black clouds and writhing lightning shrouded the precipice. She climbed the mountain in her dreams, digging her fingers in the wet earth, toes pushing off stacked skulls for the top—but she always fell before she reached it.

  “Good day to you,” Grandmother Leyla nodded to Wendell and his wife as they approached.

  The glowering farmer merely grunted in response.

  Fleur offered a kind smile and brushed the loose locks of blonde hair from her face. “Good day, Leyla,
Miss Dynalya.”

  Dyna smiled. “Good day.”

  “Are you off to see the council as well?”

  “Along with every other villager, it seems,” Leyla replied.

  Wendell grated, “The only way to get a fire under their arses is if we all beat down on their door.”

  “I am sure they are doing their best, love,” Fleur told him, giving Leyla and Dyna an apologetic grimace.

  It mildly comforted Dyna to know others at last worried about the Shadow. Her father had not been so fortunate.

  Once Wendell marched ahead out of hearing range, Fleur whispered, “He has been holding meetings of his own in our home with the other farmers. They want to leave.”

  “Leave?” Leyla gasped. “Foolish man. Leaving would be dangerous for you and little Finnie.”

  Dyna looked down at the sleeping baby in Fleur’s arms. She’d been present at her birth and it’d been clear Finnie had been born with more Essence than her mother. Because of it, she couldn’t leave the village without attracting a mage, none of the women could. Essence was highly prized and sought. No mage would resist stealing it from them.

  Her grandmother laid a hand over Finnie’s forehead. “How is she feeling?”

  “Much better. Her cough vanished as soon as I gave her the tonic. Thank you, Leyla.”

  “Of course. Bring her to me later so I can make sure she is fully recovered.” Her grandmother subtly tugged on Dyna’s sleeve. They slowed their pace, leaving Fleur to catch up to her husband. “I have a feeling this meeting will not go well.”

  Dyna glanced around at the many grim faces of the villagers. Most were tense and angry, sharing grumbling conversations of their own. The villagers had grown tired of the council’s inaction of the incoming Shadow Winter. Answers were needed and they planned to demand them. It gave her the courage she needed to face the council.

  “Be careful in there, blossom. Where there is unrest, there is trouble.”

  “Yes, Grandmother.”

  The path narrowed as they reached the village, and everyone headed toward the town hall building—a one-story structure of stacked stone walls and a thatched roof. A line formed as peopled filed inside in pairs. By the time Dyna entered, they had filled all the wooden benches. Many remained on their feet, arguing and shouting among themselves. Dyna took her grandmother’s arm and led her to the back.