MasukSarah
After the Ball
Alpha Sydney of Shadowcrest pauses during the long trek down the stairs leading out of the temple of the Moon Goddess. He extends a hand to me, and I take it, finding his hands warm but slightly clammy.
I meet his eyes. Goddess, he has radiant eyes. The kind of blue even the best artists can’t capture in a painting. Dark blue, like the deepest ocean, and so expressive I can see every thought behind them.
Fallon“Who are you to Zayn?” I ask. It’s the first thing that comes to mind, and I suppose it’s a good place to start. “I’m his cousin. Our mothers are sisters. Alyssa is my aunt–or was. Zayn mentioned she hasn’t been herself for years.” She weaves her fingers together on her lap and tilts her chin, dark gray eyes holding mine. “I’m older than him by a few years. We were both raised in Meridem.”“Where is Meridem? What is it? I’ve heard it mentioned several times.”“It’s an island a few hours south of here, and it’s considered the only place where shifters and witches can live freely. It’s a sacred place, at least to me.” She huffs a breath and rises, pacing to the far side of the room and back. “I assume you met Magnus?”“I saw him.”“And you know, or at least assumed, who he is to your betrothed?"I knot my hands into fists behind my back. “Magnus is Zayn’s father.”“You are correct. He’s also the youngest son of the Grand Wizard. The youngest of maybe… forty sons over the course
FallonZayn is still lying prone on the floor when three shadows drift over the dust-eaten, weathered floorboards. A very tall, curvaceous woman with the thickest, curliest black hair I’ve ever seen steps carefully into the room, her mane of glorious curls slipping over her shoulder while she peers skeptically down at Zayn. He narrows his eyes to slits, but not into a glare. I think–actually, I know–he’s absolutely shitfaced right now. To be completely, totally, horrifically honest… I am jealous he’s currently floating on another plane of existence. It must be nice.“Cousin,” the woman says tightly, glancing at me before crouching and poking him in the cheek. “What have you done to yourself this time?”“He’s drunk,” I croak and then clear my throat. The woman purses her lips and inspects us both with marked curiosity. “I’ll be damned. I didn’t think anyone could outdrink Zayn, but look at this. He outdrank himself. It’s a miracle, and just in time, because I have to take your blush
Zayn The air is stale and silent in the rustic stone manor attached to the far side of the Mecca, the grand fortress that governs all of KiloKilo and marks its capital. Even in the violet glow of the earliest hours of the morning, the palace casts its shadow through every window in the manor, turning its already dark and sparsely decorated interior an inky kind of black. No one lives here. No one has for years. Cobwebs still hang from the highest rafters of the room where Fallon is curled in the fetal position on a bed with fresh sheets, at least, her small body swallowed by the darkness all around her. I leave the door open even though I’ve already dropped powerful wards around the manor and its slice of a front garden. No one can enter or exit without me knowing. No one can so much as open a door without alarm bells ringing through my skull loud enough to wake me from the deepest sleep, which I doubt I’ll have for days to come. Which is how I know my cousin Jason didn’t do what
FallonZayn holds my gaze for several aching seconds. I can almost feel him inside my head, and I hate how scared of him I feel right now. I have no idea who he is. I had no idea he was this powerful. Who the fuck is he? Tears slip free and wet my cheeks. The little boy kneels at Zayn’s feet, facing the young woman I assume is his mother, and bows his head like an execution is something he was prepared for. “Zayn,” I mouth, terrified, my voice refusing to work. His name cracks over my tongue. I might be imagining the way his eyes twinkle with emotion before they darken to murderous intent once again. “Please.”He turns back to the throne and the rows below, ignoring the numerous, disfigured bodies and body parts strewn across the tiles. The Grand Wizard fumes, fury shining bright behind his dark eyes as he grips his staff–the head of which is an odd orb of some kind that whispers a deep, dark blue kind of magic. “You are not welcome here, hybrid filth!”“On the contrary,” Zayn cut
Fallon“Let me go!” I screech, digging in my heels. My useless satin slippers–which perfectly match my dress, I might add–slip over wide, flat tiles of the deepest gray, jagged grout-lines tearing holes in the cork heels. I kick out when the men tighten their grip hard enough to leave bruises. I can feel their touch in my bones, pinching the bones of my wrists together in a way that makes me bite back shrieks of pain. “Shut up,” one of the men whines, jostling me. I’ve already looked them each in the eye when they dragged me up an exterior staircase that led from the beach to the palace, when all the while I tried to make myself as slack and heavy as possible to stall their progress. I will never forget their faces. Never.My complaints fall on deaf ears. My reassertions that I am, in fact, the royal princess of Eastonia–heir to my mother–a certified psychopath who will, for sure, hunt me down and leave bloodshed in her wake when she finds out about this–doesn’t change a Goddess-damn
FallonAn Hour Earlier… I’ve always wanted to use the mirror. It’s off limits for good reason. My mom was the last person to use it, and she practically destroyed it. I smooth my fingers over the rough bands of crystal growing over shards of shattered glass, creating an even kaleidoscope-like surface reflecting the deepest shades of onyx. “Are you sure about this?” Naomi asks behind me, holding a grimoire. Her powers of fire and light illuminate the pages within already, without her even opening the heavy, leather-bound book. “I am.” I have to be. I have to shove Zayn’s annoying, blistering voice out of my head and let fate take over. “Let's do it.”“But what happens when you get there?”I turn to look at her, putting on a brave face, even though I’m truly beginning to spiral. A little voice in my head asks me if I’ve actually thought this through. I likely haven’t. I’m definitely jumping to conclusions. I’m for sure doing something dumb and irreversible. I know, in my heart, that
RyanI watch Jacob lead Mercy away. He’s careful not to touch her, but his hand hovers over her lower back as she lifts her skirts to pick her way out of the forest. I let out my breath and turn to Aviva, who has been sitting silently on a ledge surrounding the remains of the temple ruins she was gua
Aviva“I know that feels better,” Freya says, frowning at the frantically bleating sheep, who is now sheared clean and pretty much naked as it gallops off to join its herd. She wipes her brow, squinting into the sunlight as she gathers up an enormous handful of raw
RyanThe entire village is quiet and dark, which is strange. All of the lights and fires have been put out in the individual homes, and even the main fire in the large, open pit at the center of the village has burned down to embers that glow like stars. Andrew, Jacob, and I wa
Ryan“I feel like we’re in college again,” Jacob murmurs as we lean against the side of one of the earthen buildings on the outer ring of the village. He rolls his shoulders before crossing his arms over his chest, purposefully flexing. Andrew leans forward to peer at him, snorting, “Yeah, and just l







