*Ella*The healer is a very old, gnarled woman. She reminds me of Mystica based on the pictures Mom has scattered in her home in Maatua. The woman’s hair is bright white and wispy, and her shoulders are permenantly slumped. She barely comes up to my breasts as she hovers around Hannah, who is lying on a cot in the center of a very warm room heated by an ancient wood stove in one corner. I have to duck to walk deeper into the tight room. Bundles of herbs hang from the low ceiling. A kettle whistles on the stove as I kneel by Hannah’s bedside and take her hands in mine, finding them warm and soft. Her coloring is perfect, and she still has that smile on her face like she’s simply dreaming. “You can’t spirit through time and space all willy nilly,” the old woman croaks, her voice wobbly but calm and motherly as she pours hot water into a large, metal bowl full of herbs. “She’s split between two worlds. Here, and with her mate.”I look up at the woman, who has barely said a word to me a
*Maddy*I watch as Isaac leans over his desk to grab another stack of papers from a banker’s box on the far edge. He sighs as he flips through the papers and sets them down, reaching for a pair of manilla folders instead, and sits back down. I turn my head back to the window and watch the rain fall in dizzying sheets of silver, the entire back garden cast in shadow and glistening with dampness. My hand rests on the swell of my belly. Our son kicks me softly, and I smile to myself, tapping my fingers as if to say, “Hello, little one.”“Is he kicking again?” Isaac asks as he leans back in his office chair and places a large, warm hand on my stomach. I adjust the position of his hand and lay my hand over his, waiting. Our son is still so small, but his movements have become more noticeable the last few days. A featherlight movement brushes over Isaac’s hand. I watch my mate’s face as he feels his son kick for the first time. “That’s incredible,” he says, meeting my eyes. “Does it bothe
*Ella*I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no clue where we are, or what to expect when we reach the witches. In my defense, I jumped through the portal blind, unsure what awaited me on the other side beside my mate, who I’d be happy to never see again. I stare into the small warming fire and hug my knees to my chest. The thought of Ryatt causes an ache to spread through my chest, tightening my muscles. My mate. Some people go their whole lives without finding their mates. I should feel blessed that I've found him so soon. Right now, I feel like throwing myself off the bluff we’re sitting next too with a sweeping view of the valley below at our backs. Amanda and Gemma sit beside me facing the forest while their two friends, still in their wolf forms, doze next to the sled where Hannah still lingers in a coma. Amanda brought enough food to feed a small army, but even after not eating for an entire twenty-four hours, I can’t bring myself to take more than a few bites of a sandwich
*Ryatt* Don’t come for me. Those words haunt me as I pick through the forest. Six of my men–my closest, most trustworthy warriors–fan out around me in a wide semi-circle, leaving no stone, twig, or bush unturned. It’s been days, and there’s no sign of Ella. Nothing. Nothing of her, or the maid that flung herself at us right as I used the full force of my powers to spirit us away to Eastonia. Don’t come for me… “There’s nothing here, Ryatt,” Granger says nearby. He stands to his full height, his golden hair gleaming in the sunrise streaming through the tree top. Green eyes meet mine, heavy with annoyance. “Maybe this is a good thing.”“I know,” I agree, but the words leave a bitter taste on my tongue. I hadn’t wanted to do this. I’d bucked against my destiny at every turn. Going to King Isaac’s ball four or five years ago had only made me more steadfast in my decision that I had to find another way to defeat my father without using Princess Ella as the weapon she was born to be.
*Ella*I open my eyes, blinking into the eerie green light of the cramped room I was thrown into a few hours ago. The walls are made of stone and drip with condensation. I look up at the wooden ceiling where streaks of light filter down and cause the floor to dance with pockets of pale gray. The ceiling is a trap door; the room I’m in is an outdoor cellar. A set of slimy stairs lead up to the ceiling, the slime now covered with muddy footprints. There’s nothing down here but me. No chair, bed, bathroom bucket, or food. The bastards who dragged me here stripped me of the coat I’d been wearing, and the chilly fall air bites into my skin. My hands, bound by iron shackles behind my back, are numb from the cold. It’s raining now. Water has been dripping through the ceiling, but now rain pelts the wooden boards above my head so violently it rattles. I close my eyes and imagine my studio, my paintings, mentally going through stacks of canvases and my inventory of paint. I’m just trying to
*Ella*I shove Ryatt away from me, putting several feet of distance between us. I can still feel his touch on my chin from when he’d inspected the bruising on my cheeks. I realize with a start it had been only the second time we’d ever touched, the first being when I placed my hand in his hand when he’d come to take me home, to take me here. Now, I’ve shoved him. That’s the third time we’ve touched. Maybe, hopefully, the last. At least, I tell myself that. Seeing him in the flesh is incredibly unnerving. The sharp angles of his devastatingly handsome face draw me in, and those eyes? They’re magnetic. But being drop dead gorgeous only gets you so far in life. “I told you to stay away from me.”One dark brow arches, and his eyes narrow with obvious frustration. “You said, ‘Don’t come for me.’ What makes you think I’m here for you, Princess?”I bite the inside of my cheek. “Why else would you be here? I didn’t need your help with anything.”“Oh, really?” He looks down at the pile of as
*Ella*It’s raining harder than I thought possible. Outside, the day has faded into night–and whatever gods they worship in this strange kingdom are livid. Thunder booms, shaking the small cottage. I curl my hands around a little metal mug full of whiskey and keep my head low as I listen to the conversations taking place all around me. Ryatt has an entourage–every one of them young, each of them built like a brick wall and oozing with violence. At least, that's what it seems like at first glance. But as the men, and one other woman, in the cottage grow used to my presence, that icy, murderous feeling in the room fades, replaced by something I find shockingly familiar. Ryatt and Granger left, taking Quinn, the only other female beside myself, with them to what sounds like a nearby town. Now, those left behind are playing drinking games and eating whatever feast the Magpie had laid out for his packmates before they all met a gruesome end. In fact, there’s a pile of dead wolves right
*Ella*By all accounts, the village we arrive in under a cloak of inky, starless darkness looks like a small town somewhere in my brother’s territory. Streetlights cast a wide, crumbling gravel street in muted light, and buildings made of wood and stone rise in the distance along curved roads. A narrow, lazy river winds through the village. We cross several bridges, our footsteps the only sound. Our group has been broken into smaller parties of three or four people, everyone in their human forms, everyone acting like they’re simply out on a midnight stroll. As we walk further into the village, the buildings start to group closer together, and noise begins to cut through the hushed night air. There are no cars to be seen, but lighted signs and the sound of electricity buzz as we pass shops and what I believe are apartments. It’s like home, but… different. Less polished, less refined. Less modern, I realize. I stare up at one streetlight as I pass beneath it and see the same strange,
RyanThree Days LaterTarsian is gone. That’s the only way to describe it. The cities, the packs… it’s nothing but endless, blood-stained desert now. Even the sea lapping against the shores of Serpentia is stained a dark red, but I watch it fade as I stand on what’s left of a deck overlooking the ocean. Behind me, the incessant chatter of the injured and healing overwhelm the sound of the waves. A few people walk along the sand–warriors of different ranks and alliances. A young man in tattered Arcane Umbra armor talks to a group of men in armor from the Roguelands, reunited with old friends. The curse is gone. The soldiers the Umbra Mortis turned into his puppets, his monsters, well… so far, they have no memory of the war, which is a blessing. The rest of us remember, though. How could we ever forget what happened here? How are we possibly going to move on? “Ryan?”I turn toward Kenna’s voice as she steps toward me, edging around a group of nurses from Moonrise here to help treat
ColeI choke myself awake. Smoke fills my lungs, smothering my senses for precious seconds I quickly realize I don’t have. Muffled voices fill my ears–a few shouts of pain, of surprise. People are calling out for friends and comrades.I’m not in the afterlife. I know that immediately. Pain echoes through my body like waves, driven by the tide of my heartbeat as my body claws back to life, my chest wounds knitting together in real time. But my hand is freezing. I squeeze the fingers tangled in mine and jolt back to reality, rolling with effort to curl my body around Misty. “No,” I breathe into her hair. “Come–Come back.” I can’t feel her anymore. My hand slides up to her neck, my fingers trembling as I feel for her pulse. It’s there, but barely. A weak thump that pauses for several heartbreaking seconds. “H-Help!” I try to shout the word into existence, but my voice cracks painfully, turning into a scream. “HELP!”Figures rush toward us in a blur. The battlefield erupts into view, sh
MistyI land on my feet in a sea of mist. Silver fog snakes around my ankles, around my glimmering armour made of pure light. For a moment, I think I’m… lost within the aether–in the misty, shadowed undercurrent that separates our realm from the Goddess’s kingdom. But wet grass squishes beneath my boots as I stumble forward, breathless, damn near in pieces. Rain pelts the top of my head as I grope for anything to grab onto before I careen toward the ground. I yelp as my body lands with a thud. Thunder booms, followed by its rolling echo as it bounces toward me. The rain fizzles to a gentle whisper as the mist begins to part. A great stone wall comes into view, and then two voices carry toward me, lifted in alarm. I sit up with great effort, kneeling as I gasp for breath that won’t fill my lungs. I slowly lift my head and see two women–one young and… stunning, with long, blonde hair and ocean blue eyes that seem to glow as she holds my gaze, her lips parted in surprise. The seco
Cole“Undo it,” I tell him. “Take the curse back and reinstate order.”He purses his lips to a thin line, confused. “But, Cole, I can’t. It’s not something you can just… stop. Think about it. Use that big brain of yours. Do you see this place? Tarsian is so much bigger than the rest of Eastonia. Riches beyond belief lay below the sand. There used to be mines and forges here, mines that pulled silver and moonstone from the ground and forges that turned that into magic. Yet, in our time, the magic is hoarded by the royals–the Allied Kings.” He sweeps his hand toward the battle. “But not anymore. Once I open the gate, it’s over. This world will be no more. You can come with me, Cole. Be a god instead of a king.”“You can’t, Richard. You failed. Misty is safe, with her family. You needed her to do this.”He smiles a bit sadly, but his eyes flare with mischief. “Yes, she is. Such a shame, really. It would have been easier to do it with her help. Quicker, less leg work for me.” He opens the
Misty“Forgive me, please,” I say to Mom as we walk side by side to the war room, which is really just a massive training area at the very base of the castle. “I know I just got back…hours ago….”“Bring them back for me,” she replies sadly, her hand ghosting down my back. She stops at the staircase leading to the furthest depths of the castle. I turn to face her, and she tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I’m okay here. I’ll keep the kids happy and comfortable.”That’s my mom’s power. Being the leader of this family. She has a knack for bringing everyone together, keeping everyone loved and… whole. I pull her into a hug and squeeze. “I’ll come home again, I promise. I’ll be bringing my mate home with me in time for Solstice, I promise.”Her tears fall into my hair. I reluctantly let her go and turn for the stairs, refusing to look back. I have to look forward–only forward–if I’m going to get through this. Ella’s already in the armory, sorting weapons, her eyes locked on her tas
MistyEverything else is a blur. Aviva’s screamed words. Ella’s rushed explanations. Grandma taking me by the shoulders and leading me away, tucking me in a sitting room somewhere in the depths of the castle. I barely feel her arm on my shoulder. I barely register sitting down in a chair, holding the bloody pages in my lap and watching the firelight dance over the untidy scrawl I know so well. I sit there for what could be hours. Eventually, I’m joined by Sarah and Kenna… and then Aviva. Still, I haven’t read the letter. I’ve read my name, addressed at the top of the first page, over and over again. This is his final goodbye, and I’m not ready to accept that. “What are we supposed to do?” Kenna grinds out. “The reports coming out of Tarsian are–”“I don’t fucking care what they are!” Sarah’s voice pitches with fury. “The father of my sons is fighting for his fucking life right now, Kenna.”“My mate, too!” Kenna shouts. “But we’ve been told to stay, to be prepared to defend Moonrise
MistyI wait in the hallway for Luke, not believing he’s actually here, in Moonrise, in the same place I currently am. Eventually, he’s escorted around a corner by two of Ella’s royal guards. His eyes go wide when he sees me, his cheeks flushing. “Misty–”“Luke,” I whisper, trying to smile at him, but my heart is skittering out of my chest. He glances at the guards before taking several swift steps ahead of them to reach my side. I pull him across the hallway to a set of windows and benches overlooking the city of Moonrise, now bathed in afternoon light. “You got out,” he says in disbelief. “I heard that you had, but I didn’t believe it–”“Is Georgia safe?” “Yes, she’s with her family. Her father’s fighting, but she and her mother went to Crescent Falls–”“What did Cole have you working on in the castle?” I rush out. “I was supposed to help you with it but never got the chance.”He pulls a small, oval object out of his jacket pocket and hands it to me. “It’s a cryptex. He said it wa
MistyBefore my body even catches up to itself, Mom has her arms around me, pulling me into the tightest hug possible as Sarah’s powers shudder away, falling like ash that covers the ornate red carpet in one of the upper wings of Aunt Ella’s palace in Moonrise. Golden finishes blur my vision. My senses go haywire for a fraction of a second before familiar scents and voices bring me back to reality. I slowly fold my arms around Mom’s back and squeeze. Neither of us says anything for a long, long time. I stand on my tiptoes and rest my chin on her shoulder, closing my eyes and breathing in her sweet, floral scent. She’s been wearing the same perfume for decades. She always smells the same–the smell of my childhood. “Mama,” I whisper into her strawberry scented hair. She trembles with silent sobs, cupping the back of my head as she pulls away. Her big, dark blue eyes–eyes she shares with Sydney and Ryan–sweep over my face, over the new lines of exhaustion and heartbreak. I feel a p
MistyIt’s morning. Early morning–still too early for the sun to breach the mountains and send light spilling over the village of Silverhide. I roll over on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, and stare at the dying embers in the stone fireplace across the room. I haven’t slept. Pain echoes through my body, settling deep in my bones. It’s not a sharp, bright pain. It’s the kind that aches and throbs–a dull thrum of noise that makes it impossible to focus, let alone close my eyes and rest. I feel empty. Empty, and alone. ‘Why did you do this to me?’ I ask through the sliver of bond I still share with Cole… I hope. I hung on so tight when he rejected me, refusing to let him do it. But his voice is no longer in my head. My eyes are dry and rimmed red as I watch the embers flicker like stars against a sea of darkness. I have no tears left to cry. I used them up. They’re gone. Ryan and Aviva’s bedroom door opens nearby, a shadowed figure ducking as Ryan steps out of his room and