Storm of Shadows – Chapter 1 Preview
Rain drizzles down on the ruined streets of Nolderan, the heavens weeping for the thousands of lives lost. Blood streaks through the clouds as the first rays of dawn pierce the sky like a fan of daggers.
A new day.
I clench my jaw.
It was only two nights ago that Arluin and his necromancers stormed this city and laid waste to all in their paths. Two nights ago that he stole everything and everyone from me, including my father and my best friend. Yet somehow it’s as if an eternity has passed since then. Now I can no longer imagine a Nolderan that isn’t ravaged, a Reyna who isn’t broken.
No.
I can’t allow myself to be broken. I must fuse together the shattered pieces of my heart and force myself onward down this path of vengeance I have already chosen. My choice sealed by the sale of my soul. All that remains is to keep putting one foot after another until I reach my desired destination: Arluin’s death and my father’s freedom.
I tear my gaze from the mournful heavens and down to the archway which marks the Arcanium’s entrance. The words etched deep into the stone stare back at me.
QUEL ESTE VOLU, PODE NONQUES VERA MORIRE.
That which is aether may never truly die.
A wry laugh bubbles in my throat at the irony, but I swallow it down in a thick lump, lest my new demonic companion hears it. I fear if it were to escape, it would sound more like a strangled sob than a laugh.
But Zephyr, the faerie dragon curled around my shoulders, seems to hear the slight noise in the back of my throat. He lifts his head from where it lies against my neck and peers up at me. I say nothing as I silently pass under the archway. Zephyr nestles back into my neck, his serpentine body coiling around me like a scarf. The sharp tips of his folded wings poke into the back of my head, but I welcome the light pain. It reminds me that I’m alive. That only I can avenge Nolderan and bring Arluin to justice.
I glance back at the Void Prince who reluctantly stalks behind me. His onyx horns glint in the emerging sunlight, and his cloven hooves clatter across the stone slabs underfoot. Crimson light snakes across the marble ridges of his otherwise naked torso and smolders with rage in the fathomless depths of his eyes. Those same eyes snap up to meet mine and his jaw tempers into steel. Hatred blazes across his expression in a storm of molten fury. His power lashes out at the invisible cord which tethers our souls, but even the mighty Void Prince of Pride can’t overcome the dark magic binding us as one. The unrelenting chains only serve to further enrage him. A murderous snarl writhes on his lips, silently promising me all the horrifying ways he will torture my soul upon my death, when I will belong to him just as he now belongs to me. I dread to think what would happen if he breaks free from his bindings. The threat he paid me when I summoned him rings in my ears as loudly as it did down in the small chamber deep within the Arcanium’s vaults.
Little mage, I will tear you limb from limb, carve the flesh from your puny bones, and feed you morsel by morsel to my Void Hounds.
Fear slithers up my spine, its icy touch more chilling than the frigid winter wind blowing over us. Unable to stifle my reaction, I shiver. The demon’s malevolent presence rises to a crescendo. I am momentarily frozen in place, imagining the Void Prince breaking free from my command tearing through me as if I am made from paper and not flesh and blood. I wonder if he can see the fear in my wide-open eyes. If he can smell it.
Zephyr’s whimper snaps me out of my frozen cage of dread. I don’t doubt that he too can sense the terrifying dark power flooding out of the Void Prince. The faerie dragon’s fear reminds me of the need to banish my own. This demon is my weapon, and I must be strong enough to wield him.
I bite back the lump of dread swelling in my throat and desperately search for a reason to explain my staring. One which doesn’t involve my fear.
Though the Void Prince still towers over me, he now stands perhaps only three heads taller than me rather than three times my height. In order to fit through the narrow, winding staircases which lead from the Vaults and back up to the Arcanium’s central atrium, the demon was required to use his magic to assume a stature more befitting of an elf than a demon.
“Your appearance,” I begin slowly, at first not trusting my tongue to hide my trepidation.
The Void Prince’s crimson eyes narrow, daring me to continue.
I do.
“As you were able to adjust your height, I assume you are able to alter”—I pause, wrinkling my nose at his draconic wings—“other aspects as well.”
“What other aspects?” the demon growls, his words rumbling in the back of his throat.
My lips curl, masking my unease. “Everything.”
I know my remark will shovel more fuel onto an already roaring fire, but I can’t help myself. Only this way can I disguise my fear. It reminds me that I am in control. That at this current moment, the demon is mine to do with as I please. Though I will bear the consequences of my actions in the afterlife.
Nonetheless, I decide to lighten the blow of my words before the Void Prince can erupt with hatred.
“I say this only as a matter of practicality. There are few places in this world where demons are viewed in a favorable light, let alone Void Princes. It is best you conceal your true nature to avoid drawing unwanted attention to us.”
The demon glowers at me. “Unwanted attention is of no consequence to me.”
“You forget your place, demon. You serve me now, and that which is of consequence to me is also of consequence to you.”
“And you forget, mortal, that you will belong to me for thousands of years longer than I will serve you.”
“Then you should stop acting like a spoiled child, since this bargain is far more beneficial to you than it is to me.”
The Void Prince takes a step closer to me, his gnarled horns looming over me. I don’t flinch and instead remind myself of the tether between us that prevents him from inflicting any harm on me as his summoner. “The soul of a pathetic little mage is of no benefit to me. Though I will certainly enjoy your eternal torture and teaching you the cost of meddling with those far more powerful than you could ever dream of being.”
I don’t know why I indulge him in his little speech when I could end it with a single word.
“Natharius Thalanor,” I say, brandishing his name as if it were a weapon. In many ways it is. The Void Prince’s true name is the greatest power I hold over him. “You will assume a far less conspicuous form. That is an order.”
The demon’s expression warps into a vicious snarl, and I once more feel his power testing the extent of his restraints. His forehead creases as he battles the dark magic binding his soul to mine, but his resistance isn’t enough. In the end, he is forced to comply with my demand. A perverted satisfaction trills through me, and I relish the demon’s submission far more than I should. Perhaps that makes me as monstrous as he, but how can it be wicked to force such evil into servitude?
The shadows hiss as the Void Prince’s form dissolves and is born anew.
He emerges from the cover of darkness. Gone are his horns and wings and talons and hooves. Now the being which stands before me is undeniably beautiful. Long silvery hair streams down his shoulders, softened by the amber rays of dawn. His near translucent skin is also tinged with a golden sheen and shimmers in the gentle light. His angular features are also less severe than before, though his chin is still as sharp. The only remnants of his demonic corruption are his glowing red eyes and the markings which twine his arms and torso. Other than these, he appears exactly like the moon elven ambassador I remember my father meeting years ago.
For a moment, I stand there and blink, struggling to believe a being so horrifying could become so beautiful in mere instants. It’s hard to comprehend that this is the same demon I summoned from the darkest depths of the Abyss.
But the hatred carved deep into his otherwise flawless face most certainly belongs to the Void Prince of Pride.
His lips contort into a spiteful sneer. “Satisfied?”
I briefly consider requesting him to conceal his blood red eyes, but then notice the rest of him. Namely that he stands there barefoot, dressed only in a loincloth. I swiftly turn away from the very nearly naked elf that stands before me and reminds myself of the draconic wings and fiendish horns which were present seconds ago. I am convinced his abhorrent appearance was less startling than this.
“Put some clothes on,” I snap, and then continue down the street and away from the Arcanium. I don’t look back to see whether he obeys. The swishing of shadows suggests he has.
Our footsteps echo like thunder through the deathly silence of the ruins of Nolderan. Heaps of rubble blanket the lonely streets, and I pick my way around the broken glass. Zephyr’s weight lies unbalanced on my shoulders and makes nimbleness a challenge. Despite my efforts, a few shards still find their way into the soft flesh under my feet.
The rain thickens and fat drops spatter onto my tattered and bloodstained dress. It’s the same gown I wore to the ball two nights ago—the ball that marked my transition from a fledgling adept to a fully qualified Magi of Nolderan. Seizing my dreams was supposed to change my life for the better. Instead, it has ruined everything.
My steps falter. I grip the crystalline staff tighter in my hands, feeling the dizzying thrum of aether beneath my fingertips. The staff which was once my father’s, which distinguished him as the Grandmage of Nolderan, has now fallen to me. Just like this entire dead city that I alone am responsible for.
I draw in a slow breath, filling my lungs with the bitter scent of destruction. I can almost taste the ash and embers whirring through the streets as they did on that fateful night. It’s as if the dark magic that seeped through the city has left the white walls, dappled cobblestones, and cobalt rooftops stained with its acrid touch.
I’m not the only one to suck in a sharp intake of breath. I turn to see the Void Prince’s nostrils flaring as he too breathes in the residue of Nolderan. Unlike me, he seems to enjoy it so very much. Wicked delight sparks in the crimson glow of his irises. Of course, I would expect one of the seven most powerful demons in the entire Abyss to revel in the taste of death and destruction, but this is somehow deeper. Unless it’s that the demon is relishing in all his captor has lost and suffered.
He adjusts the top button of his high-neck robes. A cruel smirk etches into his mouth. “After one thousand years, it appears Nolderan has finally received its due.”
The demon’s words shatter my every last thought, scattering them far and wide. At first my shock is so great that I can say nothing. Nor do anything.
And then my shock melts away. With the dam breached, my fury is free to rush out in a violent storm of fiery waves.
As ferocious as my temper feels, it only incites the Void Prince’s laughter. That dark, velvety, evil sound is enough to shove me over the cliff and send me plunging into the blazing sea beneath.
Wrath consumes me, and the aether flowing through my veins ignites. Tendrils of flames lick at my fingers, amber heat blooming out.
Once again, I have conjured fire without uttering a single spell-word. The resulting magic is wild and dangerous. And it pleases me.
“You think it’s funny,” I seethe, tumultuous power pounding through me. “You think it’s funny that a cult of necromancers ravaged our city, slew all in their path, and raised them from the dead?” My brittle voice cracks at the end, revealing the well of emotion within. My fury, my grief, my hatred.
“Funny?” the Void Prince echoes, arching a silvery brow. His malicious sneer doesn’t diminish. “No, I find it hilarious that Nolderan has been destroyed by the abominable magic it birthed. That the magi have finally paid the price of their many sins.”
“You—”
I want to say so many things. That a demon as heinous as himself, who traded the souls of his entire city for power because being High Enchanter of Lumaria wasn’t enough, has no right to blame anyone for their sins. That even if my ancestors are responsible for the curse of undeath, they have been dead for a thousand years and someone as bright and beautiful as Eliya, my best friend, never deserved to pay for their sins.
And yet I can say none of this. The words are too tangled on my tongue, muddled in a knot too tight for me to unravel, and the rage drumming through me is so overwhelming it deafens my thoughts.
Fire crackles. It spreads from my fingers, desperate to escape the fragile cage of my remaining resolve and yearning for release.
Zephyr uncoils himself from my trembling shoulders and darts away for safety. I barely feel the shift of his weight. I am a quaking volcano sheer moments away from eruption. And when I explode, I want to take everything with me. Especially this demon and the ugly sneer on his face.
“Do it,” he hisses, taking a forceful step closer and shortening the distance between us. “Unleash all that wrath. End me, as you so desperately desire. Banish me from this mortal-infested world.”
The final strands of my control nearly fray and free all this raging power within me. But then I remember who I am. What my purpose is. I see Eliya’s too-still face as I lay her down inside her crystal coffin, purple light brushing over her icy skin. My father’s head turning toward me and bending at an unnatural angle, the shadowy orbs of his eyes filled with ravenous hunger. Koby, a fellow adept who only wanted to help me save Eliya. His chest pierced by the bolt of dark magic conjured by Kaely, who was once my greatest rival but is now another scar which will never heal.
I must be strong. For all of them. I must destroy Arluin. But I can’t do it alone. I am only an overgrown adept two days past her training. I am not strong enough to slay the man who defeated the Grandmage of Nolderan with his dark magic and fearsome amulet. That’s why I summoned this demon, why I bartered my own soul. My power alone isn’t great enough to destroy Arluin. I need this Void Prince’s strength. I can’t lose my sole weapon by banishing it back to the Abyss.
But the power broiling within is too volatile to be smothered. No matter how much I will it, the inferno does not extinguish. My desperate pleas only further rile it. Then I’m bursting at the seams.
The firestorm breaks free.
The demon’s grin stretches wider across his face.
No!
At the very last second, I use the last of my control to avert the spell’s path. The flames skim past the Void Prince, singeing the sleeves of his dark robes and the silver thread woven through.
The fireball hurls into the wall behind him, shredding through the stone as if it were sand. Rumbling echoes through the city as the wall crumbles apart.
I clasp my father’s staff and gaze at the destruction I have wrought. This is why magic should never be cast without spell-words. It is too unpredictable. Uncontrollable. And I can already feel the cost of its power gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. My body is far from recovered after all it has been through over these past two nights, and the spell stole too much of my remaining strength.
The ground beckons me, but I resist the claws of exhaustion. I can’t collapse. If I do, then the Void Prince will know I really am a pathetic little mage who can’t even control her own measly magic. I dig my bare heels into the ground, ignoring all the grit which presses back into me. I don’t allow my face to reveal anything but rage. And hatred.
For him. For Arluin. For myself.
The demon’s smirk falters, disappointment descending over his expression is a heavy shadow. Then it is gone and the gleam in his red eyes is crueler than ever.
“Now, now,” he chastises, his voice so melodic it’s almost as if he is singing, “that’s no way to treat your precious city, is it?”
I grit my teeth and turn on my heel, not deigning to offer him the rebuke he desires. Neither do I allow him to see how his taunt crawls under my skin.
I hate him. His savage smirk, his silky voice, his murderous gaze—I hate them all. If not for Eliya, for my father, then I would have long banished this monster back to whence it came.
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