The Reviled E-Book

Cynthia A. Morgan

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

From a young age, Ayla has learned about the mortal enemy of all Fey of the Light: The cruel Reviled Fey.

Gairynzvl is a Fey of the Light who was abducted by the Reviled when he was young. Now, he is one of them.

Lurking in the shadows, he lingers near Ayla and secretly whispers to her. The mystery he presents is irresistible, although she knows the Reviled Fey are menacing and devious.

Learning what he wants is only the beginning.

Should she trust him? Or will he tear her world apart?

Leseprobe

The Reviled

Dark Fey Book I

Cynthia A. Morgan

Copyright (C) 2014 Cynthia A. Morgan

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2020 by Next Chapter

Published 2020 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Dedicated to my Loving Family and Friends Who have supported me For many years.

And

Special Thanks to Jena Wolgemuth For her tireless enthusiasm and motivational encouragement.

I am truly Blessed.

An Introduction

Welcome to mythical, enchanted forest of Jyndari and the Village of Hwyndarin where The Fey of the Light, who are Light loving Fey, reside.

Where there is Light there is also darkness and the Fey of the Light live in careful vigilance, protecting themselves from the Dark Fey who are known by many names, such as the Fallen, the Dark Ones, and most particularly The Reviled. They live in a realm of darkness and shadow known as the Uunglarda.

Although their two realms exist in close proximity, most Fey of the Light have never seen an actual Dark Fey and many Dark Fey only encounter very young Fey of the Light, yet crossings and abductions happen every day.

As their temples are desecrated, homes are pillaged and plundered, and the peaceful tranquility so important to the Fey of the Light is repeatedly shattered, the Fey Guard stand as protectors. They are mighty in battle and fierce in their vigilance to protect the fragile balance of life for the peaceful Fey of Light.

All Fey are born with special abilities, or gifts, such as telepathy, empathy, discernment, or the ability to dream walk. Many also have a gift of magic, though not all, such as spell-casting, enchantment, light bending or element wielding. While the Fey of the Light are beautiful and live harmoniously, the Reviled Fey are the opposite. They revere darkness and fill their lives with cruelty and violence, but all Reviled Fey begin their lives as Fey of the Light. The change comes only if they are abducted as childfey and forced to undergo the Integration, a process of intentional neglect and cruelty designed to twist them away from the Light.

This level of horror is not incorporated into the Dark Fey Trilogy simply for the sake of it. One does not need to open the pages of a book to discover the unthinkable, as the darkness typically embodied in fantasy genre stories by some terrifying being or creature is very much alive in our own reality and this is the underlying motivation for the darkness woven into Dark Fey. It is based in great part on the terrifying, yet true-life events of the Lord's Resistance Army or LRA, a rebel militant group in Uganda that has for over 20 years abducted children from their homes; forcing them to commit horrifying acts of violence against each other and their own people. These children and other child soldiers like them suffer a very real Integration and, like the childfey of Jyndari, they endure violence and cruelty at the hands of truly sadistic overlords. This is how the Reviled came to life and became the horrifyingly cruel beings depicted in Dark Fey.

This story shares the Power of Hope, Acceptance and Forgiveness through the ideal that you can change the world, if you take Positive Action to Create Change by doing what is Right.

Many times during your journey through the Dark Fey Trilogy, you will encounter words that seem to be capitalized for no apparent reason; yet, it should be noted, these capitalizations are anything but random. They mark either proper nouns, such as Fey of the Light, the Temple, Fey Guards, the Reviled, or the Light, which is not simply a glimmering of illumination, but a connotation that is highly important in the spirituality of Fey. If a word holds specific meaning, it may also be capitalized, such as See, Know, or Understand. You may encounter such words when they are in reference to a Fey gift, such as telepathy, empathy, or discernment, and they carry significant weight so, in order to emphasize their importance, capitalization is used.

Join me as we embark into this realm of Light and Dark. Allow your imagination take over as you experience the Jyndari forest and the Fey of the Light's struggle with the Reviled. Let the Light reach outward from these pages and draw you into on a journey that promises not only to enchant, but to change your way of thinking.

Preface

The only way to achieve Peace is to become Peace.

Not a day had gone by during Ayla's childhood years when she had not been told the tales of The Reviled, tales which were meant to frighten her into absolute vigilance to always be wary of the darkness where the Reviled could lie in wait. She learned how they came in the hours of the night to steal away the innocent or to ruin the pure. Takers of the Innocent, Child Wraiths, Corruptors of the Beloved, Dark Ones; the Reviled had many names and she knew them all because she was different, set apart from other Fey by her innate abilities, which were given, it was said, by the Wisest of the Wise. She would be a light for her people, a Guardian of Cherubs. Her course was set from her earliest years.

It had not taken long for her parents and attendants to determine that she had remarkable talents unlike those of other Fey children. She could distinguish truth from lies as a falcon sees its prey in the long grasses. She could look into the eyes and see the soul, discerning beyond all the complications of guise. Empathy ran so deep within her that she could, under circumstances of extreme duress, take on the pain of another and ease their suffering. These gifts first drew attention to her, but they also set her apart and isolated her from the others.

Even from her nursery years, the tears or hurts of any of her playmates would draw her to them like a moth to flame. She would sit quietly by and their crying would subside or she would hold their hand and their pains would diminish. These first indications of her extraordinary capabilities brought her under the scrutiny of many, but ultimately led her toward the Temple.

AylaYna, the only daughter of AyannaDvnna and Bryndan, grew up in the village of Hwyndarin, an artisan's sanctuary set deep in the primordial forests of Jyndari, Land of the Fey. Here the breathtaking handcrafts of hundreds of Jyndari's finest artisans accompanied her throughout her childing years. As a childfey she was guided by scholars who filled her mind with images of good and evil, black and white, Darkness and Light; there were no gray areas, no middle grounds. She knew only truth. While her friends sat in cheery classrooms and learned the skills that would set their lives into balance and equanimity, she learned about the secret arts, about incantations and magic, which were hidden from all but a privileged few.

She learned how to battle evil with the words of the Ancients using intonations in her own language, the Common Tongue, as well as in Dlalth, the desecrated language of the Reviled. She practiced her growing skills in daily sessions that would leave her both mentally and physically exhausted, but her ability with incantations could not be left to chance. They were a matter of life or death. Day after long day, she honed her skill with artful words, as well as her talents of healing through empathy, by visiting the sick and the aged and she discovered that the use of these healing gifts would drain her own energy by an equal proportion to that which she used to ease or cure. As a result, she needed to also learn how to protect herself from her own empathic inclinations; how to use this particular gift with deliberate caution so she would not endanger herself. She also studied the mystical practices of Seeing.

Her closest friend, Nayina, learned to sew fine silks and embroider with gossamer threads that mimicked sunlight. She was taught to play the flute and the magical Fey instrument of mind and emotion called the Hudarin. She learned to weave the magic of grace and serenity into the embodiment of happiness, which would give her life purpose and stability, but AylaYna was sent off on daily treks to the Temple to learn about the banished and the lost. She was taught no other trade or skills and she lived each day with the shadow of fear.

As a youth, images of Dark Fey, those who were lost by the consequences of their own foul deeds, haunted her dreams. She slept little during these frightening years and read often. She read the ancient texts about the Fallen who could not love, could not create joy or light or bring peace and harmony, could not admire beauty or talent without avarice, could not feel compassion for another and could not bring life into the world in the form of innocence. She learned that the Dark Fey could not reproduce, so they would come in the shadows to steal away unattended childfey, taking them back to their dark realm. Those childfey, once taken, were condemned and lost as surely as their abductors.

The Dark Ones lived in the realm of eternal darkness, The Uunglarda, and could only enter into the realm of Light, into Jyndari, through portals that existed in the unlighted shadows of nightfall. They had many portals of entrance. Any deep shadow could conceal a Dark One and the Fey of the Light were vigilant in setting lamps, torches and candles so no corner stood in obscurity. Mirrors in darkness, unlighted wells, the dying embers of a fire that stood unguarded or the very rare faerie ring that no longer flowered gave the Fallen a place to cross. They came in darkness, they brought darkness with them, and they were the epitome of everything that was not light, bright, and beautiful.

During Ayla's middling years, those years between innocent childhood and responsible adulthood, she was given a tenuous measure of freedom. With the majority of her education completed, she was required to attend her lessons in the Temple less frequently and could embark upon those more immediate concerns of laughter, flirtation and youthful love. She was given the happy task of guarding the village's childfey during their play hours and was even called upon during special occasions to watch over the young ones of different families while the adults were away. It was her gifts which set her apart and which led her to become a Guardian, it was her education and knowledge of the Dark Fey that empowered her to take up such an important task at so young an age, and it was her own joy in being with the beautifully innocent and uncomplicated that made her not mind such a loss to her own social affairs.

Chapter One

The afternoon was warm and full of birdsong. The childfey she guarded were playing contentedly in the gamesyard and Ayla, along with her friend Nayina, was resting in the shade of a broad archway of flowering wisteria. The bordering forest encircling the gamesyard on all but one side was quiet on that unusually warm day, as if all its myriad inhabitants lay resting during the heat of the day. Its dark canopy spread invitingly cool, green shadows upon the ground at its feet, enticing even the most wary to step into its shadowed depths. Ayla and her friend sipped refreshing mint tea, fanned themselves absently with their translucent wings, and spoke of unimportant matters. The day was calm and quiet, filled with giggles and warmth, yet, unexpectedly, a fleeting shadow caught Ayla's glimmering amber eyes.

Turning her head sharply in the direction of the forest, she could not disguise her distraction as she sought the elusive image at the border of the woodland. Nayina paused as well and turned to watch her friend with curiosity, fully aware of her gift of sight and the fact that she saw far more than the average Fey. When she looked, Nayina could see nothing except green shadow and shaggy undergrowth, but Ayla's eyes were fixed on something and her mouth fell open in a gape.

“What do you see Ay?” Nayina inquired softly. Her friend shook herself and turned back to face her with a shrug and a smirk.

“Nothing, I guess,” she replied offhandedly, taking her glass in hand once more and bringing the cool beverage to her lips. “A shadow, a flutter, probably nothing more than a deer,” she offered more obligingly as she turned back to look once again upon the playing younglings. Nayina accepted this explanation of her odd behavior, but she did not fail to notice her friend's repeatedly furtive glances toward the same direction of woodland where she had previously gazed so intently and she did not fail to see the puzzlement in her expressive amber eyes.

She said nothing more about it, but Ayla found it difficult to keep her thoughts on those whom she guarded. As the afternoon waned and parents came to collect their wee cherubs, Ayla and her friend bid each other good eventide and went toward their separate homes. Yet even as she traversed the sparkling alley of cedars, which led from the daylight nursery where she spent much of her time, and the diminutive cottage she called home on the borders of the village, she saw and heard little. Her thoughts were turned inward as she mulled over what she had seen or, at least, what she thought she had seen.

A Dark One.

Shaking her head, she scoffed aloud. It could not have been. The Dark Ones could not enter the realm of Jyndari during daylight, it was impossible, despite the fact that what she had seen had been immersed in the green shadows of the forest and protected from the rays of the sun by the duskiness of the woods. She had never heard of a Dark One being seen during the day tide, so it certainly could not have been one of the Reviled. She argued with her own thoughts, turning the possibilities over and over in her mind, shifting her opinion first in one direction and then another.

What she had seen, what she thought she saw, had been everything she ever imagined a Dark One to be: dreadful in appearance, menacing in action, demon-like, drawing shadows unto itself like smoke filling a room, but she had only seen a fleeting shadow. For one brief moment it lingered in the darkness of the undergrowth like a wolf, slinking secretly along its way. It could have been anything. Shuddering involuntarily, she shook her head again. Certainly it had been a wolf or a deer. Surely her fearful mind, filled with years of dark imagery and whispers of dread, had seen only the fleeting shadow of an animal in the dim light beneath the trees and had invented the remainder.

She spent her eventide alone, making certain to light candles in every room and out in her small garden, as well. She sat in silence and studied the writings contained within an aged, little book: the Dark Texts, wherein were contained the collected warnings about, signs of, and protections from the Reviled. Many times during her solitary read, her head snapped up at an unexpected sound or suspected movement, but each time it was only her fear that haunted her. At last, soothed by her research and her repeated self-assurances of her own silliness, she went to bed.

The balm of early summer advanced and Ayla kept her regular schedule of morning practices and learning at the Temple, luncheons with her closest and, in truth, her only friend, Nayina, and afternoons filled by the giggles and coos of her precious, entrusted ones. After those responsibilities were discharged, she would often attempt to join in the revelry of other youthful Fey who were closest to her in age, joining small gatherings or buoyant parties during the coolth of eventide, but very often she would return home afterward disappointed by her own inabilities to connect with or even understand the complexities of youthful jocularity and flirtation. Ever more often she felt doomed to a life alone with her fears and suspicions.

* * *

“I promise, you will like him,” Nayina coaxed her one steamy afternoon in the variable shade of their now green and flowerless Wisteria arch near the gamesyard. “He is just your age and he is quiet, like you.”

Ayla listened to her friend's optimistic enticements, but grimaced. “Perfect. We shall spend the evening staring at our feet in utter silence.”

Her friend sighed impatiently at her cynical remark, but Ayla conceded. “I shall go. I must make a greater effort, I am completely aware of it. Besides, I have never actually been to Summerfest before. Must I dress in anything special or bring anything?”

Nayina could scarce contain her excitement. It was not very often her sheltered friend agreed to join in during celebration time, especially if it also meant entertaining the attentions of someone of the opposite sex. “It is not a masque, just a party; an excuse to go out under the twilight, dance and make merry. If you want to bring something, bring some of your honey mead you are always drinking in private. It is made for sharing, after all.”

Ayla leaned closer and drew a secretive, diaphanous wing around them. “What is he like?” she queried with open interest. She had precious little experience with malefey. Few found her odd upbringing appealing and even fewer found her quiet, reserved nature tempting. Nayina smiled, because, although Ayla was a beautiful young Fey, she had never had a proper suitor and she felt this was unfair and unjustified. Ayla was extremely intelligent and interesting to talk to and she was as inclined to mirth and joviality as any youth. One simply had to gain her trust.

“Oh, he is so very nice, Ay, not conceited or arrogant in any way. He is a book-learner, like you. His parents sent him off to the Temple to study the Ceremonies of the Shifting Seasons and the Rites of Entrance and such as that. They dedicated him to be a Celebrant.”

Ayla listened intently, her thoughts fascinated by the possibilities this young Fey presented. Perhaps he would be the one to finally understand her. “And is he fair?” she whispered coyly, receiving in answer a fervent nod of approval from her eager friend.

“He is so fair! Blonde hair so bright it is nearly platinum, eyes so blue they are said to be the rarest shade of cerulean, and his wings! Oh Ay, you will simply melt when you see him!” They giggled in secretive delight and unfurled their wings to let in the trace of afternoon breeze. The remainder of the day was spent in frivolous chatter and Ayla was truly happy as she fluttered home to prepare for what promised to be her first pleasantly memorable gathering.

The vale selected for Summerfest was on the boundary of the village, set against the backdrop of Veryn Falls, a waterfall that plummeted from the peaks of the Ryvyn Mountains. Splashing from the heights hundreds of feet above, Veryn Falls' crystalline waters were cushioned by a multitude of moss-covered bastions and ivy-laden arches before it fell into an emeraldine pool at its base that stretched out its bountiful hand and flowed through the village, supplying water and life to all. The broad clearing around its precincts sparkled with hundreds of tiny lanterns strung through the surrounding forest canopy and was brightened by cheerful fires and glowing torches scattered throughout. Tables of food and vessels of drink were placed advantageously, musicians played the flute and the drum, lacewings flitted and darted, and the entire area was alive with palpable joy and anticipation.

Ayla and Nayina arrived somewhat later than expected, for even as excited as she was Ayla needed quite a few last minute reassurances before she agreed to set off with her friend. As they crossed the glowing alleys of cedars and beech, they talked about the young malefey they would meet that evening and the promise of flirtations they would have. Although their discourse was light, Ayla's thoughts were troubled. She was aware of a presence pursuing them. It kept to the shadows deep in the forest and she perceived it more with her mind than her eyes, yet it was undeniably present. She said nothing to her friend, half convinced that it was her own nervousness that set her on edge and made her fear the darkness around them, but when they arrived, distracted by her unsettling musings, Ayla hovered shyly behind her amiable friend and listened, without joining in, to her vivacious banter.

“Ay, this is Mardan. Mardan, may I introduce my best friend, AylaYna.”

She had fallen into her own thoughts and had not been aware of his approach or of Nayina's polite conversation with him, but suddenly and without fore notice Ayla found herself confronted by the most handsome young Fey she had ever seen. His blond hair, cropped unusually short and full of curls, was nearly white in the sparkling light around them and his eyes were indeed the most breathtaking sky-blue imaginable, stealing her breath away as well as her voice. She bowed awkwardly to him as he smiled and inclined to her, but she could think of nothing to say.

“She is a bit shy, but if you are patient, you will not be disappointed.” Nayina leaned nearer to him and spoke softly in Mardan's delightfully pointed ear. He smiled graciously and reached for Ayla's hand.

“I hate parties. Shall we go sit by the falls and watch the lacewings?” he suggested with conspicuous courtesy and, without waiting for her to either agree or disagree, led her off in the direction of Veryn Falls. Ayla glanced back at her friend with a raised brow of surprise and a delighted smile and Nayina turned away with a giggle of glee, hoping for the best.

Mardan's hand was warm over her own and did not tremble as hers did with distinct nervousness. He said nothing as they swept over the party towards the softly 'plashing waters of the falls and she stole the moment to inspect him with an inquisitive gaze. He wore festive clothes; a silken shirt of silvery-violet and leather pants of deep emerald green, the vivid colors accentuating the whiteness of his magnificent, white, feathered wings. Of course she knew all malefey had such powerful wings, sometimes twice as long as they were tall, but even with such knowledge she could not take her eyes from him; he was tall and strong of stature and simply breathtaking in his male beauty.

They alighted on the cool, damp moss surrounding the falls and she smiled at the refreshing touch of the viridian waters trapped within the plush carpet of green beneath her feet. Mardan looked down upon her and smiled as well, patiently waiting for her to breach the silence. She stammered uncertainly, then shook her head.

“I am sorry; I am simply not very good at conversation,” she apologized with a self-deprecating sigh, expecting him to make a concurring, derogatory remark, but he only shook his head and continued to stare down at her with an amiable grin.

“Neither am I really.” He had been told by Nayina that she was as funny and light-spirited as any other Fey, but her upbringing by gloomy theologians had made her almost unbearably cautious. He understood this aspect of the scholar's impact on a young person, having experienced it firsthand himself, and was determined to draw her out in spite of her uncertainties.

Watching the reflected light of the falls dance over her coppery tresses and glimmer in her amber eyes, he tried not to notice her painfully inept flirting ability. She was lovely; there could be no denying the fact, and he did not mind her reserved nature, as it was far more agreeable than the overzealous bubblings and blatherings of some. Slender and delicately graced, her ivory complexion hinted at the color of the palest rose; her lacy, gossamer wings were alluringly elegant and her mannerisms were demure and poised.

“Great, we can sit in silence and stare at our feet,” she murmured in a rueful jest, anticipating that at any moment he would excuse himself from her disagreeable company, but her sarcasm made him laugh and the sound melted her heart. She glanced up at him in surprise and then smiled dimly.

“I would have no qualms about staring at your feet,” he hinted cautiously, seeking any measure of reassurance that she was pleased by his attention and he was not disappointed. She grasped his hand more securely and turned a coy shoulder to him, her wings fluttering in her delight and this simple indication of her contentment was all he needed.

They walked for a long while around the emeraldine pool at the base of the falls and then sat on a nearby bench of marble and rose-quartz stone, watching the lacewings dart and flutter in the sparkling light. He spoke softly to her of his training at the Temple and his parent's hopes that he would become a Celebrant, a high priest of ceremonies. She shared her own unusual upbringing. She made little mention of her uniquely special abilities, but explained her specific training in relation to the Dark Ones in preparation of her life as a Guardian.