The Shield of Soren E-Book

D.M. Cain

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Young Soren is the apprentice of legendary warrior, Raven Lennox. At the age of sixteen, Soren is expected to fight in the eternal war against the Brotherhood of Shadow - but he seems to be more interested in mischief than battle.

When one of Soren's adventures goes off course, he accidentally unleashes a deadly threat. As an age-old prophecy comes to pass, Soren must take a perilous journey deep into enemy territory.

But does he have what it takes to save the realm, or will the Brotherhood destroy everything he loves?

Leseprobe

The Shield of Soren

The Light and Shadow Chronicles Book II

D.M. Cain

Copyright (C) 2017 D.M. Cain

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter

Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

Beta reads by David Spell and Stewart Bint

Map and family tree design by Irina French

Edited by Pam Elise Harris (https://kitchensinkedits.wordpress.com/)

Proofread by Sophie B. Thomas (http://www.sophiebthomas.com/)

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.

Dedication

To my wonderful husband, Matt. You have listened to my excited ramblings when ideas spring to mind, shown me encouragement and support when I've felt like giving up, and given me a kick up the backside when I've been too self-absorbed to see everything I've achieved. Thank you.

The Light and Shadow Chronicles span thousands of years, and each book tells the story of one character in the tale. The books can be read in any order, and characters dip in and out of each novel. One book may tell the story of a man in his adulthood. The next may be set after that character's death or before his birth.

Putting the story together is up to you. The order of events is not important. But each and every story leads the different strands of the legend to the same conclusion… The final battle… The apocalypse.

For those who have read A Chronicle of Chaos: This story takes place four years before Chaos Lennox is born, during Callista Nienna's marriage to her fourth husband, Kham Nitaya.

The World of the Light and Shadow Chronicles

Soren Nitaya's Family Tree

Chapter One Experiments (Year 101 of the Second Age)

THE LONG CORRIDORS of the Meraxan research laboratory were cold and sterile. Sickly yellow lights flickered and cast a jaundiced glow across the grey walls. It was quiet tonight with only the occasional guard patrolling the silent passageways. Nobody entered the laboratory. There was little reason to, so why would they? Nobody even knew it existed; the classification of the building as a top-secret location ensured that. Vincent Wilder strode through the corridors with an uncomfortable heaviness hanging over his heart. It should have been an exciting prospect, being called to a top-secret laboratory in the middle of the night with the promise of something game-changing awaiting him.

But Vincent had learnt long ago to treat “ground-breaking” advances in science with scepticism. His last few projects had either fallen flat and produced only minimal results or failed completely. What made this one any different? It didn't help that the state-of-the-art technology and highly expensive research materials were almost entirely under the control of a psychotic scientist by the name of Reign. An unhinged human at loose in a laboratory would have been dangerous enough, but giving that level of control to a Rhygun was insane. Vincent himself would never have allowed a half-human-half-demon access to something so important to their cause, but it hadn't been up to him. No matter how much he liked to think he was in control, Vincent knew who pulled the strings.

Vincent sighed. It was a mess. His whole operation was a mess at the moment. Though he hated to admit it, the Children of Light were stronger than his army. If things continued this way, this war of centuries would finally be over, and not with a pleasing result. For one hundred and eleven years, he had been fighting this damn war against Callista and her people. He never aged, never withered and died, but without growing old he felt like there was no progress. He almost regretted the fact that he and his people had gotten a hold of the Children of Light's elixir at all. Sometimes all he wanted was to grow old naturally and die an old man. Alas, it would never happen. So he was forced to continue fighting a war he wasn't sure he could survive.

It seemed that at every turn the Children of Light were winning. Merely seven years ago, Callista's army had attacked a crucial schooling encampment and destroyed an entire academy of learning, killing many innocents in the process. Not to mention what Callista herself had recently done to his most-beloved child.

Vincent clenched his fists as fury threatened to engulf him. Trying to convince himself that the memories were just that, memories, he tried to calm down. He needed to keep his head, at least until Reign told him what had excited him so much in the middle of the night.

Vincent shook his head to clear his mind and straightened his black collar. The suit jacket usually fit him perfectly, but for some reason this evening it felt snug and restrictive. It was no surprise to him really. He had pushed his body harder than ever over the past few weeks. Since that incident, he had thrown himself into sparring with every fibre of his being. Maybe he had bulked up a bit, which could only be a good thing. Every ounce of muscle was an extra ounce that could be used against Callista and her damn people. Vincent smirked at the thought and undid the buttons on his jet-black shirt, so the sleeves didn't dig so much into his muscular forearms.

Maybe whatever Reign brought for him today would be worth something after all. It wasn't as if everything Reign did was a failure. There was always Caleb Maddox. That young man looked to be an interesting addition to their army, if he grew up to fulfil his potential.

Vincent was empowered by the thought that maybe, just maybe, something would start to go their way. By the time he approached the laboratory at the centre of the complex, he was feeling a little more positive.

He waited outside the door and took a deep breath to ready himself for Reign's overbearing presence. No sooner had he set foot inside the room than Reign was directly in front of him, grinning insanely with manic, blazing eyes.

“This is it, Vincent! Oh yes, this is it! You won't believe the beauty I've got for you!” Reign was literally hopping from one foot to the other. Vincent screwed his nose up in annoyance.

“Can you at least let me enter the room?” Vincent mumbled, as he pulled the door closed behind him. There was a peculiar smell in the room, like the faint aroma of burning sulphur or a match that had been lit then extinguished. The human part of Reign ruled over his appearance. At first glance, it was unlikely anybody would notice anything amiss about the kindly-looking middle-aged man. But step too close to him, and nobody could avoid the lingering stench of Hell, the almost tangible wafts of brimstone and ash that clung to him.

Looking away to avoid the smell, Vincent gave a half-hearted smile. “Show me what you've got that was so important at this unreasonable hour.”

Reign grinned. “Oh, you won't be disappointed. The boss wasn't.” He waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the far corner of the lab. It was only upon closer inspection that Vincent saw the twisting, tumultuous shadow of the Bavelize, lurking in the darkness.

He immediately dropped to one knee and lowered his head. “Oh Great One, forgive my insolence. I did not realise you were here and would not have acted in such a way had I known.”

The room was silent, but an eerie echo of breathing reverberated against Vincent's eardrums, as if the noise came from nowhere and everywhere at once. “Stand, Vincent.”

Vincent slowly rose to his feet and met the Bavelize face-to-face, if one could call what the shadowy creature had a face. A swirling mass of writhing smoke, there were no features to speak of, but more an ever-changing, undulating mask of darkness.

The voice of the Bavelize echoed through Vincent's head again. “Listen to what the Rhygun has to say. It could change everything.”

Vincent was still sceptical, but he could not argue with the deity that watched over the Brotherhood of Shadow's every move. Giving a low, courteous bow, he turned to Reign and indicated that he was ready to hear whatever the scientist had to say.

Reign's eyes glowed with enthusiasm once more. He waved Vincent over to another door and Vincent followed him into a second room. There, in a line, standing strictly to attention, were at least twenty young people from Vincent's kingdom of Meraxor. He frowned. Many of them were his own children, and he looked down the line with a growing sense of uncertainty.

But Reign waved him right by the line of people to a huge glass tube in the centre of the room. An immense cylinder, there was a heavily bolted sliding door at the front, but the rest was completely enclosed. It didn't take Vincent long to realise it was a prison cell.

He pressed his face up to the glass and inside, cowering on the floor of the cell, he saw a young girl, surely no more than ten years old, with flowing silver hair and ragged clothing.

Reign sidled up beside him and placed his chin on Vincent's shoulder, making him jerk back in surprise and a fair amount of annoyance. Reign chuckled and then pressed both hands up against the glass and peered in.

“Look at this beauty, Vincent. We found the specimen a few days ago, out on the edges of the Meraxan rainforest and brought it here.” He licked his lips as he looked at her, and it made Vincent feel somewhat queasy.

“She's just a kid. Why did you bring her here? Go and release her.”

Reign laughed again and shook his head slowly from side to side. “I think you'll find she holds great potential for our military interests.”

Vincent sighed with impatience and began to walk from the room, but a hiss penetrated his hearing suddenly, forcing him to cover his ears to save his eardrums from being perforated.

“You will stay,” the Bavelize snarled from the corner, the sounds echoing through the laboratory.

Vincent spun on his heels and tentatively removed his hands. He rejoined Reign and tried to keep his mouth shut as the Rhygun scientist resumed hopping from one foot to the other.

Reign began to unfasten the heavy door of the glass cage, flicking back catches and sliding back weighty iron bolts. With a loud clang of metal slamming into metal, the final bolt was undone. Reign slowly pulled the door open, and Vincent found his breath catching in his throat.

High-pitched whimpering came from the tiny bundle of rags cowering at the back of the cage. Her long silver hair parted for a moment and Vincent could see her wide, silver eyes, terrified and innocent. Vincent's skin prickled with discomfort. He hoped that Reign had a damned good reason for capturing a small child like this.

Beside the glass cage were two oil lamps, both resting unlit. Reign reached up and took one down. Then, in a single savage moment, he slammed the lamp onto the floor of her cage. The girl screamed in terror and covered her head with her hands, but he hadn't been aiming for her.

The shattered glass gave way to a stream of oil that spread out in a pool across the floor. This seemed to scare the girl even more, and she began to cry quietly, sobbing into her clenched hands.

Reign looked back at Vincent. Excitement flashed in his eyes as he drew a match from a box in his pocket. A small flare of light, a flicker of sulphur and a small flame danced on top of the match. With another laugh, Reign tossed the match into the glass cage.

Vincent gasped as the oil ignited in a rush of intense heat. The entire floor of the cage burst into flames. Vincent tried to rush forwards to save the girl from a fiery death, but the heat was too intense. A hand tapped incessantly at his shoulder, and he tried to brush it away, but Reign grabbed hold of his hand.

“Look! Look!” Reign shouted excitedly, pointing at the cage.

When his eyes fell upon the cage, Vincent froze to the spot, his eyes nearly popping from their sockets. “But…how?”

The girl, who Vincent had assumed would be burning in agony, was somehow floating above the flames, hovering at the top of her cage. From her back sprouted two enormous wings of the purest white feathers Vincent had ever seen. The two beautiful white fans could only just fit within the confines of the cage, and as she beat them to stay afloat they fanned the flames beneath her.

It wasn't just her wings that dazzled Vincent with their purity. Her whole body had adopted an ethereal, almost ghostly, silver aura, her hair shimmering with radiance. She didn't seem too frightened any more, but there was a definite hint of sadness in her gentle eyes.

Vincent studied her carefully, struggling to catch his breath, which he hadn't realised he had been holding. “What is she?” he managed to croak.

Reign grinned and draped an arm across Vincent's shoulder. “She, my friend, is an angel.” He paused to allow Vincent a chance to absorb the surprising revelation before continuing. “I could sense something in the air when we first picked her up, a kind of sour smell, a tingling on the tip of my tongue—the reek of an angel. The demon in me is repulsed by and attracted to her at the same time. Our species have been at war since the dawn of time, so the temptation to rip her to shreds is rather overwhelming.” He chuckled again, sending shivers down Vincent's spine. “But, of course, my duty is to you, the Bavelize, and my mission in your realm, so I think we should utilise her skills instead.”

Vincent nodded, his eyes still locked onto the bewildering sight of the angel, rhythmically flapping her wings to float above the dwindling fire. The flames were beginning to die down now that the fuel was running low, but thick, black smoke swirled at the top of the cage and the angel was beginning to cough and choke on the oppressive fumes.

Reign grabbed a bucket of water that he had presumably prepared, ready for this occasion, and hurled it into the cage. The freezing liquid hit the flames and extinguished them immediately.

The angel collapsed to the floor, wet and gasping for breath, her energy seemingly sapped. Her grand, beautiful wings slowly folded back into her shoulder blades and her eerie glow faded until she was nothing more than a cowering, terrified child again.

“I don't understand,” Vincent said, frowning. “I've heard of angels before. The legends of the first age are full of them. The stories claim that angels possess incredible strength and speed and that they can heal themselves. This one should be able to break free of this cage and kill me easily. Maybe not you with your demon genes, but definitely me. Why doesn't she at least defend herself?” He stepped in closer and examined the cuts on her body, where whip lashes and knives had sliced her skin.

“It looks like you've been taking chunks out of her already.” Vincent turned and glared at Reign, who grinned back at him. “Why doesn't she heal? I thought all angels healed.”

Reign tapped absently at the glass, eyeing her as one would an interesting museum exhibit. “Yes, usually they do. We think that this one may be damaged. I don't know, but she seems…incomplete, somehow. She is strong and fast, or at least she was when we first captured her. She tried to escape a number of times. When she gets her wings out, we have to be careful because she can fly quickly. But her power or energy or something seems to be dwindling and she's getting weaker and weaker, so she isn't as much of a threat anymore. Besides, we've found a few ways to deter her from attempting escape. She responds well to drugs, electric shocks and, as you've seen, fire. With those at our disposal, we've managed to suppress her and keep her under control.”

Fascination had replaced Vincent's concern for the girl. Now that he knew she wasn't human, his mind was racing with possibilities.

“Could we train her up as a weapon? If we could use her in battle to fight for us, we'd have a huge advantage.” All the recent defeats he'd suffered echoed in Vincent's memory, and he relished the idea of a weapon to neutralise the Children of Light.

Reign grimaced. “Yes, and no. She has all the power and skills, but not the constitution. She's far too meek and gentle to be any use in battle, and her power seems to be weakening with every test we do anyway. I think we need to take the best of her and put it into somebody else.”

Vincent stared at him for a moment as the words sunk in. His eyes flickered to the twisting, turning cloud of shadow in the corner. The dark plumes formed into the shape of a human long enough for the Bavelize to nod his head in encouragement, and then it dispersed into a tumultuous cloud of ever-shifting smoke again.

Vincent knew he couldn't argue with the Bavelize, and he had to admit the prospect of utilising her power was exciting to him. “OK. How do we do that?”

Reign sniggered. “We need to find a suitable body to host the angel's DNA. If we give it to one of our young soldiers, we may be able to replicate her traits, but without her irritating calmness. What we need is a ruthless killer, a powerful weapon who will benefit from her strength and use it to his or her advantage.”

He had failed to deliver upon his promises so many times that Vincent was reluctant to rely upon him again. The idea of blindly taking some DNA from a completely strange creature and injecting it into a human being was dangerous and idiotic. He was quite sure that there were so many scientific inaccuracies with the theory that it wasn't even worth considering. However, Vincent was beginning to run out of other options. The Brotherhood of Shadow simply had nothing that could rival the Children of Light and their elite warriors. Maybe this could work after all, and if it didn't, one person would be lost, not an entire army.

Something else was nagging at Vincent though. Reign had brought this group of young men to present before Vincent and the Bavelize, and those he had chosen included some that Vincent was simply not willing to sacrifice.

Reaching up to wipe a bead of nervous sweat from his forehead, Vincent frowned. “I don't like this. It's too risky, and we risk losing the lives of soldiers and of my children in the process.”

If the idea of sacrificing a child's life bothered Reign, he didn't show it. An all-too-familiar manic grin crept across his lips as he slyly looked towards the Bavelize, lurking in the shadows beside them.

In a voice as thick and dark as smoke, the Bavelize answered, “Then choose wisely…”

Reign cackled and rubbed his hands together, wandering up and down the line of potential candidates. “The person you choose will need to be strong enough to withstand the experiments, which will be harsh and gruelling and, at times, agonising. Despite the strength, they should also be disposable if all this fails.”

Vincent looked up and down the line of young men to see if anybody adequately met the requirements. Who could withstand such torrents of abuse, and who was Vincent willing to forfeit?

They stood, hands locked behind their backs, chins raised, tall and proud. The candidates Reign had chosen varied hugely in their value. Terralian slaves, weak and disposable, were easily the obvious choice if somebody was to be sacrificed. However, their blood was inferior. By nature, Vincent recoiled in the presence of a Terralian. He could never entrust something so important to a member of a race he considered no greater than insects.

He scoffed as he walked past the Terralian slaves in their simple brown robes, their vibrant red hair tied back from their pale faces, and continued down the line.

Some of Reign's choices were downright ludicrous. He raised his eyebrows at the Rhygun to show his dissatisfaction. “Obviously, this is a brand-new experiment, isn't it?” Vincent snapped. “Why have you chosen those you already know have another fate awaiting them? Valentine, Amadeus, Horus—their destinies are already sealed. And Caleb? Do you not think his genes are muddled enough?”

The next two candidates in the line gave Vincent pause. Two of his own sons, but those who had yet to impress him. Drake Wilder, aged twenty-eight, was undoubtedly powerful, a behemoth, in fact. His rippling muscles bulged beneath the dark T-shirt he wore. Vincent was aware that boosting Drake even further with angel DNA could make him unstoppable. However, there was no way Vincent would be willing to sacrifice a man with so much potential, even if he hadn't shown his true value and probably never would.

The twenty-one-year-old Silas Wilder was the last in the line. Even when asked to stand alongside his brothers and remain still, Silas jigged from one foot to the other, a misplaced grin dancing upon his lips. The young man had shown talent in training, but he was inconsistent and clearly preferred entertaining himself above completing his duty. If a trustworthy apprentice was what Vincent was looking for, Silas definitely was not it.

Hopelessness was plaguing Vincent once again, the all-too-familiar feeling that fate was simply conspiring against him. All he needed was to select somebody he was willing to sacrifice. How difficult could that be?

He threw his hands into the air with frustration. “None of them! None of them are right. How can you expect me to choose for my children to die?”

“Because,” Reign hissed, “through sacrificing the lives of your children, you bring the end of hers.”

Ah, Callista Nienna, his idol and enemy all in one. Frankly, Vincent would sacrifice every member of his family if he could be one hundred percent sure he could either obtain or destroy her. One life, even of his own flesh and blood, was more than worth it for the impact it would have upon the fabled Callista and her army of light. He gritted his teeth as he thought about her, and it was then that an idea came to him.

“Of course,” he murmured. “I know exactly who we can use. It's obvious.”

He wandered backwards and forwards muttering beneath his breath. “He is weak, of course, and ill. His pathetic blood, so useless for everything else, might just be good enough for this. He is definitely not strong enough to withstand anything substantial, but what does it matter if he dies? What possible use will we ever have for him?”

“Who?” asked Reign. “Who do you speak of?”

The confidence was back in Vincent's smile as he waved a commanding arm towards the guard stationed by the door. “Guardian. Bring me Guardian.”

Chapter Two Ruins of the Gods (Year 106 of the Second Age)

A COLD SLAB OF STONE. That was all that was left of fifteen-year-old Freya Nitaya. The bells around the city of Nazaki chimed, their mournful tune echoing across the kingdom of Alcherys like ripples across a calm lake.

The usually vibrant and majestic city had been brought to a standstill when Freya's body had been taken through the streets, followed by a stream of mourners. The funeral procession finished its slow march at the Nazaki Cathedral, an immense marble temple right in the centre of the capital city.

At least two hundred members of Freya's family attended, all of her siblings, aunts and uncles, and distant cousins who had come from miles away. Everybody. They were all part of the largest family on the planet, the Children of Light. When one of their own died, they all turned out to say goodbye. On top of that, there were a huge number of ordinary citizens of Alcherys who had turned up to pay their respects to the fallen princess.

The ceremony was short but beautiful, a fitting tribute to the tragically short life of the beautiful teenage girl for whom life had only just begun. When it was finished, the Alcherans trudged back to their homes with their heads drooped in sadness. Their grief at the loss of one of the royal family was profound. It always was every time the war claimed one of their leaders, but at least they could return to their lives and leave the conflict behind. When the halls were emptied of mourners, only the family was left behind in the cold, marble temple. It was Freya's parents, her brothers and sister who would have to live with the loss.

There were still fifty people or more in the grand cathedral where the funeral had taken place, but now that the villagers had left, it seemed deserted.

Soren Nitaya was just five years old, and he was angrier than he had ever been in his life. He stood, rigid as a post, his fists clenched tightly together and his chin tucked in to his chest. He glared furiously at any who tried to come near him, any who tried to comfort him about the death of his sister. And there were many who tried. '

A hand rested gently on Soren's shoulder, but he bristled at the touch and shook it away. He cast a bitter scowl up at his older brother. Deveron was still a child himself, only nine years old, but he had taken it upon himself to look after Soren and their baby sister, Kellyn.

Their parents were too grief-stricken at the moment to help anybody.

Soren glared at them from across the hall, where they clung to one another, tears marking their faces.

“Let's go home now, Soren,” Deveron said and tried to lead him away, but Soren stood his ground.

“No!” He crossed his arms over his chest but kept his eyes locked onto his mother and father.

“Come on. Mummy and Daddy will come later.” Deveron reached out to hold Soren's hand, but he held his arms crossed even more tightly together.

“Don't care. I hate Mum and Dad.”

Deveron paused, taken aback by his brother's words, but he tried not to let it show.

“Don't be silly. You don't hate Mum and Dad. Come home, and I'll play soldiers with you.”

Soren stamped his feet in quick succession. “No, no, no!”

His angry voice echoed across the hall, causing his mother and father to snap out of their catatonic grief. With slow, shaky steps, they walked over to their sons together.

“Hey, little buddy,” their mother said, as she knelt down in front of Soren. He resolutely looked away from her. Tears welled in his eyes, but he wouldn't make eye contact with his mother.

She stood up and looked to Deveron instead, whose face was ashen and full of sadness.

“You holding up OK?”

Deveron tried to answer, but he couldn't get his words out so he merely gave a hurried nod. His mother pulled him into a warm and comforting embrace, and he nestled his face into her long, platinum hair. The familiar smell of his mother, of roses and leather, clearly comforted Deveron's frayed nerves. He gently pulled out of her arms and looked to his father, Kham, but although he stood beside them, he wasn't really there. His eyes were distant and unfocused, his dark skin pale and sunken.

Kham Nitaya had been a powerful warrior once, strong and dedicated to their cause, but the loss of his daughter had destroyed his will to fight, to survive even. He was a shadow of the man he had once been.

It unnerved Soren and Deveron to see their father like this, and they both looked away. The children's mother, Callista Nienna, Queen of Alcherys and the leader of the Children of Light, looked as radiant as ever. Her long white-blonde hair cascaded in rivers down to the small of her back. Her hazel eyes glistened with pain, but her expression remained stoic, the hardened shell of a strong leader.

“Everything's finished now, boys,” Callista said in a warm but authoritative voice. “Let's go home.”

She moved to put an arm around each of her boys, but Soren ducked away from her embrace and crossed his arms again, high upon his chest. He wore a deep purple uniform with the silver symbol of the Children of Light stitched onto it. He looked down at it and screwed his nose up in distaste, making sure he crossed his arms to hide the badge. His bottom lip was firmly stuck out in defiance.

“Come on, Soren,” said Callista.

“I don't want to go anywhere!” he shrieked. He frantically shook his head from side to side. His messy black hair fell across his face, and he angrily swept it aside.

“Come on. You'll feel better back at home.”

“No, I won't!” He clenched his fists by his side and glowered at his mother.

“I know you're upset, but—“

“No! You don't know anything!”

Callista looked to her husband for support, but his face was blank and distant, as if he wasn't even aware they were in the room.

“Tell me what's wrong,” she said softly and reached out to stroke Soren's cheek.

Soren clenched his jaw, grinding his little teeth together. When his mother reached out to him, he waved her hand away and sat down on the floor with a loud huff.

Callista nodded to Deveron, and he sat down in front of his brother.

“What's up?” Deveron asked in a calm, friendly voice, blatantly trying to put Soren at ease, which aggravated him further.

Soren cast a cross frown at his mum again before looking back at his brother. He mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?” Deveron leaned in more closely.

“It's Mum's fault. She let Freya die.”

Deveron glanced up at his mother with wide eyes. “Why do you think that?” he asked. “Mum had nothing to do with it.”

“She didn't save her.”

Callista crossed her arms and turned away, but not before Soren saw her trying to hide the burning tears that glistened in her eyes.

“Don't be silly. Mum couldn't have done anything,” Deveron said.

“She could! Mum has that potion. She can give it to anybody whenever she likes. It can bring people back. She could have saved her.”

“It's not like that, Soren,” Callista said quietly with her back still turned to the boys.

“It is! That magical potion makes people live forever. You live forever. Daddy lives forever. Everybody does! When I reach sixteen, I will take it and live forever. Why didn't you give it to Freya?”

“I couldn't…,” Callista murmured.

“You could too!”

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by a barely audible sniff as Callista held back tears.

Deveron straightened up. “He's right, Mum. Why didn't you just give Freya the elixir? Then she could have lived forever.”

Callista's eyes were wracked with pain. “I wish I could have, but it doesn't work that way. You don't understand…”

“So tell us!” Deveron cried.

“You're too young to understand…”

“We're not babies!” Soren shouted, and he leapt up to his feet. “We're big now! We can understand.”

Callista frowned, unsure.

“Come on, Mum. We need to know why this happened. We want to know why you didn't save our sister.”

Callista gave a sad smile. The boys could tell she knew they were right. Their ability to believe in her, to believe in the world again, rested on this.

She turned to her gaunt and exhausted husband.

“Kham, I'll do it. I'll take the boys to Alexiria and show them the book, where it all began. Then they'll understand.”

Their father snapped out of his silence. “You can't, Callista. It's too dangerous, and the boys will be at risk. What if the Brotherhood of Shadow have spies on the roads? They could target you and hurt the boys.”

“It'll be fine. We'll take a cart tomorrow morning and be back by evening. We'll bring a dryll as well, so we have a way of communicating with home. We'll be discreet and stick to the main roads, and I can defend the kids. Please, they need this. You stay here and look after baby Kellyn.”

“Soren's too young to travel so far.”

Callista rested a hand on Soren's head. “Something tells me Soren will be just fine.”

The following morning, Callista, Deveron and Soren made their way through the thriving streets of Nazaki, Alcherys's capital city, with canvas bags of food and water strung over their backs for the long journey. A wooden cart was waiting for them, and an elderly driver sat at the front with the horses' reins in his hands.

As the ruler of Alcherys, Callista had easily persuaded the elderly driver to cart them across the country, even if it would take all day. She paid him well, as the royal family were tremendously wealthy, and that gave him the encouragement he needed to forsake other jobs for the day.

Soren clambered up onto the cart, eager and ready for the long trip across Alcherys. He didn't know where his mother was taking him, but despite the prickling of anger he still felt towards her, he couldn't help feeling excited about their adventure.

That excitement doubled when he first caught sight of the palace dryll they were taking with them. It was twice the size of the drylls Soren had seen flapping around the fields on the city's outskirts. His fascination with the proud and impressive birds of prey had begun on his first journey out of Nazaki's walls, watching them soaring high above, mere dots in the sky, before hurtling towards the ground at break-neck speed to catch an unsuspecting victim.

But this particular dryll was nothing like those wild birds. This one was a pedigree, bred for speed and efficiency, and it had developed its striking plumage somewhere along the way. Its grand, royal-blue feathers ruffled haughtily around its neck as the bird's handler placed it carefully on the edge of the cart and tied the rope around its feet to a hook on the wooden panels.

Soren was intimidated by the dryll's piercing yellow eyes and edged back towards his mother, but he couldn't stop staring at the incredible creature. He shifted his position to make sure he was out of range of those deadly sharp talons, while retaining a good view of them.

When Soren had finished fussing and fidgeting, they finally set off, and the cart trundled along the shale pathway out of Nazaki.

At eight hours' travelling time, the trip was boring and exhausting for the children. Even the dryll became boring to Soren after it tucked its head inside an enormous wing and slept for the majority of the journey. So Deveron made up games to play with Soren along the way. They sang songs and challenged each other to be the first to spot various items. Traversing from one side of the nation to the other should have been exciting for the two young boys, but Alcherys wasn't the most interesting country. Ninety percent of the landscape was largely featureless plains and wastelands, and only the vast and impressive settlements of the Children of Light broke the monotony.

A journey across the country of Meraxor with its vibrant rainforests and dramatic mountain vistas would have been far more exciting, but as the land of the Brotherhood of Shadow, Meraxor was far too dangerous. They would have to make do with the dull plains of Alcherys instead.

When trying to entertain himself became boring, Soren drifted in and out of sleep, curled up in his mother's arms, his belly full of the bread and cheese they had brought along with them. Deveron was quiet, seemingly content to simply watch the scenery passing by.

After what felt like an eternity, the cart began to slow as it approached Alexiria. The boys had heard of the place before. Everybody in Alcherys had. It was the place where everything had begun, where Callista had formed their nation and where the ghosts of their ancestors still stalked the skeletal ruins of a lost civilisation.

Soren didn't believe in ghosts, but if he had done, Alexiria is where they would do their haunting.

He was still feeling groggy from his intermittent naps, but, as they approached the ruins, excited butterflies began to dance in his stomach. Even the dryll pulled its head from under its wing and eyed everything suspiciously with its beady yellow eyes.

“Deveron, is there anybody up ahead?” Callista asked.

Deveron focused on the wall ahead, his forehead creased into a frown. To a passer-by, it might look like he was staring at nothing, but Soren knew different. His brother was special.

“No, I can't detect any life forces.”

Callista nodded, and they continued on their journey. Soren stared at his big brother in admiration and wished he had a special power. Nobody knew why Deveron could do what he could do. He had just been different ever since birth. He could literally see life. He could discover traces of living beings when all other signs failed. It was as if he were fundamentally entwined with the planet, synchronised with the life force itself, its conduit. Others saw it as a great gift, and it certainly came in handy for Deveron when he was hiding from other kids or playing chase games. But, the darker side of his “gift” had become clear the day he saw Freya's body stretched out on a stone slab. His beloved big sister, who had always cared for him, who had always possessed such a vibrant and strong life force, was now empty and cold. His power had been stronger since then.

They were drawing near to Alexiria. Soren just knew it, but all he could see in front of him was a blank grey wall, dilapidated and covered in moss and creeping ivy. The cart didn't stop as it got closer and Soren's eyes widened. They were going to hit the wall. Preparing himself for a big crash, Soren covered his face with his hands, but at the last minute, the walls seemed to open up before them. As the angle of their approach changed, Soren saw that there was a thin crack running between two steep cliffs made by the walls. Nature had provided the city of Alexiria with natural camouflage.

Soren, Deveron and Callista watched in silence as the cart slowly passed through the wall and into the ruins of the city. Soren's excited eyes widened with wonder as they trundled along the cobblestone paths and past ruined, overgrown buildings on either side.

Callista called for the driver to stop as they approached the tallest building. It was a huge, colonnaded mastery of architecture. Marble columns supported elaborately carved friezes showing parades of people, animals and what looked like humans with wings.

A large archway at the front appeared to be the main doorway. This was where Callista chose to release the dryll. Soren stayed as still as possible, watching his mother closely as she untied the rope with tentative movements. They all knew better than to startle a dryll. People had lost fingers that way.

When the bird of prey was untethered, Callista took a small note from her bag. Soren assumed it was the usual note to their father telling him of their safe arrival. It didn't take much to set Kham to worrying, and Soren was pretty sure he would be worrying right now.

Tucking the note safely inside a small brace on the bird's leg just above its right claw, Callista ran a piece of cloth from one of Kham's old shirts under its nose. The dryll's eyes focused on something in the distance, and then it was off, flapping its gigantic wings with a great rush of air.

Callista, Soren and Deveron gathered their things together and asked the cart's driver to wait for them. As they dismounted from the cart, Soren ran ahead, bounding up the steps, oblivious to any danger.

“Soren! Wait for us!” Callista called, as she helped Deveron down from the cart.

They jogged after Soren, and together passed into the building. Whatever Soren had been expecting, it wasn't this. The hall they stepped into was the size of a cavern. The ceiling, stretching at least twenty-five metres above their heads, was covered in splinters of coloured glass. The bright sun shone through in tiny scattered rays, casting kaleidoscope emeralds, rubies and sapphires across the floor.

Soren and Deveron stopped in the centre of the room, their eyes cast up to the awe-inspiring ceiling and their jaws nearly hit the patterned grey stone floor.

“Welcome to the library of Alexiria, boys,” Callista said with a smile.

The children tore their eyes from the ceiling and looked around the room. They were inside an immense cylinder. The ceiling was a patterned disc sitting on top of the rounded walls, which the boys had only just noticed were lined with bookshelves at least eight metres high.

Hundreds of thousands of crinkly old tomes were stacked neatly along the shelves, their covers grey with a film of dust.

“What are all these?” Deveron asked, as he pulled a dark-brown leather-bound book from the shelf.

“These are documents written thousands of years ago by an ancient unknown civilisation. When the war first started, I came here with my friends. They were the only people I had left in the world. We found this library, and I began to read those books. Over the last hundred years, I have read them all. They tell of ancient history—age-old battles, angels, demons, dragons—all manner of fantastical things.”

Soren's eyes were wide with fascination, watching his mother carefully as she ran her hand across the bound spines of the books.

“How much of it is true and how much mere fairy tale, I do not know. But some of these books speak of things no person could possibly know of gods and monsters beyond belief and even of the future.”

“The future? That's impossible,” Soren said.

Callista smiled. “I thought so too at first, but whoever filled this library knew an awful lot about us, about our way of life, our family, me. How can that be when they were written so long ago? We could only surmise that the person, or people, who wrote them had magical powers of some kind. These books were written by something greater than a human. Something superior, something we should bow down to and follow.”

Deveron gasped. “Is this where you found The Book of Alcherys?”

Callista's eyes twinkled. “Yes. Right here.”