Chapter 1

“Neiran, close your eyes! No peeking!”

The boy sighed and closed his eyes. “Fine, Vierna, I’m closing my eyes.” It was his fifteenth birthday, and everyone inside the castle was getting ready for the party later, but Vierna had insisted on giving him her present early. It was a best friend secret, she said. For their eyes only. They were seated at a table in the gardens, next to the twin trees Lord Ravonaar had planted for them. Nieran put his hands over his eyes. “There, look, definitely no peeking. Can I have my present now?” He heard a small thump on the wood in front of him.

“Alright you can open your eyes now!”

Neiran did so, and leaned forward to inspect the box Vierna had sat on the table. It was a very small, intricately carved wooden box, with a hinged lid. Carved from oak, whoever had created it had done so with a loving, talented hand, making the dragons that were carved on the lid seem lifelike, wind beneath their wings as they soared over the tiny mountains. Running his hands on the scales, he looked up at his best friend in awe. “Vierna, this is a princely gift! It’s amazing.” He turned the box over in his hands, finding the carver’s signature mark on the bottom. “From Finley? Even more amazing.” The woodsmith was notorious for never taking on new projects, preferring to stick with long-established clients.

Vierna blushed at his praise. She shook her head, causing her copper curls to bounce. “You have to open it, Neiran.”

He did so, revealing black velvet with two small coins nestled within. Each had a likeness of one of the dragons imprinted into the metal. Lifting one out, he draped the leather cord over his finger, admiring the intricacy of the design. He pushed the box towards his friend. “You take the other,” he said, tying the cord around his neck. “They will be our links to one another. If we ever get separated.”

“Well, that won’t ever happen. We will always have each other.” She took the other necklace and fastened the clasp behind her neck. Smiling, she closed the box and pushed it back towards him. “But you’re right. Just in case. Happy birthday, Neiran.”

“I think we have time to go to the docks.” Standing up from the table, Neiran stretched. He grinned at the girl beside him. “Race you.”

“You haven’t got a chance.” Whirling, she took off running, jumping over the small stone wall that surrounded the garden.

“Cheater!” Neiran raced after her as peals of laughter rang through the air. Scrambling up a wall, Neiran swung himself over the roof of a nearby house, kicking loose a few tiles as he did so. Leaping from roof to roof, he spied Vierna weaving through the alleyways of the neighborhood. “I’m catching up!” He grinned at her startled face as she glanced up at him.

“Eyes front, Neiran!” Vierna shouted at him as he skidded to a stop, roof tiles flying as he did so. Swinging his arms to correct his balance, he breathed a sigh of relief. “That was close.” Had he not been paying more attention, he would have thrown himself off the roof of the house right on the edge of the city, dashing himself on the rocks below. Scanning the ground for his friend, he frowned as he saw her waving to him from the docks. Climbing down the wall of the building, he trotted over to her. She was giggling.

“Told you I would win.”

“Except you cheated. We didn’t start on three.”

“There’s no fun in playing by the rules, Neiran.” She began walking backwards down the docks. “Let’s stop in and see Gil?”

“Yeah, alright. Not too long though. I don’t want to have Abraxas come looking for me.” He followed Vierna as she pushed open the door of the seaside pub. Gil was another friend, and his mother and father owned the restaurant. Neiran and Vierna stopped by to see him often, and they were always treated to some of his family’s famous stew and homemade bread. Warm air greeted them as their ears were filled with the music and laughter that filled the pub. Pushing their way to the counter, the pair smiled at the plump lady behind it.

“Well, if it isn’t Master Neiran and Lady Vierna! Shouldn’t you two be up at the castle getting ready for a grand feast?”

“Our day wouldn’t be complete if we didn’t stop by to see you, Kat.” Neiran grinned at Gil’s mom as she waved his comment away.

“Oh, hush up Neiran, flattery will get you nowhere.” Winking at Vierna, she glanced at the stairs. “I believe Gil is up in his room, and I will send up some stew in a just a minute.” Turning to head to the kitchen, she stopped at the doorway and looked back. “Oh, and happy birthday, Master Neiran.” Smiling, she watched the two as they took the stairs two at a time. Shaking her head, she headed to get them their stew.

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“Cadoc, have you seen Neiran?”

Cadoc looked up as Lord Ravonaar entered the Great Hall. The lord of the castle cut an impressive figure. He was incredibly tall, standing at almost 7 feet, and his thin body only added to the illusion that he was taller. Ravonaar loomed over everyone in the room, and all eyes always fell on him. He was muscular, but lean, and had a very regal look about him. High cheekbones, slightly slanted eyes that were vibrant gold. He let his long black hair hang freely down his back, with two small warrior braids just in front of his ears. Today, Lord Ravonaar was dressed in simple leather armor, with a cloak fastened along his shoulders. Servants hastily bowed to him as he walked over to Cadoc. Ravonaar nodded as he looked around the room.

“Preparations are going well, aren’t they?”

Bowing, Cadoc fell into step beside Lord Ravonaar. “Yes, my lord, everything is running on schedule. Zara has been working double time in the kitchen, and the tables are almost set. We are just finishing up some last minute touches before the guests begin to arrive.”

“Very good.” Ravonaar smiled at his seneschal. “How are you, Cadoc? You’ve been running around all day long.”

“Oh, I’m quite well. Anything for Master Neiran. It’s his fifteenth celebration—that’s a big day for young men. “He held up a finger as Ravonaar opened his mouth. “Before you ask again, yes, I have seen Master Neiran today. He was in the garden earlier with Lady Vierna. I believe she was giving him her present. They were beautiful, my lord. Necklaces wrought with the image of a dragon on them. Lady Vierna did a good job picking those out for Master Neiran.”

Ravonaar chuckled. “A dragon? How fitting for the boy.”

“Yes, I thought so as well. Master Neiran is incredibly interested in the history of the lost races, and the dragons have always been his favorite.”

“Of course. Well, Neiran is no longer in the garden. Everyone has reported that the boy is nowhere to be seen.” Inclining his head to Cadoc, he turned to leave the hall. “It seems," he said over his shoulder, "that I must once again send the general into the village after my son. Abraxas has always been the best at finding people. For now, I must be ready to receive our guests. ”

"No doubt it has something to do with General Abraxas being a Sithrii demon. He has better senses and intuitions than us all."

Ravonaar chuckled at the slight awe he heard in Cadoc’s voice, waving at the guards to let him into the Throne Room.The door closed softly behind him, muting the din from the hall. Ravonaar strolled up to the dais, where Abraxas was waiting with a messenger.

“Rav! The kid here was telling me he had very important messages for you—they all look like those replies you have been waiting for.”

Ravonaar waved a hand at the messenger, who bowed, casting a fearful look at Abraxas, and scurried out of the room. Sharp laughter filled the room.

“Rav, you have to hire people who aren’t terrified of me. It’s funny, but it gets tiresome after a while.”

“Stop being so intimidating, then,” murmured Ravonaar as his eyes flicked back and forth over the messages. Abraxas was right; they were all replies to the invitation he had sent for Neiran’s party. As he arrived at the last scrap of paper, he squinted. It was written in an old code that he hadn’t seen for many years. Holding it up for Abraxas to see, he lowered his voice. “Did you see this message?”

Peering closely at it, Abraxas’s eyes widened. “No, I didn’t. It’s from Rhiann, isn’t it?” He thrust a claw at the letter. “She invented that code, I’d recognize it anywhere. What did she say?”

Scanning the paper, Ravonaar frowned. “She says she’s felt like someone has been watching her lately. Just an uneasy feeling, although she hasn’t been able to pick anything up. Looks like she was supposed to meet up with her brother, but she decided to stay and travel on her own. Should be here tonight, though. As should Kyrr. We can talk about everything this coming week…after Neiran’s party.”

“Have you talked to him about training yet? I can always train him, you know.”

Ravonaar looked at the demon general, who stood nearly as tall as Ravonaar himself, but where Ravonaar was thin and lean, Abraxas was just the opposite. He was large, stocky, and muscular, with sharp claws instead of fingers. His skin was a dull grey hue, and his eyes were pure white, as was his hair which he wore in a single stripe down his skull. “I think you still intimidate the poor boy, general,” Ravonaar wryly said. “He should probably begin with Captain Valon, but I do want you there to keep an eye on him.”

“He’s grown up around me, I’m not sure why he is still intimidated of me.” Abraxas rolled his shoulder. “Boy couldn’t handle himself against me just yet anyways.” He grinned at his friend. “But don’t worry, Rav, I’ll make sure he gets the training he needs.”

Ravonaar nodded. “Excellent. Do you think you could perhaps find him? Apparently he and Vierna have run off somewhere. I am assuming they left the castle grounds, as they no longer in the garden where Cadoc first saw them. Perhaps the village, as usual.” Ravonaar straightened and clapped Abraxas on the shoulder. “I have faith in you, my friend.”

“They probably headed to the docks. That’s where all their friends are.” Abraxas shook his head at Ravonaar’s blank expression. “Don’t you pay attention when the kid talks?”

“I was probably busy at the time. Just find him in time for the party. Please.”

Abraxas waved a hand over his shoulder as he left, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Lord Ravonaar sighed and rubbed his brow. He sat down in his throne with a huff and closed his eyes. Neiran gave him a headache. The boy never listened, especially not now, already 15 years of age, and more headstrong than ever. No thanks in part, Ravonaar thought darkly, to that girl. Vierna Malfien had entered his life at roughly the same time Neiran had. She was a pretty young girl, with hair like flaming copper and sharp blue eyes. She seemed to have a knack for finding trouble, and a curious habit of dragging Neiran with her. The two had met when Neiran was six years old, a year and a half after Ravonaar adopted him, and had been inseparable since. She was the adopted daughter of the local blacksmith, and took to Neiran straight away. Ravonaar had no doubt that Neiran spent all his time trying to impress her, and he had wheedled Ravonaar into planting those blasted trees in the garden. It was a gift, he had said. A way of thanking Vierna for her friendship. Obviously more of a way to show his feelings for the girl. It was a constant source of worry for him, since they were always hanging around the docks and the ruffians that lived there. Neiran was a member of the noble house of Cragheart, a fact that the boy seemed to constantly forget. Ravonaar was always correcting his messes and apologizing on his behalf.

A knock at the door startled him from his reverie. “Yes, come in.”

The door eased open and a slim figure slipped inside. Walking over to the throne, he bowed low. “Lord Ravonaar, I thank you for the invitation.”

“Kyrr!” Lord Ravonaar stepped down and embraced his friend warmly. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“You as well, my lord. Where is Master Neiran?”

Lord Ravonaar swept his arms out in front of him. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve not seen him since breakfast, although that is somewhat of a blessing. It has been easier to prepare since he is not underfoot the whole time. I just sent Abraxas out to locate him.”

“Yes, I spoke with him outside. The general said you believe he is spending time with a girl?”

Ravonaar narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Yes. Her name is Vierna Malfien, and she is a nuisance. She is constantly getting Neiran into trouble, which in turn embarrasses this house.”

“Forgive me for saying so, my lord, but he is only fifteen years of age. Are you to begin his training soon?”

“Yes, beginning tomorrow, I believe. Abraxas will oversee the training, but the boy will be exercising with Captain Velon.” Ravonaar looked up as the doors to the throne room burst open. Abraxas was grinning and pushing a very sullen looking boy forward.

“Neiran! So nice of you to join us. The guests will be arriving soon—some have already shown up.” He looked over his adopted son. “Luckily, you seem to have not ruined your clothes, but your face does need to be washed.”

Neiran glowered at his father, standing tall and proud, with his general on his right, and a stranger on his left. He squinted at the stranger. Obviously not human, the man was no taller than Neiran, but incredibly thin. He seemed almost delicate. Neiran heard the stranger’s whispery voice as he and Abraxas had approached the room, and had seen the large black staring at the pair when they had entered the room. His skin was a very pale blue, and Neiran could see the thin claws the stranger had instead of normal hands.

“Neiran!”

Neiran jerked out of his contemplation of the stranger. He slowly lifted his gaze to stare at Lord Ravonaar, who was glaring at him.

“Please, go and see Cadoc. Have him help you clean up for the party.”

Neiran swept forward with a mocking bow, then turned on his heel and left the room. Leaning against the door, he pressed his ear to the wood to listen to the conversation inside.

“Was the girl with him?”

“No. She must have ran off just before I got there. I could smell her.”

“At least she left. I don’t want her around for the party.”

Neiran pushed himself away and sighed angrily. Glaring at the two guards grinning at him, he crossed his arms and stomped away. Turning down the hall, he angrily rubbed at the dirt on his cheek. He was glad he had told Vierna to leave in time—he could sense Abraxas coming, and everyone knew Ravonaar did not like her—he wasn’t sure if Vierna would have been dragged back with him. Ravonaar did not like any of Neiran’s friends, now that he thought about it. The dock rats were too good for the mighty Lord Ravonaar, member of the esteemed and noble Cragheart family. Neiran scoffed. Craghearts. Apparently a very old and large family, but Neiran had only ever met one other person, besides his father. He never heard mention of any other members, either. It was always just Ravonaar and his uncle, Draerios. He didn’t even remember any tomes about the history of the family.

Neiran walked the stone corridors, deep in thought. As he made his way through the castle, Neiran grew uneasy. He glanced back over his shoulder to see an empty hall, with a slight echo of noise from the Great Hall. Shaking his head, he continued on his way to see Cadoc. Still though, he could not shake the feeling he had, and he repeatedly looked over his shoulder. He picked up his pace and walked quickly around a corner. Neiran closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the wall and took a deep breath. He edged towards the wall and peeked around the corner. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of a black blur that quickly faded as his eyes fell directly upon it. He could only see the darkness if he looked to the side, never directly. Taking a deep breath he flew in to the hall.

“Who are you?! What do you want?”

Neiran’s voice bounced off the stone and echoed down the hall. He turned his head to look at the blur, but it shifted and dissipated.

“Come back! Who are you? Why are you following me?”

“Master Neiran? Whatever are you shouting at?”

Neiran turned to see Cadoc hurrying toward him with a worried frown. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and bent his head to look in Neiran’s eyes. “What’s wrong? You look quite shaken.”

“Cadoc, there was something following me down the hall. I saw something like a shadow.”

The seneschal looked down the hall. Eyes searching, he stared for a minute, then looked back down at Neiran. “I see nothing, Master Neiran. Perhaps your eyes were playing tricks on you? Maybe the candlelight?” He pointed to the sconces lining the hall. “Sometimes I myself see strange shapes cast from their shadows.” He patted Neiran on the shoulder. “Come along. We must clean you up before the guests finish arriving. Dinner will be soon.”

Neiran followed Cadoc, glancing once more over his shoulder. He knew what he saw. Shadows don’t make someone uneasy. He let Cadoc scrub his face, comb his hair, and smooth his doublet. Neiran stood there woodenly as Cadoc fussed over his clothes, finally deeming him respectable enough to be presented to Ravonaar. He was ushered out of his room and down to the Great Hall, where Cadoc left him to go see Zara in the kitchen. As he stood in the doorway, Neiran looked around the room full of strangers, until his eyes landed on a familiar face. He briskly made his way through the crowd, smiling and nodding at well-wishers.

“Captain Velon, it’s good to see you.”

The captain of the Royal Guard swept his cloak out to the side as he bowed. “Master Neiran, the pleasure is all mine. Happy birthday, sir.”

“No need to bow, Captain. But thank you.” Neiran chewed his lip. “Have you seen father around? I need to speak with him.”

“Not yet, sir, but I too need to speak with him. We must discuss your training regimen.”

Neiran looked up in surprise. “Training? I’m to begin training? With you?”

“I thought you had already been informed. My apologies.”

“No, this is great news! I’ve been waiting to start with a sword. Will I also learn archery? How often will we train? What sword will I be training with? Are we using dummies?”

Velon laughed and held up his hands. “Slow down, Master Neiran. To answer what questions I may, yes, I believe you will also be trained in archery. As for your other questions, that is why I must find Lord Ravonaar. But, Master Neiran, if you don’t mind…” Velon rubbed his brow. “Try to act surprised when you hear of the training?”

Neiran promised he would, and he stood with the captain for some time, making idle chatter as they watched all the guests. They continuously arrived in a stream, and Neiran was only dimly aware of the herald announcing their names and titles. These weren’t really his guests, after all. He looked over as he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“There he is, Master Neiran. Walking to the throne.”

Neiran followed Velon’s pointed finger to see his father and Abraxas had entered the room from the rear door, with no sign of the stranger Neiran had seen with the pair earlier. Turning and thanking Velon, he wove through the people to the stairs. Quickly bowing, he hurried over to Ravonaar.

“Father, I need to talk to you about something I saw earlier.”

Ravonaar glanced at Neiran, then up at Abraxas. “Can it not wait until after your party? I have many guests to greet, and the food is getting placed on the table.” He nodded towards the servants ferrying out dish after dish. Neiran’s mouth watered as he noticed all his favorites were set out.

“Father, I really think it’s important. I had the strangest feeling—“

“Ravonaar. So you are alive.”

Neiran froze as a deep, booming voice cut him off. He slowly inched closer to Abraxas and turned toward the new arrival. Towering over Neiran—and Ravonaar, Neiran noted—was a figure dressed in black armor that showed clear signs of battle damage. The breastplate was heavily scarred, and his gauntlets were well worn. There was a heavily faded symbol etched into the chest, but Neiran did not recognize it from the parts he could make out. Spikes jutted out from a piece covering a shoulder, but his other shoulder was bare, showing skin that was brownish gold. His arms were wrapped in leather and cloth, but his gauntlets were plate as well, coming up over his elbows in spikes. He wore heavy boots that were styled in the same way as his gauntlets, with spikes shooting out over his leather leggings. A single red scrap of cloth was tied around his upper left arm, tattered and muddied. The hilts of two swords stuck out over his back, one wrapped with braided leather, and the other with the same symbol he wore on his chest etched into the hilt. Like Ravonaar, he wore his hair long with two braids hanging in front of his ears. The top half of his reddish hair was tied back with a strip of leather, and his eyes burned an intense gold. The stranger gave off an intense feeling of power, pressing down on Neiran from all sides.

Ravonaar pushed himself up slowly from his throne, and stood face to face with the stranger. Neiran was shocked to notice that his father seemed to be almost a foot shorter than the stranger. He was even more shocked when his father bowed his head, and he and the newcomer firmly clasped each other’s arms.

“Of course I’m alive. I just was tired of you bothering me, so I never answered your messages.”

“That a rude way to act towards your older brother.”

Neiran looked up at Abraxas in shock, then turned back to the two brothers. If this was Ravonaar’s brother, then this was the only other person in the Cragheart family Neiran heard mention of—Draerios. He had never seen him in person, he just heard his father and Abraxas discuss him from time to time. He swallowed as he realized Draerios was staring at him.

“This must be the boy, yes?” He looked at Ravonaar for clarification, and grunted at the answering nod. “He’s certainly small, isn’t he?”

“He’s only fifteen years of age today, Draerios. He will grow.”

Abraxas laughed. “You also have a family of giants, Draerios, so it’s unfair to call him small.”

“Indeed.” Draerios knelt down to Neiran’s level, leather creaking and plate clattering as it made contact with the floor. “Strange. He looks very similar to you, Rav. Yes, I know you’re adopted, boy.” He cut Neiran off as the boy began to open his mouth. “That’s why I thought it strange. But your coloring is similar to ours. Your hair color and eye color are different, though.” He straightened and exchanged a glance with his brother, something that Neiran did not miss. Draerios looked hard at Abraxas. “Have you begun training him, general?”

Ravonaar cut in. “His training is to begin tomorrow, brother.” Looking at Neiran, he said wryly, “Surprise. You begin training with Captain Velon at sunrise.”
Neiran did not even have to pretend to be surprised, because Draerios snorted and drew Ravonaar’s attention. “You have not even started the boy’s training? He should have started at least two years ago, little brother, if not more. You are wasting a lot of time and potential.” He shook his head. “Were he mine, he would have had a sword in his hand before he saw his tenth winter.”

“Well, he is not yours, and I wanted him to have some semblance of a normal childhood before I thrust a blade in his hand and sent him off with the army.” Ravonaar glared at his brother. “He also had his other lessons to attend to, so I made sure to educate him, and not turn him into a brute.” Draerios shook his head.

“You are too soft, Ravonaar. You always have been.”

Ravonaar opened his mouth with a retort, but was cut off by the herald announcing dinner. Lord Ravonaar shot a glare at his brother, who ignored him and made his way to the table, with Abraxas and Neiran following closely behind. They took their seats, with Lord Ravonaar at the head, Abraxas on his right, and Neiran on his left. Draerios took the seat next to Abraxas, as Ravonaar stood and held up his hands for silence.

“Welcome, everyone, to Castle Cragheart. We are here today to celebrate the birth of my son, Neiran, as he begins his journey into manhood. Thank you all for attending this important day in this young man’s life.” He bowed his head to the applause and turned towards his son. “Neiran, I have a gift for you in honor of your growth.” He beckoned to Cadoc, who presented him with an oblong packet wrapped in the skins of a white wolf. It was tied with long leather wraps, and Ravonaar carefully accepted the package from Cadoc, turned, and handed it to Neiran.

Looking up at Ravonaar with wide eyes, he set the skins on the table in front of him to unwrap the ties. The skins fell away to revel a shiny black scabbard, with a leather wrapped hilt protruding from the top. A black opal caught the candlelight in the hall and glittered at the pommel. There were runic inscriptions on the scabbard that Neiran did not recognize, although he could tell that the sword hummed with power. Stepping back from the table—a safe distance from his guests—he unsheathed the weapon, holding up a long blade of pure silver. There were more inscriptions etched near the hilt, along with that same strange symbol his uncle wore upon his breast. Neiran looked at the mirror-polished blade, his own green eyes staring back at him.

As he stood in awe of his gift, Ravonaar nodded and smiled at the guests once more. “This is a gift not only from myself, but also from my elder brother, Draerios”—Draerios inclined his head—“and is the customary item presented to members of the Cragheart family when the young come of age.” He turned towards his son. “Though you were not from my loins, I cherish you as my own, and our family deems you worthy of the name. As long as you carry this sword on your back, you carry the power of our clan behind you. Your family will protect you for eternity, no matter the foes you face.”

Neiran swallowed. “Thank you, father, Uncle Draerios. It is a princely gift.” He carefully sheathed the blade and handed it back to Cadoc. “I will train my hardest and do you proud—prove myself worthy of such a blade.”

“Come, my boy, let us sit and eat.” Draerios beckoned to the servants, who jumped to start the procession of plates. As the guests began to chatter amongst themselves and laughter and the clanging of utensils filled the hall, Abraxas leaned towards Neiran.

“You know what comes now, boy?”

Neiran shook his head, unable to speak around his mouthful of food.

“You must come up with a name for your sword. All the best swords have names. I know you’ve heard of some in your books, right? Good,” he smiled at Neiran’s fervent nod, “I look forward to hearing it.”

“Uncle Draerios? What are the names of your swords?”

Draerios stared at Neiran as he finished chewing. Just as the boy began to squirm under his penetrating gaze, he swallowed and cleared his throat. “They are named things that you would not be able to pronounce in the common tongue. Well,” he rubbed his beard, “translated as best I can, my second sword is named Brightblade, and the sword I received for my coming of age gift is called Stormbreaker.” He looked down at his nephew. “I will teach you their true names when you learn the ancient tongue, and I will also help you name your sword in the language as well, should you need it.”

Neiran nodded his thanks, and turned his attention back towards his plate, thoughts whirling in his mind. Ancient language? He had studied all the ancient languages his instructors had introduced to him, and no doubt his father had told Draerios about his studies. And what was that strange symbol that was popping up all around him? He had many questions for his father, but they would have to wait until after the celebration. The thought of things to discuss with his father reminded him of the mysterious shadow he glimpsed earlier, and he gave a sideways glance in his father’s direction. He was intensely discussing something with Abraxas, and Neiran could not discern the subject over the din of the guests around him.

Neiran frowned at his dinner. He did not want to wait—he had no idea what he had seen, but the memory made him feel ill. He would not be forgetting that sensation any time soon.

At long last, after the guests had eaten their fill of dinner and dessert alike, Lord Ravonaar stood and clapped his hands. As the noise settled and all eyes fell upon him, he raised his voice.

“Thank you to everyone who attended this evening. A very special thank you to all in the kitchen, who made this wonderful feast under the eye of our beloved Zara. We are truly lucky to have such a wonderful chef.” A light applause broke out as the chef blushed and curtsied. “Those who have traveled far—I already spoke with you individually—your rooms have been prepared, and you can look to Cadoc to lead you. As for the rest—“

The end of his speech was lost as the doors burst open and snow billowed into the hall. A lone woman stood at the threshold, one arm dangling limply at her side. A wound in her side was bleeding freely, silver blood pooling on the floor, and black locks were plastered against her face. Black eyes met green as she locked eyes with Neiran, who sat frozen at the table. She glanced up to Lord Ravonaar, who was briskly making his way towards her, with Abraxas and Draerios close behind. As she started forward, she stumbled, and collapsed on the floor.

Ravonaar reached her first and slowly helped her stand. Neiran watched them intently as his father leaned his head down to listen to the woman. The boy saw her lips move but could not make anything out—she was speaking too quietly, and whispers ran through the hall as the guests clamored to see. He did not miss his father turn pale, and his mouth set in a grim line. He looked at Draerios and handed her to him. Ravonaar faced the guests and bowed.

“I apologize, my lords and ladies, but I must attend to this…situation. It cannot be avoided. Cadoc and Milligram, our horsemaster, will see to you that all are taken care of.”

He swept out the room without another word, Draerios and Abraxas trailing behind with the woman. The guests were milling towards the door in confusion, with Cadoc attempting to restore some order to the chaos. Neiran watched everything from his place at the table. He hadn’t moved, not an inch. He was trying to make sense of the events that had transpired that evening, from the mysterious shadow to the strange symbols…and now this woman. Neiran dimly noticed that she and the stranger his father had been speaking to earlier were the same race. Both had large, black eyes, bluish skin, and thin claws. He glanced towards the door his father had entered, and noticed the stranger slip inside.

Neiran looked around the room, satisfied that all adults were distracted. He walked quickly—quietly—to the same door, and slipped inside.

He could not wait to tell Vierna.

Next Chapter: Chapter 2