Prologue: The Fall

The alternating blasts of frigid and heated air were the only warning received before the fae royals swept into the throne room followed closely by their entourage. Ulin, king of Athar, rose from his seat to acknowledge them.

“And to what do I owe the honor—”

The king’s greeting died on his lips as he noticed the grim expressions worn by the monarchs. It was also noted their entourage this time was not made up of its usual members but that of armored knights. This was no social call. The King’s Own, four of which stood at posts surrounding the throne tensed, while their captain, whom the king had just been speaking to, took up a casual position to the king’s right side and let his hand drop to the hilt of his blade.

The raven-haired queen, Theita, of the Winter Court gave the captain and his men a dismissive glance before addressing the king.

“The accords have been violated, King Ulin.”

Beside her the fair-haired, Iliana, of the Summer Court remained silent but nodded her agreement.

“By whom?” Ulin asked with a frown.

“Your son,” Theita’s lips twitched in a barely concealed sneer. “Tyar.”

Her anger was a palpable thing as the temperature dropped significantly. King Ulin suppressed a shiver while his breath frosted the air in front of him.

“And the violation is to such a degree that you come before me with a contingent of your own army at your heels?”

“We wish only to discuss the matter at present, Your Majesty,” Iliana said spreading her hands in a placating gesture while she shot her counterpart a sharp look. “The knights accompanied us by the insistence of the Winter queen. I am, however, confident we can reach an agreement regarding the issue and the use of force will not be required.” She gave Theita another pointed look. “By either side.”

“What are the prince’s transgressions?” asked the captain.

“They are many,” Iliana said quietly. “The most grievous of them, specifically, not even a fortnight past, he along with the heads of each of the Noble Houses of Athar attempted a coup with the intent to destroy us using the very gifts we blessed you with. They launched simultaneous assaults on both of our courts.”

“They failed.” Theita added.

The fair-haired queen closed her eyes a moment before continuing. “We need not remind you of the terms of our agreement. We bestowed magic to your people with strict guidelines to govern its use—”

“And now you dare to turn against us,” Theita interrupted, her tone cold. She smiled ever so slightly, gaze fixed on the king. “The abuse of power has been ignored for far too long and you have turned a blind eye to your son’s actions. We will no longer sit idle.”

“You dare threaten the king?” The captain spat.

The Winter Queen’s eyes took on a faint blue glow as her gaze shifted from the king. The temperature dipped lower still.

“I suggest you guard your tongue, Captain, I do not make threats, only promises.”

The captain took a deliberate step in her direction.

Ulin placed a restraining hand on his captain’s shoulder. He shrugged it off but remained standing where he was, his jaw clenching. He shot the winter monarch a look of contempt. Theita smiled darkly.

“We had hoped, Your Majesty, that an agreement could be made without further incident,” Iliana said.

“What sort of agreement?”

“A relinquishment of power.”

The king gaped at the queens. “You can’t be serious.”

“You have left us with no other choice. It has become painfully clear that your people cannot be trusted with such abilities.” Iliana said.

“You would strip us of what has defined us as a kingdom? You have no right!” Ulin sputtered.

“We have every right!” Theita snapped. The brightness of her eyes flared and frost began to spread along the stone floor from where the winter queen stood. “You have brought this down upon yourselves.”

“You planned this!” the captain snarled drawing his weapon free. Behind him The King’s Own drew their blades also.

Theita gave the captain and his men a bitter smile. “Place blame where you wish. The fact remains that the accords have been broken by one of your own and there will be repercussions.”

“You have one last chance,” Iliana interjected, stepping forward spreading her hands in a placating gesture. “This need not escalate any further. I give you my word if you surrender your son and his supporters to us now we will withdraw peacefully and seal our borders to your kingdom.”

The king’s gaze narrowed. “No.”

A thin layer of ice began to glaze the steps to the throne and climb the walls. “Don’t be a fool Ulin!” Theita hissed.

Iliana looked to Theita and shook her head slightly. Theita sneered in return but reigned in her temper slightly. The king addressed the summer queen.

“I am not rejecting your proposal as of yet. I simply wish to be allowed to confirm the validity of the charges being leveled before I—”

“We cannot allow that,” Theita countered in a tightly controlled voice.

“On what grounds?”

“It has been whispered, Your Majesty,” Iliana replied carefully. “That you have known all along of your son’s actions, and in fact support him.”

Theita gave the king a predatory smile. “Well now, that would make you just as guilty…”

Rage colored the king’s cheeks. “Get.Out.”

“King Ulin, you must understand, we cannot take such risks and are only acting with everyone’s best interests in mind.” Iliana said. “We are doing what we must to ensure the safety of all our kingdoms.”

“I will not stand here and be falsely accused,” The king retorted. “If you will not allow me the time I need to address my son and to make a decision regarding what will affect my entire kingdom then there is nothing else that needs to be addressed here.”

“You are refusing to cooperate then?” Iliana asked.

Ulin’s gaze narrowed, hands clenching at his sides as small arches of lightning formed around his fists.

“I am.”

“Then we will take what is ours by force.” Theita snarled.

The blue glow of the Winter Queen’s eyes brightened and spread to surround her as a spear of ice formed in her grasp. Beside her Iliana spoke a soft word and a long sword appeared in her hand, power rippling from it like a heat wave. A chorus of crystal sang behind them as the fae knights drew their weapons.

The winter queen leveled the spear in the king’s direction without another word. The fae knights rushed forward accompanied by a barrage of dagger-like shards of ice.

                                                            *****

“What you are proposing, Prince Tyar, is suicide.” The elderly man who spoke rose from his chair and stabbed a finger in his host’s direction. “Your coup has failed; your men were forced to retreat. They very nearly died in the attempt!”

“Don’t you mean our men, Lord Kulthain?” Tyar replied with a cold smile. “Or have you already forgotten that your men stood alongside my own as well as the rest who are seated at this table?”

Kulthain grimaced, did not reply, and sank back into his seat. An uncomfortable silence stretched for several minutes while the eight men around the table shared measured looks.

“Contrary to what you all may be thinking this new venture has several advantages over the old.”

The prince stood up to gesture to the plans that lay spread across the table. “Besides these revised tactical arrangements we also have a new weapon. One those pointy-eared bastards will not be expecting, that can actually hurt them. The time has come to prove who the true gods of this realm are.”

“Pray tell how exactly do you plan to do that, princeling?”

The men around the table startled at the sound of the new voice and looked in the direction from which it had come to see a man step out of the shadows who had not been there just moments before. The torchlight played across the midnight blue velvet tunic he wore and set the silver crescent moon brooch that secured his cloak in place to glittering. Black pants and boots matched the thin black bladed sword he held loosely at his side. Elegant pointed ears proclaimed his heritage. He gave the men a chilling smile and held up a hand as they scrambled to get to their feet while attempting to draw steel. Every single one of them effectively froze in place at his gesture. The fae’s smile widened.

“Please don’t get up on my account.”

                                                             *****

Kieran sighed in irritation when the flames of the hearth behind him froze solid. He snapped the spell book he had been reading shut and looked up from his desk to the man who stood across the room just in front of the large oval mirror that adorned the wall. He intended to berate the intruder for interrupting his work but instead choked on the scathing rebuke, eyes widening at the sight of the fae covered in blood. Kieran slowly stood up from his chair while his gaze remained fixed on the man. The fae gave Kieran a patronizingly cold smile.

“I know what you’re thinking, what could I possibly be doing here?” His smile widened marginally, his ice blue eyes glimmered with barely contained glee and something a bit more sinister.

“I know it isn’t for simple pleasantries,” Kieran replied and tilted his head giving the blood spattered clothing and bloodied sword a long look. “What happened?”

The fae glanced down at himself, seemingly unconcerned at the state of his person, and then shrugged giving Kieran another smug smile. “The result of your brother’s failure,” he said as if that explained things.

Kieran froze for but a moment at the declaration and then glanced toward the door before meeting the fae’s gaze steadily. He casually let his left hand drop to the rune inscribed rod that hung from his belt, a move, he knew, the fae did not miss.

“He’s dead then?”

The fae gave an acknowledging nod. “Along with the others. My mother was specific in her command to clean up the mess Tyar left behind.”

“And you’re here to kill me now, is that it?”

The fae laughed a little. “While that thought is entertaining, no, that is not the reason I sought you out.”

“Then what do you want, Cirs?”

Cirs wiped the blood from his blade before returning it to its sheath.

“I need you to find someone for me.”

“Who?”

“The Star-born.”

Kieran snorted.

“The Star-born is nothing more than a fairytale told to children.”

Cirs’s smile widened a fraction. “What if I told you she wasn’t?”

“Then I would ask what the crown prince of the winter court could possibly want with her and why you would even need my help.”

“What I want with her is of no concern of yours. And I am asking for your help because as of now you are the last remaining mage in the realm and the only one capable of doing so.”

Kieran went very still.

“What do you mean, I’m the last?”

“My mother, along with the summer queen, have concluded negotiations with your father for the relinquishment of the powers we bestowed. Our gifts have been removed from all who wielded them, save, that is, for you.”

“If that is true, then what is to prevent my power from being taken?”

“Me.”

“How very reassuring.” Kieran replied dryly.

“You have my word. Find and deliver the Star-born to me and I will ensure your power remains untouched.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You won’t.”

Kieran folded his arms over his chest.

“Come now Kieran, cease with the games. I know you would do anything to keep your powers.”

Instead of answering Kieran drew the slender rune carved wooden rod from his belt and pointed it at the fae spitting a word in an ancient tongue. Orange colored fire pooled at its tip and then shot across the open space in a roaring fireball. The ball of flame erupted against the wall and dissipated leaving Cirs standing calmly in the exact same spot as before as steam rose from his clothing and hair. He gave Kieran a look one might give an unruly child.

“Was that really necessary? I would have thought that fool of a mentor would have taught you better manners than that.”

Kieran threw another fireball as he maneuvered around his desk. As soon as the flames left the rod he began another incantation. Arcs of blue lightning danced along the runes this time before travelling up his arm and spread to surround him in a blue-white halo of energy. He snarled the last word that would release the spell and hurled the lightning. Cirs did not remain still this time. With an almost bored expression he held up a hand, palm out, and halted the flames in mid air, then deftly countered the lightning bolt without so much as batting an eyelash. Before Kieran could attempt another spell Cirs snapped out a command of his own in a melodic sounding language and flicked his wrist. A thousand shards of ice assaulted Kieran and threw him back against his desk. There was an audible crack as the wooden surface splintered under the force and he crumpled to the ground with a groan. The rod clattered to the floor and rolled away out of reach. Kieran had barely managed to get to his hands and knees before Cirs was on him.

The fae grabbed Kieran by his hair and jerked his head back to a painful degree to stare into the fallen man’s eyes. What Kieran saw in the ice of Cirs’ gaze as they began to glow a brighter silver chilled him to the core.

“You should know better than to think you can match power with me,” Cirs hissed.

Kieran had no breath left to form words and wheezed painfully, reaching up to grasp the fae’s wrist. There was a flash of gold light as Kieran released power from a small woven band of gold he wore upon his hand. The air filled with a sizzling sound and the smell of burning flesh. Cirs recoiled with a curse and released his hold. The mage had no time to recover however as the fae smashed his fist into the side of his face. Kieran collapsed back to the ground.

“Insolent mortal!”

Kieran managed a mocking, bloody smile. “I would rather die than help you.”

Cirs drew a dagger from his belt. The blade emitted a soft blue glow as it came free of its sheath, radiating a cold that Kieran could feel from where he lay. Cirs smirked.

“Kieran!”

Before Cirs could deliver his blow he was suddenly knocked over by a slip of a girl who barreled into him full force. Surprise registered for the briefest of moments across his features. He managed to maintain his grasp on the dagger as he and the girl tumbled to the ground in a heap. Cirs recovered first and before Kieran could gain his feet the fae prince stood with the blade to the young girl’s throat.

Kieran struggled to his knees and shook his head. “Let her go.”

The blade pressed closer. A single bead of crimson appeared on the girl’s neck. She whimpered.

“I’ll have your answer first.”

Kieran gritted his teeth. “A bargain then: ensure my sister’s life and my powers remain intact…and you have my word I will find and bring you the Star-born.”

Cirs regarded Kieran for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting in a fraction of a smile.

“Done.”

The room grew colder as the prince’s power swelled, and the silver glow of his eyes brightened to a painful intensity.

There was an explosion of ice. Kieran’s sister screamed suddenly. It was over in a matter of seconds and Kieran was left trying to blink spots from his vision. When they finally cleared he stared in disbelief. Cirs stood alone, his aura dimmed, and his eyes returned to their normal ice blue, holding a single long stemmed white rose in his hand.

“Where is she?” Kieran rasped and lurched to his feet stumbling in his haste to reach the prince.

He grabbed Cirs by his tunic. “Where is Thyra?”

Cirs clucked his tongue and gave Kieran a patronizing smile, holding up the rose. “Careful now. We wouldn’t want to damage any of her petals…”

Kieran looked at the rose in horror and recoiled, letting go of the prince’s soiled clothing. “Dear gods what have you done?”

Cirs gave Kieran a patronizing smile and released the rose; it floated, surrounded by a soft silvery glow. “Call it an incentive to keep your end of the bargain.”

“Change her back.”

Cirs chuckled and shook his head, moving back to the mirror that adorned the wall. “That is not how the rules of this game work. Thyra will be returned to her human form, provided you bring me what I have asked for. However, for each cycle of the moon that passes without the delivery of the Star-born the rose will begin to wither. Take too long and she will die. It is your choice how long she suffers.”

Weakened though he was, Kieran snarled and lunged at the prince. “Damn you!”

Laughing, Cirs stepped into the glass and vanished just as Kieran’s fist shattered its surface.

                                                           *****

Kieran stood silently watching the flames consume the bodies of the dead. The wind whipped his cloak around him carrying with it the scent of snow.

“Is that all of them?”

He looked over his shoulder as an elderly man came to stand beside him and gave a grim nod, turning his attention back to the fire.

The elder sighed and slid his arms into the sleeves of his robe. The wind caught the hood of his garment and tugged it free. Fine pointed ears peeked through his tousled silver hair. “Well I must say the prince is nothing if not efficient. Those lucky enough to survive the night have fled, aside from myself, the twins, and that stubborn woman of a cook you employ.”

“They did not deserve this,” Kieran said with a sneer and gestured toward the flames.

The elder man nodded. “Agreed.”

Kieran rubbed a hand over his face then focused on his companion. “Have you been able to gain entry into the throne room?”

“No. I’ve tried everything I know. Whatever the queens used to seal the chamber cannot be breached.”

“Then I will try.”

The old man snorted and shook his head, giving Kieran a dubious look. “You are in no condition to even attempt such a feat. It would kill you.”

“I am more than capable of reversing the spell, Naiyr.”

“You are tapped out.” He sighed at the indignant look received and reached out, placing a hand on Kieran’s shoulder. “Give yourself time to heal, then I promise we will figure something out together.” He smiled faintly. “I am confident we will rescue your father.”

Kieran growled and shrugged off Naiyr’s hand.

“There is no proof he even still lives,” He replied, giving the fire and Naiyr one last contemptuous look. Bitterness laced his tone. “Besides, I learned my lesson trusting promises from fae.”

Without waiting for a reply Kieran turned his back and walked away.

                                                              *****

Three weeks later

It was almost moonrise by the time Kieran had climbed the last of the stone steps that led to his tower. He unlocked the door with a small silver key and slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind him. He had cleaned it up as best he could and now the room was sparsely furnished. Three bookshelves lined the far wall filled with various tomes and a writing desk sat under the only window, moonlight trickling in between the pulled back curtains. A small marble topped table stood in the center of the room. The rose, suspended by its magic, floated above the tabletop surrounded by a cage made of iridescent crystal. Three fallen petals lay scattered beneath it.

Kieran stood gazing at the rose for several silent minutes. As he watched another petal shivered and fell from the bud to land beside its brethren. An answering ripple of pain echoed through Kieran as the petal landed on the cold stone surface.

“I’ve come to set you free,” he stated with as much confidence as he could muster. He ignored the faint tremor in his voice and the pain that still pulsed through his limbs.

He carefully removed the cage and set it to the side, continuing to talk to the flower.

“I promise you, Thyra, I’ll make things right,” Kieran’s eyes glittered with rage. “And once you are human again I will hunt Cirs down and kill him for what he’s done.”

He warded the door with a gesture then set about casting the circle to encompass the table on which the rose resided and himself. By the time Kieran heard the faint tolling of the village church bells that rang the hour of midnight he was panting from his efforts. Pain sluiced through him, a bitter reminder that he was already pushing his limits. He ignored it and called on his magic.

Sweat broke out along his skin as the Power awoke and encircled him, wrapping him in a pale red-gold aura. It then snaked out to touch the circle, igniting the symbols that lay etched into the four cardinal directions. The last toll of the village bell echoed within the chamber and as its haunting note faded into the night Kieran began to chant. The magic answered and rushed to fill the room, setting it ablaze with colors. Pain flared again along his injuries, and again was ignored. He would not stop now. The spell slowly began to take effect, condensing into a swirling multi-colored mist that danced around the rose melding with its own silvery aura. The rose began to shift, first in color, its petals becoming stained with crimson along their edges, and then in shape as the stem and leaves began to twist and grow. Kieran quickly withdrew a small dagger from his belt and slashed his hand. Squeezing it into a fist he forced the drops of blood out to complete the spell.

The sanguine drops hissed like acid as they touched the cold surface of the marble. And then something went horribly wrong. The colors swirling around the rose turned black, shot with silver and midnight blue. Kieran choked on the final words as a searing pain shot through him and doubled him over. A roaring sound filled his ears and with it a building pressure in his chest. There came a cracking sensation then and he couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from his throat. With his concentration shattered the magic turned upon its master. A hellish wind knocked Kieran off his feet and tossed him like a broken doll against the wall. His head struck stone and stars exploded across his vision. The last thing he heard before everything went black was what sounded like mocking laughter.

                                                                *****

It was still dark when Kieran finally came to. Everything hurt. Groaning, he managed to push himself to a sitting position but almost passed out again as the room spun dangerously. He waited for things to settle and tried to recall what had happened…

He forced his eyes open, his heart in his throat for fear of what he would find.

The chamber was in ruins. Books lay scattered, torn to shreds, papers strewn everywhere and the circle had been scorched into the floor.

Kieran blinked several times as there appeared to be a hazy film over everything in sight and the room snapped into sudden sharp relief. He cringed as a thousand different sensations assaulted his senses all at once. He swore, he heard a mouse at the bottom of the stone staircase of the tower while the musty smell of the books mingled with the acrid stench of the burnt floor made him gag. Then he saw the rose.

‘Thyra!’

Where a white rose had once rested now was one encased in a crystalline sheen, its white and crimson stained petals glittering beneath the shiny coating. The silver shimmer still surrounded it and held it suspended above the overturned table. His own discomfort temporarily forgotten he braced himself against the wall and pushed himself to his feet determined to ensure the rose had not been inadvertently damaged further, and stopped suddenly when he noticed his hand.

Short claws adorned the tip of each finger and his skin had become as pale as winter snow. He frowned, and shook his head, carefully picking his way through the debris and over to the table. He would sort out his issues later, nothing mattered more in this moment than Thyra. Kieran gave the rose a cursory look over and it appeared, aside from the crystal coating, to be unharmed. He breathed a sigh of relief leaned in for a closer inspection, then caught his reflection in the glassy surface of the rose’s petals and froze.

A beast stared back at him.

Next Chapter: Chapter One-Snippet-Unedited