Chapter 1
As the furious black waters crash violently against the hull of the grand ship, a shiver runs through me, and I feel the last warmth of sunlight seep from my skin like a fading whisper. The sky above churns with ominous clouds, and the scent of salt and storm hangs heavy in the air, mingling with my rising anxiety. Each wave seems to echo my racing heart, a reminder not just of the darkness that awaits me but of the fate I cannot escape—marriage to a Fae prince whose ruthlessness and cruelty has left our world in ruins. The weight of it presses down on me like the sea itself, waiting to consume me.
I close my eyes, not to shield them from the biting sea spray that lashes like icy needles, but to remember the warmth. I crave the sun on my skin, the feel of soft grass between my toes, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the laughter of the forest children echoing through the trees. With my eyes closed, I can forget the endless expanse of the Untold Sea, the haunting gaze of the crescent moon, and the looming shadow of Baev'kalath's island stronghold creeping ever closer.
With my eyes closed, I am home.
With my eyes closed, I am free.
Suddenly, a firm hand roughly grabs my arm, ripping me back to reality. Although he has never formally introduced himself, I have heard the other Mordorin warriors aboard the ship call him Arax. He looms over me, his armor gleaming even in the storm's dim light—sleek, tiered charcoal plates fitted like the scales of a predatory beast with spiked pauldrons as sharp as the blade at his hip. His helm is a steel shroud, black as ash, smooth and commanding, offering no glimpse of his features within the darkness. He has never removed it, and I have never seen his face.
“You were told to stay below deck,” Arax growls. “The storm worsens and the Untold Sea is merciless. It will tear you right off this deck and drown you in its depths.”
I glare at him, the hood of my cloak whipping sharply against my face in the unforgiving wind. “I am not a prisoner. I may go where I please.”
His chain-mailed hand curls tighter around my arm. “You’re lower than a prisoner. You’re a human traitor. If I had my way, I’d throw you overboard right now,” he hisses.
With grit teeth, I wrench my arm free of his grip, startling him. “That is not the truth, and you know it.”
Arax scoffs. “That’s right. Your people chose not to fight. You’re worse than traitors.Cowards.”
When he takes a heavy step towards me, I take a step back, only to find myself hard against the railing of the ship. I glimpse the raging waves crashing below, and realize it would be so easy for him to carry out his threat, but I hold my nerve.
“How do you think your prince will react when this ship docks absent a bride?” I ask sharply, and even in the dark of night, with the wind howling and the rain pelting down, I see the warrior’s throat quiver. “Is he a merciful prince?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
He snarls beneath his cowl. “Very well, human. But if you fall, it won’t be on my head.”
As he turns his back and his heavy black cloak whips up in the wind, I catch sight of the one vulnerability in his imposing armor. There’s no steel protecting his shoulder blades—only a web of harnesses that exposes his skin, revealing a maze of tattoos sprawling across his back. These markings are runes, but not the familiar ones I know. They belong to the Mordorin Fae.
I clutch the carved wooden talisman hanging from the leather cord around my neck, my thumb tracing the familiar, timeworn grooves of the rune etched into its surface. Unlike the Fae, who carry their magic branded on their skin, humans—or at least those fortunate enough to be trained—must rely on talismans to harness the ancient power. Where the Fae’s runes are a permanent part of them, mine is something I must always wear, a fragile link to a force far greater than myself.
For wearing such inherently Fae sigils, many on both sides deem my Sisters of the Vine and me abominations. Arax’s cutting remarks are nothing new to me and I have heard far worse. If he seeks to intimidate me, he is sorely mistaken. I have witnessed the true cruelty of the Fae. Forests reduced to ashes, cities crumbling into dust, women left widowed and children orphaned. Their actions have wrought centuries of immeasurable suffering, yet to them, such a passage of time is merely a fleeting moment in their eternal existence. Let the Fae despise me all they want—the feeling is mutual.
A sudden crack of lightning tears through the starless black sky and the boom of thunder that follows rattles me to the bone. My frozen fingers grip the railing to hold me steady and I feel my knees buckle when another wave pounds the ship. I fight to find purchase upon the slippery boards as water floods the deck, my eyes half shut to spare them from the harsh sting of the rain,but they are open enough to catch sight of a monstrous creature rising from the waves.
Lightning sunders the sky once more, illuminating the serpentine figure with its giant yellow eyes, weaving towards the ship at speed.
“There’s something out there,” I say, but another crash of thunder drowns out my voice. The creature gains ground, its massive jaws widening to reveal rows and rows of needled teeth. “It’s a monster! Turn the ship!”
My eyes dart to the crow’s nest, only to find it empty, and where Arax stood behind me a moment ago, now he is nowhere to be seen. In fact, the entire ship appears abandoned. It is only me, alone, staring down one of the ancient beasts the Fae once treated as pets.
My fingers loosen from the railing, but I’m almost swept away when another rough wave hits. I scramble to stay on my feet. What a miserable choice to make; let go of the railing and take my chances with the sea, or count the seconds before the beast reaches the ship and swallows me whole. The saddest part is neither fate is worse than what awaits me in Baev’kalath. I prayed to the Souls for mercy, for an escape from the bargain forced upon me. Perhaps this is my salvation. At least I would die knowing I had denied the wicked prince of The Mordorin a bride.
As the monster nears me, it unleashes a high-pitched shriek. My eyes close once more, and I think of home. The sun, the trees, the soil beneath my feet.Please let it be quick.
“Don’t just stand there, you foolish girl!” Arax yells as he reappears. He grabs my arm and yanks me away from the railing before tossing me across the deck, where a second Mordorin warrior catches me. “Frane. Protect the human!”
“Yes, Reaper Arax,” Frane replies, her voice carrying a soft edge that catches me off guard. In the ranks of The Mordorin,men and women fight and die side by side. I’d find it admirable if I didn’t despise them so much.
Frane’s dark eyes flicker through the narrow visor of her helm, distinct from Arax’s. Hers does not resemble a shroud, instead a fierce bird of prey, sharp and poised to strike. As I watch her, I catch the murmur of unknown words slipping from her lips, almost lost beneath the din of battle.
Then, with a sudden surge of power, wide, black wings unfurl from her back, enveloping us in a protective embrace. The feathers glisten, their surface smooth and glinting in the light, wrapping around us like an impenetrable shield forged from the very essence of night. My fingers instinctively reach out to touch the feathers. To my astonishment, they are impossibly soft and I can’t quite grasp how such delicate things can shield us from the chaos outside.
Another shriek from the sea beast steals my attention and I look up, finding a narrow gap between the Frane’s wings where I can see the sky and the glow of the crescent moon. A figure swoops above us, followed by another, and another, all with broad wings pinned back, accelerating through the sky with swift precision.
“Slay the Stormwyrm!” Arax commands. “Take it’s head!”
The wyrm’s screech slices through the night like razor blades, a sound that gnaws at my very bones. The sounds of battle erupt around me as The Mordorin clash with the Stormwyrm, grunts and shouts mingling with the clash of steel and flesh. Then, after a thunderous splash, an unsettling silence takes hold of the ship.
