Chapter one
Preface
In the moonlit regionof the Krythodens territory, Chief Takoda, a man weathered by the wisdom of years, found himself facing a harrowing decision that weighed heavily on his shoulders.
The whispers of an unsettling presence had reached his ears, and the source was none other than a child—Ashwiyaa, a child whose essence seemed to dance on the edge of something otherworldly.
With a heavy heart, the chief turned toward his tribe.
Under the watchful gaze of the tribal council, Chief Takoda summoned Ashwiyaa, the child with striking eyes that held the secrets of ancient spirits. The magic he could feel sung from her like a beacon.
But this magic was dark, untamed and dangerous.
The air hummedwith tension as the chief spoke, his voice a solemn murmur carried by the evening breeze.
“Ashwiyaa, child of the Krythodens, your essence has stirred shadows within our sacred lands. Whispers of powers not meant for this realm cling to your footsteps. We, the guardians of our people, must tread carefully in the dance between worlds.”
The child, with eyes wide and innocent, looked up at Chief Takoda, sensing the gravity of the situation.The timbre of his voice was simultaneously calming and haunting.
The tribal council, adorned in ceremonial regalia, watched in silence as the chief made a decision that would echo through the wind and across their lands.
With a heavy heart, Chief Takoda uttered words that cut through the quiet night. “To protect the balance that sustains our people, you must be banished from our lands. You will no longer be part of our tribe. Your journey, young one, is not here.”
Katera and Kale didn’t even yell out in protest as their child was led away, and their eyes were filled with only half-hearted pleas; they knew the danger she posed to the tribe.
Harsh words were already being repeated through the tribe, such as “dark witch,” and hushed voices whispered of evil and soullessness.
Even at the tender age of five, the girl knew she was neither safe nor welcome in this place she called home. Tears welled in the eyes of the child, whose connection to the mystic energies was both a gift and a curse. The chief’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, a silent plea to the spirits for guidance in a realm where the boundaries between the seen and the unseen blurred.
The decision to send the child away, even one with the potential for supernatural abilities, weighed heavily on Chief Takoda’s spirit. As the moon’s gentle light illuminated the territory, the tribe stood united, ready to face a profound challenge that would test the very essence of their beliefs—a challenge that came in the form of dragons.
Chapter two
Ashwiyaa
“Justice isn’t always clean or kind. Sometimes, it’s served in the harshest ways—swift, unforgiving, and without mercy.”
Imake a conscious effort to breathe through my mouth, trying to block out the nauseating stench permeating the air. The foul smell of cat urine, mingled with the rotting garbage that lines these filthy alleys, assaults my senses with every step. It’s an acrid, pungent odor that clings to everything, seeping into my clothes and skin, refusing to let go. This is just one of the many reasons I despise coming to New York, a city that never fails to bombard me with its overwhelming and relentless presence.
My head is already filled with so much chaos that any additional time in New York is surely to push me over the edge into insanity.
I lean back against the coarse texture of the brick wall as I wait. Sighing deeply, I toss my dagger skyward, staring at its graceful rotations before catching it and repeating the motion. The silver blade catches the light from a nearby streetlamp, creating a momentary silvery flash, and a flicker of an image bursts in my mind before disappearing as quickly as it appeared. There is no use trying to hunt it out; the image will show itself when it is time. I learned that lesson in my teen years, after giving myself several bloody noses and migraines from trying to recall flashing images of other memories and thoughts.
The sound of a rodent scurrying by snaps me out of my musings, and I glance at my phone. The time on the screen reads 8:55 p.m. My target, Joe Cino, is due to leave his accounting firm around 9 p.m. Of course, “accounting firm” is a laughable cover for the real operation—smuggling contraband into the city. Drugs, weapons, and sometimes, tragically, women.
My attention drifts down the shadowed alley.
Any minute now.
A muffled cry draws my attention, sharpening my senses like a blade. I spot a man, just the one I was waiting for, dragging a young woman from a back door, his hand clamped tightly over her mouth. With a rough shove, he throws her to the ground, the dirty pavement scraping her skin. She struggles, her eyes wide with terror, but he leans over her, muttering something I can’t quite make out.
A familiar tension coils in my muscles, my body instinctively readying itself for action. This isn’t part of the plan, I remind myself, but the thought barely registers. I’ve seen enough. He doesn’t deserve the chance to walk away unscathed, and she doesn’t deserve to suffer one more second at his hands.
I slip my phone into my pocket, my movements silent as I step out of the shadows. The night is my ally, and I use it well. The man is too absorbed in his cruelty to notice me, too confident in the isolation of the alley to anticipate what’s coming.
His mistake.
“You embarrassed me tonight!” Big Joe yells, his voice echoing off the walls of the empty alley.
