Prologue
Once,therewerefourgreat kingdoms.
Kingdoms of power, of plenty, of prosperity.
Now, only three remain.
Within a lone mountain, at the heart of the lost kingdom of the gods, rests a sleeping force. A force that can move mountains and decimate lands. A slumbering power that has not been disturbed for centuries.
Through the quiet, eternal stillness, there is a rustle on the wind. A shift in the peace that promises change. A single word is carried through the massive tunnels on a breeze, racing and tumbling as it nears the opening of the cavern in the mountain.
Aataran.
Aataran.
Aataran.
There is a sudden silence, as if the very earth itself held its breath. The waves at the shoreline cease crashing, the trees swaying in the wind still. She has not been awoken in centuries. Only for the greatest threats to the kingdom, the most violent forces of nature, is she to be summoned. She cannot ignore this call, this urgent warning of something greater coming.
She opens her eyes.
Aataran.
Part One
Breathe
Chapter One
Isla
IslaBeltharepulledthelast strap of the saddle bag to Buttercup, clipping the buckles with a satisfying snap. She quickly ran through a list of all the supplies her father and brother would need.
Dried meat,check.
Extra clothes,check.
Plenty of coin,check.
As a special treat, she slipped a few crisp apples into the bag. The window for growing the rare fruit in the colder climates of north Evonlea was closing rapidly as they neared the heart of autumn, and she wanted something to cheer them up on the long journey.
Buttercup turned his head toward Isla and nudged her hand. “I can’t get away with anything, can I?” she chuckled as she pulled one of the apples out and held it up to the stallion, patting his tan nose affectionately. Buttercup snorted and took the apple, nuzzling into her touch.
“That’s a good boy,” Isla murmured against his soft mane. She gave the saddle bag a tap and said, “Take care of them out there.”
Buttercup’s short ears flicked up at approaching footsteps, and Isla turned.
“Thanks for getting it packed up for us, Lala,” her twin brother, Arden, called from the steps of their modest home. He headed toward the small stable where Isla stood, dressed in simple but warm travel attire. His onyx cloak was fastened tightly around a thick sweater, the fur-lined hood already pulled over his ears. The hard grass crunched under his sturdy black riding boots as he neared.
Isla rolled her eyes at his nickname for her. It might have been sweet when they were children, but at twenty-two years old she hardly considered “Lala” befitting of her age. Still, she couldn’t hold back the smile that brushed her lips every time he said it. The gods knew she was only wasting her breath trying to get him to stop.
“You’re all set.” She smiled, probably a littletoobrightly. The days when her papa and Arden left home were always hard; she dreaded each journey more than the last. But she knew they needed to make a living, and she’d learned long ago that she would never succeed in dissuading them from crossing the waters to trade in the neighboring kingdom of Karstos. Her father and brother were the most stubborn people she’d ever met.
Well, besides herself.
Their father followed shortly after Arden. A mahogany cloak swished at his heels as he pulled on a pair of leather gloves and made his way to the twins. His light brown hair had been slowly graying, and he chose to keep it cut close to his scalp. His short, scruffy beard was also flecked with white and new wrinkles on his face were beginning to show his age. Despite his years, he was still strong and capable—one of the most successful hunters in their village.
“Please be safe, Papa,” Isla said as she met him at the entrance. She hugged her father tightly, knowing he would chide her for being too paranoid but unable to resist the safety and warmth of his arms.
