Prologue
With blood streaming from his swollen knuckles, he carefully parted the thick pages of the Ancient Fae book. He reached for a single sheet of paper tucked into the spine, its surface marred by stains and blotches where moisture had both blossomed and faded, leaving behind a tapestry of dried memories. Despite its stained appearance, the paper was folded with exacting precision, every edge crisp and deliberate.
Bathed in the gentle blue glow that radiated around him, the page of the book before him became illuminated, drawing his attention fully. As the soft light caught the words, he began to read, the silence of the moment punctuated only by the sound of his breath and the distant hum of innate power lingering in the air:
Taken From “The Gods’ Children - Origins By Unknown” Found In Castle Of Thorns Library.
The Origins, firstborn children of the Gods, were entrusted with the keys to creation, granted their own fledgling realms to forge their magnificent Kingdoms.
Terra, the Goddess of Nature, chose the most vibrant canvas for her Kingdom of Kaladia. She painted the Kingdom with breathtaking strokes: forests that whispered with the soft glow of bioluminescent life, vast open plains where silvery rivers twisted and turned through the lush emerald grass, and soaring mountains whose mist-shrouded peaks gave way to deep, humid caverns humming with hidden vitality.
It was a creation of such sublime and perfect beauty that Terra endowed her realm with two distinct races of the Fae.
First came the Equitae, the spirited and graceful Horse Shifter Fae, designated as the Guardians of Kaladia. Each noble Herd was a living conduit of power, gifted with enhanced Strength, Speed, Stamina, and Spirit. Their inherent power was channelled through the Enchantra, power-infused gems that ensured the safety and integrity of their Kingdom and its inhabitants.
Then to be, the nurturing heart of the realm came the Earthbound, the beautiful and wild Earth Fae. Upon them Terra bestowed her Gift, a tapestry of magical powers woven to keep the Kingdom fertile and eternally thriving. The simpler Gifts allowed for Nourishing and Healing, while the stronger Gifts commanded Growth and Amplifying. Yet even a Goddess cannot escape the shadow of her own nature. Her darker, more primal essence manifested in the rarer Gifts: the one-minded fury of the Warrior, the twisted destruction of Thorns, and the faceless assassin of Shadows. And to bind the two Fae races inperfect balance, the rarest Gift of all, a piece of her own heart, was entrusted only to the purest among the Earthbound Fae.
Terra gazed upon her Kingdom, believing it to be a flawless creation, a testament to pure balance and unity.
His bloodied hand slammed the book shut, the echo of its impact ricocheting around the otherwise silent library. In a single, decisive movement, he drove the dagger down with forceful intent, piercing the ancient leather cover. Without a backward glance, he turned and strode away, vanishing into the awaiting shadows as they swallowed his presence whole.
The only sound remaining was the low hum filling the air as the dagger quivered where it stood, blood trickling down its golden blade and pooling in a spreading crimson stain across the battered leather beneath.
Part One – The Love Story
“The oak fought the wind and was broken, the willow bent when it must and survived.”- Robert Jordan, The Fires of Heaven.
“I saw that you were perfect, and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect, and I loved you even more.”- Angelita Lim
Chapter One
Alaya
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Heller shouts as he flops down beside me on the grassy hill overlooking the Western Pasture.
The fury radiates from his skin like a wave of flame-touched wind as I glance over my shoulder to look at him. His blond hair is more dishevelled than usual, bits of straw tangled in the short, wind-ruffled strands. Deep blue eyes glint like flint under darker blond lashes, his brow furrowed, his full lips tight with indignation.
“What did he do this time?” I chuckle and reach over, pulling a piece of straw tucked into the collar of his brown, work-worn shirt. Like I didn’t already know.
“Oh, you know, Alaya, the usual crap our royal pain-in-the-arse Prince decides is his daily form of entertainment.” He sighs, plucking at the grass, his Growth Gift swirling in green tendrils from his hands as the strands regrow. The sight elicits a sharp stab of yearning to the empty void within me, where my own Gift should be.
“Not happy with simply treating me like dirt, the arrogant bastard tripped me up and rubbed my face in it too. Unlucky for me, I also ended up with a mouthful of horse shit.” Heller gestures to his face and shirt with a sweep of his strong, work-calloused hands.
I grasp his shoulder in a friendly, relaxed gesture. “I did wonder what that Gods-awful stench was, Hel, but I was too polite to ask.”
The outward indignity softens a little from his face as he takes in my grin. I know quite well what it’s like, having been on the receiving end of the Prince’s unwelcome attentions all too often in the ten years I’ve been living within the fortified walls of the Castle of Thorns.
“Be thankful you don’t have to marry him,” I say, the easy smile falling from my face, replaced by something harder, something more real. The words hang in the air between us, heavier than I intended them to be. I can feel the weight of what I’ve just said settling over the conversation like a dark cloud.
Heller turns away for a second, as if he can see past into the usually well-guarded truth behind my eyes. That small but telling gesture threatens to ruin this tranquillity—hanging out with Heller at the Western Pasture—and I instantly regret letting my guard slip, even for just a moment.
The Castle of Thorns has been my home for ten of my twenty years alive in our Kingdom of Kaladia; since my father’s death and my mother’s forced enlistment into King Malaxor’s Thorn Guards—the King making me his ward and arranging for me to marry Prince Kiernan, his only son. I’ve grown to accept my fate, built walls like those encircling the castle around my heart, shielded my emotions behind pretty smiles and gestures.
My hand drops from his shoulder and I turn away, looking out over the Western Pasture. The beautiful, majestic horses graze lazily, tails flicking and ears twitching. Twilight is just touching the sky; the soft, almost dark muting the pinks, blues, and oranges to pastel hues. The tall bioluminescent trees surrounding the pasture paint a kaleidoscope of colours onto the dark stone of the vast wall behind them, making it lookpretty and less foreboding. It almost makes you forget where you are.
Almost.
Heller reaches out and lays a hand lightly on my knee. I tear my gaze away from the sight before me, back towards him, and cover his much larger hand with mine. Beneath all the dirt and straw, bright red flushes his sun-blushed cheeks. He really is handsome.
