Sitting, I realize I’m in my bed and wonder when I moved over here, remembering I fell asleep in the antique chair. A chill runs through my body as I glance toward the fireplace, the embers barely flickering now in the black ash. Noticing a glimmer in the shadows, the most subtle movement puts my senses on high alert, and I realize I’m not alone.
“Hello?”
I whisper in the direction of my sitting area. A black hooded figure emerges from the shadows, barely hovering over the floor. Horror floods through my system as I scramble backward in my bed, my back flush against the headboard. The creature shows itself, and I wish it had stayed hidden. Long arms and an unnervingly thin body are draped in a black cloak that hangs low, only showing its wide mouth. It doesn’t speak; it silently studies me and my movements. My magic reacts to its presence as I push down the feeling of letting my darkness loose.
My hand moves through my tangled sheets, searching for something to protect me in this moment. I have nothing but the darkness within me to shield myself from this situation, and I’m not willing to consider that possibility. I turn my head toward the creature, ready to fight, but it vanishes.
I’m alone in my bedroom, left with the icy remnants of where the creature once was. I exhale sharply, the memory of my dream hitting me at once. Never have I dreamed of a real face I could perceive in my nightmares. It’s been almost five years to the day since I last saw that exact same creature standing in my room a few nights after my mother died.
I scan the room one last time and step off my bed, faking the courage I’m exhibiting as I head out of the room. I can’t stay in here any longer. As I near the kitchen, I hear Rose and Lang fighting over adding spice to the soup.
Feeling more at ease, I plop down on my usual spot on the bench, which has grown worn from my constant presence, and massage my temples.
“What’s eating you up, Briar? Dare I say you look more gloomy than normal.” Lang laughs, and Rose punches his shoulder and shushes him.
I have no idea how to explain these last few hours to myself, let alone someone else, so I keep my silence. Rose strides over to the table, her composure always perfect, as she puts a bowl of soup in front of me. “I’m not leaving until you eat this, and I live here, so I’ve got a long while to wait. Eat.”
To my surprise, my stomach growls so loud I receive an approving smirk from her.
Still reeling from this day, I finish the entire bowl of soup as another is immediately set down before me. It’s refreshing to be around people who don’t care who I am or what family I was born into. Their bickering continues back and forth as I finish my third bowl, thinking I might have to be rolled out of the kitchen.
Rose moves toward me to take my empty bowl, “One day, Princess, you are going to travel to Brinkym with us. It’s been years since we’ve been back, but you need to get out more! Your father keeps you cooped up too much. Plus, don’t you have a friend that lives there?”
I nod. “I wouldn’t call him a friend. We were children when they used to travel here. The Homberns haven’t been to Daramveer in ages!”
“Well, it’s settled. I’m going to ask your father if we can travel sometime soon,” Rose smiles. “You know, your mother used to spend as much time in here as you!”
“You and my mother were close?”
“You could say that! The castle doesn’t seem so big once you’ve been here for as long as we have. It’s hard not to know everyone.”
I’m startled when the training alarm sounds for the soldiers in the castle. Every day, they train in vigorous combat, preparing for Gods knows what my father has planned. The King of Daramveer also allows any interested castle staff to train in combat. His paranoia is to blame for this, as it ensures that the people closest to him are fighters who would protect him if it came down to it. However, I’m not so sure anyone here would actually save him.
As the Princess of Daramveer, I’ve never been allowed to train, but that doesn’t stop me. I’ve been practicing archery for five years now, training almost every single day, along with whatever other weapon piques my interest. For years, I’ve collected various armor—all brought to me by people within these walls. Putting a “good word” in with the king goes a long way when the kingdom is run on fear. I’ve convinced many people in the castle to do things for me based solely on who I am.
As I walk through the bleak castle courtyard, I am immediately struck by the image of how this castle once thrived. The once stunning flower beds are overgrown, untouched for years, and the tall stone columns are entwinedwith vines that resemble hands reaching out to grab your throat as you pass by. Nothing in the castle has been the same since my mother died.
The night my mother died, we had been fighting over something trivial. Hours after our clash, I swallowed my pride and headed toward the wing where my mother slept when the head guard, Axl, stopped me. He informed me of the terrible accident that had occurred during a simple healing ritual. My mother had been drained of her magic and life force, unable to heal herself. She had been called to care for a poor family suffering from an illness and left the castle in the middle of the night.
My mother, Arieste, was the head healer in Daramveer and she was frequently called to assist with high-risk patients. She cared deeply for the people of this kingdom and would travel throughout the night to tend to the weak or infirm if they could not make their way to the House of Hedro, the healers’ main housing facility. These rituals could be dangerous, indeed, but never for her. She was strong and could wield the darkness without fear or hesitation.
Rituals were often used for healing purposes. Shadow and Lumor Wielders could call upon their Gods for help and request magic to flow through them to heal the sick. Most were successful in their healing efforts, but not all. Destiny had greater plans for those who were less fortunate, and they were called home to return to their final resting place. The day I vowed never to use my magic again was the day I chose to protect myself and my loved ones in other ways.
I arrive on the roof, the wind greeting me with a gentle push toward the weapons as if taunting me to begin. Since I’m not allowed to train with the others, this place has become a haven for me—an escape from the dark castle walls that suffocate me. I recall the dream I had hours earlier, the golden axes I held in myhand lie on the ground near me—the weapon with which I killed my brother.
It felt so real, so raw, and the darkness within me urges me to choose those weapons today—to wield them in my hands once more—to truly feel the weight of the destruction they can cause. I toss them further away from my station, the feeling making me sick as a loud clang reverberates around the roof.
As I begin, muscle memory takes over as I move through my drills. The tiny flicker of pain from exhaustion makes itself known as the fluid motions fill me with the closest thing to pure happiness and freedom. I twist and lunge through the open outside air. Sweaty, I move toward the roof’s edge, needing to rest my now-aching arms.
Plopping down on the ledge, I dangle my legs over—my stomach dropping for a second at the height at which I sit. I look out over Daramveer and am met with gray skies in return, the sun barely peeking through the clouds, casting a silver light throughout the town. A shock wave of sadness moves through my core as I look over the kingdom.
Daramveer is run down, and an overwhelming sense of sorrow leaks from the cobblestone streets. However, the public continues their lives—seemingly unaware of the darkness that follows so closely. The bustle of people going through their daily duties and the shrieks of children in the distant town below remind me of the once-happy childhood I had with Barlowe and Maines. The simplicity of life from my past is a constant reminder of my misery now.
As I regain my breath and the throbbing in my arm dulls, something catches my eye in the shadows far beneath. My father, Elrod, and Thatcher lurk in the shadows of the courtyard. The distance and whispering make it nearly impossible to decipher what they are discussing as they enter the back door of the castle.
“Where is Barlowe?”
Standing cautiously, I balance on the roof's ledge, carefully watching my footing. A chill runs up my spine at the thought of those three conspiring. A breeze travels around the roof, whipping my hair around my face.
