Prologue
King Ovalis Hinde
Thousands of Years Ago
The smoking remains of a fallen star blanketed my lands with the promise of further destruction. I felt certain dread as I looked upon the charred wheat fields just outside of Moonstone, the capital city of Talaven. My closest advisors gathered around me, tension in the tight lines of their faces and in the whites of their knuckles as they clutched their weapons.
“It feels like death.” Areila edged in front of me as if to shield my body from the rot we all felt creeping toward us. Smoke danced into the wind, and the ground itself seemed to ooze with hate where the fallen star had left behind a perfect circle of black. The ash pulsed, as if it were alive.
Weeks ago, we’d spotted a brilliant white comet streaking overhead. We’d thought it nothing more than a curiosity. The astronomers had eagerly charted its path through the sky and predicted the moment it would fade from view.
But it never vanished. It turned its path towardus.
“This was no normal falling star.” Marrk, the lead astronomer of Moonstone, turned toward me, his golden nose hoops glinting beneath the morning sun. “There is some strange magic in this. I can feel it in my bones.”
“As can I,” I said tightly.
With a frown, I inched closer to the edge of the blackened ground, my emerald silk robe billowing behind me. We were no strangers to magic in this land, but unlike the fae across the Bantam Sea, we mortals were not born with powers. Any gifts we possessed came from gemstones—the emeralds, moonstones, amethysts, tiger-eyes, and onyx we mined from the mountains that stretched along the western coast of our island kingdom.
Still, magic delivered from the heavens above was a discomforting thing indeed.
“Ovalis,” Areila warned as I stepped past her. “Stay away from there. We do not know what it will do.”
“Someone must find out,” I countered. “The city gates are a mere mile from here. If this is some kind of dark magic, or something that might spread, we need to prepare the people of our city to leave.”
Areila paled. “Leave? And go where? There are thousands in the city. Tens of thousands. There’s nowhere else in this kingdom that can house them all.”
“Which is why someone needs to discover whether this is a danger to them. I do not want to force the people of Moonstone to leave their homes unless need be. And yet, I will not ignore this threat. Someone needs to touch that dust and learn what it is.”
I took another step toward the circle of black, readying myself. I was the King of Talaven. This was my responsibility, no matter the weakening of my knees or the tightness in my chest. I would protect my people, even if it killed me. There was no other option.
“Your Majesty,” Marrk cut in, casting a nervous glance toward the loyal guards on either side of me. They had not objected, though I saw the fear in my heart reflected in their eyes. I had taken a vow to protect my people, buttheyhad taken a vow to protectme. Watching me walk toward a circle of potential death went against their every instinct. But they would also cut anyone down who tried to stop me.
“Do not try to talk me out of it, Marrk. You know it must be done.”
He nodded, his neck bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I will do it. It should be me.”
I paused, my leather sandals only inches from the ring of rot. “You?”
“Your Majesty, if this is indeed a dangerous magic that could destroy an entire kingdom, your people will need you to lead them to safety. You are beloved and trusted. Your death would only cause chaos.”
“He has a point, Ovalis,” Areila called out. “If our people must flee, let them flee by taking your hand, not your son’s.”
I closed my eyes at the thought of my son, who had come into this world kicking and screaming and balking against his duty from his very first breath. With a heavy sigh, I nodded. “Very well, then.”
Marrk’s boots crunched the dead grass just beyond the circle of destruction. I opened my eyes and braced myself as he carefully knelt, splaying his fingers toward the dust and ash. He cast me a nervous glance and then nodded.
“The stars be with me,” he whispered.
He pressed his palm to the charred ground. For a moment, nothing happened, but I did not dare blink or even breathe. The only sound was the rustle of my silk robe rippling in the wind. And then the ground pulsed—just once, but it was violent enough to knock me sideways into Areila. My guards shouted and grabbed my arms, hauling me away from the blackened ground.
Marrk sucked in a gasp. His eyes rolled back, and then he collapsed.
Panic clutched my heart. I shook off my guards and rushed toward Marrk, grabbing his ankles and pulling him away from the ash. His body was limp, but his chest still moved—only slightly, as if his lungs struggled to pull in enough air. With glazed eyes, he stared up at me, unseeing.
“Areila!” I shouted. “Go fetch a healer!”
Marrk blinked. Fear rushed across his lined face, and he clutched my hand, pulling me toward him. “No, Your Majesty. Go fetch a scribe.”
