Page 6 of A Reign of Chromes & Shadows

Centuries of war and propaganda had twisted the truth further. Knowledge was fragmented, biased, contradictory. Rain was fortunate tutors from all eight kingdoms had given him a broader, more balanced understanding than most. Yet even he found no surviving texts explaining how the Aetherials had shifted from harmonious guardians to vindictive rulers. He suspected the same unknown catalyst that corrupted their nature had also diminished their abilities. To him, uncovering that truth should have been the realm’s highest priority.

Instead, the kingdoms descended into chaos. Kings waged endless wars for land, believing expansion would strengthen their rule. Greed clouded judgment. Mortals suffered beneath fractured, power-hungry reigns.

Under King Azrien’s rule the Blue Kingdom had become the most formidable and feared of all. Rain disagreed with the hatred and the wars, but his powers had made him a weapon, used far more often than he cared to remember. He did everything he could to shield the innocent—even from himself—but chaos often followed in his wake. Those who should have protected him instead exploited him, turning him into an instrument of terror.

Because of this, the enemy kingdoms viewed Rain Royale as their greatest threat. He had no doubt they would attempt to kill him on sight if given the chance. Crossing into enemy territory was always a risk. Yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Nightfall crept across the landscape, shadows blanketing the border. His black clothing rendered him nearly invisible from a distance. He moved low, creeping back onto the rooftop, pressing himself against the cool tiles as he peered over the edge.

The presence he’d sensed earlier sharpened—and Rain groaned inwardly.

A squadron of at least thirty was heading toward him.

Despite their numbers, anxiety rippled from them in sharp, frantic waves. Irrational fears bloomed inside Rain’s gut. He recognised the sensation immediately. It wasn’t his own fear but theirs, absorbed through his open channel.

Earlier that afternoon, he’d overheard his father discussing a recent incident: another Red shipment intercepted before reaching Grey territory, violating the treaty that allowed peaceful trade. The Blue Kingdom had agreed to that treaty. This breach was deliberate and underhanded. Rain wasn’t surprised the Reds were on high alert.

He focused on the squadron. Most were young cadets, barely out of training. The least experienced marched at the front, their nerves buzzing like static. Rain muted the noise of their anxiety before it overwhelmedhim, then sifted through them one by one—searching for the weakest link and the strongest anchor.

The weakest would reveal their true intention. Some minds were open books.

The strongest was different. Steady. Focused. Calm. Confidence radiated from him, sharpening Rain’s senses. Beneath that confidence lay indifference—routine. He had patrolled this route countless times and saw nothing amiss.

That was what Rain needed: certainty. Proof they would pass quickly.

The march came into view beneath the streetlights lining the Red border. Their blood-red uniforms confirmed his suspicion. A higher-ranking officer broke formation, pacing alongside the younger cadets.

“Onward!” he barked. “One, two, three, four! Private Rood, stop gawking and keep up! And wipe that look off your face, you disgrace!”

Rain watched a soldier mockingly salute the officer. “With that attitude, boy, you’d be the first to die in an ambush.”

Rain felt the private wince, retreating inward.

Then—without warning—hatred slammed into Rain.

ASSHOLE.

He thrives on picking on the weak.

He wouldn’t dare challenge me.

Someone should make him pay.

I could. I could break his neck with a flick of my fingers—

The intrusive thoughts spiralled, sharp and violent, threatening to drag Rain under.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip, grounding himself in the pain. These weren’t his thoughts. They weren’t even the private’s thoughts—just Rain’s interpretation of the man’s emotional energy. Useful, yes. But dangerous when the emotions were strong.

He slammed his mental wards into place, cutting off the channel. Control returned, but the memories of times he’d failed to control it rose like ghosts, dragging him toward despair.

He slumped against the cool tiles, panting through the self-loathing that churned in his gut. The soldiers marched on, unaware of how close they had come to death.

When they were finally at a safe distance, Rain reopened his channel, checking for any remaining threats. Satisfied, he slipped off the edge of the building and dropped three floors, using his power to soften the landing.

He darted across the road and vanished into enemy territory.

Chapter 3