Prologue
Once, there was a kingdom of light, a land untouched by the heinous acts of the wicked souls beyond its veil. Its people spent their days in jovial comfort, knowing but never speaking of the anguish inflicted by the black forces outside their realm. Until one day when an elderly woman appeared at the castle, requesting an audience with the king. Hearing of the oracle’s presence, he welcomed her into his throne room with open arms. The king, expecting her to regale him with visions of prosperity for his luminous kingdom, sneered as the seer weaved a tale of a great darkness surging forward, overtaking the small kingdom, and twisting his people and their magic into an unnatural evil matching its own. From his imperious throne, he ordered his men to remove her from the castle, laughing as they dragged the frantic woman from his sight.
“A contemptuous crown. A fool where a man should sit! You can stop it,” she spit, struggling to her feet from where his soldiers had tossed her to the ground of the ornate courtyard. “Mark my words, contumely king, my face shall be the last one you see before you fall. Woe all who share your bloodline, for only the five can right the mistake your arrogance makes this day. Your granddaughter, a child of light, born from love, shall tie them all. Displaced from her home, adversity will strengthen her, heartbreak will humble her, grief will enlighten her, and the love of her four protectors will fill the cracks your actions create, making her queen. The darkness cannot stand against her light, but at what cost?”
With that, the woman stumbled from the courtyard. Temporarily gone from sight and mind. As was her warning. The days turn to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years, and though they lived on in peace, confident in their safety, a war raged on, outside Bergljot’s walls, inching closer by the day. The king pushed away all thoughts of the darkness, choosing to ignore any signs of danger. Surely, no threats were lurking in his shadows, not in the kingdom of light.
As the king grew older, so did his only son. Where he was a stubborn and conceited bore, the prince matured into a perceptive, kind man, falling deeply in love with his true mate. The aging king watched with an uneasy curiosity as his son celebrated the upcoming birth of his firstborn. A girl to be born of love just as the oracle foretold.
Fear grew in the king until he refused to sleep, claiming the seer's face mocked him in the night's stillness, planting visions of shadows and death in his dreams. Finally, succumbing to his panic, he sent for the old woman. Pacing in his throne room, the king became unhinged when his soldiers returned, bringing with them the news of the oracle’s passing and offering only a small text they seized from her daughter.
The king obsessed over the handwritten text, locking himself away in his throne room, pouring over ancient books and magical tomes, looking for any way of harnessing enough power to defeat the looming darkness on his own. Refusing to allow an infant girl and her future mates to control the fate of his kingdom, the king devised a plan so devious even the shadows tucked away in the corners of his sanctuary swelled with excitement. Confident in his decision, the king went to work, setting the stage for his stolen victory, hiding his vile intentions within the very thing he was fighting.
Then one night, alone in the silence of his throne room, the king was visited by an unexpected ghostly apparition. The gossamer form of the woman he so viciously mocked stared back at him with hollowed cheeks and seemingly unseeing eyes, yet he knew she saw far more than he.
“Tell me, seer, is it too late?” His voice trembled with head held high but knowing his fate was sealed.
“You cannot stop it. Not anymore,” her voice echoed off the bare stone wall, sending chills down his spine. “Tell me, king, do you love anyone as you do yourself?”
Seeing straight to his heart, she snarled, “No. I can smell your disgrace and know of your treachery, coward. I meant the book you seized from my daughter to find its way here, but not to you. Your plan to harvest the powers of the five is proof enough that the darkness is here, ruler of the kingdom of light with the blackest of hearts. Your granddaughter and her mates shall live, but the betrayal your son will feel, learning of your plot, will cause them to flee Bergljot, losing themselves and their magic. You, king, will die tonight, and your kingdom will wither without the light of their tiny savior. This is your legacy. They will not remember you as the king of light because you are the shepherd of darkness. The beginning of the end.”
The following morning, the Prince found his father lifeless on his throne, crown inverted upon his head and grasping a small book. Pocketing the text, the prince called for the guards and retired to his quarters to grieve in peace with his mate. Knowing time was short before they would expect him to announce his father’s passing and take the throne himself, the prince found comfort in his wife. Basking in the warmth of their bond, he placed a gentle hand on her round belly, smiling at the strong answering kick against his palm. The love of his small family renewed his strength for what was coming because, once his daughter took her first breath in this world, they would run. Though the grief already threatened to crush him, he and his mate would disappear through the veil to safely hide their child in the mortal realm. The Prince was a perceptive man, vigilant concerning the threatening darkness, and the small book pried from his father’s frigid hands cemented what he already knew in his gut to be true. This realm was no longer safe for the infant who already owned their hearts, so they would flee, paying a hefty price for the magic exerted to keep her safe without hesitation.
The payment for her anonymity? The very memories that tied them. Sacrificing their conscious love, he hoped the very threads that connected them would one day see fit to bring them back together. For darkness cannot stand against the light. And their love was the lightest of all.
Part I
1
Ottilie
“Oats, wake up.”
“Luca?” I shake my head, rubbing my eyes to rid myself of my latest nightmare.
“Yeah, you’re safe. We heard you shouting from outside, and your pops sent me in to check on you.”
“Everyone still up?” I roll over, searching out the flashing red numbers on my side table to find the motel clock reading just after three AM.
“Not really, it’s winding down. Most of the guys either passed out around the pit or grabbed a room,” He grimaces. “Axel has been watching your door like a hawk all night, but now that I’m in here, I figure he and Liza will crash too.”
“Good. I need some air,” I sigh, throwing off the blankets, and stand, pulling on a pair of denim shorts. “This room is suffocating.”
“Catch.” Luca tosses me one of his hoodies. “It’s chilly out, and your t-shirt is threadbare. Best we not go asking for trouble, Oats.”
“It’s your shirt, Luca.” I smirk, pulling on his hoodie and walking over to the motel door. “Ready?”
“Yup.”
Once we sit, relaxing around the smoldering fire pit, I lean into my best friend, cuddling in when he wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“Same dream?”
“Yeah, but brighter. Clearer.” I shiver. “It felt real, Luca. I can’t shake the feeling of being watched even when I am awake. I’m chasing a shiver and throwing salt into shadowed corners. It’s ridiculous. I’m not sleeping,” I whisper.