During the Fall, the realm had fractured, a large crack that had taken lives, including those of the kings. A new Queen of Obscurité and King of Lumière had risen, a daughter and son of their respective courts. They continued to fight, though not in the same fashion. Queen Cameo had done her best to keep the peace, though it hadn’t looked as such. King Brokk, and his twin, Lord Durin, had broken the laws of the Maisons and sacrificed lives for their power. They’d used Bone magic and worse.
The crystals that kept the realms alive endured the most strain, the cost high. They bled power and thus created the Danes—former Wielders who had been stripped of their power but not their lives. They existed without Wielding in a world that required magic to thrive.
The fracture had also created the Negs, dark energy monsters that killed and worked for The Gray—a fact I hadn’t known until recently. The Fall had created chaos and doom. And a demise that was sure to come.
However, the prophecy brought hope.
A foretelling that was me. The Spirit Priestess who could Wield all five elements and somehow seal the breach.
Only that wasn’t happening.
Instead, the fracture had only gotten worse. The Gray had orchestrated more war, more battles. I had lost friends, family, and even a part of myself. It didn’t matter that I had found my soulmate because I wasn’t near him now, and the bond that we had created wasn’t enough to save those we loved.
The Gray was winning.
He had used the king of the Lumière as well as his brother, the Lord of Water, to take down the Obscurité. We had lost, at significant cost to my friends, and had thus begun a new Fall.
Now, there was no Lumière and Obscurité. Just those against The Gray, and The Gray himself.
As I stood in the shadows and watched Durlan, the man who had tried to kill Easton—my soulmate, the king of the Obscurité Kingdom in title and one of our resistance leaders—I could only remember what the vile man had done. He had tortured Easton, and I knew he was here to do the same to me.
My anger was not for him alone. No, it was also for the Whisperer at his side.
Garrik was a Dane but held power in a way that wasn’t of this realm. At least, that’s what I thought. He could ferret out secrets, and had been spying on my friends within the Obscurité Court before he did the unthinkable.
He and The Gray had used each other and killed my parents right in front of me. It had shattered my soul into a thousand pieces, leaving me dust. Somehow, I was still standing, looking at the man who had killed my family. And while I knew I had no Wielding here, I wasn’t powerless.
I couldn’t be, not with the rage inside my soul.
“Ah, I see you remember me. How is my old friend?” Garrik asked, grinning. He ducked his shoulders, lowered his head, and gave me what I thought might be puppy-dog eyes. All I saw was death. “The Prince of Obscurité was never much for strength. ‘Oh, help me, I’m just sad, and I hate being part of this. They always hurt me, and nobody likes me. Won’t you like me?’” He started to laugh. I moved forward, my hands outstretched. No Wielding came, but Braelynn growled on my shoulder. The Gray simply laughed.
He laughed.
“Stop trying to use your Wielding, Priestess. You are amusing, though.” The Gray flicked his fingers, and shadows slid around me, ropes of darkness coiling around my stomach and my arms. They shackled me to the walls, arms outstretched, feet tethered to the floor. Braelynn was still on my shoulder, and it was like The Gray didn’t even bother worrying about her.
For that, I was grateful. He could hurt me if he wanted. I would find a way out. But if he hurt Braelynn…?
I would never forgive myself.
And he would scream in agony as I killed him.
The shadow ropes around my wrists tightened, and my fingers splayed, trying to get blood to flow through them. It felt as if the bonds were burning as they dug into my flesh. Blood trickled down, and I let out a slow breath. I could survive this.
I would.
The others wouldn’t need to come for me.
I could do this.
The Gray looked at Braelynn on my shoulder and flicked his fingers again. Suddenly, she was floating in the air right above my head, wrapped in a protective smoke cage. She beat at the wispy bars and growled, but she seemed unharmed.
Pain radiated through my arms and legs, but I didn’t care. He couldn’t hurt me. I was going to survive this. I had to.
The Gray smiled, and Durlan moved forward, a knife in his hand. I let fear slide into me. Just a trickle of trepidation.
But I knew something he didn’t.
I knew The Gray couldn’t hold back my powers forever.
Easton might have been able to make it out with someone’s help, and for that, I’d be forever grateful. But I could feel some of my Wielding coming back. It was as if my powers were trapped behind a wall. If I kept digging, using whatever mental strength I could muster, I could get to them. And I could get myself out of this.
I had to.
Because I was the Spirit Priestess, and I would not let anyone else die for me.
“The Maison realm will be mine, and we’ll no longer be locked within this Shadow realm for long stretches of time. You’ll remain here as my power, my source. And I will rule as I should have long ago.” He took a step forward and then another. “Because you should know who I am, dear Lyric. You should know a Spirit Wielder when you see one.”
My eyes widened. I shook my head, shock and shame sliding through me. “No, the Spirit Wielders are dead.” He couldn’t be of the lost people.
“Not all of them. Some hid, and others were chained. For, of course, not all Spirit Wielders were on the side of the Obscurité.”
I frowned. “What are you saying?”
“The King of Lumière, the old one, the one who died in the Fall, used bone magic and the Spirit Wielders to create his power. He was the one who started all of this. And I was his knight.” The Gray grinned, even as realization dawned.
I had always known it hadn’t been balanced. The Lumière hadn’t always been right, and the Obscurité hadn’t always been cast in shadow. The histories weren’t always of truth. They were written by those in power.
I hadn’t known a Spirit Wielder had been on the side of the mad king, though. The Spirit Wielders were often tortured and had almost been eradicated.
They touched souls and kept the living free.
And he had been one of them.
But one of darkness. And yet, he’d worked for the Lumière. The light.
“I am a Spirit Wielder, Lyric. And that means I can take your soul. I can touch it. I can wrap it in shadow. I can twist it. I can do whatever I need to.”
“You’ll never win,” I spat, fear laying on itself within me.
“You think your perfect little boyfriend will be able to find you? Or is that two boyfriends? I never can quite keep up with teenagers and their sordid affairs.”
“No one needs to save me. I’m the Spirit Priestess. I can save myself.”
The Gray smiled, a flash of teeth. “Well, that should be interesting. You have no power here. I am the one with the Wielding, and have a Whisperer and a man with a knife besides.”
Durlan took another step forward. The flash of light was quick, and I screamed.