Born To Rule

Prologue

Adust cloud bloomed on the horizon as the druid rider grew closer, racing to deliver the news of how my brother planned to kill me. A southern wind blew, tugging at my hair, carrying the faint scent of a distant fire—an ominous warning. One that caused the fine hairs on the nape of my neck to stand on end.

Three forest fires set waste to my people’s land along the borders between Calrund and Vylandria, driving all beings and creatures away from the river. Druid forces were sent to drown out the fires, but I feared spreading them too thin would be a mistake. Druids were Vylandria’s warriors. If my brother, Atreus, sought to attack with our father’s army, there wouldn’t be enough of them to defend the people. Vylandrians would fall to the humans without ever making a stand.

For hours, I stood here at the base of the Diablerie tree, where mana first blessed the land, waiting and praying for the gods’ guidance. The Diablerie’s blackened bark twisted into high-stretched leafless branches with tangled roots that grew in mounds over the ground. Here, the veil between variants of this world felt thinnest, allowing stronger communication with the gods and more control over my power.

Today, though, that control wavered. My heightened emotions invoked a chaotic storm cloud overhead as my mana roiled like an irritated serpent within my veins, waiting to take over when my restraint faltered.

I pressed my lips into a firm line, and dropped my head, doing my best to force the cloud to disperse. How had I been so foolish to have missed Atreus’ hatred burrow so deep? These last three days, I spent examining every conversation we had, deciphering any clues as to what his plans were for this civil war he waged. Nothing made sense.

My power’s shadowy thorns crept to the surface again, and I fought to reinforce my hold. It was no secret I struggled with control those first years after my blooming, but I never dreamed of using it against him. Still, could my mana be the reason for his sudden resentment, his fear?

Atreus and I were born with a sole purpose; to foster peace between the wielding races and humans, and rule Westryelle together. But two days ago, while I tended demands within the northern province of Vylandria, where most mana-wielders resided, Father fell ill. I made for the castle as soon as the raven delivered the message. In my absence, Atreus announced his regency over the kingdom and ordered the removal of all wielders from the royal city—including me.

The thundering of hooves rattled the earth beneath my feet, and I lifted my head as the rider clan’s first in command slowed to a stop.

Vinz lowered himself from the horse and gave a gentle dip of his chin. “Princess Annorah, I have news from the borders.”

My fists clenched between the folds of my gown. “Go on, Vinz.”

“Before I report, Your Highness, I fear there is another pressing matter.”

“What is it?” Trepidation bled into my voice. That he believed this to be more pressing than my potential death at the hands of my brother sent a flood of ice through my veins.

“The forests along the southwestern border are scorched, reduced to ash.”

My stomach sank at the confirmation of my earlier suspicion—the warning carried on the bitter wind. A tingling sensation numbed my fingers, as it did whenever potent emotions washed through me. Beneath my skin, my power surged like a caged animal. I reined it in, though the corners of my mouth dipped with my agitation.

“Survivors?” I asked.

“I didn’t stop, Your Highness. I came straight here.”

“You were right to do so, Vinz. Thank you. Will you show me?”

The warrior nodded, and I stepped aside.

Thoughts of my impending death were forced down as I raised my hand and allowed that tingle in my fingertips to consume and spread, focusing on the space ahead. Veiling was a gift I worked tirelessly on mastering, and before long, a fissure formed, hovering and flickering just above the ground.

“After you,” I said, waving Vinz on.

Something akin to curiosity and awe crossed his features. Druids didn’t possess this facet of power. They, like most mana-wielding beings, were confined to nature’s laws, with the few exceptions of soothsayers and silencers. Veil walking was not within those boundaries.

With a brave face, he climbed onto his horse and rode into the fissure. I followed after.

Entering the veil was similar to stepping into a shadowed space after basking in the sun. For the briefest moments, darkness consumed everything. When exiting, things eased into view, much like one’s eyes adjust to light.

On the other side, charred earth crunched beneath our feet. The acrid stench of ash and burnt wood thickened the air, and I coughed at the sudden dry heft singeing my throat. My eyes stung and watered as I took in the scene, grief rattling my bones to the marrow. Flames still licked and spat, devouring a portion of the forest in the distance. We moved toward it, scanning the land for any signs of life.

A small mound caught my eye as if something was buried under the debris. I bent down to dust a bit of the charred wood aside. Beneath, were the blackened remains of a Kerrigan fairy. Flames had destroyed its wings, leaving nothing but blistered cartilage where they’d once been. So much devastation, and for what? My legs went numb, then buckled, and I dropped. Blackened ash billowed around me, flecked with tiny orange embers as I hugged the fairy to my chest.

Kerrigan fairies were peaceful creatures. They tended to the forest’s extensive interconnected system of mushrooms and vegetation, monitoring its health. They posed no threat to anyone. Yet they suffered the initial casualties of this senseless conflict.

From behind, the druid cleared his throat, drawing my attention. He nodded toward a distant rise beyond the thin haze of smoke, where a large white wolf watched from the hill’s crest.

“Vinz.” Heat and emotion distorted my voice. “Please see that these creatures are buried respectfully.” I pushed to my feet and lifted the fairy into his arms.

The wolf regarded me as I approached, its sapphire eyes assessing the scene.

“Are you really going to make me walk all the way, Sidelle?” I called, trudging up the incline.

Its ears pressed back, and its head bowed before a whirlwind ensued around its frame, lifting black ash and bits of charred wood with it. With muffled thuds, they dropped to the ground. When the wind came to an abrupt halt, where the snowy white wolf once stood was a beautiful lilac-skinned female druid, or witch, as they now preferred to be called.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. The devastation has me a bit shocked,” she said, starting toward me. “This is the worst one yet.”

“Atreus.” A quiet sigh chased the name. “It seems he wants to prove a point.”

Within reach, she wrapped me in a gentle hug, and I returned the embrace. Composure and decorum didn’t matter to Sidelle. I could be myself with her, and for that, I was grateful.

“How are you?” she asked, holding me at arm’s length.

“It’s hard to say exactly. I feel this could be resolved if only he would speak to me. But when I see this–” I shook my head at the ravaged decimation. “I just don’t know how we got here.”

Her dark eyes, contrary to her wolf’s icy-blue, were glossy with unshed tears, conveying her pained understanding. She said nothing. There were no words to ease our heartache.

When Sidelle spoke, every sentiment held meaning and intention. It was in her nature to be precise. She rarely did anything without good reason. Soon after we met, I considered her a trusted advisor and teacher. As a powerful soothsayer and loyal friend, she would be a tremendous asset if this conflict with my brother escalated. By the mountain. The mere notion of considering such things was beyond belief.

“Come with me. Vinz has news of my brother’s plans. I’d like for you to join us.” I turned, and we walked down the hill together.

Vinz nodded in acknowledgment of Sidelle as we approached. The relationship between druids and witches was turbulent ever since the witch’s cessation from the males, but Sidelle’s tireless efforts resulted in a level of synergy between the two factions that steadily improved conditions over the last ninety years. Many respected the witch for her accomplishments, and because of this, she became a prominent figure in Vylandria.

“Vinz, if I may, have you heard any news of King Carlisle’s condition?” Sidelle asked.

“Only that it has worsened. Many fear he may take his final breaths before this situation is resolved.” His soft gaze found mine. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

My mana shuddered, and my throat grew tight. If only my brother weren’t keeping the healers from him. His stubbornness and sudden, unabashed hatred for Vylandrians was killing our father. I wondered if I’d even get the chance to say goodbye.

I didn’t share the king’s blood, but he was my family in every way that mattered. As was my brother, until he betrayed me. Now, Father lay dying in that castle, just barely visible on the horizon across the border of Vylandria and Calrund.

A curse flared in my thoughts. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t able to veil into the castle as I’d veiled us here. Long distances and heavily populated areas were exceedingly difficult, but I thought, just maybe, I could make it. Wielding was about intention, after all. Sidelle taught me that. I should have trained harder.

There was no telling what poison Atreus filled Father’s head with. Was he telling him I kept the healers from saving him, or that I abandoned them? The world swayed as I fought against the bile creeping up my throat.

“Why do you think Atreus had the forest burned?” Sidelle asked. “The places he’s chosen just seem so… random.”

“It’s a message. He’s showing us what he will do if this comes to war.” I stopped myself from clenching my hands at my sides again. “His numbers far outweigh ours. He can more than afford to spread his forces between destroying the Vylandrian people and the land, obliterating everything we hold dear here.”

Sidelle folded her arms around herself at the prospect. “But it’s his land too.”

“Vinz,” I said. “Please tell us what you’ve learned.”

The druid dismounted his horse and retrieved something from his saddlebag—a map.

In one fluid gesture of my hand, I lifted two fissures. With a burst of power, a large boulder at the river’s edge rolled into the fissure beside it. A moment later, it emerged from the second fissure nearby. The druid unrolled the map of Westryelle and placed it on the makeshift table, using small stones to pin the corners.

“Four of the seven ships that sailed out of South Port have returned.” Vinz pointed to Breckenridge, the southernmost province just beyond the Calrund border, then slid his finger across the map’s surface. “Currently, they’re moored at the royal city’s docks.”

“How long was their voyage?” I asked, hoping to gather information. If it took over three weeks, then the ships likely vacated the kingdom altogether before returning.

“We don’t know the exact day they arrived, only that it’s been within the past three days. Our sources confirmed they left South Port nearly sixteen weeks ago.”

That long?I glanced at Sidelle, whose eyes already told me she understood. Atreus had been planning this for months.

“But what is the connection between those ships and Atreus’ betrayal? Do we know what cargo they carried when they set sail?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, we do not.” He leaned over the map, bracing his arms on the large rock. “Our scouts weren’t successful in gaining access to the ship’s inventory before they departed. But we found out what they returned with,” he said, lifting his gaze to me. “Two scouts snuck onto a couple of ships while the fleet transitioned from the tributaries into the Ebbonharrow. They carried barrel-loads of fine ash.”

Another tree succumbed to the smoldering embers, clattering to the ground in a cloud of hot flecks. We exchanged dejected looks.

“What sort of ash?” Sidelle asked.

Vinz gave a slight shake of his head. “We aren’t sure exactly.”

I straightened and crossed my arms. “Did they discover what he plans to do with it?”

“No—but we have a good idea what it’s capable of.” A level of caution sharpened his features. “While attempting to gather some for examination, one of our scouts came in direct contact with it, and… well, it left him entirely unable to call on his mana for a time.”

Tense silence fell over our trio. “What sort of ash would have such power?” Sidelle asked.

I sympathized with the unease that painted her features.

Vinz only shook his head, unable to offer any words of explanation.

I lowered my eyes and leaned over the map again, scanning the waterways that spread throughout the kingdom. “Has his mana returned yet?”

“It has. The effects wore off quickly once the ash was washed from his skin.”

Sidelle pressed close to speak privately in my ear. “What if he means to weaponize it? With such an advantage, in addition to the sheer size of his army, he could wipe out the entire population of Vylandria. Without their mana, even our best druid warriors would be nothing against his forces.”

She was right. I swallowed against the thickness swelling in my throat. My stare fixated on the map as if answers to the endless questions plaguing my mind were etched within its lines. What Sidelle suggested was entirely possible—as were any number of things. The only certainty was that my brother intended to destroy everything and everyone I lived for. Our father. Our people. These lands. He knew nothing of the devastating consequences that would ensue if he succeeded.

“Sidelle,” I said, finding the most strength I’d spoken with in the last two days. When she looked up at me, I could have sworn she winced at the intensity she read in my eyes. “I need your help.”

“This is crazy! You can’t sacrifice yourself.” I half-chased Annorah as she paced at the top of the hill where we met earlier.

“I have to protect our people.” She waved me off.

My patience withered quickly. “It would change nothing.”

“It’s the only way.”

A charred stick snagged her black dress, and she stumbled. With the opening, I grasped her by the arm and pulled her to face me. “It isn’t, though. If anything, you are leaving us more vulnerable. If that ash does what we believe, he could just as easily annihilate us once you’re dead.

She spun away and put a couple of paces between us. “That is why I need you. Once I’m gone, you will take my body to Atreus and convince him you killed me for the good of your people—that you swear loyalty to him. If he believes the druids will serve him and he can benefit from their power, he will spare them.”

“This is madness.” I scoffed, cautioning her with a slow shake of my head. “And what of the druids? They won’t serve Atreus once King Carlisle has passed. Not after this.”

I couldn’t allow Annorah to throw her life away like this. This feud had barely even begun. Vylandrians, humans, her kingdom—needed her. My lungs burned with the urge to yell, to make her see reason.

“Convince the druid council of this plan. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

I was already shaking my head before she finished the sentence. “No.”

“Sidelle,” she paused, waiting for me to meet her stare, “there’s no other way.”

I wasn’t giving up. My thoughts raced, scouring my mind for anything else. “You can veil. We can convince him you’re dead. Rule from beyond the metaphorical grave until we have more information. A solid plan, allies, something.” My voice pitched higher, conveying my desperation. “Annorah, please.”

She closed the distance between us, nodding her head as I spoke, cupping my jaw in her slender, warm hands. “Yes. Yes, we need all of that. A plan, allies, numbers. This buys time for all of it. Don’t you see?”

Her eyes burned with determination while my anguish consumed me. I gave a tentative nod, and she released my face.

“We can fake your death, Annorah.” I couldn’t let this go.

“Without a body, he’ll never believe it,” she said. “He needs to be convinced you killed me for the good of your people and that you mean to serve him.”

“And what then?”

I sent out a surreptitious tendril of power, and a wave of nausea slammed into my gut. My attempt to sway her struck the invisible defenses that served as her protection against manipulation.

Annorah smirked sweetly. “That won’t work, Sidelle. I will not be soothed out of this decision.”

A quick burst of wind blew a cloud of ash. The small black funnel swirled over the ground, then dissipated in the air. Time. She meant to buy us time—and there would be no talking her out of it.

My resistance ebbed, and my loyalty took precedence over my instinct to keep her safe. If she required me for this plan to succeed, then I would do whatever she needed. By the mountain.

“What of Erezos?” I asked.

“Do you trust me?” A bit of her dark auburn hair floated across her face as she held my gaze.

My eyes fluttered shut as I drew a deep breath into my lungs. “I trust you,” I said, then waited for her to tell me how she planned to handle the gods’ stipulations on her and Atreus’ existence.

My foresight was in direct correlation with the gods. I saw what they wished to reveal, only when they wished to reveal it. Two days ago, Erezos, the god of mana and darkness, ripped me from my consciousness, thrusting into the deepest corners of my mind.

Erezos was not solely a malevolent god by nature, but on the day he revealed Atreus’ desire to kill Annorah, he promised his intentions to obliterate the kingdom as recompense for the destruction of his gift. Once released from his hold on my mind, I rushed to Annorah to warn her of her brother’s deceit, but by that time, she already found out.

“What if we don’t destroy my power?” she began. “What if we only destroy my body?”

At that, my eyes snapped open. My stomach twisted as footsteps signaled someone approaching from the base of the hill. Still, I could not pry my stare off the princess. “My gods,” I whispered. “You want to decant your soul.”