The War Begins
Deep within the Empire of Illyk, in a castle shrouded in shadows and darkness and the memories of horrors no one dared whisper, there was a throne. Embedded deep into the iron there were ivory bones of dead Fae. It rose up on a tall dais, upon which sat a man, cloaked in sheer, gossamer cloth that shrouded his view of the world.
The throne seemed to burn through his skin and his fingers curled upon the armrest as he looked down at his court as they bowed deeply before him, foreheads touching the floor.
And then, the earth around them began to rattle. The courtiers gasped and cried out, struggling to right themselves. But the man lifted his head. He watched the heads and skulls mounted above his throne begin to rattle.
The skull and bones of a healer. The ribcage of a traitor. And more recently, the head of an infuriating seer glared at him as it wobbled.
He gripped the throne and pushed himself to a stand just as the rattling died down. Half of his body itched, and he resisted the urge to tear at it with his nails. A flash of intuition crippled through him and as soon as the world settled and his courtiers righted themselves, he took a breath.
And then the Emperor of Illyk smiled and said, “The Seelie King is dead. And now our war can truly begin.”
To be continued in book 5...