2. Aelindor
AELINDOR
“ S hit, another wild goose chase,” Caspian muttered, swiping at the sweat on his neck. “You two owe me. I was warm and comfortable. There were two very eager blondes in my bed, and I was this close to?—”
The shifter heir had been whining since we’d left the vehicles behind.
Seven miles on foot in full fatigues, boots crunching over earth so dry it seemed fossilized.
Not even magic-powered machines worked in the Scorched Wastes.
And regular transportation—cars and planes running on mortal engines—had been useless for eighty-one years.
“For fuck’s sake.” Nikolai pinched the bridge of his nose. “We get it, Caspian. You’re very popular. But Aelindor and I don’t give an ass fuck.”
“You’re just jealous.” Caspian’s teeth flashed in something not quite a grin. “When’s the last time someone actually wanted to wake up next to you? ”
“I have standards, wolf,” the vampire heir sneered. “They involve more than a pulse and willingness.”
Shifters and vampires were natural enemies, but we all had to put our differences aside and work together if we wanted to survive the next year, or even the next week.
These two had traded claws and fangs for verbal sparring.
My ears were going to bleed, not from the scorched air, still thick with acid and sulfur, but from their nonstop bickering.
“Would you look at this place?” Caspian said, his green eyes still sleepy as he swept a hand at the dead land around us. “This is what we trekked for? Brilliant.”
The land stretched out in endless gray and rust. The sky hung low and colorless, a permanent haze that blocked out most of the sun and turned everything the sickly yellow-gray of old bruises.
Nothing grew here.
Nothing lived here except the monsters. And the desperate.
The Earth had never recovered after the Rupture.
That was the name we gave it—the detonation of the Quantum Bomb that ended the global nuclear war.
Billions died from infections, violence, or starvation in the aftermath.
Humans and every other species fought over scraps, battling for dominance in a world that had barely survived its own suicide attempt.
The Q-bomb did more than kill. It shattered the Shimmer between mortal and immortal realms. Blended two worlds together in a twisted fusion that belonged to neither.
My home, Evermere, was destroyed in the collapse.
Its eternal spires reduced to rubble. Its forests withered to ash.
Its lakes vaporized. I’d crossed into the shattered civilization of the mortal realm and formed the Zodiac Covenant with three other heirs—because we had no choice.
We needed to find a way to restore what was lost.
And all of it, every step, every hope, rested on a prophecy.
The Fourfold Vow.
Preserved once in the archives of House Scorpio, until its ink faded completely from the ancient pages.
“There is no way the prophesied lost heir from two Zodiac Houses is hiding in this shithole.”
Caspian again. A sudden wind kicked up, tearing at his carefully styled wine-red hair. We lived in wartime, and he still found gel somewhere. Every morning.
More brutal battles were coming for us. I wondered how long he could keep up the flamboyant playboy act before reality crushed it out of him.
“As if you’ve suddenly mastered prophecy.” Nikolai didn’t spare his rival a glance, crimson eyes fixed on the horizon, ever vigilant for threats. “Stick to what you’re good at, wolf. Scenting trails. Chasing rabbits.”
All three of us had superior eyesight, but when the light failed, Nikolai took point.
Caspian, for all his complaining, had the best nose among us—which was why he kept sniffing through air that tasted like poison.
On this kind of mission, masks stayed off.
We needed every sense raw and unobstructed.
“What’s so hard to understand?” Caspian lifted his chin. “It starts with ‘Where Serpent kisses Ram, the lost one wakes.’ Simple. We find a snake kissing a sheep, we find the heir.”
“A snake. Kissing. A sheep.” Nikolai laughed. “Try the third line, genius. ‘By Coldiron’s shroud, no blood may sing . ’ Go on. That one’s straightforward enough. Even for you.”
Caspian bristled. “It’s not that straightforward, vamp.
And why should I do your job for you? What’s in it for me?
” He kicked at a fused clump of glass and dirt.
“Last three times we went hunting for the lost heir, we walked into traps. Remember the White Witch’s agents?
I barely crawled out of that one with my skin attached.
And why call her the White Witch when she and her whole coven practice black magic?
Sacrifices, summoning demons, the whole fucking cult. ”
“She’s a white woman,” Nikolai said flatly. “As opposed to a black woman. Hence, White Witch. Must I explain everything to you now?”
Caspian opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head. “We should turn back before we breathe in more of the poison. If we weren’t supernaturals, we’d be dead already.”
“You can return alone.” Nikolai’s jaw tightened, his crimson gaze fixed ahead.
“I’m not giving up. The lost heir could be our last hope of winning this war.
” He gestured toward me. “As Aelindor said—and he’s actually the leading expert on the Fourfold Prophecy—the Fourfold points to us four. You, me, Aelindor, and Drakken.”
He paused.
“Right, Aelindor? ”
The Zodiac Covenant was formed whenthe four of usheirs forged an alliance.
Drakken, the dragon heir, had stayed behind at the fortress this time.
One of us always remained on base while the others hunted, which was standard protocol, hammered into us after we’d nearly lost everything in an ambush two years ago.
Usually, that one was me. I monitored operations, coordinated from behind the scenes, kept the machine running.
But this time, I’d felt the call like fire in my veins, burning hotter with every hour. I’d summoned the other two heirs in the dead of night, and now they both looked at me, waiting for confirmation that I hadn’t dragged them into another dead end.
I let the silence stretch. Then:
“I’ve hunted the lost one for nearly a century.” My voice came out quieter than I expected. “Ever since the Shimmer came down. Before he or she might even have been born. I’ve followed every sign, every omen, every whisper of power that could lead us to them.”
“So the oracle couldn’t decide if it’s a he or a she?” Nikolai asked, as if I were its author. But he was more invested in the prophecy than Caspian, who reserved his passion for women and duels. “The second line is ‘He walks in shadow, she in flame.’ ”
I’d been pondering that line for decades.
“Or maybe it’s twins?” Caspian perked up, flashing me a satisfied smirk. “Are we getting two for the price of one?”
This one kept testing my patience .
“This time felt different,” I said. I shouldn’t rely on feelings. But the prophecy bound our fates together—mine, Nikolai’s, Caspian’s, Drakken’s—and the lost heir’s. Four of us, waiting for the fifth.
“I know we’ve walked into false alarms. Traps. Dead ends.” I paused. “But this wasn’t like the others. It felt real.”
“You’re not alone, Aelindor,” Nikolai offered. “I felt it too. Ringing in my head over and over until I couldn’t stay still.”
“For me, it was like an itch I couldn’t reach.
” Caspian’s usual humor had faded from his voice.
“It ruined my fun before you two came pounding on my door. Drakken felt it too, and that cold-blooded bastard doesn’t feel anything on a good day.
” He paused. “But we’ve walked seven miles, and there’s nothing but poison. ”
“Don’t be a fucking baby.” Nikolai’s words were sharp, but his tone wasn’t. “We’ll walk fifty miles if we have to. We keep going. Keep searching. Maybe today’s the day.”
“You say that every time.” Caspian kicked at the dirt. “It’s never our lucky day.”
Yowls rose from the distance, echoing across the wasteland. Bones scattered the ground around us, some animal and some unmistakably human.
We drew weapons in one fluid motion.
Between the three of us, only I wielded elemental magic of earth and wind, but in this dead land, even that refused to answer. So I reached for the blade I’d carried for centuries instead .
My blood sword, forged in the Fae realm from star steel mined from the heart of a fallen comet.
Dark as midnight, nearly indestructible.
Blood runes ran along the fuller, etched in threads of crimson that glowed faintly when danger drew near.
They protected against corruption, against the dark magic that had infected so much of this broken world and turned good men into monsters.
Nikolai drew twin daggers, each blade etched with runes of his own making. He was an axe-wielder in open battle—I’d gifted him that double-headed war axe when he was still a teenage vampire, desperate to prove his bloodline worthy—but for covert work, he favored something less loud.
Beside me, Caspian partially shifted. Grey fur rippled across his arms and crept up the edges of his face. Claws slid from his fingertips with soft clicks. He’d only go full shifting mode if the situation demanded it; the transformation drained energy he might need later.
The shifter prince had other weapons. Two stacks of runed cards waited in his pockets, specially crafted by a war mage. Death cards, he called them.
In all the years I’d fought beside him, he’d never missed a target.
“Shit—look!” Nikolai pointed with one dagger. Movement. “Someone’s out there.”
Caspian and I spotted it at the same time.
A figure stumbled ahead, barely more than a dark smudge against the gray and rusted land.
“Caution,” I breathed .
We moved, stealthy, quiet, weapons ready. Three shadows flowed between skeletal ruins.
The figure swayed once. Twice. Arms windmilling.
Then dropped in a heap, like a puppet with its strings slashed.