Chapter 1 Nox
Nox
SIX WEEKS PREVIOUSLY
Iloved the color yellow. A golden yellow, like the kind that beamed over the Sea of Scarab in the sunrise, or freshly baked sourdough glistening on Mother’s hearthstone.
My third-in-command of our secret rebellion, Tessa, once bought me a pair of golden leathers. She swore it would make my tan skin positively glow—her words, not mine.
But I could never wear yellow. It showed blood far too easily. That was why I always wore black.
I wiped the blade on the side of my pants, clearing the viscous red away until the tip was gleaming again.
The heavy body fell at my feet. It sent up a plume of dust from the rocky cliffside, and several pebbles went flying down the steep drop-off in the Guardian Range.
Despite the sun hanging high in the sky, the cold winter wind still chilled my skin.
The scent of fear, sour and pungent to my Shifter senses, wafted around me.
“What do you want?” the man before me asked, his voice shaking as he held an arm out to block another man and woman behind him.
They all wore the telltale light blue of Emberfell, but their clothes were dirty and torn, with rusty daggers strapped on by cracked sheaths. “Why are you doing this?”
I sighed. Why was I doing any of this?
The answer was always the same.
“You know why,” I responded. I barely recognized my own voice. “You made him angry.”
The man didn’t even look surprised, only resigned. “So he sent you.”
My jaw twitched. “I don’t want to do this, but you brought this on yourselves. You openly planned a siege against him. You know that kind of attack can’t go without consequences.”
His eyes flitted to the dead body at my feet, then met my stare. Sparks of light shone around his pupils, a sign of his type of magic—a Lightbender. “Is—is there nothing else we can do?”
I gripped the handle of my blade tighter. This was always the hardest part, no matter how many times I did it.
“No. There’s no other way.”
“Alright, Kieran. If I die, I hope you know it’s your fault.”
“Duly noted. However, I think it’s possible you’re being a bit dramatic.”
“We’ll see who’s dramatic when you’re stuffing my dead body in the ground.”
“I believe that would still be you, Tessa.”
The sounds of my second and third-in-command bickering in the workshop tugged the edges of my tired lips upward.
“And why, do tell, are you dying today, Tessa?” I asked as I trudged into the dimly lit room. I unlatched my cloak and threw it across the back of a dark gray couch where Kieran, my second, sat with one leg propped on his knee.
“Because I agreed to take Kieran’s morning patrol shift for the next week,” my third said with a sigh. Tessa was perched on top of my desk to the right, twisting the end of one of her long black braids around a finger. “You know I’m more of a night person.”
“Well, we all know Kieran’s not an any-time-of-day person. You’ll be doing everyone in the Keep a favor.” I tapped her nose before nudging her off my desk. “Imagine how much more the refugees will appreciate waking up to your beautiful face.”
She shoved my elbow. “Your flattery doesn’t work on me, Noxy boy.”
Kieran piped up behind me, his deep, measured voice always threaded with calm authority. “And I find myself offended by your insinuation.”
I twisted to give my second a quick wink. “You have a beautiful face too, Kieran.”
“Thank you.” He rose from the couch and buttoned the middle button on his black suit jacket. The man was always in a suit. Even when it was just the three of us meeting in the private workshop of my seaside manor, the Keep.
But I couldn’t blame him—if I looked that good in a suit, I’d never take it off either.
Everything about Kieran Blackwell was put-together, from his slick dark brown hair, to his chiseled, tan jaw, to the perfectly tailored suit and shined shoes.
Even his Shifter form, a white stag, spoke of elegance.
The complete opposite to my third-in-command, Tessa Briar.
Her long black locks reached down her back, often fashioned in thin braids like how she wore it today.
Silver bracelets adorned her arms up to her elbows.
Her deep brown eyes were full of mischief and mayhem, along with the ferocity of her jaguar Shifter form.
She was nearly eleven years Kieran’s junior. They were the most unlikely duo to ever grace the Keep, much less be my closest companions.
But I trusted them with my life. As Shifters, loyalty like theirs was earned. And once you had it, it would take the fires of hell itself to break it.
“Did you just get back?” Tessa asked, and I nodded. “How did this one go?” Her voice softened as she gave me a concerned look.
I scratched the back of my ear, trying to mask my emotions. “Same as usual.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” I cleared my throat and pointed to Kieran. “Status report? I don’t have much time. Scarven expects me at the Governor’s House in a couple hours.”
“We shall make it quick, then,” Kieran said. I didn’t miss the way his gaze locked onto Tessa’s for a split second, a silent conversation taking place between the two. “While you were gone, we received intel for a night that Scarven and his guards would be at the eastern docks.”
I leaned forward, my curiosity piqued. “Another cargo shipment?”
He nodded.
“And?” I urged. “Did you find out what he’s been importing?”
“Not exactly.” Kieran shifted on his feet. “I know you’re eager to learn what these shipments entail, but Tessa and I decided to use Scarven’s absence to make another raid.”
He was right, I was eager to learn about Scarven’s nighttime rendezvous. The governor of Drakorum had been orchestrating covert imports for a little over a year now, but we hadn’t been able to get a lead on what those ships carried.
Knowing Scarven, it wasn’t anything good.
Illegal weapons that could take out entire empires, hordes of dead bodies, poison, slaughtered animals for sacrifice…my imagination had come up with a plethora of vile things our dear governor would covet.
But much of our attention had been focused on using those nights where he was distracted as opportunities to break into his stronghold for these raids Kieran mentioned.
Raids, rescue missions—same thing. They had one purpose: get as many of Kane Scarven’s prisoners out as possible.
“You made a good call,” I said with a nod. “How many this time?”
“Nine,” Tessa said, and I let out a low whistle. “Most of them under twenty, some a bit older. He’s added an entirely new wing, and it’s full of test subjects. We tried to get more out, but that Alchemist of his is getting smarter with his wards. Even Arowyn couldn’t get inside some of them.”
“That’s still good. At least you saved some. Any more than that would’ve drawn too much attention,” I said.
Bile crept up my throat as I thought about what he was doing to those people. His experiments. People he was supposed to be leading and keeping safe. His underground wings held hundreds of cells bursting with innocents who were subject to his myriad of tests.
Kane Scarven had always had a fascination with Veridian magic—how it worked, what powered it, how it could be changed. He wanted to strip it to its bones. To mutate it, weaponize it, or maybe even erase it entirely.
And he had an entire province at his disposal.
He started small, taking only those nobody would notice had gone missing. Homeless, elderly, orphans—sporadically and with caution, so as not to raise alarm.
But then he grew bolder. Over the past five years, I’d seen more and more innocents ripped from their homes and sent to his laboratories. Families exiled when they tried to get their loved ones back. Bodies from failed tests piled higher than the tower of my Keep.
People were too scared to stand against him, knowing their loved ones could be next to go.
It had become my mission to fight for them. To save as many innocents from their fate as I could.
Because I’d once been one of them.
“How are the new refugees settling in?” I asked.
Long ago, we’d turned the Keep into a safehouse for those we rescued to live and heal.
I had built upon my seaside home until it was hardly recognizable—an enormous manor with enough wings to host dozens and dozens of refugees, kept safe from Scarven’s prying eyes by protective enchantments.
We always debriefed in our “workshop,” a large room on the first level made of black brick walls and wooden floors.
It was a sanctuary and a war room all in one, with space crafted for each of us to feel at home in the unsteadiness of our line of work.
The walls were lined with herbs and tinctures for Alchemy, books and maps, and weapons for target practice, all humming with magic.
It made the perfect headquarters for my little group, the Veridians dedicated to keeping this province safe from our governor.
The Ashen Order. Each of us with blood on one hand and justice in the other, willing to risk our lives to undo the terror Kane Scarven had rained down on us in the last two decades.
Tessa exchanged an uneasy look with Kieran. “They’ll be okay. It’s only been a couple of days,” she answered slowly. “We’re running a little tight on space in the nursery and children’s wing, but there’s plenty of room in the upper towers. And I think a few will be ready for reintegration soon.”
“Everett told me this most recent group is taking longer to adjust,” Kieran cut in. “There seem to be more mental barriers for him to work through. The young ones in particular are easily distressed.”
“Has anything happened?”
“There’s one seven-year-old who Scarven manipulated to shift prematurely, and she breaks a couple of bones every time she does,” Tessa said.
I closed my eyes and fought back a wave of rage, silver and molten. Shifters didn’t naturally shift until early teenage years, as their bodies weren’t equipped to handle it at such a young age.