The Storm King’s Heart (The Sons and Daughters of Lir)
Prologue
The gods were hiding behind the dark cloak of night.
Far away from Toran’s wrath and bitterness. Unreachable and uncaring what havoc they wrought.
He wanted to howl into the blistering wind raging over the sea below. He wanted to roar his fury into the void of shadows.
The cliffs were still in the wake of battle, and the bluish black blood of his enemies ran in rivulets over the rocks.
The attack had been a stealthy one, carried out in the darkest hour of the night.
The Kraken and their army of mercenary sea wolves had slit the throats of the guards before they could raise an alarm, destroying the quiet village and taking half its occupants captive.
By the time the acrid smoke from the burning thatch floated on the air, the only a mercenaries remaining were those who'd been too wrapped in looting to leave.
Toran and his men had ruthlessly cut them down and left no survivors.
More than half the men of the village had been killed before Toran and his troupe arrived, and the women and children herded away.
The captives would be sold into slavery as beasts of burden, forced to permanently shift into their each uisge forms. They’d be exploited for the healing properties inherent in their hooves and teeth.
He vowed he would rescue them from that fate.
The very thought of the few treasured children of this generation bound in chains far away from the sea that fed their soul made him sick to his stomach. Although his sword was heavy, his thoughts were heavier.
He was a warrior weary of fighting, and a king weary of the burden that came with the crown he wore. The selkie seer had given him a dire warning about the fate of his kingdom, and her lament whipped through his soul, scouring it like winter wind.
Hearth fires turn to ash and snow, as moon swallows sun.
The crown is fallen, gone its glow.
Darkness descends, blood will run
The kingdom rent and torn by unseen foe.
A queen with a heart of fire
Will wield magic and light
Only her sword and shield
Will banish the creatures of night.
Toran thought the prophecy nothing but gibberish, and the seer had no timeline for when the devastation she’d foreseen would come to pass. Or if it was even a certainty.
He only knew there was no deliverance here. The churning waves and the cold, distant stars would give him no remedy. No matter what sacrifices he made or what altars he built, the gods and goddesses were silent and his supplication went unheeded.
His enemies would not abandon their fight until his kingdom was stripped raw and his people nothing more than mist on the waves. He’d fail, just like the selkie's dire prediction. He’d sink beneath the waves and fade into nothing.
He had no soulmate and no heirs. The only way to keep the Kraken from strangling those he loved was to make a bargain with the Berserker King to the north. He set the scroll in the raven’s beak and sent the bird away with all his hopes and prayers on its wings.