Prologue Prince Sloth #3
The feathers were the color of my eyes and made a striking contrast against the dark stone walls.
I hit the dirt hard, the impact rattling my bones as I kicked out in a powerful arc, shattering both of the wraith’s kneecaps with a sickening crunch.
Once it went down, I sprang back to my feet, already taking on the next shadow wraith.
I drove my fists into its decaying flesh, punching clean through its stolen body, then pivoted and struck the next, leaving a trail of destruction in my wake.
On and on they swarmed around me, desperate to reclaim their beloved Liber Noctem.
Each time I managed to fend one off, another emerged, ready to take its place. Their strikes came fast and fierce, but I was not one to surrender.
My focus was set entirely on the dance of death.
Step, strike, retreat. Head severed, arm cracked, leg shattered. One by one the Nocturnas fell, the bodies of their hosts ruined.
I snapped the neck of the next wraith, a clean, efficient kill.
The lifeless form slipped from my grasp, thudding softly against the temple’s ground. I moved toward my next target, completely in sync with the brutal rhythm of battle.
I pivoted as jaws snapped near my jugular, laughing darkly at the failed attempt to incapacitate me. Even on the Shifting Isles and away from my court and my ability to replenish my magic, it would take more than a torn throat to take me down.
Claws dragged over the leathers covering my chest and I yanked the Nocturna toward me, driving my dagger up and through its ribs.
If it had a heart, it would have been speared.
I dropped the body and went to the next.
My wings flared out, sending more shadow wraiths sprawling.
I didn’t think about the passage of time, or about the book or about failure.
I was a being forged with a singular purpose: to kill, and nothing more.
It felt freeing—to slow my endless thoughts, to act on instinct and not solely on intellect. Though I never quite let go of my studies, my sin wouldn’t ever fully release me. Nor would I want it to.
Each movement was meticulously plotted. A calculated step forward, a lethal strike, a swipe of my wings, followed by a strategic retreat.
I executed each hit by the book.
Soon, I’d leveled them all and the stillness of death jolted me from my trance.
Xavier’s fear spiked impossibly higher in the aftermath.
I understood. Out of all my brothers, I was the academic.
Not many in my court had seen me with any weapon in hand other than a book.
I’d even train in secret with only my brothers; no one would be able to withstand a true fight aside from them anyway.
If I was training for battle, I wanted it to serve a purpose aside from the fun my siblings considered it to be.
I didn’t turn to look at Xavier yet, wanting to be certain the desire to maim had fully faded from my expression.
There was no need to frighten him any more than I had.
I tucked my wings away; the pale blue feathers had been splattered with blood and gore.
I wiped my blade on my leathers and swept my attention around the chamber, ensuring the wraiths hadn’t risen again.
All was quiet for the moment.
Finally, I faced my master librarian. The time for coddling was over.
We needed to act. I wouldn’t rest until the book was magically bound in my library, where Nyantha would never get near it again.
Some monsters needed to remain caged for eternity.
Xavier had the book in his grasp, a single tear streaking down his cheek.
“We need to hurry. They’ll reanimate soon.” I collected my satchel from where I’d dropped it. “Hand me the book so we can climb out of here.”
Xavier clutched it to his chest and took a step back.
Dark suspicion rose in me again.
The book’s allure had been hard for me to resist; for Xavier it would be even harder.
I calculated the space between us, the possible moves he might make, mentally running through the most efficient counterstrikes.
Xavier might be my master librarian, my most trusted member of court, but I wouldn’t hesitate to take him out if he posed a threat.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply, his regret overcoming his fear for a moment.
Before I could fling the hilt of my dagger at him to knock him out, he shoved his hand into his pocket and removed a single glittering rock.
Recognition fell on me like a boulder, stilling my movements.
He’d brought a portal stone. Whatever his plan, it wasn’t a result of the book’s allure tempting him. He’d come prepared for this outcome.
I stared, barely breathing, while my mind spun with ways to defuse the situation.
Cold, efficient, analytical—the three aspects I valued above all and that usually served me well were giving way to dread.
Xavier’s hand tightened on it, his knuckles turning white.
To use a portal stone was simple: you needed to think of a location while holding it.
If you had no specific location in mind, the portal stone automatically transported you to Somnia, the land of dreams, where it was rumored to be mined from. And with magical wards in place to secure its borders, I couldn’t simply transport myself to Somnia without one.
An individual stone could be used several times before the magic that fueled it faded, but if he destroyed the stone, there would be no coming back.
Not many people ever chose to venture to Somnia—the realm had a bad habit of trapping them there in their nightmares until they withered to nothing.
“Wait…” I held my hands up like I was soothing a cornered animal. “Let’s discuss—”
“Carpe noctem!”
Without another word, Xavier crushed the stone in his fist and was instantly ripped from this realm, taking the Liber Noctem with him.
I dove forward, knowing it was too late.
The book and my companion were gone.
I stared at the glittering aftermath of the portal’s magic, my heart thudding wildly. Betrayal was as cold and unforgiving as a blade to the gut.
An icy rage burned through me that had nothing to do with dark magic now. This darkness belonged only to me.
My master librarian had stolen the Book of Nightmares.
He’d taken the only portal stone I’d had from my House of Sin.
He’d found some way to get around my ability to detect lies. He’d planned this heist. Meticulously. For the hells knew how long.
If my magic wasn’t bound in this chamber, it would have frozen every surface with my displeasure. Bone turned to dust in my hands.
I glanced down. I had no recollection of picking up the skull.
My thoughts turned over the events of the night. Nyantha’s wraiths. The manipulative power seeping from the chamber, infecting us.
Both clever distractions.
Xavier knew I’d fight, granting him time to secure the book and get far enough away that I couldn’t simply grab him.
And I suspected, based on his withholding of pertinent information, and his shouted decree, that he must have always served the Goddess of Night and had used my court to locate the Book of Nightmares.
Which meant there was only one place Xavier was likely going with it now. Somnia. The very location we’d needed to keep it from.
I shivered at the thought.
If Nyantha got her hands back on the Liber Noctem, I had little doubt she’d destroy my House of Sin for the pivotal role I’d played in her downfall.
I cursed the day the old gods had come knocking at my door, looking for help. Neither myself nor my brothers had ever seen them since. They sent messengers occasionally—ones whose memories were always wiped clean aside from their missives. The secretive pricks.
I stormed through the chamber, thoughts racing as I plotted and began to climb. I would use a spell to find the nearest portal stone and follow Xavier into the bowels of that hellish realm.
Then I’d become every nightmare the myths claimed my kind to be.
And more.
House Sloth was docile until provoked.
Then we waged war with cold, brutal efficiency.
My House was one without mercy, and I aimed to remind those foolish enough to cross me just how vicious I could be.