Circle of the Shattered Kingdom

Prologue

His boots raced across the ground. Hills and trees became a blur as he ran through the dying lands and toward the Shadowcraig Mountains—the border that divided the nations. He had never dared to cross them for the risk of starting a war.

Until now.

He pushed himself closer to the range. Damn the consequences.

He didn’t stop to count the passing moon or note how it grew each night—radiating her strength in her beams. The man knew the night and her shadows all too well.

He knew Nyska was on his side and would bless him during this trial, yet he never dared to touch her source for fear he might be recognized, despite being in the unknown land.

He focused on pushing harder. Faster.

Only when his body protested did he slow his pace and tighten his fist against the stone that hung around his neck.

It felt like that, a stone, but he knew better.

Mountains and valleys had been crossed, the evidence in split hands and bruised shins.

Plains and rivers had passed beneath his feet—the same feet that begged for relief in boots that felt tighter with each stride.

He was in fighting shape but had never pushed his body like this before, only pausing during the day to rest for a few hours before claiming the night again.

This particular night was like all the others, yet the moon shone her brightest and fullest. Not that it mattered because of the dense trees of the unknown forest he was deep in the belly of.

His magic called to him, begging to be released.

Sweat dripped from his unkempt black hair and brow as he stormed forward.

Rogue vines and low-hanging limbs whipped his face until he was sure he was unrecognizable.

He prayed to Nyska that he remained unidentifiable, even for a short while. Surely no one knew him, yet he feared.

Get to the castle! Get to safety! The king, if he’s a proper one, will know what to do…

He bet all he had that this would work and prayed desperately to Nyska for the giantess’s blessings. Even if his head would be separated from his body, he knew he was doing the right thing. He would rather be dead than let the alternative happen.

The man finally saw the trees thin and stumbled into a rolling plain that ended as the far stone walls rose high.

The beautiful city was more than he’d been told.

So full of vibrancy, even under the moon.

This place brimmed with life. He was curious what this city would look like in the daytime and how beautiful it truly was.

The stone practically hummed against his chest, urging him forward like it had found its home.

He obliged and barreled toward the wall, and only then did he slow his pace to a measly walk. The night guards stood at the city’s entrance, urging all the citizens in before the gates closed for the evening.

He stepped through the city’s threshold, hiding closely among a cluster of people, and finally allowed himself a moment to breathe. But he didn’t stop. No, he pressed on, despite the merchants closing their doors and the carts being covered with canvas to signal their goods were no longer for sale.

Most of the people wandered home, with only a few meandering through the waning crowd to the pubs that beamed with nightlife. Those people laughed and danced so openly—he recognized how safe they felt in this city. This kingdom.

Once he noticed the streets were bare, he ran again, urging his sore feet to follow the stones through the city that led to the large castle at the far end.

Faster! Get there! he said to himself as he followed street after street, occasionally turning around when he came to a dead end of an alley or a guard on patrol.

He could see the doors. Practically see his safety on the other side—if it would be allowed.

The echoing of feet running behind him caught his attention right as someone shouted, “You! Stop there!” The gleam against the roaring torch in the man’s hand gave just enough light to reveal the armor of the Royal Guard uniform. Four of them, to be exact.

Yet the man kept running.

He rounded the final turn and saw the pathway leading to large, heavy doors with two more guards standing at either side of them.

Seeing the commotion in front of them, those guards changed their stance as each drew their sword in one hand and their sourced element in the other.

Firus. Though their flame was small, it still held enough bite to stop those who trespassed.

Mere feet away from the door and the guards’ swords, the man dropped to his knees and raised his hands above his hand, pleading his case, yelling: “Mercy. Mercy. Sanctuary.”

The four guards that chased the man stumbled to a stop, all with their own blades drawn. One looked at the guard by the door. “What did he say?”

The man on his knees realized he’d spoken in his native tongue and quickly recalled his lessons on this kingdom’s language. “Mercy, please! I need to speak with your king. Mercy! I seek sanctuary!”

All of the guards eyed one another before one stepped forward and gripped the man beneath his arm, hoisting him to his feet. “What is your source?”

“I am a Veik, as your people say,” the man quickly replied, hoping the lie was believable.

“Get Arjun,” one called before the man was led inside the castle, guarded at all angles.

Luxurious halls of deep, rich colors surrounded them as the man was led toward a grand room, where another man, about a decade older than the stranger, was waiting. This man quickly tied a sash around his night robe as he smoothed back his unruly dark hair away from his coppery skin.

“Arjun,” one of the guards said with a nod of his head.

“What is the meaning of this?” Arjun said, taking in the stranger before him.

“This man said he sought sanctuary and needed to speak with the king.”

Arjun stepped in front of the stranger. “He is obviously sleeping at this hour. Who are you? Why do you seek an audience with the king?”

Instinct drove the man to clutch his hand around the stone again, but not before Arjun caught sight of it. His eyes grew round as he took in the man’s face. “I’ll alert him. Wait for him in there.” Arjun pointed toward a set of doors before turning on his heel to run down the hall.

The man was escorted into an ornate room that already had a roaring fire and was ordered to sit in a large, cushioned chair. A few silent moments passed before shuffling was heard down the hall. Soon, a large man with graying blonde hair entered. Urgency charged the air.

“Where is he?” the man boomed.

“By the fire,” Arjun said as he entered the room next.

“Everyone out,” the man boomed again.

“King Patrek, are you sure?” Arjun asked, concern laced in his words.

“Arjun, I love you like a brother, but if you don’t get the hell out, then I will ensure you shovel horse shit every time you come to visit this city.”

Arjun wrinkled his nose and left with the guards in tow.

The stranger continued to sit there as the king took him in and sat himself in the chair opposite him. Moments slipped by as they stared at each other in the empty room. The king tilted his head as if reading the young man before him.

“You’re him. Aren’t you?”

“Depends on the him you’re referring to.“ The stranger cleared his throat, his voice strained from not using it for days at a time.

The king gave him a knowing look. “They’ll kill you knowing that you stepped foot over that mountain. There’s a reason why there’s a treaty in place.”

“They already think I’m dead.”

King Patrek rose from his chair and stepped to an open cabinet, clinking something that sounded like glass and pouring liquid before returning back to his seat.

He outstretched his hand with a glass of water, offering it to the stranger to drink.

The stranger downed it like it was the last thing he’d consume.

“If they think you’re dead, then why are you here?”

“Because I came to warn you. And give you this,” the stranger said as he removed the stone from behind his dark tunic and lifted the strap over his head.

The smooth, white stone lay in the palm of his hand, simply sitting there.

Never mind the stark contrast to his dirty clothes or the golden veins that ran through the piece.

King Patrek’s eyes grew wide and he sat back deeper into his chair, almost like he was distancing himself from the stone. He could feel its power and didn’t have to ask what it was exactly.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” the stranger asked the king.

“Can you not?” King Patrek’s eyes were fixated on the stone in the man’s hand.

The stranger softly shook his head as he said, “No. I don’t know why. I suspect it has something to do with my Wielding, but that’s just a theory. Despite that, I know what it can do.”

The king leaned back and looked at the man deeply, with his brows furrowed. “How did you find it?”

“My father’s pockets and resources are much deeper than you think. Not to mention his methods are rather…unethical. He got the information from a devout Graevick.”

“What information?”

The stranger closed his hand around the stone and set his fist in his lap. “The rumors were true. He found it in Deric’s grave. Just sitting there for the taking.”

“You know the dead haunt those who disrupt their peace.”

“Well-fucking-aware. But I fear what would come would haunt me worse than if Deric paid me a visit.”

“Your father has the other piece?”

The stranger shook his head. “No, but he’s close. If his theory is true, he’ll find it before long. He did have that thing until it recently escaped with a little inside… help.”

Patrek’s face grew white. “It’s true? You mean to tell me that all this time, he’s had the Anci—“

“Don’t listen to him, Papa,” a lilting voice said from the shadows. The stranger turned his attention toward the source near the doors, springing up from his seat when a sharp point was pressed into his neck, threatening to nick him in one swift movement.

“For giants’ sake, Imily! How did you know we were in here?”

“The door was cracked. But I might have also followed Arjun when I heard him commanding some guards.”

The stranger turned his gaze down just enough to catch the fire of honey-colored eyes blazing into his.

Her hair was soft and golden, and she was a head shorter than him, but the way she commanded the room pulled the breath from his lungs.

She must only be a couple of years younger, but her presence was powerful.

It pulled and pushed something within him. A match, but an opposite.

He thought she was absolutely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She stood there, still poised to strike, and radiated a curling ribbon within her other palm that mimicked a sun ray. “I assure you,” he started, “I am telling you the truth, and will tell you anything and everything you need to know. I simply ask for your protection when doing so.”

“I could kill you here. Right now, for touching our soil,” she breathed, her scent entrancing him. Dahlias.

“Imily Endromeon, stop with the dramatics. You’re not queen yet. Act like my daughter and not a rebel.” The king sighed from his chair. One could practically hear his eyes rolling.

The stranger swallowed. “I promise you, Princess, I would much rather die by your hand than the hands I ran from.”

Imily looked at him. Studied him. Then pulled back her blade and withdrew a few steps. “What is your name?”

The stranger outstretched his hand. Imily gazed at it like it was ready to bite her, but then straightened her head and shoulders and firmly grasped it within hers, clearly trying to intimidate the man before her. “Kykan.”

“Is it a pleasure to meet you?” she asked with her eyebrow raised.

“If there is pleasure, please let it be mine to give,” Kykan said as he bent at the waist and planted a soft kiss upon her knuckles. He would always keep it a secret that he felt her grip tighten and heard her breath catch in that moment.

“Now you both sit down. This, unfortunately, will need your presence anyway, since you’ll more than likely have to deal with it once you reign as queen,” the king said as Imily drew up a chair and sat close to her father. They favored one another, except her nose and cheeks belonged to her mother.

“I want protection. Not just from behind these walls or the city gates, but through the realm. If you can ensure my safety then I will gladly hand this over,” Kykan gritted as he reluctantly turned his gaze away from the woman in front of him.

The king continued to eye him. “You would give it up so freely? Do you not understand what you have in your hand? How do you know I wouldn’t give this realm the same fate that you ran from?”

Kykan sat there for a moment, thinking. “Because I know without a shadow of a doubt that there is no one worse than my father—or brother.”

“How do we know he’s telling the truth?” Imily inquired as she continued to observe the stranger.

Kykan turned to her, raising a single eyebrow. “I have no cards to play. I simply want to prevent the world’s destruction. Kill me, for all I care. I’ll die in peace knowing I tried.”

Imily sat there, considering his words carefully. “What is your source? I can feel power radiating off of you.”

The corner of Kykan’s lips turned up just a smidge as he brought an open palm before them all and called forth a beautiful blue orb.

Various shades of blue and purple radiated from it, the center ever-changing but steady.

The power was something Imily had never felt before, and she felt its calling immediately. An opposite, but equal.

Imily gasped and outstretched her fingers to lightly caress the orb. The act brought small yellow light from her fingertips, the colors intermingling and dancing together as two lost souls finally reuniting. “I’ve never seen someone Wield from the moon before.”

Realizing Kykan was staring at her in awe, Imily retreated into her seat and absorbed her Wielding back into her fingers. “How will we explain to the court our sudden visitor? They will ask questions.” She looked to her father.

“Leave that to me. We can say he is someone from the North, from Elethia. Or that I struck a deal from a kingdom across the sea and that we finally found you a matrimonial match. It would keep the court off our damn backs to marry you off so quickly.”

Imily blushed as she took in Kykan with a new look in her eyes.

“I’ll be your new stable boy, for all I care. Do we have a deal?” Kykan cut his eyes from Imily and bore them into the king’s. “This stone for my safety?”

The king looked into the man’s outstretched palm, holding the stone that changed everything. Waged wars. Called for power. Created the only world they knew.

“Yes. You have a deal.”