1. Chapter 1
“Is that all you’ve got? After all this fucking time, Princess?
” the man attached to the tree snarled at me as sweat dripped off his dark brow.
“You’ve been practicing to control your fucking power for weeks and all you can give me is a tickle?
I knew your power was shit the first time I laid my eyes on you.
” The bastard actually laughed at me. “You’re fucking pathetic. Always have been. Always will be.”
“Phe. You can do this. He would want you to,” I heard Aurora encourage behind me, ever present, ever my rock. I’d learned to compartmentalize these moments, even as I watched my Wielding pour into him.
He was right. We had been training for weeks. The energy from my Wielding felt less like sharp zaps and more like a river flowing through my veins. I was gaining control every time. Day by day.
With Fyom’s careful instruction, we practiced through every Circle of Wielding, allowing me to gain strength in the Elementis, harnessing each of the four elements.
My ability to Heal was still strengthening to the point I could Heal myself in some cases—but not to the scale of incantations and Wielding the Healing Spiritus that Fyom had clearly been gifted with.
When those lessons were done, Ora would take over to help me utilize the power of our Celestial Wielding, the power that drove the Endromeon line.
Hers always glowed brightly in the form of golden ribbons, while my teal and silver orbs glowed a little brighter each time.
Together we practiced turning our power into makeshift weapons of sorts, where we could concentrate our Wielding and use that energy for defense.
Her ribbons morphed into vicious daggers, whereas I preferred handheld swords—the look and feel of a shortsword, but much lighter in my hand.
Our illicitus, our ability to Wield life and death respectively, was still a mystery. We didn’t have the slightest clue what it meant for Ora. But for me? We knew it was tied to something grave. My power to Wield the shadows of death strengthened every time they pushed me to practice…on him.
In these moments, it hurt to call my power.
Every nerve fiber felt as if it were being ripped apart, despite Fyom’s tonics pushing my cells into overdrive to Heal, each time I dove into the Wielding that controls him.
No matter how many times this man before me would later shower me with kisses and whisper sweet things to me—like he was apologizing for what I was putting him through, putting us all through—it was always my heart that took the brunt of the pain.
“You’re pathetic,” it practically singsonged.
I’d heard it before. Every time it resurfaced, it would spew hateful and mocking things at me, but I’d learned not to listen to the lies like I did before.
The lies that had completely altered my life and took me and my sister down a road of uncertainty.
I had been able to control and pour my illicitus into him just enough to draw out the Ancient One, but not enough for Peiro’s appearance or voice to change completely.
I couldn’t decide which was worse, seeing the Ancient One in its full form, or seeing it use Peiro as its puppet.
“You’re a worthless bitch, you know that? Why he decided to fuck you of all things is bewildering to me. He could never love you the way you need him to. He could never live up to your royal standards, with all the disgusting and evil things we’ve done together. Has he told you about them yet?”
“Can I hit him already?” Sury yelled as he stepped forward, fist clenched and ready to strike.
“Sury, hush! You’re not helping,” Ora huffed.
“What? He would ask me to do it for talking like that. I just know it.”
“I have a better idea,” a deep, soft voice said from behind me. Fyom’s giant steps crossed over to the man quickly. In his hand was a small wooden bowl with an array of crushed berries and plants that smelled sickenly sweet.
“Ahh. Yes, wise Healer. Give him that nectar you pride yourself on. You think you can save him to make up for not saving your wife? You’re a bigger fool than I mistook you for!
” the man shouted. “Here’s a little secret.
” The man’s smile stretched too wide for his face.
“Your tonics do not work on me. They only keep his body healed and ready for me.”
Fyom’s eyes grew wide but then quickly narrowed as he huffed, his shoulders rising with tension that made him seem even taller.
I clenched my fingers and closed my eyes tight as I tried to focus on the now and harness the growing Wielding inside me.
I pushed through the circles of power that I’d grown to understand and held onto that strange, yet freeing, feeling within me.
The feeling that felt unnatural, but also a deep part of me that was unexplainable. Like I was strangely whole.
Since the Rising Rock, I’d felt different, but in a way I couldn’t explain.
Ora and I had tried to talk about the events but neither of us could find the words to describe the sensation.
She didn’t look different, and I half wondered if the ceremony did anything.
Maybe my back was a little straighter and my steps were a little more sure.
It was unheard of for two to complete the Rising Rock ritual, the magic-imbuing promise to our lands to protect our people.
But again, much of our journey began because of tales and myths.
We hoped completing the ceremony had magically restrengthened the borders until we could figure out our next moves against Dokvalon.
Since the chain of magic was broken when Ora was taken, all sorts of nightmares had come to life.
Vile urthen creatures, Dokvalon’s pets, roamed in the darkness.
No one was sure how many had crossed over the mountains or come out of hiding, but we’d been able to kill some of the more cruel ones while being on the run.
“He’s had better, you know. He’s told me.” The eyes of the man flared as he redirected his gaze to me. “Let me tell you about the time he lost days being buried in between the thighs of a witch. It wasn’t that long before you stumbled into the picture, actually.”
My eyes snapped open, locking onto those silvers. A sinister smile crept along the man’s face.
Shit.
It knew it was getting to me. It wanted me to lose control, like I almost did just a few nights ago, when I had gripped this man’s throat with my power. I wanted to suck the life away from him just because I could, and barely recalled hearing the urgent voices that beckoned me to stop.
But the shadow of the dark-haired man I’ve seen before in my dreams shocked me enough to realize what I was doing. I could still feel his icy touch as he delicately placed his fingers upon my wrists, coaxing me to stop. He disappeared once I reigned in my power.
I never lost control again, and I haven’t seen that specter since.
Even then, after it was all said and done, the man tied to the tree like prey still apologized like he was at fault, and it crushed me every single time.
“Ophelia, don’t let him get to you. This isn’t him,” I heard my sister whisper behind me.
“Oh, yes. I bet he remembers how she tastes after he had his head buried…”
“Silence,” I whispered, my voice not entirely my own.
It still jarred me when I heard the deep timbre that took over when I finally harnessed the Wielding where I needed it; the borderline of death’s embrace and control of this thing before me.
The fingers of my right hand pulled shut, clutching tightly.
At the exact same moment, the man’s jaw snapped shut. Anger brewed in his bright silver eyes.
My vision grayed with each step forward I took. The man’s lips curled and his mouth turned downward. The look on his face promised pain as he fought against the chains wrapped tightly around his body and the large tree at his back.
“The shackles are secure. I made sure of it,” I heard Sury call out. Ever the guard—not necessarily for my sake, but for my sister’s. It brought me comfort to know that if I failed her, he would be there.
I took another step as an orb of my power flared to life in my left hand.
It shone brightly, even with the sun beaming through the trees of Bainas Forest, where we found temporary refuge.
The orb was the perfect sphere of gray and teal—a teal that happened to match the brightness of my own eyes. Wielder eyes.
“Be still,” I commanded in a cool calm. The man immediately stopped fighting the restraints. A sense of panic betrayed his eyes as he desperately tried to avoid my gaze. “Look at me,” I whispered as I took another step forward.
I fixed my eyes on the frayed ends of the shoulder-length brown hair that I’d grown to love running my fingers through.
My Wielding practically buzzed in my hands as I brought them between us, my gaze locked on the broad chest in front of me.
The white tunic was open at the top, displaying the dusting of hair and edges of ink that I wanted to touch, but I kept my thoughts and fingers to myself.
The rolled-up sleeves displayed more ink: four thick mourning bands that encircled his strong forearm on his right.
Another calming breath later and I found the courage to look up into the man’s face, drinking him in.
I scanned from the light stubble that raced across his face to the silver hoops that dangled in his ears.
My eyes traced the small scars nicked across his lips and cheek.
I reeled myself in, trying not to think about how I’d kissed every one of them and how I desperately wanted to kiss them again.
But I had to practice, no matter the pain it brought us. Practice controlling the Ancient One.