Curse of Wreck and Ruin (The Rise of Starhaven)

Prologue

They would be ringing his mourning bells soon.

Chancellor Iprix Hagan let out a shuddering sigh that took every bit of his energy.

A young healer rushed to his side, and soon a blanket of warm arcanum settled on his chest. It was a momentary reprieve at best. Her power would subdue the pain but not prevent the inevitable.

Iprix would die soon, and there was nothing that could stop it.

Sweat dripped down the healer’s brow as she pulled at the threads of arcanum, willing the blood in his veins to move, heart to pump, and lungs to breathe.

Iprix would pity her if he weren’t so damned tired. She could be no older than thirty, but premature silver lined her hair, and faint lines had already carved a permanent home around her sunken eyes. It was taking everything out of her youth to sustain him for just a few more months at best.

A shame, Iprix thought, that such promising Talent would be wasted on his behalf—and a healer at that. There were so few left who could mend both bone and illness. But what was one more life compared to the blood that already stained his hands?

Iprix turned his head to the window, feeling the creaks in his joints and bones at the movement.

Stars littered the moonless sky, and the faint lights of Tarth’s Capital City decorated the inky night.

It had been half a year since he was able to move on his own without assistance, and even longer since he had last left his tower.

He took in a deep breath and was met with a sharp, searing pain that radiated from his chest. He had sustained the curse for far too long. Iprix winced, and the fatigued healer pulled harder on her Talent, fingers shaking in strain as she eased Iprix’s pain.

He would laugh if he could, but the slow creep of death made such movements agony. He muttered a slur of words, repeating the lifelong incantation with weak, wheezing breaths.

The royal family of Tarth had prolonged their destiny for far too long. Greed was a sin with consequences, and Iprix was only delaying the inevitable.

Ruin would be upon them soon, and he only wished that his apprentice could finish what he started. End the nightmare of Witch Queen Yelenya before it began.

Iprix had managed to contain her unrelenting soul for over a hundred years, but could only keep her curse at bay for so long. He was bound to die sometime, and Yelenya made sure she would still have the last word with this curse. Stubborn even in death.

At least, while he was still breathing, her magic would remain dormant and hopefully give Tarth time to prepare for the potential onslaught. That eased Iprix’s guilt as he saw the healer’s eyelids droop from exhaustion. She didn’t have much longer either.

The old mage closed his eyes and let the soft thrum of arcanum guide him to rest. Perhaps, Iprix prayed, someone had listened to him years ago.

Her power had a source, and if someone could find her tainted soul, they could end this madness once and for all.

Such a treasure existed; he was sure of it.

The Witch Queen had bound her soul and buried the precious item it was imbued to.

If there was one thing Iprix knew, treasure and secrets never stayed buried for long.