Chapter 1
One
Pietersite
For a single moment, I knew true happiness—right before it was ripped out of my grasp. Now, nothing but dull numbness and vast emptiness claws at my chest, quieting the world around me.
Snow-capped mountains peek above tall pine trees, the image blurring and then refocusing as I let the heaviness settle over my heart and spread throughout my body.
I inhale deeply, trying to steady my thoughts enough to focus. But as the metallic tinge of blood hits my nose, bile rises in my throat, and my gaze is torn from the mountains.
Bodies are scattered at the edge of the tree line in front of me.
Reichardt. Soldiers.
The edges of my vision turn cloudy and dark as my eyes coast over the lives I’ve taken. I expect to feel something as the memories flood in—anything—but nothing happens.
No guilt poking at my chest, no nausea churning in my stomach.
It’s as if I’m hovering outside of my own body, watching from a distance as my empty shell of flesh and bone stands unmoving. Even as a faint echo of pain twinges at my chest, it doesn’t reach me—I’m an impenetrable fortress of hollowness. A glass case with nothing inside.
A shout pierces the air, like a shock of lightning, and I jolt. Familiar faces look down at me, but they’re blurred. Their movements are hazy and their murmuring voices jumble together as if separated from me by a wall.
All that I can seem to focus on now is the one thing that’s missing. On who’s missing.
Graylen.
Is he still alive?
The thought scatters through my mind, causing my body to finally react, my stomach clenching and bile once again rising in my throat.
Vidaris was right there. So close I could’ve done something—anything—to change what Graylen did. He saved me from her…but at what cost? His own life?
I swallow down the rising acid, and my body begins to tremble. The nothingness inside of me begins to crack as terror peeks through. Graylen shoved me out of the way, pushing Vidaris back into her realm and sealing her—along with himself—within.
No amount of pain growing up could’ve prepared me for this; no comparison of loss or hardship comes close to the splinter that has formed in my heart since that portal swallowed him whole.
“Lunaria?” a sharp feminine voice urges—not his voice. Not my Graylen’s.
Instead of trying to listen to them, I scream into Graylen’s thoughts, begging him to answer.
“Graylen, please,” I plead down that quiet bond. “Tell me you’re okay—tell me you’re alive.”
I pause, breath held as I await his response.
But there is none.
The connection between us…the link that held our thoughts together—is silent. Dark. As if that invisible thread that tied us together had been severed.
As the deafening silence fills my mind, a loneliness I haven’t felt since I was in Crea begins to creep back in. An isolation that Graylen had once filled. The void of my own thoughts forces me to see just how much room my soul had made for his.
But now that he’s gone, well and truly stuck in a place where I don’t know how to reach him, I feel it—a loneliness that I haven’t felt in a long time, not since the king’s camp in Crea.
A sharp voice cuts in through my hazy thoughts and muddied brain. “Lunaria, we need to get out of here.” Brielle.
I keep my eyes shut, blocking her out—blocking everyone out.
There’s nothing good that awaits them, no joy or break from the grief.
All I can do is allow the hazy numbness surrounding me to keep taking hold.
Each voice is like a sledgehammer to my heart, chinking away at the carefully constructed door I’ve slammed shut behind it.
“That would be wise,” a deep, unfamiliar voice says.
My eyes spring open and land on the man talking.
My father. Daimon. Lord of Shadows, and the one we’re supposed to be appealing to for the trapped souls. More a god than fae, Leda had once said. And now here he is, standing before me with his face shrouded in shadows and covered in scars.
He’s the only one that could help us get Graylen back—the complete and utter idiot hero that he is—along with the souls of everyone else who is trapped in the Vale.
“You,” I rasp, that haziness flowing through me clearing enough to focus as I move toward him. Rage simmers beneath my bones, but I cling to the warmth of nothingness, tightening around me like a blanket on a winter’s eve. “You had something to do with this. Let him go—let them all go.”
The words burn a path through my throat as they come out, each one scratchy and labored.
Darkness and shadow obscure his features in a hazy blur, but his eyes, black as pitch, watch my every move.
I take another step, voices of protest bubbling up behind me.
The wisps lighten, letting me see him a touch better this close up. But then I realize the shadows are receding, revealing his face entirely.
Daimon towers over me. His eyes are wholly black with no white to be seen. My nose, which I once thought held a likeness to Reichardt’s, instead looks identical to Daimon’s. He has small freckles across his cheeks and nose like me, but most of his are slashed through with a scar.
What catches my attention the most, however, is the deep, pale scar that starts on his right shoulder, splintering up the side of his neck. It merges into a single jagged line over his cheek, through his eye, and stops at the top of his brow.
His face is calm, peaceful even.
My magic coils inside of me, ready to strike, but I force it down. Once I let them out, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop them.
Daimon is the ruler of these lands, the darkness that controls all the things that hide within it. More than that, he answers to Vidaris—to the goddess who took Graylen away from me. My heart squeezes, and another crack splits down my heart as fury sizzles through my blanket of numbness.
I bare my teeth at him, the haze slipping. Maybe he could’ve stopped Vidaris from coming here, from taking Graylen. But wondering what could’ve happened doesn’t bring Graylen back.
Daimon’s mouth curls into a smile, and before he says another word, I know.
This man is not our ally.
The moment the thought enters my mind, I feel an icy, rope-like shape wrap around my neck. My fingers fly to my throat, but there’s nothing there. I strain against his hold, my gaze darting to the side to try and catch sight of my friends, but it’s no use.
Leda’s snarl echoes from behind me, as does Brielle’s calm voice, trying to steady the others. My shoulders relax slightly knowing they’re still there.
My eyes find Daimon again. I know this is his doing.
Daimon simply holds his smile, no raising of his hands or twitch of his brow as his shadows tighten around me. Choking and hisses of frustration fill the air behind me, and I know my friends are in the same position as I am.
My airway constricts further, and I reach for my Essence in a panic.
But my magic is completely spent. Empty.
Shadows wrap like chains around my wrists and ankles, keeping my arms pinned to my sides and legs frozen in place.
The ones around my neck slowly constrict tighter and tighter like a snake suffocating its next meal.
Zephyr hisses, her growl growing as she shifts toward me slightly.
Daimon is only a few paces from us, close enough that he catches the small change in her stance.
“Zeph, don’t,” I choke out.
She doesn’t listen, her growl turning into a deafening roar so loud that the Lord of Shadows’ hair is blasted back.
Still, he doesn’t move.
My head is growing heavy, my vision blurring as I gasp desperately for air. Zephyr roars again and takes a step toward him, nearly nose to nose with him now. She tucks her wings close to her side, her body blocking mine.
“Lu,” Leda snarls from behind me, and the distinct sound of little zaps of lightning fizzles from where her voice is coming from—no doubt fighting against Daimon with her light. It isn’t enough.
Leda is back there, along with Brielle, Adrian, the wyvern crew, and likely the Lyle boys. The sounds of wyverns straining to break free from being held down block out the tormented cries of pain from my friends. They shake the ground as they crash into it, trembling the rocks beneath my shoes.
Everyone is at Daimon’s mercy.
I could lose more than Graylen right now—could lose some of the only people I have left in my life. Leda, my incredibly strong and determined sister. Brielle, my mentor. Calix, Sidra, Maddox, and Orla, all of my new friends and wyvern team. I can’t lose them, too.
Painfully sharp emotions burst through the cracks holding me together, pushing the world into focus.
The man before me is surrounded by tendrils of shadows, his face blank and cold. He is the antithesis of my mother, who controls light and has a face that beams with sunshine everywhere she goes.
This isn’t a man capable of love—of helping us. There’s a hollowness in his gaze that tells me the story of a man who would kill all of my friends without blinking.
I struggle against the restraints, moving every muscle I can to try and wiggle out of them. My panic grows, stifling any rational thought. But then the shadows tightening around my throat pause. They don’t lessen, but they cease constricting.
Zephyr is still growling as her muscles tense, her ears pinned back on her head. Her right wing stretches out to block him from my view for a moment. My heart pounds, searching for a plan that doesn’t end with all of us being killed by him.
“Daimon,” Brielle rasps from somewhere behind me. “You’re—”
Her voice cuts off, followed by a strange gurgling sound.
Zephyr tucks her wings back in, just enough for me to get a glimpse of Daimon’s cruel face again. He isn’t smiling any longer. His head tilts up, focusing behind my shoulder, his expression grim, mouth pressed into a line.
I stare at him, my hands trembling, rage flooding me, bright and hot. I had always wished for a different father, for a man I could be proud to call family. Well, I got a new one, but Daimon makes Reichardt look like a saint.
The thought feels like a knife twisting in my gut, but I ignore it—letting the anger take over instead of the pain that taps beneath it.
The shadows around our throats slowly loosen, not completely gone, but giving us enough room to breathe. I suck in a full breath, coughing until my lungs fill with air. My muscles tense when his gaze settles on me. I’ve seen that look before—the look of a man without any mercy within him.
“How you answer next determines if someone dies or lives.” Daimon’s voice is hard. Detached. “What are you doing here?”
Faces flash through my mind of those behind me whom he could take from me; Leda’s sharp eyes fading into a dull stare as he ends her life—Calix’s bright laughter becoming nothing but a memory. Brielle’s determination fading.
Daimon’s words confirm the merciless look displayed across his face. I want his help saving Graylen and those trapped in the Vale more than anything, but this isn’t someone who wants to help us.
What we’re doing here is trying to save all of those taken during our trial, but now there’s one more life to save along with the dozens already gone.
His eyes are still focused over my shoulder, and I twist my head just enough to see who his attention is on.
My gaze briefly finds the group of fae behind me—my friends.
Sidra, Orla, Maddox, and Calix. Leda stands just behind Brielle with Adrian on his knees beside Leda.
From this position, I can’t see the Lyle boys, but they have to be out there, too.
Chains of darkness are wrapped around each of them, restricting their arms, legs, and necks.
I yank against the restraints, my skin burning as they tighten further. I’m not fighting my way out of this, but maybe I can convince him to let us go. A choked, crazed laugh wheezes out of my chest at the thought. Daimon didn’t immediately kill us all, which has to count for something.
Talking my way out of this is a long shot, but I have to try.
“We were looking for the Lord of Shadows,” Brielle answers, seemingly having the same idea as me: play nice and maybe we can make it out alive.
Daimon pauses, waiting for someone to explain further.
“There were souls taken from their trial,” I add, gaining his attention. His gaze turns to me, and a slither of cold works its way down my spine. “We’re here to bargain for them to be returned.”
The corners of Daimon’s mouth twitch upward, more amused than interested, as he says, “Are you now?”
I swallow.
“During your trial, correct?” he prods, facing me. “A trial you didn’t finish—one that would’ve connected you to your fae side for good. What power will you have without being blessed by the glorious Eurydice?”
Blood drains from my face, turning my veins into ice.
“Foolish.” He tsks, turning to the others. “All of you.”
He knew it was my trial, too. Which means he likely knows everything; Ellerry and Avery’s mother dying and losing their souls to Vidaris as they sacrificed themselves to get those of us left back to the waking realm. And those who didn’t make it out, the ones Vidaris plucked out and trapped here.
Some part of me thought we could persuade him, but that hope fades quicker than it appeared.
Daimon’s nostrils flare, and he turns his attention to the rest of the group. There’s fury written across his face as he looks at the Riders and their beasts. His gaze briefly pauses on Leda, and his jaw ticks.
My brows twitch at his response to her, but before I can question it further, the binds winding around me pull tighter.
The ones around my neck twist until my airway is restricted once again, and I shove my panic down as it threatens to cloud my thoughts.
Gasps and coughs sound from around me, letting me know it isn’t just mine that tightened.
It doesn’t matter if we came here seeking his help. There wasn’t a flicker of humanity in his gaze. Even as he saw me, as the first word he said to me was daughter, no warmth filled his face. No softness eased his hardened features.
Our intention may have been to use him to save the lost souls, but it’s clear that won’t be an option now.
With his attention set on the group, my gaze returns to the one person who can help us, a person who knows battle more than anyone here.
Brielle’s eyes connect with mine, her face still red as she gives me a subtle nod. She juts her chin down slightly—almost too subtly to notice—but the sign is clear: fight.