Moonlight Daggers and the Vanished Twin

Prologue Princess Elora

Thunder rolled as if the gods were playing dice in the heavens, deciding out of all places, to rumble over the Kingdom of Dagon.

Lightning snapped, streaming rapidly through the sky, illuminating the clouds with purple-and-blue veins.

The heavens roared—a rabid beast, angry and feral, their wrath shaking the windows as if indeed one of the gods had lost the game.

Breathing heavily, Elora whipped to her twin sister, who was sleeping soundly and undisturbed. Elora needed to get to her, but her limbs were unwilling. Move, coward. The gods are simply flexing their power.

Her lips curved into a frown. As always, her sister was never scared of anything. Not even a violent thunderstorm. Elora’s shoulders drooped, blood flooding her cheeks. Her sister was the one thing she wished she could be: fearless.

All her life, Elora hated storms.

Truly hated them.

She could feel her heartbeat drumming against her rib cage as lightning flickered through the window, spilling its vicious light onto the floors.

She couldn’t fight the scream that ripped from her throat.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she braced for the heavens’ bellow.

She knew it was coming. Her pulse whirled, heart dropping.

She began to count in her head, just as her father had taught her.

Light travels faster than sound. Once you see the lightning, start counting; you will know how far the storm is by the seconds. Do not fear the gods.

Elora gulped, her throat tight as she mouthed the words. One, two, three.

Boom! Boom!

Elora slammed a hand over her mouth to silence her next scream.

Glancing toward her sister once more, every fiber of her being demanded to get to her, but her body wouldn’t move.

She was frozen. Move. Just move. Her mind begged her to stay put under the covers where she was safe, where the storm couldn't hurt her. Inhaling a deep breath, she disobeyed her thoughts and placed her feet on the cold, hard marble floor. Elora’s legs trembled, her knees threatening to buckle as she sprinted, nearly slipping across the unforgiving stone.

With shaky limbs, Elora climbed on her sister’s bed. “Esemeray, wake up.” Gripping her sister’s shoulders, she shook with every ounce of energy remaining in her body. “Esemeray! Wake up!”

Esemeray groaned, flipping the other way. “Go away. It’s the middle of the night. Can this wait until morning?” Her voice slurred.

Elora tugged at her braids. “B-but it’s scary outside, and I can’t s-sleep.” She flinched. The light flashing fast along the surface, the rain battering against the glass, hard enough to shatter. Elora didn’t even bother counting. She knew the storm was right above her.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

A deep rumbling vibrated the castle grounds, shaking the floors, and rattled the bedframe. Elora tensed, holding her sister. Her body shivered, knuckles white against Esemeray’s cotton nightgown. “I’m scared, Esemeray.”

“Go find Mom.” Esemeray shoved Elora toward the edge of her bed. “Stop being such a baby.”

She winced, ears turning hot. Even though Elora was the firstborn, Esemeray was the brave one. The courageous one. The leader their people needed. Any time a storm brewed, Esemeray would curl up in a blanket by the window and watch the chaos stir outside. But not her, never her.

If it were daylight, she’d hide in the closet and drown out the noise with a pillow over her ears. But it was dark, and that, too, terrified her.

Elora’s eyes fell, a heavy weight swirling deep in her chest.

A tear slid down her cheek, and with the corner of her blue slip, she wiped it away and sniffled. “Okay…” Elora scooted off the bed and shuffled toward the door.

The room was dark—too dark. Even though the streaming lights didn’t help with her jitters, they at least helped navigate the door.

She flinched as another thunderbolt cracked in the sky, clinging to the wall until the tremor passed.

She took a deep breath and murmured, “Stop being such a coward.” Digging her nails into her palms, she ran toward her mother’s room with all her might.

She could see the golden door up ahead, her legs surging.

A croaky woman’s voice sounded behind Elora. “Elora?”

Muscles tensing, Elora halted, the hair on her arms standing straight up. She had no idea who it could be or why anyone would be up at this hour. Heart thundering, ever so carefully, she turned and gasped. The person cloaked in shadows strolled toward her with a chilling smile.

Elora shivered. “W-who are you?”

The woman laughed sweetly. “Don’t be silly, Elora dear, it’s me.

” She crouched down to Elora’s ten-year-old height, removing her hood with gnarled fingers.

Lightning poured through the skylights, casting a fluorescent glow upon the woman’s pale skin.

Elora took in her features, her chest skittering.

She did not recognize those compelling blue eyes or her sunken cheekbones.

Her mouth went dry, and the air escaped her lungs.

Slowly, she backed down the hall toward her mother’s room.

The woman extended her slender, white hand, her long fingers curling. “Come with me, child.”

Elora reeled her hands close to her sides, avoiding contact. “I-I’m going to my m-mother’s room.” She hurried down the hall, running faster than she ever had in her entire life.

“You don’t want any cookies?”

The voice echoed around her, halting her steps.

“Cookies?” Stomach fluttering, Elora faced the woman with a wobbly smile. The jitters from the storm seemed to lessen within her.

“Just one.”

Elora’s stomach somersaulted.

The woman giggled. “You must tell no one, okay?” A sinister smirk spread across her face as she approached, towering above her. “Our secret.”

Elora nodded, extending her pinky finger. “I promise.” The woman’s cold finger wrapped around hers. Elora’s stomach grumbled, knowing she was seconds away from what she craved, from what she had been deprived of.

A cookie.

The woman stood to her full, lengthy height, grabbed Elora’s hand, and led her down the royal halls.

Elora brushed the chain around her neck, and sighed.

Only if mother didn’t force me and Esemeray to wear this dumb necklace, we could retrieve our own cookies in another form.

It had been over three years since they ventured as mice. Three years too long of being trapped behind a silly pendant.

After a long, silent walk, the woman finally let go of Elora’s hand, and stopped to admire a piece of art.

Elora glanced up, and fixed her gaze on the gold frame. An icy chill wracked her body, and she quickly looked at anything else. A statue of a lion will do. She never stared at that painting for too long.

The lady in the lake frightened her.

Her mother had the piece placed there a month ago. And Elora wished her mother would get bored of it and take it down already. Perhaps the cookie lady noticed something in the painting. With careful movements, Elora’s eyes roamed across the lacquered canvas.

Don’t be a coward.

Elora bunched her gown, cotton filling her palms. Her lip trembled.

Why is the woman staring at the painting like that?

Is it the scary lady in the boat floating across the lake that made her brows draw in?

Is it the silver light shining along the dark water that captured her attention?

Whatever it was, the woman began to trail her fingers along the gilded frame.

What is she doing? Elora huffed, tapping her satin slippers on the floor. “Can we go to the kitchens now?”

The woman craned her neck in a way that made Elora want to run and hide. A small smile tilted the woman’s red-painted lips as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a chocolate chip cookie, a crumb tumbling to the pristine carpet.

Elora’s eyes widened. My favorite.

The woman held her palm out, offering the delicacy.

“Here, child. Eat.” Her eyes whipped back to the painting.

Elora did not hesitate to take a bite. Falling into pure bliss as she tasted the surprisingly warm, delicate, gooey, rich chocolate.

She hummed in delight as she took another bite, and another.

Elora’s jaw dropped wide open, crumbs spilling out of her mouth. The woman slid the painting aside, revealing a doorway. A door that Elora had never seen before—never knew was there. She swallowed, closing her mouth.

And then she heard it.

Chanting.

The woman’s voice carried a sinful, wicked tone, turning Elora’s blood to ice. Blue lights beamed, then the woman pushed the door open, a wave of dust blowing through the castle halls. But it wasn’t stairs behind the door.

No.

It was another world—a world with trees, so many trees.

Is this a dream?

Elora’s eyelids grew heavier with each blink, her breathing turning shallow. Worry snaked through her, knotting her stomach. What’s happening to me?

The blood drained from Elora’s face, each breath becoming harder and harder to take.

“I don’t feel so good.” Her voice was a broken rasp.

Her muscles turned to jelly, and without trying, the half-eaten cookie dropped from her hand.

She blinked, losing her balance and falling to the ground.

Before she crashed to the floor, the woman caught her, scooping her in her arms, and walked through the door—into the world.

Vision going in and out, the woman’s cold fingers brushed the back of Elora’s neck, the heavy weight of her pendant slipping off her chest.

Her necklace.

Something she had not felt in over three years coursed through her as violently as the lightning threading through the sky.

Elora’s breath hitched. Fire and something else spread through her veins. Something as far away as it was familiar.

Her power.