Where Dreams Fall (Defying Fate #1)

Chapter One

Elysia

The shrieks come in waves, bloodcurdling cries that pierce the air, signaling their hunt.

The hunt for me.

My heart races, hammering against my ribs like a caged beast, desperate for escape as I pump my arms and legs to find exactly that. There has to be a way out, a place of sanctuary.

Each of my inhaled breaths is ragged, each pulse a countdown to what feels like my end.

The sounds of my enemies sharpen as they draw closer to me, a predator homing in on their prey despite my continued race through the darkened night.

Only the moon illuminates the dead forest rushing by, full of husks and rotted trees, partially obscured by a gentle, wafting mist. My breath hitches as the ground rushes up to meet me, my foot caught in a tangle of roots.

A sharp gasp escapes from my parted lips as a throbbing pain rushes through my palms and knees.

I quickly snap my mouth shut, eyes widening as the weight of my carelessness slams into me.

Strands of my dark hair brush over my eyes and cheeks as I quickly glance around for a place to hide.

The air is thick with something rotting and damp earth, as if death itself festers in the mist. A tingle of familiarity runs down my spine at the scent before a deep, foreboding dread takes hold of my core and the truth crashes into me.

The Valgys? No … it can’t be them.

Deep within my being I know this to be the truth—that they’re here for me—with no explanation as to how I know it.

It’s like an endless void when I try to probe within the recesses of my mind, yet I continue to push.

White-hot flashes of pain bloom behind my eyes and finally I relent, re-focusing on what I can.

I need shelter and I need it now.

My eyes scan the roots of all the dead trees I can make out as my wheels turn.

My tumultuous thoughts come to a halt as I realize a key detail: I’ve never seen a tree with such massive roots, ones that spring up from the ground like cresting waves through the mist a mere five feet away from me.

I inhale sharply, that simple detail telling me all I need to know as someone who grew up frolicking in the forest surrounding our village … I’m nowhere close to home.

Worse, I don’t remember how I got here.

A particularly large set of roots reveals itself—I may be able to take shelter beneath.

I stay low as I crawl toward them, hoping the mist will aid in my attempt to stay hidden.

Fresh pain blossoms on my palms and knees as they scrape against the rough, hard-packed earth, covered with splinters of broken wood.

A small, short-lived sense of relief floods my mind as I squeeze between a small gap in the roots at the edge of the rotted tree. Curling my knees up to my chest, I wrap my arms around my trembling legs where my threadbare dress rides up.

A tingling, biting cold begins to work from the tips of my extremities before settling into my limbs fully, making them feel far heavier.

Shadows coil at the edges of my vision as my eyelids droop, moving with unnatural grace, whispering their sickly promises. Just let go. It would be so easy … so painless.

A vision of my mother slips into my mind.

Her standing over my grave … her sobs raw and broken.

I can almost hear her now, furious through her grief.

“I raised you to be stronger than this, Elysia. I ought to bring you back to life just to give you a tongue-lashing for leaving your family behind like this.”

My fingers drop from my legs and curl into the ground, scraping against the hard-packed dirt as I fight for a way to center myself.

No. I will not be a name carved into stone.

The thought is a lifeline, a defiant thread I cling to in the abyss.

“I will not … die here.” My voice wavers, barely more than a breath through the chattering of my teeth, but saying it aloud shakes the shadows away.

The shrieks rise again, shaking me from my paralysis.

My body rattles with adrenaline, a welcome feeling to fight the numbing cold.

The dead tree roots arch around me like skeletal fingers, my only meager wall of defense; my only chance of not being found.

Moonlight slants through the gnarled roots, illuminating nothing but mist and decay, yet I know they draw closer.

I blindly feel around for anything that I can use to defend myself while keeping my eyes on my surroundings. My fingers wrap around a thick branch and I barely hold back a sigh of relief when it doesn’t crumble at my touch.

I won’t go down easy if they find me.

The grit and determination within me builds as a new round of shrieks echoes into the night sky, pulling my head to the left.

A snap pierces the darkness.

Every instinct screams at me to run, but to where? I do a quick sweep of my immediate surroundings, in case I missed something, but there’s no clear path to safety.

The shrieks merge into a single, unified blast. Agony rips through my skull as if daggers are being driven into my ears, over and over. I drop the branch and instinctively clap my hands over them, barely stifling a cry. Black dots dance across my vision.

I fight through the pain sealing my eyes shut as I grope for my branch. Finding it once more, I hold on to it tightly as the barrage continues, grateful for the splinters of wood that dig into my skin, reminding me that I’m still here, that I can still fight.

Then … silence.

A deeper, more insidious dread coils in my stomach. The wind has stopped. No crickets. No night birds.

My head jerks at the sound of a branch snapping nearby, and I all but cease breathing to remain hidden. I can practically feel the hot, heavy breath of the creatures on my neck as they lurk in the dark, drawing ever closer.

Searing, white-hot pain explodes in a trail of fire across my back and I let out a gasp despite my best efforts to contain it. Two more branches snap in front of me, closer this time, giving me no time to discover why the muscles in my back are suddenly seizing.

I bite down onto my bottom lip hard enough to feel the warmth of my blood spilling from the split in my skin. The metallic taste fills my mouth and the flare of pain does its job of distracting me from the unknown wound on my back.

I can’t help but recoil as the smell of those hunting me assaults my senses, a rancid combination of sulfur and something sour. There is no doubt they have found me now, and that the creatures hunting me are the Valgys, as I feared.

Despite being hunted by these creatures, I can’t help the brief second of wondering who they were before this. Before the loss of their elven origin and the lives they could have led. I’m sure they had been loved and important to someone before being tempted by evil.

Now I have to kill them, or be killed myself.

The sharp sting of their stench draws tears to my eyes and raw terror claws its way up my throat.

I’m not sure how I got here, but I’m damn sure going to get out of here and back to my family. They need me now more than ever, especially if the Valgys are in our world.

An image of my family slain in our home flashes through my mind and I attempt to shove it down, but don’t succeed.

Their blood, soaked into the wooden planks of our home that my father cut down and built with his own hands.

My mother’s fabrics for work strewn about and dipped in crimson pools.

The lifeless eyes of my little sister staring up at me as I drop to my knees to cradle her body to mine.

A shadow moves in the fog, dragging me back to the present.

I press a trembling hand to my chest as if I could quiet my racing heart when the first of the creatures steps into view.

Monstrous, broken creatures that were once elves before they were twisted by a dark god’s corruption. They’re only supposed to exist in stories, buried with the Blood War four thousand years ago, but I know what I see, and I know what I smell.

Four more Valgys step into view.

Their heads loll at unnatural angles, and their eight glowing eyes burn like dying embers. Acid drips from their melting skin, hissing as it eats into the earth. The scent of their rotting skin hits me, choking my throat with bile.

The blinding pain on my back flares once more, and within seconds their multitudes of catlike irises are trained on my position, causing my heart to sink into my stomach.

Their mouths stretch open, unveiling rows of serrated teeth as they release their victorious shriek.

I have to get out of here. This measly branch won’t be enough to defend myself from this many of them.

Adrenaline surges through me as I quickly dart through the tree roots, not caring anymore in which direction I go from here. Anywhere is better than sitting and watching my death grow ever nearer.

Just as a new wave of pain threatens to rip a scream from my throat, I’m sent to my hands and knees once more, my body locking up.

My vision dances with black dots threatening to take me under just before light explodes from the darkness. The light emanates from an unknown figure, illuminating the dying land like a fallen star.

The Valgys recoil, hissing in agony while my breaths become shallow and desperate as I struggle to understand this new development.

I squint and raise my hands to shield my eyes as I attempt to make out the shape moving within the ball of light. It causes the Valgys to shriek as if in pain, and that alone boosts my morale. An enemy of my enemy is my friend.

All I manage to make out through the brightness is the lengthened tips of their ears, and despite their towering height, that they move with such grace.

My chest tightens. A Dromin elf.

Could it be? We’re taught from a young age that they will never appear to the human they’re watching over.

Awe consumes my mind at the thought of seeing one, causing my lips to part in a soft gasp.

We revere them as guardians—elves who ensure our dreams stay blissful under their watch. In return, we offer the energy of those dreams to nourish their magic.

If one has come to my aid, then none of this is real. It’s just a dream.

The sheer terror blooming through me fades, like they pulled it from my chest and replaced it with quiet contentment. This is the serene peace we’re supposed to feel every night beneath the Dromins’ care.

Relief floods my body and my shoulders slump as my hands fall to my sides. I’m safe now. My family is safe, tucked in their beds, still sleeping in our home.

My eyes close and a sigh of relief slips from my parted lips.

It’s just a dream.

I barely register the touch on my cheek before warm, callused fingers tilt my chin up.

I try to open my eyes to see the dream-keeper, but my body stills under his grip as heat seeps through my cold limbs.

After a few moments of it flowing through my body, it starts to feel like more than just warmth.

Something sharp and unfamiliar stirs in my chest, as if his touch has reached the depths of my soul.

The elf chuckles, a low, velvety sound that snakes down my spine and unravels my line of thought.

“Don’t conjure this nightmare again, Little Dove.” His voice is a lazy drawl, brushing against my senses like silk. “I’m starting to wonder if you did it just to force me into revealing myself to you.”

A shiver runs through me, though not from the cold.

Little Dove.

The name settles strangely in my chest, like it belongs there.

“I …” My tongue feels thick, like I’m forcing my body through sludge to counteract the weight pressing down. “Nightmare? Isn’t this a dream, if you are here and not a Nithrin?”

While this dreamscape was haunting and spiked fear within me, it didn’t even occur to me that it could be a nightmare because it’s not possible. I don’t live under the Nithrins’ stormy clouds, so how would they have access to my mind, to induce a nightmare to feed from?

Another husky laugh, like he finds me impossibly naive. “How do you know I’m a Dromin?”

I huff at the absurdity of it and fight to open my eyes again, but still my body won’t cooperate. There is no way he is a nightmare-keeper with the pure white light emanating from him.

I don’t need to see him to confirm that, but I selfishly want to lay eyes on the elf who saved me. I want to breathe in this sense of peace and his warmth while looking into his eyes.

“Wake up, Little Dove,” he murmurs.

His lips graze my ear and the contact leaves a tingling trail of heat in its wake as the dream shatters.