The Hallowed (The Scrying Trilogy Book 2)
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Acknowledgments
About the Author
The Hallowed: Book 2
The Scrying Trilogy
Copyright © 2018 by Jaci Miller
Solitary Pen Press
Cover design and interior formatting by Streetlight Graphics
All rights reserved. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it or in any form without permission.
Print ISBN: 978-0-9988069-2-1
Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9988069-3-8
First Edition 2018
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
www.jacimiller.com
www.solitarypenpress.com
Dedication
To my parents who taught me to love literature,
and my husband who supports my creating it.
“Multitudes who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake: some to everlasting life, others to shame and everlasting contempt.”
– Daniel 12:2, New International Version
Prologue
Thanissia Universe—after the Great War.
Towering stone arches loomed ahead of her as she walked up the path toward the Hall of Elders. The council summons, at the request of the Guardian of Deities, surprised her. Never had she interacted with either the elders or the Guardian, for it was forbidden. Only her twin brother Gabriel, or one of the other Seraphs, Michael or Raphael, intermingled with them. As commander of the sentinels, the warring celestials who constitute most of her race, she reported only to the Seraphs. A council summons of a sentinel, even the commander, was unheard of. With much to do before stasis, this unexpected interruption was disconcerting and amplified her already irritated state.
She had just returned from Dywen when the summons came. There was a Warlician warrior who would remain there to protect the Book of Realms, and she had been charged with ensuring his readiness for stasis. This Warlician was known to her. She had engaged him before and invariably it always ended the same way; her being provoked by his continued contempt for rules and lack of formal conduct, and him goading her into exasperation.
The sentinels under her command are professional and regimented; a fierce fighting army trained to battle with discipline. The warriors of Dywen are anything but. Emotions and passion control the witches of their realm and in her judgment, it made them undisciplined. It was a trait she found weak and dangerous in any race, but in Warlician warriors, it was most unfavorable. Due to their innate power of foresight, Warlicians are deemed invincible making them egotistical as well as emotional, and therefore, utterly chaotic.
The warrior staying on Dywen—the worst of them all. He was not merely arrogant; his insolence and bravado were also insufferable. She was glad they would never again cross paths.
What was his name? She thought as she walked toward the Hall of Elders. Oh, yes, Rafe. Just the notion of him left an acidic taste in her mouth and her irritation surged back when she recalled their tense encounter.
Ignoring it she focused instead on her present dilemma—the elder’s sudden penchant to meet with her. She paused, her hand fidgeting with the sword at her hip. Her mind spun as she tried to determine the reason for their summons. It was illogical. The portals to the other realms were sealed, stasis had begun, and Michael was readying the remaining elders for their final journey back into the ether.
Why then were they disrupting their preparations to speak with her?
She took a deep breath as she passed under the immense stone arches, each leading her closer to the council and the reason for their beckoning. The walk up the mountainside toward the Hall of Elders was an imposing one. Even though she occasionally made the trek in the past, the overwhelming sense of intimidation never diminished.
The white mountain, known as Elderon, was surrounded by an immense chasm. The perpetual darkness of the ether shadowed its unknown depths. It was accessible only by the long, wood and stone bridge joining the mountain to the Leylands; the moors where the sentinels lived and trained. The bridge was dominated by five massive stone arches, each represented one of the five distinct realms of the Thanissia Universe’s territory. Passing under the arches, she noticed the light burning behind each of the race symbols weaken as the ancient magic of the realms faded into stasis.
The Hall of Elders was carved into the white stone of the mountainside. The soft quartz sparkled in the light as tall gaping windows scrutinized her approach. She stumbled, mindful of the hall’s silent and daunting presence. Lightning flashed in the sky. The static in the air crackled as the lilac-hued atmosphere darkened. A natural response to the ancient magic becoming weaker throughout the universe. The sky was not the only thing fading; the brilliant white stone of Elderon and the surrounding foliage had also begun to dim, their magically infused luster waning.
A pang of sadness surprised her as an unfamiliar heaviness pushed on her heart. The Great War had sealed their fate, the time of the immortals was ending. Her world would be no more.
She reflected on the past as she proceeded toward her destination. Her mind drifted back, remembering the ensuing chaos that erupted not long ago. The war devastated the worlds of the Thanissia Universe and its people. The realms, once considered impregnable, were decimated easily under the wrath of an ancient evil; a dark entity that fed off magic. Although the races had ultimately conquered the intruder, it came at a significant cost. The Guardian of Deities made the ultimate sacrifice to preserve the remnants of the realms civilizations. Unfortunately, his sacrifice was not enough. The Thanissia Universe could no longer sustain life as the irreversible damage fractured the elemental magic’s connection to the ether.
From the ashes of this world, a new one had been born, a non-magical world filled with static individuals known as humans.
A race, she thought, not worthy of the majesty of Thanissia.
Survivors of the Great War had already relocated to the new world. She and the celestials would not follow. They would exist among the stars, patiently watching the new world grow as the old one diminished.
Her shoulders shuddered as she took a ragged breath hoping to
quash her jangled nerves. The last archway was behind her, and the massive wooden doors of the sacred hall stood ominously before her. The dark-hued grain embedded in the wood was a stark contrast to the white stone of the mountain. The doors groaned their displeasure as she thrust them open. Heavy metal hinges grated, the sound reverberating off the interior surfaces as she entered the hallowed hall. The air inside was stale, saturated with a haunting silence. Its clammy tendrils encircled her the moment she stepped over the threshold. The noise her boots made on the polished stone resonated through the immense space. The frustration at being pulled away from her tasks erupted again as she quickened her pace and continued to her destination.
As she entered the council room she saw her brother, Gabriel, standing to the left of the long meeting table. Michael and Raphael to his right. Not one acknowledged her as she stepped into the chamber. Their stares set straight ahead, locked on something unseen at the far side of the room. The sight of the Seraphs in their polished gray armor, black wings tucked magnificently behind them, never failed to make her feel inconsequential. They had a remarkable ability to elicit awe and fear in those who looked upon them. Their faces, exquisite masks of stoic, symmetrical beauty were unnerving. As the sentinel commander she excelled, but as the twin sister of a powerful Seraph, she often experienced an internal sense of inadequacy.
Her eyes strayed back to the front of the room where the council of elders waited. One emissary from each of the six races was present, but she recognized only one. Seri, the lone female elder and the envoy for the celestial race, was the highest-ranking Seraph within their hierarchy. Their eyes locked momentarily, and she thought she caught a flicker of empathy in Seri’s irises before she cast her gaze downward.
The stifling apprehension that began as she made her way up to the Hall of Elders intensified as she stood in front of the council. The elders beckoned for her to approach. She felt a twinge as her intuition discerned something was amiss. She scanned the faces of the elders. Some looked defeated, others annoyed. The representative from the fire realm looked aghast; his whitish-gray skin paler than normal and mottled with a web of grey veins. A wariness wafted through the air. Nothing about this was typical, and it made her uncomfortable, a sensation she was not accustomed to.
Using her simmering annoyance as confidence, she pulled her shoulders back and moved forward to stand directly in front of the six council elders. Her mind whirled as she took in the daunting splendor of the council room—a place she had no business being present in. With hardened eyes, she stared at each of them hoping her annoyance at this unwelcomed summons was not visible on her face.
“You summoned,” she said, the tone of her voice a little too harsh, the edges tinged with the irritation she was desperate to hide. She winced.
The council elders glanced at one another. A look of concern passed between them. Seri stood, her eyes full of compassion.
“You are chosen, my dear, blessed with a destiny that may one day bring back the time of magic. The prophetic water of the sacred pool has shown the Druid priests a time when ancient magic will be needed in the modern world. Descendants of our great races will rise, to once again battle the evil we could not destroy. This foretelling of a distant future, one to which you are linked, is why you have been summoned.”
Seri hesitated, looking at the emissary from Dywen; a man with brilliant green eyes emanating a gentleness she was unaccustomed to seeing from a Warlician. He gazed at her, neither empathy nor hostility visible in his irises only a calm that made her relax. When he spoke his voice was husky, fractured by time yet full of wisdom and the same gentleness that penetrated from his eyes.
“Your destiny has been rewritten. Your future will no longer belong to our past nor our future. It has been foretold that you will carry our knowledge to those who do not yet exist. When the descendants of the ancients rise, you will stand with the one who carries my blood, and together you will ensure the future and the past survive.”
She blinked rapidly, her blank stare a sign of her confusion. In what world would a celestial and a Warlician warrior share an equal destiny?
Seri placed her hand on the Warlician’s shoulder igniting a powerful essence that quietly spread across the room. In its wake, she sensed a strange and confusing emotional pulse, but before she could decipher its meaning and understand the odd connection between the two race elders, Seri spoke again.
“Go to the Ledge of Faith. The Guardian is waiting for you there. Good luck my dear, your destiny, is now our future. Remember, the past will never be truly lost.”
The tension in the council room was palpable. Afraid to speak, she remained silent, her body rigid as questions flew through her mind. What were Seri and the Warlician speaking of? What future, different from this world, could she be linked to? Why did the Guardian want to meet with her, himself?
She fidgeted. Never had she stood in the presence of the Guardian of Deities and she was unsure she desired to do so now. The Guardian had given up everything to end the Great War. Rumors had rippled through the sentinel camps that his powers were depleted, and his physical form altered. Claims were made that he was a mere shell of the great entity he once was. Instinctively, she knew the rumors were true, but she chose to remember the powerful being as he had been, now that too was about to change.
The elders rose from their chairs and headed toward the exit. A sense of defeat lingered as they shuffled from the council room, eyes averted. She remained silent. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched them go. Seri came around the table, a look of sadness welled in her eyes. “We are counting on you,” she whispered. A slight smile crossed her beautiful face. As she turned a solitary feather separated from her massive wings, floating silently to the floor as she swept away to join the others.
Glancing at the Seraphs, her eyes locked with her brothers. An overwhelming sadness darkened his iridescent irises before his gaze drifted away and he too turned to leave. She stood rooted to the floor watching, unable to utter a word as Gabriel and the other Seraphs followed the elders out. Their black, leather coats brushed the stone floor as they moved, thick black wings folded together like a pair of praying hands. Their power and grace were unequivocal as they exited the council room without a backward glance.
Alone, wrapped in the deafening silence that descended on the empty chamber, she remained rooted on the spot trying to make sense of everything. Taking a deep breath, she sighed. Why, after all this time, had she suddenly become so important?
A warm breeze blew in through an open window, a floral fragrance carried on its wisps. The scent released her from her self-imposed trance, and she bent, picking up the fallen feather at her feet. The tip still pulsed with Seri’s magic and she felt her own magic react, enthralled by the power of the ether.
Walking away from the loneliness encapsulating the Hall of Elders she headed to the narrow path that encircled the mountain. It ran parallel to the inside edge of the chasm and led to the Ledge of Faith where the Guardian waited. She dawdled along the path, in no hurry to meet whatever fate would befall her. As she walked, Seri’s words surfaced in her mind.
What destiny could she be speaking of? What had the Druid priests seen in the mystic waters?
She had been a sentinel her entire existence; a celestial without a grand purpose. One of many protecting the realm from intruders and keeping peace among the outlying worlds. She would never be like Seri, her brother Gabriel, or the other first-borns, Michael and Raphael. Their destinies were linked directly to the Guardian—their powers unique, their status unrelenting. In the hierarchy of celestials, there were only four: The Guardian, the Seraphs, the elder council, and the sentinels. Her place had always been at the bottom, a position that suited her fine as she was unencumbered by the responsibility of those above her. She knew her place and functioned efficiently within the hierarchy because she recognized what was expecte
d of her. Ultimately, she was left to perform her duties with little resistance from above. Although she was the commander of the sentinel army, her position did not garner the authority or prestige the title may suggest. She was one of many serving the realm.
As she approached the Ledge of Faith, static crackled above as a shadow rippled through the sky and darkened the edges further. The lilac hue continued to fade as the magic of the universe receded and with it the power of her world. Without its magic, her people could not remain in this realm. Soon they would begin their final journey back into the ether from which they were born. The time of the immortals had ended.
A gold ball of light hovered just beyond the edge of the precipice as she approached. It surged as it sensed her presence. The energy expanding and contracting as it pulsed. The Guardian’s voice filled her mind. A firm whisper with a commanding tone drifted through her conscious, a sensation that made her both fearful and comforted. As is the way of the celestials the Guardian got directly to the point.
“The Druid priests have seen the future; a prophecy that begins and ends with you and five others born from the bloodlines of the ancient races. The ancient dark has been defeated but not destroyed and it will rise again. In time its evil will infect the new world, feeding on a new kind of magic. A magic not born from the elements but sowed deep within the human soul. The new world will feel its wrath. You and the others are our only hope, the only ones who can defeat the ancient dark and save the past and future. Our fate belongs to you.”
His voice changed, a conclusiveness in the tone. “You must fall, you must become mortal, and you must wait until the time comes for you to embrace your destiny. There is no other way.”
Before she could utter a word in response his voice silenced, and a brilliant gold light exploded around her. Visceral pain sliced through her shoulder blades and she could no longer feel the ledge beneath her feet. The wind whistled by as her body hurtled through time and space. The purple sky of her realm morphed into the star-filled night sky of the new world. As the light of the Guardian moved further away and her mind began to blur, memories slipping into oblivion, she heard him whisper once more.