The Hallowed (The Scrying Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  “I am Rafe, of the clan Morrighann, son of Gareth. These are my traveling companions, Gabriella of the spirit realm, and Stevie who carries the blood of fire and ash, a descendant of your people. The one you are currently holding against her will is a daughter of Seri and the only one to still carry the Callathian name.” Dane rolled her eyes at the formal introductions, but his words must have affected the stranger because the blade’s pressure decreased and his grip on her waist lessened slightly.

  “Callathian.” The way he said her ancestor’s name was less a question and more a recall of a memory. “Has the prophecy come to pass then?”

  “It has not yet, but it is moving toward the future, which is why we have returned. We mean you no harm, we are only here to reignite the magic of the realms and prepare for the battle that is to come.”

  The blade dropped from her throat and the stranger released her. He sheathed the knife as he moved from behind her. His dark red eyes studied her intently before he spoke. “My apologies Callathian, we have been here alone for a very long time, it can make one distrustful.”

  She looked around the courtyard, its emptiness echoed back. “We?”

  The stranger waved his hand toward a steel tower in the distance, a glint of light reflected in the window.

  There was someone watching them.

  “I am Drow,” the stranger said. “The last of the Velkia bloodline.”

  He pointed again to the tower as someone emerged from the shadowed doorway and walked toward them. “That is Killenn, commander of the royal elite guard.”

  The man approaching them was dressed all in black. His pants were tucked into knee-high leather boots, and he wore a leather breastplate emblazoned with a red dragon. His long dark hair was tied into a knot on top of his head and his eyes, like Drow’s, were a deep, cabernet red. His angular jaw was covered with a thick stubble and he carried an impressive looking metal crossbow, which he pointed toward the ground as he reached them.

  He must be Drow’s sniper, she thought, recalling the glint of light she had seen in the tower window.

  Killenn stood before them his eyes full of suspicion, his jaw tense as he flexed his free hand. “Prince Drow, are you alright?”

  All eyes flashed back to the prince as his title was unceremoniously revealed.

  Drow nodded, motioning toward the strangers who appeared in his homeland. “They are friends. They come to us from the new world.”

  Dane could tell Killenn was unsure of how to react to the strangers he found in front of him. When he did speak, the calmness in his voice was surprising and curious.

  “How did you get through the portal?”

  “We have a portal stone.”

  He looked at Dane his brow furrowed as he considered her words. “So, the prophecy has come to pass then? The ancient dark, has risen?”

  “No,” Rafe interjected. “But the ancient dark has made its presence known. It is growing in strength and it will not be long before it finds its way out of its prison.”

  “Then we must prepare.” Drow’s raspy voice was somewhat unnerving and now that Dane was free from his grip, she had an unfettered view of the prince. She studied him with interest; besides the pale skin, grayish-white hair, and dark red eyes, he bore a distinct mark in the middle of his forehead—a raised scar that resembled a line with two dots on either side. She wondered if it was specific to the royal lineage, considering Killenn did not have a similar marking. He was dressed in similar pants and boots as Killenn, but he wore a knee-length coat of plush, dark, red velvet over a white silk shirt.

  “Come,” Drow said. “We will discuss this further in the royal citadel.”

  Killenn slung the crossbow over his back and followed Drow through the empty courtyard, motioning for the others to do the same. They headed toward a set of metal doors located at the back of the courtyard. Drow pushed open their bulk, stepping aside and bowing graciously as they swung open revealing the heart of the steel city.

  “Welcome to Embermire.”

  Dane detected pride in the prince’s voice when he said the name of his city, yet it was tainted by a layer of sadness. Stevie had gotten over her initial shock and was now fully immersed in the adventure. Her eyes sparkled with wonder as she looked around the expanse of Embermire.

  From the top of the volcano staircase, the front half of the city was not visible. Dane was astonished at how many streets and buildings existed inside the stone and iron walls. They moved at a hurried pace through the empty streets, passing stores, trade smiths, market areas, all echoing the solitude that had infected the realm since the Great War. They moved without pause through the abandoned streets toward their destination. The red haze of the sky serving as an ominous backdrop for the black charred stone and thick metal that created this impressive city.

  As they emerged from an alley Dane could see the towering peaks of the citadel. Massive metal towers reached high above the other buildings. Banners flowed down their sides, long black silk scrolls emblazoned with the same red dragon head that Killenn wore on his breastplate. The Dominion of the Dragons was, without question, a powerful and proud empire that thrived in the time of the supernaturals. As they passed through the final street and headed to the entrance of the citadel, she wondered if Stevie could be a descendant of the Velkia bloodline. If Stevie could be royalty.

  Chapter 5

  The royal citadel was the largest building in the city, taking up at least three city blocks. Its entirety was constructed from metal, an impressive piece of architecture that included, sloping rooflines, towering peaks, and suspension cables supporting a network of catwalks. Large stained-glass windows, dotted the exterior, each piece a different color of red or black. The gables between the intersecting roof pitches were covered with small metal shingles. Each gable adorned, at the peak, with a filigree metal bracket.

  “Remarkable,” Stevie whispered, more to herself than the others.

  The citadel entrance featured a massive set of arched steel doors. Large metal rivets bordered the edges and metal dragon heads protruded from both sides. A large iron ring hung from the mouth of each, metal teeth clenched tightly together. The burnished metal reflected the translucent red light that filled the sky casting the entryway in an eerie hue. Above the doors, a gargoyle perched. Its expansive wings spread wide as it crouched menacingly. Vacant eyes stared at everything and nothing—an ancient otherworldly protector.

  Passing through the main doors of the citadel, they emerged into a wide hallway. Numerous painted canvases housed in sculpted iron frames lined the walls, portraits of the Velkia royal family. Each likeness had the same whitish-gray hair as Drow and each bore the strange mark on their forehead.

  “This way,” Drow instructed, leading them to a set of doors at the far end.

  The portraits dark red eyes followed them as they passed, a strange illusion that added to the unnerving atmosphere hovering over the steel citadel. Other than the portraits, there was little else in the hallway, no decorative items, tables, or seating, nothing to muffle their approach. The sound their boot heels made on the stone floor echoed off the steel walls, causing a hollow reverberation to thunder around them as they walked.

  Killenn opened the doors, motioning for them to pass. They emerged into a large shadowy, circular foyer. Dane assumed they must be inside the base of one of the numerous towers she saw from the exterior.

  “Where are we?” Stevie asked looking around the room in awe.

  “This is the Grand Hall,” Killenn responded.

  Dane understood now the carefully planned architecture of the royal citadel’s main entrance. The entry hall, bare except for unsettling portraits of the royal family, and the Grand Hall, imposing in both size and impression—were meant to intimidate.

  Drow headed directly for the large staircase to the right. The winding meta
l steps were suspended from the ceiling by thick steel cables anchored into metal support beams. A handrail snaked up the left side secured to the steps and the steel cables by a thin, sturdy wire. The effect, structurally, was impressive, a black metal sculpture that curved elegantly toward the second floor. In fact, the entire foyer was grand. A massive iron chandelier hung from vaulted ceilings, polished slate floors were inset with sparkling veins giving it a marbleized effect, and tall ornate metal pillars flanked the sides of each doorway.

  As they reached the landing, Stevie moved in beside Killenn, engaging him in small talk. She appeared at ease in this new reality, intrigued more than overwhelmed. The prince upon hearing the animated whispers glanced back, his eyes flitting over them. Seemingly, uninterested in their interaction he continued to lead the small group through the citadel.

  As they came to the first landing Dane noticed a single glass and metal door off to her right. Breaking from the group, she walked to the door. A strange pull guided her toward whatever was on the other side. Peering through the etched glass she saw it led outside to a suspended balcony. As the rest of them continued up the next flight of stairs, she opened the door and stepped outside.

  The landscape stretching for miles in front of her was indescribable. As she gazed at its expanse her appreciation for the diversity of these realms increased. A familiar energy invaded her thoughts as Rafe came to stand behind her, his arms wrapping comfortably around her waist.

  “Are those poppies?” She asked. Her eyes never left the acres of red flowers spreading for miles in the fields below as she sank comfortably back into his warmth. A sea of red petals swayed in the breeze as the tepid wind carried its sweet odor upward. Dane took a deep inhale of the fragrant scent and sighed.

  “Yes,” Rafe responded. “And I am glad to see them return in abundance, especially after the Great War damaged the fields so severely. Poppies were a popular commodity with many artisans and tradesman on Kaizi, but none more so than the alchemists. Poppy dust, made from grinding petals picked immediately after first bloom, was the main ingredient in a multitude of their elixirs and potions. Poppies have a magical property that is useful in many serums: medicinal, protection, power enhancements. It was also said that alchemists used poppies in many of their experiments when modifying the composition of base metals.”

  Rafe softly kissed the side of her cheek. “It is good the poppies have made a plentiful return. They may prove useful once again.”

  Dane stood in silence, gazing across acres of red. The poppy fields were a sight to behold, a vivid, red carpet of life blanketing the land as it disappeared over the distant horizon. Such vital growth in a place so bare and stark. Her brow furrowed as something Rafe said made her curious. “You mentioned the poppy fields were damaged during the Great War and from what you and Sebastian have told me, many of the realms suffered destruction as well. Why then is there no sign of this devastation here or on Dywen?”

  Rafe smiled understanding her query. “The Great War was a very long time ago and the elemental magic of each realm has repaired the damage. I doubt we will see signs of destruction on any of the realms.”

  “Even though the magic is in stasis the worlds are able to repair themselves?”

  He nodded. “The power of the Thanissia Universe is undeniably infinite. The realms and magic are immortal in a way we cannot explain. The essence contained within has always protected them, even the destruction caused by the ancient dark would never be permanent. It took a long time for the realms to heal, but time is all they need.”

  She thought about this as she stood with Rafe. The ancestral worlds still had many secrets to reveal, and she hoped, releasing the ancient magic from its slumber would provide answers as well as guidance.

  Rafe touched the nick on her throat, his fingertip stained with the blood that still trickled from the wound. His muscles clenched as angry energy exploded inside him. It burrowed through Dane swiftly leaving her breathless in its wake. She knew Rafe had little control over these emotional onslaughts, but it was difficult for her to experience at high velocity. She knew it wasn’t intentional but considering their binding, they were going to have to find a way to deal with his emotional instability.

  Tipping her chin up she gazed at him. “Rafe,” she said, taking the hand that was stained with her blood. “It’s just a little cut. I’m fine.”

  The angry surge relented, the fury flickering in his eyes dissipated as he quelled the rage, pushing it back down into the depths of his being. They were still adjusting to the emotional overload of the binding, but Dane sensed Rafe’s inability to control his rage went much deeper.

  She turned to face him, tangling her fingers in his long hair and gently stroking the stubble that grew on his cheek. The sweet scent of poppies aroused her, and his closeness became difficult to ignore. Pulling his face toward her she kissed him. Passion exploded in the air as their energies combined. He pulled her closer. His kiss deepened as his hands explored the dip in her lower back and the outside curve of her thigh.

  “Do you need a room?” Sarcasm dripped from the question.

  Gabby, Dane thought, untangling herself from Rafe’s embrace. She turned to face her friend who was standing in the doorway, arms crossed. A look of smugness shadowed her pretty face.

  “Do you think we can get on with the reason we are here, or would you like us to wait for you to finish?”

  Rafe smirked as he sensed Dane’s anger rise, then dissipate as she thought better about engaging the celestial. Instead, she grabbed his hand and stalked from the balcony pulling him along with her and ignoring Gabby as they passed.

  A few minutes later they were all gathered in a narrow room dominated by a lengthy, steel table and high-backed chairs. An ancient boardroom, Dane thought as she looked around. On the walls, large tapestries hung from iron rods, topographic maps of what she assumed were the other realms. Rafe caught her frowning and confirmed.

  “The Five Realms,” he said glancing at the maps. “This room was often used for diplomacy. The royal family hosted emissaries from all over. There were many problems solved within these walls. The Velkia enjoyed unrivaled peace and prosperity within their realm, which thrived on structure, so they often intervened if trade relationships fractured, a financial crisis loomed, or diplomacy was at risk. Gabriella would have you believe the people of Kaizi were undisciplined because of their power but actually, the Velkia and their people were the most structured race in our universe.”

  Rafe turned his attention back to Drow as he began to speak, gesturing for them to take a seat at the table. Killenn stood to the princes right, his rank and position had not ceased even though the entire Dragon Gypsy race was no more.

  “I must apologize again for my less than welcoming introduction,” Drow said directing his sentiment toward Dane. “It has been a long time since someone other than Killenn and myself, has set foot on the charred rocks of our realm.” He hesitated before looking at Rafe. “Oddly enough, the last was a warrior of your kind, but forgive me, his name escapes my memory.”

  A roar erupted in Rafe’s ears as the prince’s words connected the puzzle pieces of the past. “Brannon,” he whispered.

  The prince glanced at him, his face passive but his eyes curious. “Yes, I believe that was his name. You knew him?”

  “I do, very well. He is my friend.”

  The prince glanced toward Killenn a concerned look passing between them.

  Rafe understood its meaning and pushed back his chair, standing and approaching the prince, hand extended. “I would like to thank you for saving his life. Brannon has recently returned to Dywen. He was caught in between worlds when the portals closed but reigniting the Druidstone allowed him to return home. He is very well thanks to you. He speaks with great fondness of the man who saved him from the daemons. He owes you his life.”

 
Drow’s passive expression did not change, but the look he cast Killenn was one of relief. He clasped Rafe’s hand and a slight smile appeared at the corners of his lips. “I am happy to hear he is well, but I am afraid the praise must go to Killenn. He was the one who found your friend and brought him back to the citadel.”

  “Then my gratitude is extended to you as well,” Rafe said bowing to Killenn.

  “I too am happy to hear of his recovery. At the time we were uncertain of his future. He was badly wounded, and infection had set in. I surmised his best chance at survival was to return him to his own realm where elemental healing specific to your kind could occur. We were afraid that keeping him on Kaizi would be a death sentence. I am glad to hear it was the right choice.”

  Rafe nodded, a mutual respect evident between the warriors. Dane smiled, at their interaction and at the wave of gratitude that overwhelmed Rafe.

  “If you two are finished, I believe we have a Druidstone, to reactivate,” Gabby said, fingers tapping incessantly on the iron tabletop.

  “Yes,” said Drow, taking his seat. Rafe did the same. “But if you do not mind, I would like to be informed of all you know with respect to the prophecy and the outside worlds.”

  “Of course,” replied Dane. She began at the very beginning—her thirty-first birthday—the night her ancestral legacy was discovered, which set in motion a sequence of events that led to this very moment.

  Chapter 6

  An hour later, Drow and Killenn were privy to all the knowledge the others possessed and understood the events as they happened. Their reactions were non-expressive. Each listened quietly as Dane spoke, nodding when appropriate or glancing at one another when something said peaked their interest. Gabby only spoke once and astoundingly it was not to admonish or insert sarcasm into the conversation. When Dane finished, Drow rose, his passive expression unchanged. With a nod of his head, he directed them to follow as he left the room.