Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 186911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
It spread through the soil and into the closest neighboring villages. At first, no one thought anything of it, until they began to change. Warped from reasoned, normal-mannered faekin turned into feral, snarling beasts—half fae, half animal.
That was when the kings and queens of old realized we were in trouble. If the heart wasn’t found and destroyed, the curse would continue spreading until it struck down every kingdom and every fae. Thus, they went to war. A war that’s lasted a thousand years, with no end in sight.
Shadowsoul did not take well to being attacked. He was certainly unmoved by pleas, treaties, begging, or bribes. Instead, he claimed the faeriken suffering under his curse as his subjects, and set them to fight the very fae trying to save them and themselves.
Our men would come back from the battlefield, speaking of fangs, claws, gills, fur, long ears, and beaks. They spoke of men who lost their souls long ago.
And Shadowsoul was responsible for all of it.
Hundreds of years later, Shadowsoul sat on a throne carved from the land’s misery, ruling over a drooling, snarling pack of cursed beasts, and watching my people die in a war we couldn’t lose, because we fought for our home and our souls.
It wasn’t a choice. Every year, the kingdom of Wind and Wild grew—the cursed land bleeding across the borders of Lyrica, Quatassa, Rajadom, and Sarabai. Even if we gave in and abandoned our crown city, there was nowhere to go.
Across the sea was the human lands, their crown cities were towering death traps of metal and iron—fatal to us. We couldn’t live there, and with each passing year, we couldn’t live on our natural lands. Defeating Shadowsoul and his faeriken was the only way. If only they weren’t proving impossible to beat.
Kaelan sat down beside me, carrying a bowl of spelled ink. I knew not the magics that were performed on the ink to make it able to draw runes of power. Those were the kinds of things you learned in the Academy of Magical Arts. No woman had attended in five hundred years.
Kaelan dipped his fingers in the bowl, then began drawing on my body. Whispering to himself, he repeated the incantations over and over, weaving the spell that would destroy my life.
I screamed and railed against the gag, begging him to stop. Pleading with any trace of goodness in him to let me go.
Kaelan didn’t so much as look me in the eyes. I was nothing to him. Just another pawn in their year-long plot to run away together, and leave the rest of us with the consequences.
Only when I was covered head to toe in runes did he leave me on the hard floor. I had to listen to him repeating the process with Princess Emiana, every symbol and word of power bringing me closer to the inevitable.
What am I going to do? I’ll forget my family. I’ll forget my promise. Mama is getting sicker every day. Meliora’s stern face and sharp tongue made it even harder for her to get work. If things got too desperate, what would become of Jaclan? Would Mama have to choose between enrolling him in training or watching all the kids starve?
My breaths picked up, chest rising and falling too fast as my family’s ruin materialized before my eyes. Meliora would try her best to take care of Mama and the kids, but she would have something in her way that I didn’t—
—her shit-stain bastard of a father.
This can’t happen. I fisted the rug. Muscles straining, I flipped myself over, and crawled.
My legs were useless sticks trailing behind me. Slowing me down. But I wouldn’t stop.
This was my only chance while he was focused on the princess. She said guards would eventually come to check on her. Let them see a naked girl covered in runes, crawling through the hallway. That was sure to spur them into action.
Come on. I pushed myself up, straining for the handle. Almost.
My body seized. Arms jerking, agony racked me—originating from every rune, and they were everywhere.
I was melting.
White-hot heat burned me to ash. Warped my bones. Incinerated my insides. And left me nothing. I was nothing in the face of such terrible, vengeful magic. It wasn’t just that this curse was forbidden. The curse was alive. Sentient. It knew its offense against nature, and did not want to be performed. All who dare ignore this, would know pain that had never been experienced.
Hearing Princess Emiana scream louder than the one lodged in my throat was hollow revenge. I was changing.
My sun-blistered skin paled. Callouses disappeared from my hands. My hair—so unique and reviled—lengthened until it tangled around my jerking arms. Another bind restricting me. Dry, tangled ends smoothed out like the finest spun silk, and I felt it all.
I felt the hair grow from my scalp. Felt my flat, round nose both narrow and shrink. Big feet crumpled with the breaking of a dozen bones, becoming the tiny dainty pair worthy of a princess. Everything I was and could be washed away.