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Her chest constricted. Power surged, seeking to protect her from an unknown enemy as the pain intensified. Her carefully constructed walls began to crack and fray. Her power beat a war drum against its locked cage.

Areanel was used to this feeling, the constant battle, but now her magic vibrated, thrumming from the very earth—enticing, tempting her to pull the life from it and push it into her son. She could do it. She had done it once before. Could she do it again? Could she reconstruct Resmundur’s body inch by inch?

Consequences be damned, Areanel warred against the tumultuous storm of her power. She just needed to harness control over her emotions; then, she would let the power and pain seep into her.

Let me out. Let me out. LET ME OUT!

It screamed at her wavering resolve. The searing pain increased until she could bear it no more.

A deep, bone-chilling grief overtook her senses. The dizziness from the pain her power caused, and the deep, agonising sadness was unbearable. Areanel had thought she’d felt suffering before, but no one could have prepared her for this. It was as though a piece of her had been torn away.

Shattered. Dead.

Nausea clawed up her throat like it was ripping her apart from the inside out. Grief was a predatory carnivore, swallowing her whole. A wild animal with no remorse or sympathy. This wasn’t something that could be slain. This was something she needed to face.

But it was too painful. This could have been stopped. She should have stopped this! That ferocious beat in her chest transformed into a depthless void, consuming her piece by piece.

Areanel’s heart squeezed until her breath turned ragged, as if she were trapped under a vice. Her ribs screamed as fire stole the air from her very lungs. Not her son. She struggled for breath. Not her boy. Curling in on herself, Areanel felt every nerve burn with the desire to unleash her power. Imposter. The connection she felt to her power mocked her. Her resolve slipped inch by inch. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she save him? It wasn’t working. Every time she reached for that blue flame within, grappled with what remnants of power she could, it slipped further from her control. Just out of reach.

Frustration and agony fought, tormenting her. Useless failure. Worthless. This is what you deserve! The demons within the darkest corners of her mind mauled into her weakness.

Pushing the thoughts away, Areanel tried to dull them. Silence them—but it wasn’t enough. They continued to slash and tear, mutilating any frail grip she had on her power.

Gritting her teeth, Areanel threw back her head and, still cradling Resmundur to her chest, bellowed a sickening scream.

As though in answer, the whole of Idyssa fell into darkness, and Areanel felt her power expand like her chest was being cleaved with an axe.

The once clear, starlit sky was blackened into a heartless void. Again, her magic rose in response, and a buzzing sensation filled her body.

Vibrations echoed in the atoms surrounding her.

Thunder clapped.

Clouds rolled, and Areanel welcomed the vicious burn within her soul. The wrath, boiling in her blood, became a physical thing. The once-calm lake roared with riotous waves. Colour bled from the world, until even the sand took on a bone-white hue—all responding to Areanel’s grief.

Lightning struck across the sky like dangerous ribbons, and frigid rain poured down upon them, drowning out her wailing, grief-stricken sobs and hysterical screams.

It could have been minutes or hours. Areanel did not know. She lost all sense of time, but eventually, her tears ran dry. With a shaking, ragged breath, she wrangled her thunderous power back under her tentative control.

Hand curling into a fist, Areanel let the sting of her nails bite into her palm, drawing blood as her sobs eased.

And it was there that she made a vow to eradicate Idyssa of all those who had brought harm to her family. The rebels had signed their death warrants, and Andrea’s Assassin would gladly help them meet their end.

‘Bring me my Second!’ Areanel commanded. ‘Tell Brutus: tonight, we hunt.’

Chapter 3

Areanel

Two years later…

Fire burned. Areanel watched unblinkingly as a torrent of red, gold and orange ribbons scorched the wooden homes within the village.

Vennedove had been attacked, and the General of Andrea had been called forth.

Amusement lay within Areanel’s eyes as she gazed into the flames that roared around them. Blistering heat licked at her face when the wind shifted directions, drawing her attention. The forest would soon be engulfed. She could not find it in herself to care for the dense woodland—a place where the gods Andas and Edre had once walked and been worshipped—which was now nothing more than a forgotten wood with a single village, located near Vindyamiriel Lake.

Areanel had not expected such chaos. She had intended to meet one of her spies, hidden within the safe haven; however, they had not shown. Instead—upon seeing her astride one of her bonded mystical beasts, an enormous snowy wolf named Winter—a villager had shot an arrow at her. In her haste to deflect the blow, Areanel had unleashed her power, and in an unfortunate turn of events, a handful of villagers had scurried out of the way, causing one to ignite the fire that now greedily devoured all in its path.