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Prologue
Inirea, 1792
The King sat motionless on his throne, surrounded by the deafening echoes of steel and shouts reverberating through the corridors. The gravity of the situation was not lost on him; it had all come down to this final moment. His failure weighed heavily upon him, crushing him under the weight of his own inadequacy.
He’d failed.
He had failed his people, his kingdom, and most of all, his family. When he received word that the Lord of the Dark Fae was preparing to attack, and that a legion was rising up against him, questioning his rule, he had begun preparing his city and its inhabitants. But he had believed he had more time, and as a result, he had failed to act sooner.
The siege had begun early that morning, abruptly interrupting his peaceful slumber and forcing him and his family to flee their beds. He had reluctantly entrusted his wife and children to the Keepers, members of his trusted guard who he knew would protect them with their lives.
The words of the prophecy echoed through his mind once more, a constant reminder of the potential savior that his firstborn daughter could have been. She was the one born with the Power of Stars, a gift from the Immortal Gods, and he could only hope that she had managed to escape the invading danger.
As he clutched his sword tightly in his lap, he couldn't help but reminisce about a time when he could have watched his family grow and flourish, without the looming threat of danger always present. But now, his only goal was to protect those he loved, even if it meant sacrificing his own life.
The legion had reached the castle walls, and they were quickly making their way towards the main castle. The King had no other options but to accept his fate; he would not run, he could not run. He hoped that his sacrifice would buy his loved ones the time they needed to escape. However, his heart sank at the sound of his daughter's voice, filling him with fear for her safety.
“Papa!”
The muffled cries of his daughter echoed behind a door. She should not be here. Calling for him again, the terror in her voice.
“Papa!”
As if on cue, the door to his left burst open, revealing his daughter Astraea. Her hair was disheveled and her dark green dress was stained, her eyes wide with terror. Without hesitation, the King leaped from his throne, his sword forgotten as it clattered to the stone floor behind him.
“Astraea, what are you doing here?” he asked, catching her in his arms. She wept openly as he scanned the dark hallway from which she had emerged, finding no sign of anyone else. Holding her close, he could feel the fear coursing through her body.
Kissing the side of her head, he gently lowered her to her feet, brushing her hair from her face and wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Astraea, where are Aden and your mother?” he asked, his heart pounding in his chest.
“They're gone,” she whispered, clutching her stuffed bear tightly.
The King's heart sank as he realized the gravity of the situation. The sound of steel-on-steel grew louder in the outer corridor, signaling the approach of the enemy forces. He knew that he had to get his daughter somewhere safe, and quickly.
Leading her behind the throne, he brushed aside a tapestry on the wall and pushed open a trap door. Urging her inside, he kissed her forehead and whispered, “Be brave.”
Nodding once she wiped her tears from her cheeks. He knew this was going to be the last time he would ever see her again. This would be the last time he ever saw her big beautiful eyes, deep down, the magic was telling him that she was going to right this. The wrong would be corrected one day. The king smiled weakly at her, whispering softly, “I love you.”
She stared up at him, fear in her eyes. Signaling her to keep quiet, he shut her inside. Checking to be sure the door was shut tight, the tapestry fell back over, concealing her inside. Murmuring a displacement spell, in hopes it would hide her from Him. The guilt he carried, the sadness and heartache at the outcome of these events, weighed on him. She never should have been put in the middle of it. She was innocent, whatever fate had planned for her, he hoped it would give her mercy. Picking up his sword from the stone floor, the shouts in the corridor outside the throne room set his nerves on edge again.
A moment later the large wood doors flew open.
Ezra.
“Where is she?” he demanded. His sword in hand, the blade red with blood. If this was how he wanted to do things, then so be it.
The king gripped his sword tighter, “Gone.”
Ezra bared his teeth. “You lie, Elias. Where is she?!”
A cruel smile spread across Elias’ lips, “She is safe. From you and everyone who wishes her harm, Brother.”
The darkness in his eyes flared, “I will find her, and when I do, everything you fought for will end with her.”
Elias laughed, “If she dies, the whole realm dies. You know this.”
A roar escapes from Ezra as he throws himself forward. His sword poised to kill. The force strong enough to slice through him. In one movement, Elias parries Ezra’s attack, sending his sword flying from his hand and to the floor. Elias had always been the better swordsman, his skill with a blade far outranking Ezra’s. But the momentum of his parry sent his brother off balance and crashing into the stone steps of the dais.
“Give up Ezra, stop all of this madness.” Elias pleaded, the tip of his sword pointed at his brother’s throat, at the soft spot where his pulse thrummed in his veins.
