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CHAPTER1
ORIAS
Orias jolted awake, a throbbing ache in his head signaling the silent siren ringing loudly within his skull. He surveyed the room, his mind’s eye filling in the details and giving the darkness substance. The shadows flickered and crept across the walls like a living creature. Pressure built inside his mind like a dam threatening to break.
“Visions, visions, always teasing me with useless glimpses of the future,” he muttered, recalling the time he foresaw the perfect cookie ingredients for one of Kobol’s recipes and the ending of an inconsequential drake brawl at Blood from Stone.
Orias threw off his covers and strode to the mirror wall, slamming his fist against it. He despised the visions. What would they show him today? Something necessary or something frivolous? A piece to a larger puzzle, meshing into a pattern he already tracked? He’d spent hundreds of years in the study of a seer, and he felt no more accomplished than Miss Cleo, a two-bit psychic hotline charlatan. Sometimes, he hit the mark so hard and true the moment felt epic, like a shock wave rolling through space and time. The inconsistency of his particular skill set continued to rankle his hide.
“Why couldn’t I have been a skilled warrior like Kobol, or a master of energy like Azimuth? I’d even trade this curse to be a scent-hunter like Nadir.”
He faced his mirror wall, the lightless room devoid of motion and sound except for the beating of his heart.
And the shadows. The endless, ever-present shadows which whispered to him incessantly.
The sensation of a gravity drop kicked in, like a free fall into the deepest trenches of Sheol. The borders between the real and unreal faded away, and a kaleidoscope of color filled his sight, radiating out in circular patterns around him.
First came an image of a grapevine, laden with ripe fruit that began twisting and transforming before his eyes. Thorns erupted along its length as the vines warped into the shape of a massive serpent, scales glinting in the dim light. Fangs bared, the snake lunged toward him, mouth gaping wide enough to swallow him whole. Orias recoiled in horror.
Next appeared a blade, its handle ornately decorated with silver filigree. The metal glowed, turning a brilliant crimson as flames engulfed the sword and searing heat washed over Orias. He watched in dismay as the inferno consumed the blade, leaving only ashes floating down around him.
As the ashes settled, the images shifted and coalesced into a moonlit glade surrounded by ancient oak trees, their gnarled branches reaching toward the night. An arch of stars materialized before him under the night sky, twinkling and radiant, yet he could see nothing on the other side. Only darkness. The stillness of the forest was disturbed by flashes of color flitting in and out of view. Orias sensed an enchanting presence, beckoning him forward. A profound sense of foreboding gripped Orias as swirls of brilliant light poured through the doorway with graceful and unearthly movements, dancing through the glade as if freed after a long slumber.
He knew of only one thing this could mean, but it was impossible. Fae. The fae were harbingers of chaos, creators of illusions and madness. They were relics of an ancient world that no longer existed in the mortal realm. To see them again could only mean a great upheaval was coming, an unraveling of the order of things. Orias trembled, unnerved by the implications of the vision.
Then came a vision of captivating golden eyes, blinking at him. Orias didn’t recognize the eyes, and there was no accompanying face, yet he felt assured one day he would look into those same eyes.
The images sustained, and he noted their permanency for more than the usual quick succession of flickers of potential. The arch remained for minutes, glittering under a quiet night sky.
This was no doorway into another world, but a new future.
This doorway was an ending.
The images faded and Orias pulled on a robe, chilled from the visions. He had no precise sense of the time span involved, but knew this vision was true. At least, as true as they came for him. This was no flicker or potential future.
This was coming. Or perhaps it was already here? And the golden eyes. Who did they represent?
As the room fell silent, a mysterious sound reached Orias’ ears, making him wonder if the events of the vision were already beginning to unfold. Only time would tell.
CHAPTER2
ERIN
Erin hit the trail hard, her backpack shifting in time to her pounding footfalls. The crisp morning air tasted like a refreshing drink, washing away the stale, choking pollution she’d been breathing behind the city walls. Only here, in the official outland territory, in what used to be known as the Colorado Trail in Pike National Forest, did Erin feel fully alive. Fully free.
She crested a hill and ground to a stop, not wishing to spook the herd of whitetail deer she’d stumbled upon. Erin crouched down and grabbed her phone, capturing a few quick shots before the lead buck caught her scent and urged his does away from the interloper. Erin stowed her camera and took a drink from her water bottle, allowing the herd to move on before she continued on her way. Deer could be aggressive when cornered, so she gave them a wide berth.
She’d learned all this, about the trails, the deer, and the mountains, from old paper books in the library. Books in the archival section no one ever visited anymore.
This area of wilderness was officially off limits. Unsafe. Unsanctioned. Uncontrolled.
Which was total crap. Just because Western S-Mart Division couldn’t make a theme park out of nature meant you weren’t allowed to go there. If corporates didn’t have a way to profit, you weren’t allowed to explore. Erin had to lie and say she was traveling to Blackhawk, where gambling continued to flourish, just to get past the city walls and onto the mountain roads. Of course, she was warned.Don’t go off the set routes, ma’am. They aren’t maintained and there are criminals and unsafe sorts out there.
Yeah, because a little danger and excitement might actually make life worth living.
Erin hated the cities. Hated everything about them. If she could rip them to pieces with her bare hands, she’d do it. She ran a hand through her short and now very sweaty hair, pulling it back from her face. If she didn’t work this anger out of her system, she’d end up telling Maria exactly where she could shove those proposals on Monday.
Erin slid the water bottle into her backpack and took off at a run, her shoes screeching against the rocky trail as they fought for traction, a sound that grated on her ears and nerves. It couldn’t be helped. No one sold trail or hiking shoes anymore. Everyone in the city jogged on carefully manicured running paths around perfectly groomed parks. After paying a usage fee, of course.
