PROLOGUE:
He was going to kill his brother.
Alexej had stolen from him. Stolen from Naravyla and all the Fae.
As he thought of his brother, irritation gnawed at him, seeping into the shadows twined around his wrists like manacles. No one took what was rightfully his, no one made decisions without his blessing, and only he knew the true purpose of the Eternal Flame and its importance in the days to come.
How dare Alexej steal an ember of the Flame and gift this to the mortals across the ocean. He wasn’t sure why this irritated him so much, couldn’t fathom the venom that spread through him as he thought of the mortals scurrying across the land like ants, becoming civilised and believing that they were untouchable. There was only one who could be master of them all, and it was him. He would devour the lesser beings in darkness until they were begging for a mercy that would never come.
Around him, steel clashed against steel, silver glinting in the rays shooting from the sun of high summer. In the near distance, Alexej’s land spilled over the small peaks and troughs of the hills and mountains that spanned the Realm of Windstorm. It was a shame to taint the land in such a way, the splendour of high summer coated in rivulets of the brown, green and orange of Obmedzený blood.
He stood on a grassy mound, his most trusted at his side, three other Víla who did not fear the absence of light that swarmed through him. His Obmedzený soldiers dotted the open expanse below him like pieces on a game board. Shouts and cries of pain hovered in the air all around him, screeching against his ears in a pleasurable shiver. He was aware of a group of Víla on the opposite side of the clearing, atop another mound, just like he was standing on. Smirking to himself, he relished in the knowledge that the Lord of the Realm of Windstorm would not risk using his power in such chaos.
He knew his brother well, knew that a well-timed attack would see Alexej’s own Obmedzený, sworn to protect the Realm and the archway within it, scurrying out onto the battlefield to meet the medley of shadow and soldiers on their doorstep. If Alexej were to sweep one of his tornadoes across the clearing, he would be risking his own underlings and Vincenk knew that this was not something Alexej would do. Both of his other brothers had always thought too little of their own standing and their powers, had placed too much importance on their lesser Fae counterparts.
Make him pay, he had told her. Make him see what will become of his precious Realm.
Alexej was powerless, at the mercy of the torment that was spreading across his vision, blocking out the battle below him. His blindness prevented him from controlling and manipulating the powerful swirls of his tornadoes to defend his home.
“I grow bored with this.” He didn’t need an army. He was the strongest of them all. What a pitiful thing to behold, what a loss of his loyal Fae underlings – Víla and Obmedzený desperate to pledge their allegiance to him. Perhaps if he saved them from the utter disaster of this battle, they would rejoice in his name, scatter their family’s ashes at his feet.
He was forever walking the night, embracing the festering darkness that snuck into the world. This was his domain and there was no stronger match. Stepping away from his most trusted, he entered the fray of the battle. As if sensing his raw, unhinged essence the surrounding soldiers scampered at the energy rolling from him like steam. The medley of soldiers parted in his wake. An ocean dividing at his presence.
Iridescent wings fluttered in his peripheral vision, Obmedzený with the skin of rough bark stretched their limbs, encasing a smaller group of soldiers to his left in a cage of thick branches, the bark creaking as it crushed the soldiers together, the snapping of bones cracking in the air like thunder.
Flicking out his hand, Vincenk batted away an Obmedzený with a short, squat stature and moss-covered skin. Flames of shadow hurled him into the air; his cry arcing across the battlefield, drowned out by clashing steel and the shouts of orders down the lines. Vincenk carried on walking across the battlefield, swarms of shadow extending from his hands with quick, effortless flicks. The shadows called to him, made his heart flutter as he felt the death, anguish and dread that flourished along the Fae exerting themselves on either side.
His breathing was still even and unperturbed when he reached the foot of the mound where his brother had taken his stance.
Víla at his brother’s side rushed in front of Alexej, eyes wide with determination and a tinge of fear. The female to his right pushed her hands out, blond hair splayed across her forehead as a stream of energy blasted towards Vincenk, threatening to knock him off his feet. He narrowed his eyes and looped his hands, watching as shadow crawled across her skin and devoured her in a cage of unrelenting darkness.
A tantalising entourage of adrenaline coursed through him as he spun, setting his eyes on the three other Víla who had taken a defensive position around the figure curled on his side at their feet. With quick slashes, he had the Víla wrapped in manacles of shadow, bounding their hands and feet tightly together.
As he stepped towards his brother, he snarled at the Víla struggling against their bounds and felt the ebb and flow of the pure, dark essence that flowed through him as he sent the Fae beings cascading down the mound and into the hungry claws of the battle raging beneath them.
“Hello, brother.” Stooping down, a small grin formed on his face at the sight of his pathetic twin, hunched over and desperately clawing at his eyes, trying to rid himself of the shadows and darkness that were tormenting his mind. It made him sick. That this was his match, his sibling.
“Vincenk,” the pale male breathed. Alexej’s skin turned ice cold, his elongated limbs suspended by fear as tremors shook his body.
Amused by the scene of his trembling brother, Vincenk’s thoughts briefly flashed to his third brother, the thunderstorm, with his head in the clouds. Playing the doting son. He wondered what the outcome of today would have been had this brother taken an interest in the intricacies of the other Realms. There would be no one left of this Realm to tell the tale of what had happened here today. He would make sure of that. Let his other brother drown in sorrow, knowing that he could not save his favourite triplet.
“No one takes what is mine and lives to regret it.” Vincenk spat into Alexej’s ears as his soft, trembling whimpers bounced off the onyx stone of his heart. Relinquishing the dagger of shadow forming in his hands, Vincenk slammed his hand into Alexej’s chest, right where his heart was soon to stop beating. Breathing in deeply, he savoured the scent of death and pain as dark silver spurted from the wound at his brother’s chest, coating Vincenk’s skin like speckles of stardust.
Rapt in awe, Vincenk watched the light draining from his brother’s crystal eyes, felt the tremors wrack Alexej’s bones as the ruffle of light grey and white feathers around his neck stilled and faltered before falling silently at his feet. The halo of feathers around his brother’s neck served as the conduit for Alexej’s power – much like the golden snake eyes that narrowed on Vincenk’s face, the vessel for his own dark power. The life sentences they had taken on when becoming the Lords of the Realms, conduits to siphon the raw essence of the Three Sisters, creators of the Fae.
As Alexej’s own essence faded, there was a moment of silence, an eerie stillness that froze the scene before him. Vincenk knew the raw essence that was once filtered slowly throughout the Realm, feeding and nurturing its denizens and land, was searching for a new host, another of his bloodline to mark as its next conduit. Three Sisters and three powerful archways requiring three triplets to become three Lords. History would not repeat itself on this day. There was no fourth sibling to inherit the Realm of Windstorm.
As if the essence, too, was sensing this very fact, there was a rumbling beneath Vincenk’s feet. An audibly shocked murmur rose in the ranks of the soldiers behind him as the inhabitants of Alexej’s Realm fell to their knees, their bodies alive, but their souls weakened by the essence that was scouring the land. Futilely searching for something that was not there, Vincenk felt the shift in the air as the scales of balance tipped too far as raw power streamed around him.
The ground beneath him turned hard as rock and dark clouds gathered overhead. He turned to the weakened Fae of Alexej’s Realm and a deep rumble reverberated through his chest and passed the fangs gleaming against his lips.
Unleashed by the energy in the air, his power stirred like a prowling beast until a dark wall of rippling black shadow lunged from within him, engulfing the battlefield. He felt the whimpers and strangled screams of Alexej’s Fae. He felt it as his brother’s body cracked and spasmed, drained of its vitality and turned to ash and dust, lost to the darkness that was slowly seeping back into Vincenk’s chest.
As light cascaded back into view, it appeared as though the shadow that had unfurled against the land had leached it of all its colour, leaving only a grey and black mass in its wake.
His most trusted marched towards him, their trailing black cloaks blending into the new wasteland around them. At the forefront was his most prized possession, the dark mind that harboured his secrets.
“The Realm of Windstorm is dead.” His beloved declared. “What next, Shadowbringer?” The devious twinkle in her chocolate eyes almost made his icy heart skip a beat.
“Now, we make the mortals pay.”
Copyright © 2025 Amber Victoria.
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