Prologue
Prologue
From the Chronicles of the Nightstalkers
On the High Arbiter and the demons
Once, the only threat to the Aetherwalkers was themselves.
It was a truth taught to every child: Aether was wild and easily shaped by the will of the wielder. To lose balance while manipulating Aether was to lose oneself to darkness. Every mage knew of someone who had turned; cast out to wander the wilds of Altaria, imprisoned in a misery of their own making, twisted into a demon by the magic they could no longer control, until they could find release and have their tortured souls returned to the Aether.
Most gave these lost souls a wide berth, fearing the ill omen of their presence. But there were a select few, under the charge of the High Council’s Grand Arbiter, who did not run.
Authorised to use the restricted Binding magic, the Arbiter’s Hunters roamed Altaria, tracking the twisted forms of their former brethren. Their control over Aether was unrivalled, delivering demons a swift death, and returning them to the arms of Aethyria.
It was a dangerous calling, for one momentary slip in their façade could see a Hunter killed, or worse, turned to a demon themselves.
-Commander Inaya of the Silvergrove, Seventh Era
*
Grand Arbiter Rhynn stood at the edge of the clearing, the wind tousling her black hair as she recovered her energy, hand steady on her stave. Threads of blue-green Aetherlight twined with silver-white and gold glowed softly in the twilight, illuminating the last faint trails of smoke rising into the air.
Beyond the edge of the Aetherlight stood the rest of her Hunters, encircling the small clearing where the demon had stood.
The air was thick with the aftermath of the spell; newly cleansed silver Aether swirling restlessly, carrying with it the fading echoes of a life. Images of a small homestead, a woman, and children turned to mist before her. Rhynn collected what memories she could in a glass phial, sealing it with an enchanted stopper before she gently shooed the Aether away. Fully released, it was free to find new purpose, unburdened by the weight that had bound it.
In the centre of the clearing lay the man they had saved.
Less than an hour ago, he had been a creature enveloped by wild Aether twisted into thorns and despair, his body mangled and unrecognisable. Now, death had restored his true form. Iridescent blue-black scales dusted his pale cheekbones like warpaint, and his silver hair hung in tight coils, adorned with ocean shells. His amber eyes stared lifelessly at the sky, reflecting the dim Aetherlight.
Rhynn did not know him, but through the Aether, she had seen him. Asa. One of Moryena’s solemn Tidesworn, born of Mistveil.
“We will return him to the Sea of Stars,” she called out to her Hunters. “As it has always been,” she added, which was echoed by the others. He would be one with the Aether once more.
As she watched, her Hunters moved to gather the fallen man, some making signs of Aethyria or Moryena herself out of respect for the dead as they lifted him. One of them, Tamiya, was Mistveil born, and bore the same silver hair, but walked the path as a Stormcaller of Zephyros instead. She did not seem to recognise him as kin, but all the same, Rhynn thought she would take care to lead them in a gentle prayer as they journeyed back to Mistveil.
“How far is Dreamwatch?” Jesper, her beloved Grovesinger, asked, off to her right, as he helped load the dead Tidesworn onto Tamiya’s horse.
Rhynn did not answer.
She was listening. Not with her ears, but with the blood in her veins.
Something was crying out to her from the south. From the direction of Stonehall and its city, Inverell.
At her breast, the raven amulet against her skin turned ice cold. The chill didn’t stop at her skin; it seeped into her bones, filling her soul with a sudden, suffocating dread.
She turned her head to the southern sky.
The cry turned into a scream.
Time froze. The forest, the Hunters, the dead man; all of it vanished. In its place, she saw the sky tear open.
It wasn’t a cloud, or a storm. It was a wound. A jagged, weeping scar of pure black ripping through the heavens. A strange black ooze seeped from the rift, and around it, the Aether itself recoiled as if in terror. Rhynn stood transfixed as the amulet pulsed, cold needles driving into her. She scarcely registered the pain.
“Arbiter?”
Dimly, she heard a voice call to her. But she could not tear her eyes away from the broken sky.
“Rhynn?!” Hands grabbed her shoulders, then. The vision shattered, the world rushing back in a blur of colour and noise. Somehow, she was on the ground, lying where she had fallen. She had not even been aware of the ground beneath her.
Jesper was looking down at her, the corners of his blue eyes creased with worry, the waves of his honey gold hair shaking softly as he checked her over. Behind him, the Hunters spoke in low, worried voices.
She allowed him to help her to her feet; though she needed no steadying, he kept one arm wrapped around her waist anyway, until she nodded at him to release her.
Rhynn turned her attention back to the south. The vision was gone, but a hollowness remained in the distance; a ravenous void that seemed to swallow the very stars from the sky.
Rhynn had hunted demons for years. She had seen Aether twisted into nightmares. But none of them had ever made the Aetherworld scream.
She reached for the amulet with one hand, clutching it tight. She tried to call to Oran, her mentor, through it, to summon him to her side.
She needed him to tell her what she had just seen. But the cold pulsing of the metal told her the truth before she could even ask: He cannot come.
“Take Asa to Dreamwatch,” Rhynn commanded, turning to her Hunters, and gesturing to the fallen man, her voice trembling but hard. “It’s about an hour from here, by my reckoning. And then return to Mistveil. If you cannot, wait for me in Dreamwatch.”
“And you?” Jesper asked, stepping forward.
“I am going to Stonehall,” she replied, a cold edge to her voice that she could not hide.
“Alone? Are you sure?” He frowned as he tried to get a read on her, and what he’d just missed.
“Yes, I think it would be for the best, Jesper, so as not to deny Asa his final peace,” she said it loudly, for the benefit of the others.
As the Hunters turned back to their work, their attention off her, she drew him in closer, so that her lips brushed against his ear. “Where I have to go, I cannot risk you and the others following. I leave them in your charge, my love,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers, and kissing it softly.
She searched his eyes, seeing the worry there, but hoping he would understand; that he would recognise the importance and do as he had been told. When he finally nodded his agreement, a sigh of relief escaped Rhynn’s mouth, and Jesper’s expression softened.
Wrapping his arms around her, he leaned down until she could feel the heat of his breath on her lips, and then kissed her gently. She could feel that they both wanted more, but she knew she had to pull away, even though he continued to kiss her as she did.
“Promise you will return to me, my beloved,” he said, almost breathless, as he kissed her hands.
“I promise,” she replied, as she kissed him again. “Guard them well. Do not let them follow me.” She said sternly, trying to impress the importance of her words upon him.
“None shall leave my sight,” he swore solemnly as she turned to leave.
Rhynn called upon the power of the amulet to summon a pair of iridescent purple-black raven wings at her back. She stretched them out, testing their strength, before taking off at a running start, the wings flapping with primal instinct, lifting her into the air.
Far below, she could see Jesper, already moving the others to action.
At full speed, she hurtled towards the rift above Inverell, the wind whipping loose strands of hair around her face as the wings cut through the air. As she drew closer, her stomach lurched at the damage she could see. Someone would answer for this, she thought.
When it was discovered what had happened there, it would not bode well for the Aetherwalkers. A human settlement, weakened by plague, was easy prey for men with power and too little mercy. And only one particular man came to mind. Therion.
Whatever he had done to tear the Aetherworld asunder, Rhynn felt certain the High Council would be forced to conceal it. An attack on a human city would divide them all far beyond repair, which she suspected had been the goal.
She would have to find the answers quickly, before someone else could.
*
