Prologue
A continued story from Book 1, Soul of a Demon. Dark Legacy Series
The seven realms of smoke and ash are falling, their people in hiding. The crazed king of demons hunts the legacy that could end them all. Only two children born with the blood of dragons stand in his way— twins destined to judge the very realms themselves worthy of redemption.
A new prophecy was spoken from the lips of a mute child:
“Only the one whose crown is purchased in blood will be found worthy to wield its power
The unworthy will not destroy what is found worthy of the crown.
“The realms will raise the mighty. The mighty will raise the warrior.”
Together they will face the devourer of darkness… or bring the realms to their knees.
A new prophecy has begun.
~*~
High atop the desert realm of Solara, where the peaks divide a ring of dense forest from the frozen polar cap, lies a circle of jagged mountains known as the Spires. They rise almost vertically, scraping the bellies of the clouds. Hidden within them is Harlic-Spire, the final refuge of a war-torn realm.
Winter rules here year-round. The wind tore through the streets like a feral thing, howling around the old cathedral that now served as royal court and home of the jinn king and his family.
Salazar walked its length slowly. His long silver hair was bound in a warrior’s braid, though polished armor had been traded for crimson royal robes. His amber eyes missed nothing. At his hip rested a warrior’s sword, not some ornamental showpiece, its edge still carrying the memory of battles won and the terrible day he’d cut his daughter free from the corpse of his wife.
A daughter who vanished into the shadows a year ago.
At his side strode her twin. Alazar grew by the day, his dragonblood pushing him far past the pace of any jinn child. His light blue skin mirrored his father’s, but his bright blue eyes sparked with mischief all his own. A messy thatch of dark blue hair half-hid the budding horns on his head. His white wings, now too large to hide, folded neatly against his back. He’d learned to coil his tail around one leg, where it stayed concealed and warm in his britches. Dark leather boots covered his feet, though talons had to be clipped nearly every other day just to keep them fitting.
And every time Salazar looked into those bright eyes, he saw Celestia looking back at him through their son.
The prince tried to pull free when the statue of his mother came into view. Salazar tightened his grip.
“Eh, eh. Patience, young prince. We’ll get there.”
Before the inevitable wrestling match could begin, Salazar swept Alazar up into his arms, nodding to those who bowed as he passed. The toddler squirmed, wings fluttering as they neared the pearlescent statue of the beautiful dragon. The moment his feet touched the floor, he scampered onto the pedestal and began petting the stone scales.
“He did very well in court today,” said a soft voice beside him.
Brielle approached in her cleric's white robes, a crimson sash marking her service to the royal household. She bowed.
“Yes, he did,” Salazar said, smiling. “Hard to believe he’s only a yearling.”
“Speaking of that, the tailor sent another set of clothing. Larger this time. And with the wing flap you requested.” Her amber eyes flicked away from his stare.
“Perfect.” He whispered, then cleared his throat before speaking in a normal tone. “I always feel awful cutting holes in them.”
“Mommy,” Alazar murmured as he hugged the statue.
A hush passed through the spectators watching. Murmurs followed. “Poor little dear.” “So, heartbreaking.”
Salazar stiffened at the attention.
“Prince Alazar, it’s time to go,” he said, offering his hand. The boy clung stubbornly to the stone figure.
Brielle knelt beside him. “I baked cookies,” she whispered in a soft singsong.
Alazar’s head snapped toward her, eyes wide. He grabbed Salazar’s still offered hand, tugging hard toward their quarters.
“I can’t believe you stooped to bribery,” Salazar said, giving Brielle a sidelong look.
“The ancient scrolls say the way to a man’s heart is cookies,” she replied dryly.
At the mention of the treats again, Alazar pulled even harder. Salazar’s smile widened despite himself.
***
Morning mist lingered in the cool, humid air of the rainforest on Luminar. Birds and insects chirped as they fluttered through the dense canopy, greeting the first rays of the sun. A gurgling stream added its voice to the chorus as it wound a path through the underbrush.
At the foot of a large, gnarled tree, sheltered by its vines, slept a pile of wildling children. At the very bottom of the furry mass, one stirred. She stretched, unbalancing the multicolored heap.
“Get off!” she snarled, pushing the warm bodies to the chilled ground.
Grumbling and squeals of protest followed.
“Shayoni, I was sleeping!” huffed a brown-and-black-furred wildling boy.
“You were squishing Yarl,” she snapped.
Nestled in her arms was the youngest of the group. When she opened her wings, the wide-eyed, almost hairless wildling babe yipped his agreement.
Carefully, she placed him on the ground where he sniffed about before crawling beneath a broad leaf to relieve himself.
Shayoni—born Adira—raised her face to sniff the cool morning air. Her long black hair was braided to one side, exposing her lengthening onyx horns. A smile revealed sharp canines on both upper and lower rows of teeth. She stretched her deep red-skinned body and gave her wings a small flap. Her long whip-like tail uncoiled behind her, then split into two halves about a foot from the base. Small feather-like barbs flexed at the tips of each fork.
“I’m cold,” another youngster complained as she approached the tallest of the group, wrapping her paws around Shayoni’s leg.
“You all have fur. How can you be cold?” Shayoni huffed.
“All we have is fur. You have fire!” Complained the brown-and-white wildling girl clinging to her.
Though technically younger than most of the group—save the infant—Shayoni stood a head taller than the oldest of them. Dressed only in a leather loincloth, she was the size of a human child of three or four. She had just celebrated her first birthday four moon-turns ago.
A small hawk swooped down and settled on a branch overhead. Its piercing call echoed through the waking jungle.
It stared at Shayoni. Her large lavender eyes flashed as she spoke to it using her telepathy.
“Bartuk, watch Yarl. The hawk wants to show me something,” she commanded as she shook the shivering girl from her leg.
Bartuk’s banded fur ruffled before he nodded. “I hope it’s food. I’m hungry.”
“If it is, I’ll bring some back,” she replied, then launched herself awkwardly into the air.
The agile little hawk led her through a hole in the canopy and up into the golden sky beyond.
The wind was cool on her skin, but she warmed quickly, forced to push her new flying skills to keep up. She had only been airborne a short while; the forest birds had taught her how to use her wings, just as Lalani said they would.
Her tail flared out, acting as a rudder as she glided silently above the trees.
The hawk dove into a patch of jungle still in the shadows of a high ridge. Shayoni followed as best she could, gripping branches with her taloned feet and leaping from limb to limb with wing assistance when space allowed. Somehow, she managed to keep pace.
The air shifted. Beneath the ridge, the forest floor was as dark as night. Shayoni’s dragon-born eyes saw easily in the gloom, allowing her to track the hawk.
It stopped over what looked like a pit of darkness. Caution stilled her. Flem’s warning echoed in her mind: “Be cautious always. Stay your movement until you know what the risks are—and be prepared for those that are hidden.”
She sniffed the air and waited.
The pit shuddered and expelled something before retracting beneath the foliage. A faint whisper drifted from the shadows.
“Read the book.”
Her head tilted slightly as she didn't understand the language. She remained motionless in the canopy until sunlight chased the shadows from the forest floor.
Gliding down, she examined the object expelled by the darkness. It was a strange shape. She prodded it with her tail—no response. Cautiously, she picked it up. Leather covered its outside; inside were thin, leaf-like sheets cut to match its form.
She inhaled. A familiar scent clung to it—the same scent as the one with bright blue eyes she'd dreamt about.
Clutching the book tightly, Shayoni launched herself into the sky and flew as fast as her wings could carry her to show Lalani what the shadows had given her.
