Sneak Peak!!! Prince of Darkness: Chapter 3

“The beginning, as where it always begins, started with a single soul—the father of our world. A King, a Creator, a God. He ‘as many names but ‘tas not what’s important.” The stranger waved a hand up in disregard. “He created mortals and erected the sky, the trees, and the ground that rumbles beneath ye very feet.”

He stomped his boots, laced in mud and dung much like the rest of the village, while the children laughed and giggled with glee.

“Mortals came and went, but throughout time, the King grew lonely. He searched high and low, through the valleys and the depths of the seas for a partner to soothe his soul from the solitary of his being.”

He cleared his throat, reaching for a wooden mug atop the man’s two-seated table against the wall. Placing a fist underneath my chin, I huffed. The anticipation was a dredging axe in the room. All the children, even the patrons, including Rollin’ Hale, the oaf that never ceased his barbed tongue, were still as stone—as is they hadn’t heard it a dozen times too many, or as if a kernel untold to their ears would appear within the fairy-tale of lies.

“For centuries he searched, watching as newborn babes become old and frail, as the sun never failed to rise, and as the lands changed over countless moons.” A moment’s pause as he sipped from the mug, swiping away excess ale clinging to chapped lips before placing it unceremoniously back on the oak. “When he felt as if all hope had vanished, never to know the extent of love, he came across a mortal woman in a thriving land that cherished the’ sails. He married ‘er, making ‘er Queen of our world. They fell in love and kissed under the mornin’ light.”

There were eeks and shudders amongst the young boys. Ross, though, inched closer, fearful he might miss even a word of the soldier’s tale.

“But time did not stop for ‘er like the immortal King.”

“Why didn’t he make her immortal?” a young girl prodded, adjusting the rounded glasses slipping down her nose.

Yeah, why didn’t he?

I rolled my eyes. There were so many loopholes with the creation and questions that couldn’t be answered that it seemed too far-fetched to be in any way real.

“Because what is already created, cannot be reborn.”

The huddled children seemed satisfied with that answer, looking to one another and nodding in agreement. Well, that was a new one. In other tales, it was because she feared immortality.

“She bore two sons before she passed. The King mourned ‘er loss but felt the love of his two sons that carried ‘er features. For each of his sons, he created their own Kingdom to rule.”

“The Shadow and the Spirit Realm,” Ross piped up.

The stranger dipped his chin, stubbled with long days and eyes rimmed with little rest. “The Shadow and Spirit Realm. This way, when a mortal died, they were given a second chance at life. The Spirit Realm was for the kind-hearted. The Shadow Realm for the wicked.” His voice darkened, that final word plunging over a steep cliff of foreboding.

Another sip of the ale and the children fidgeted, their little breaths narrowing, their small frames leaning forward. “When the sun reins high in the sky, the Spirits may pass upon our world. When the light fades, the Shadows hunt for mortals susceptible to their wrath. They make deals in promises of riches for the possession of a body to be used to murder and conjure havoc upon our plains.”

It didn’t make any sense to me. Why would a Shadow possess a mortal? Why would it matter? There were many variations that the Shadows could kill squabbling children with a single touch so why would they need a host to murder?

I huffed, crossing my arms in frustration. I don’t understand why anyone believes this rubbish.

“As time grew and the King’s sons ruled over the’ Realms, the Shadow Prince became envious of his brother. While his brother received mortals of good faith, he viewed his Realm as mortal trash. He began to question his father’s motives and why he, of the two sons, had been given the Shadow Realm, a realm full of murderers, thieves, and naughty children.”

And there it is—the scare tactic. The children tensed, straightening their spines to attention.

“The Shadow Prince became more envious, wanting to rule over the three Realms—the Shadows, the Spirits, and the mortal world. So, when the sun faded and the shadows appeared, he marched toward the Spirit Realm, inciting war between the Shadows and Spirits.”

A few of the children gasped.

The stranger nodded in agreement, tapping his fingers across the wooden table. “It was a war ‘tas killed many in kind and, in the end, the King was killed protecting our home. While he protected us from the Shadows that sought to destroy us, the threat remained. The Shadow Prince continued to thrive, becoming King over the Shadow Realm, while the Spirit Prince became King of the Spirits.”

He placed a fisted hand over his heart. “And while there’s no longer a King to the Mortal Realm, we give our blessings and our thanks to the High King, our creator, and father.”

Thought he was immortal. I sighed. Just another plot hole.

The little girl raised her head, the one with rounded glasses and two fishtail braids. “What about the Shadow Prince...I mean King?”

“He continues to plot until the day he can march across the Spirit Realm once again. But the Spirits remain victorious as they keep our world safe and the life beyond. But the Shadows still lurk, waiting to take his vengeance and hoping that some foolish mortal may possess their very soul.”

“Cool,” Ross murmured in awe.

“Okay.” I stood. “You heard the story. Let’s go.”

With a small eye roll and a huff, Ross stood and followed, weaving between children scattered haphazardly on the floor.

As we parted from the pub, the stranger’s voice called after us with a quick tongue. “Don’t make deals with the Shadows,” he warned, ominous and lurking—like I might actually be susceptible to such foolishness.

“Not planning on it,” I murmured.

Our steps faltered as we approached the door. Thunder rolled in the distance while bolts of lightning threatened the sky, igniting the dark night in baleful arrival. Rain pattered into the dirt and muck, turning the roads slick. As I looked up into the sky, I heeded a silent prayer to the Spirits, if such a thing existed.

Please don’t make me slip.

Turning to my brother who stared with fascination into the dark clouds, I ushered, “Put your hood up,” before pulling the wool cloth over his dirty blond hair.

He stuck his tongue out, rolling his eyes with my insistent need to coddle him. Little brothers, especially pesky, annoying brats like mine, needed the extra attention. Or so I convinced myself.

We stepped into the growing storm, sprinting across the muddied grounds, holding our hoods over our heads. Rain pelted against our leather coats with a gentle pitter-patter adding to the rhythmic tune of nature cascading down upon us. As we ran through the alleyways that reeked of manure and felt like a dark abyss, I grabbed Ross’s arm to keep him close by my side. Safe. Guarded.

He had a habit of drifting too far, seeking the creatures of fairytales and testing life with death for a bump in the night or a subtle whip of a leaf. But it wouldn’t ever be a Shadow he’d find—more like claws and pointed fangs. It was best to keep him close, for however long I could.

My heart bottomed out with the implication—sooner or later he’d be out of my reach, and I’d be helpless to protect him. I didn’t want to think about that now, or ever really, but time was as harsh as any beast that may roam to find us.

“Strong storm coming,” Ross shouted over the howling wind echoing between the building walls.

I smiled, my stomach churning with anticipation. “I’m counting on it.”

Razorbacks, one of the hardest to hunt, only appeared during heavy rain. For within the cloak of the storms, it shrouded their silky trails of goo, heightening their advantage over their prey hidden amongst the dense forestry.

As we neared the edge of the village, a small cabin—a ramshackle of a home according to many villagers—came into view. The wooden floorboards creaked as the aged and rotting wood looked to collapse at the slightest breath. Vines trellising up the dark wood reclaimed the bottom stair, having folded in many years past while the foundation at least remained sturdy enough. Enough to survive. Enough to keep warmth in our bones during the frost of winter. Enough to shelter us from starving beasts.

Enough. It’s all it ever would be.

I swung open the door, the hinge screeching with menace, as Ross barreled in.

“Boots,” I called after him before he tracked in his muddy steps. He slipped them off with ease, leaving them by the side of the door.

“Here.” I pulled off the knapsack hanging over my shoulder—meat and bone I’d stripped from the wolves—before handing it to my brother. “Give this to Ma.”

His arm drooped with the weight of it. “I knew you’d kill em,” he said with a sweet grin. “I’d never doubted you for a second.”

He never did, nor should he ever.

Nodding to the kitchen, I smiled. “Make sure you help her store the meat. Be careful with the bone.”

“I’m not stupid,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes like any young boy would when their pride was tested. “I’ll do it all myself without needing Ma’s help.”

“I have no doubt you can.”

“Will you be back soon?” he asked, looking toward the door.

I shrugged, following his gaze as the wind howled, rustling the leaves, snapping weak branches hanging from the trees encompassing our home. “Depends on how quickly I can snag a good piece of meat to sell. I’m rather low on copper.”

“Do you want mine?”

What?

I thought I misheard him, but as I looked back at him, he reached into his pocket and pulled out two coppers glinting in his palm.

Blime.

My heart warmed as I smiled, appreciative he’d even offered. “No, Ross.” I shook my head. “You keep that. You earned it.”

He pushed his hand closer. “Yeah, but I want to help.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, closing his hand over the coins. “Promise. Now go eat and I’ll be back when I can.”

His lips parted, cheeks flushing a rosy red as if he wanted to say more. “Kill em’ good then.” There was always a spark, a fire in his eyes when he looked back up at me, like I was everything he ever wanted to be.

The stars could fall, the lilies could wilt, and all the light in the world could fade, yet I’d still find sanctuary in the blaze of my brother’s gaze. A love so thick, so sound and durable, only a God could rip it apart.

Ross hefted the bag, darting toward the kitchen where our mother brewed a stew, an aroma of rosemary and basil tickling my nose.

“Ross, don’t you dare stick your finger in there, young man!” I smiled as my mother scorned him—a warmth, bright and wielding, soothing in my chest.

Happiness.

Contentment.

And I’d do anything to keep it, even going out in the middle of a storm to find my family food to eat and coats to sell.

“Is that you, Ravyn?” my mother called from the kitchen.

“Yes, Ma.” I grabbed my bow and arrows, holstering my pistol to my right hip, making sure to fill the empty chamber.

“Are you going out tonight?” There was a slight tremble in her voice.

Before I headed out, I checked to make sure my knife was sheathed on the left side of my hip. Then moved to the door without a word, knowing my mother would soon argue me leaving.

“Please be careful,” she warned as the door slammed shut from the force of the wind.

I’ll try, I promised. I always tried. Just sometimes, it didn’t go my way.

The wind blew swift, rushing with such a force it almost knocked me off my feet. “Damn wind.”

Thunder cracked and rolled in the distance, bolts of lightning illuminating the potholes in the poorly managed road. Another good fortune of the storm. One misstep and I’d be crawling back home with a twisted ankle. Not an injury I could sustain at the moment—or want, honestly.

I side-stepped left to right, maneuvering between the rock and divots with careful placement. It was only a ten-minute walk to my hunting grounds in Blood Hill. The street bare and empty of travelers, not many ventured toward our village. At least, no sane person would.

As I looked up ahead and to the right, the trees casted an eerie shadow, resembling a monster towering into the night sky with chopping breaths and thunderous growls. These parts of the forest were one of the better places to hunt, being near secluded without much of any distraction—well it used to be. After my notorious rise to fame, more and more hunters started to frequent the location. Asswipes.

At least nobody stupid enough would brave the storms tonight. Nobody that is, except me. But alas, here I was, about to traipse through a forest during high time of feeding hour.

A cruel smile lifted my cheeks.

And hunted they shall be.

With a single, nonceremonial step, I plunged into the darkness of Blood Hill.

I walked through the brush and overgrowth for about fifteen minutes before the depth of the forest fully engulfed me. Keeping my bow close, I listened to the movements of the trees, to the wind screaming a fierce howl while damp leaves rustled. The rain continued to patter against the murky ground, humming a soft tune, but I waited and listened for the sign of footsteps that matched those I hunted.

Time passed, seemingly drawing out into minutes then hours.

Shivers wracked my skin from the cold, damp air. I gritted my teeth, cursing the existence of these harrowing beasts.

Where were they?!

A droplet parted down my shoulder blades, my hair soaked from the storm. I tightened my jaw. Great.

A snap of a branch and my ears perked.

Then nothing.

A growl ripped from my throat. I was going to be a frozen icicle hiding between these branches before my prey surfaced.

A low, continuous snap echoed. Then another. Finally.

The sound of my prey. Hope fluttered within my chest as I smiled past the rain cascading down my face.

I gripped my fists. I need this. My family needs this.

With a jerk, I snapped past the branches with the weight of my bow against my back. The Razorback increased in speed, its steps heavier, more urgent. It probably smelled me.

They hid in holes buried deep in the ground. Hence why they were a harder catch than most, which meant—if I didn’t catch it now, it was as sure as heck gone.

On the top of a small hill, I found it. It slithered with its gooey core trailing across rustling leaves. It had the body of a snail and a spiked and spiraling shell engraved with symbols.

“Gotcha.” I raised my bow, ready to take aim. My fingers slick, my breaths quick, I steadied my breath until my vision honed on my target and to one of its midnight blue eyes.

A low growl erupted behind me.

What the—

I spun on my heels. A beast with antlers, four times the size of my five-foot-two frame stared back at me with gnawing razor-sharp teeth

No arrow would penetrate that size of a beast, especially against its back sheath of armored scales.

Oh crap.

It pounced.

Throwing my arrow to the soil below, I pulled the pistol at my hip, pointing the barrel toward its snapping jaws. Adrenaline gripped my heart, shards of needles piercing my skin.

The beast growled over the wind and pummeling rain, showing its white canines, the sound reverberating through its throat, rumbling the ground beneath me. Or maybe that was just the crash of lightning reflected in its two black, beady eyes.

Sucking in a breath, I forced myself to breathe as I fired. The sound echoed between the trees and against a double-timed crack of light. Pain registered first. Then the beast’s whimpering cry resounded off my howl. It sauntered backward—a brief respite I suppose since it’d been able to reach me as well. At least I’d wounded it.

Gritting my teeth, I inspected the gash across my arm. “Mother of shadows.”

The beast cocked its head, its brows furrowing, eyes glaring with menace. I hissed in preparation for a fight.

I scanned the leaves and the wet ground for my pistol, finding it knocked down the side of the hill.

Guess it’s blade on fang then.

I pulled my knife from the sheath, a terrible pit of doubt needling into my thoughts but readied myself for its next attack. It wasn’t the first time I’d fought a monster, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Just as it was about to lurch forward, its eyes locked on something behind me. It bowed its head, submitting to whatever lurked there. A whine of fear perhaps, trembled its giant paws.

With a gasp, I turned, prepared to find a beast that could meet my end, only to find a man coated in shadows and darkness.

Shadow Royals: Prince of Darkness

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