Seeds of Sorrow (Immortal Realms Book 1)

Draven gulped down the rich blood coursing through the prisoner’s veins, feeling the warmth of it coat his throat on its way down. Upon his return from the Veil, he’d felt famished and in deep need of blood. Traveling through the empty wasteland that was the in-between had left him exhausted, so he fed greedily on the offered vein.

When he’d had his fill, Draven released the man’s arm and waved to the harpy guard to take him away. Just as the soldier was walking him back out Draven’s study door, General Ailith shoved past her.

“Your Majesty!” She was winded, and there was concern in her eyes. “Word has just come in from the gates: the guard there has fallen, and beasts are pouring into the Veil as we speak.”

Draven froze for a moment, feeling the human blood flooding through his body in a rush of sensation and life, now mixed with a truly horrible sense of dread. “What?”

This was the last thing that was meant to happen. Draven rose quickly to his feet, swiping a hand over his face. “Call your army and head for the Veil at once, we must try to cull the herd before it is able to do too much damage in Midniva.” With a sharp nod, Ailith turned on her heel and was gone at once. “Seurat.” Draven looked at the man in the corner of the room. “Send an owl to Travion. Give him warning of what is coming, but let him know we are on our way.”

Draven barely had the words out of his mouth when the bowl on the edge of his desk hummed, and suddenly, Zryan’s panicked face was shimmering on its rippling surface.

“Draven? Are you there?” Zryan called out.

“I haven’t the time, Zry, there is trouble in the—”

“Lucem is in complete darkness.”

“What?” Draven asked for the second time in as many minutes.

“The entire realm is pitch-black, and we are being overrun by unimaginable beasts. I think whatever was in the Veil is now here. It is madness and hell.”

The fear that settled into his marrow was so intense, Draven found himself stunned for a moment.

Eden was in Lucem. And Draven had sent her there.

“I am coming,” he growled to Zryan before striding quickly from his study. “Ailith!” His bellow carried through the halls of Aasha Castle, and soon his General was there before him once again.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Prepare the full army, we’re going into Lucem.”

“Your Majesty?” Ailith questioned once more, confused.

“The entire realm of Lucem has been cast in darkness and they are being overrun with creatures from the Veil. Send half of the infantry through to Midniva to hunt down Andherian creatures that have passed through their gates. The rest will come with us to Lucem, where I fear the true battle is taking place.”

Draven had braced himself for the turmoil he would find in Lucem. What he hadn’t anticipated was the effect Lucem would have on him, stepping into the light realm for the first time since he had left for Andhera so long ago. Even in the darkness that now hid its eternal beauty from view, he could smell the fresh scent of florals and feel the residual warmth that came from the sun’s constant shining on the land.

A wave of loss and homesickness swept through Draven violently. So violently, it brought the king to a sudden halt. This was the land he had been denied for so very long.

“Your Majesty?” General Ailith was eyeing him with concern. Around them, the armies of harpies, were-wolves, and were-panthers streamed into Lucem, swords and bows at the ready.

“Did the rest of the troops enter Midniva as ordered?” Draven rushed past the concern written in his general’s eyes and forced himself to concentrate on the battle at hand.

“Aye, sir. The remainder of the were-infantry has passed through into the middle realm. They will hunt down any potential beasts that have slipped into Midniva.”

Draven nodded. Then they both turned their heads sharply as a scream rang out.

A call of, “The dark king has arrived!” sounded from the darkened street.

“Don’t let his creatures take your children!” someone added to the fray, followed by frantic screams of terrified people.

Draven frowned. Did they not realize he was here to help? His question was soon answered as a gathering of Lucemites suddenly surrounded a band of were-panthers, pitchforks and shovels in hand.

“Fools! We have come to aid you!” Draven felt a rush of fury as the citizens of Lucem viewed their presence as a danger. Did they think that he was behind what was happening now? Growling, Draven shouted out, “Protect yourselves, but do not harm them! We have not come here to kill the citizens of Lucem but to aid them!” Obeying his orders, the small flank of were-panthers surrounded the upset group of men, snapping at them to force them back toward their homes.

Draven turned to Hannelore. “Find Dhriti. Between the two of you, go and collect Eden. If Zryan held true to his vow, she should be at the palace. Once you have her in hand, Dhriti is to get her to safety into Midniva with Travion. This is your top priority. Understood?”

“Understood.” Hannelore’s arm came across her chest, and she bowed quickly before calling for Dhriti. Together, the two harpies launched into the sky.

Trusting that the two of them would see to Eden’s safety, Draven waded through the chaos, his eyes easily seeing in the darkness around them. Ahead, he could make out the shapes of a group of beasts surrounding a home. Already they had killed someone and were feeding on the corpse.

“Disperse!” he heard Ailith shout. “Fan out through the streets. The creatures will be attracted to the areas of most activity.”

Draven descended upon the beasts quickly, stalking them with the quiet efficiency of one born of the shadows. His dark form was clad in a black leather vest fitted tightly to his chest. At his shoulders, he wore layers of added leather, but his arms were left free to swing his sword. Across his chest were a series of tight straps that held his sword strapped to his back, and at his shoulder was the customary gray cape.

His forearms were wrapped in black metal vambraces, sculpted perfectly by his nephew, Kian, to mold to his body. They shone still, despite the series of blade strokes they’d been subjected to over the centuries.

Reaching back, Draven wrapped nimble fingers around the hilt of his sword, and in one swift motion, he freed the black blade from its scabbard and brought it down upon the lizard beast’s neck. A dull thud sounded out as its head dropped to the ground, followed shortly by the rest of its body. The first dispatched, Draven faced off with the second. This one was larger, and as its gaping maw opened, he could see the stoking of fire deep in its throat.

“Why must you creatures always spew flame?” he growled.

Draven leaped out of the way of the onslaught of flames just in time, feeling the singe of it along his forearm. Drawing on his invisibility glamour, he rushed the beast. However, the monster’s eyesight seemed driven by heat rather than sight, and his tricks did not work on it.

Wolf claws scraped along the outside of his thigh just as his blade sunk deeply into the creature’s chest. It released one final screech before joining its brother on the ground.

All around him, the sounds of creatures hissing and shrieking met with the responding whistle of an arrow or the thwack of a sword. Beyond, the sky was streaked with bright flashes of lightning dropping down from the clouds to strike at the ground below. Zryan had entered the fray, which meant the beasts had made their way to the palace. Draven could only grit his teeth and trust in Hannelore and Dhirti’s efforts.

“Sire! Above!”

Looking up, Draven found the sky dotted with the light of several torches. As they drew closer, he could make out the image of his nephews, Ruan and Kian, perched atop griffins, with a number of their soldiers following. Draven lifted his hand into the air, signaling to them.

Ruan landed before him, a wide smirk on his bearded face. His dark eyes gleamed even in the darkness, his brown hair windswept back from his face. The eldest prince was dressed in a tan leather vest with thick straps rising over his shoulders. The front of the vest was woven with an intricate gold chest piece proudly bearing the emblem of Lucem. His forearms were wrapped in red fabric, clasped in place by gold vambraces that swept down over to cover his knuckles. Around his bare biceps were a series of gold bands, each proclaiming a different rank in the royal army he had achieved, or a particular battle won.

Ruan, otherwise known as the Prince of War, was ready to fight.

Behind him, Prince Kian climbed off his own griffin and stepped forward. The youngest prince had black hair that fell into his blue eyes. A look of unease on his features as he peered around them at the Andherian army in the midst of battle. On his right shoulder gleamed golden layers of armor that strapped on to his bicep and crossed over his chest to fasten beneath the opposite arm. His left arm was solid gold from fingertip to shoulder, a beautifully crafted piece to replace the one of flesh he had lost as a boy. The replica arm, imbued with magic, moved as if Kian had been born with it.

He wore a sword strapped to his hip, but unlike his brother who sought out battle, Kian was the fabricator of their weapons and preferred his place in the palace forge. While Ruan was the spitting image of Zryan, Kian held more of his mother’s beauty.

“The creatures hunt by heat. Your torches are going to draw them directly to you and your men,” Draven said by way of hello.

“Perfect. Then we’ll have them right where I want them,” Ruan responded, his hand moving to pull his blade free. Behind him, the sky lit with lightning once more.

Draven could feel frantic fear wash through him that he knew was Eden’s. Rather than let it distract him, he only hoped Hannelore and Dhriti reached her before it was too late.

There wasn’t time for more words after that. Draven and his nephews soon found themselves set upon by several of the Veil beasts, along with a number of chimera that had followed the shadows into the light realm. Dodging blasts of flame, Draven dove after a creature, grabbing onto one of its sharp snake fangs as it lashed at him and holding its head aloft while keeping out of the direct view of the goat head.

To his side, Ruan was wielding his sword with the fluidity and ferociousness that had earned him his title. A roar of victory spilled from his lips as he cleaved the head off one beast only to thrust his sword into the belly of another directly after. Kian, while not as blissfully in his element as his brother, was using his golden arm as well as his blade to fight through the onslaught.

Violently twisting the snake head off the scaled tail, Draven rushed forward to thrust his sword up through the bottom of the goat head, driving it through its jaw and up into its skull before more fire could be breathed. The chimera’s lion head released a roar as it staggered. Doling out the death blow, Draven’s hand plunged into its chest, pulling out a still-beating heart.

Bringing the organ to his lips, he bit into it, quickly gulping down the blood inside, then tossed it to the ground. While not his preferred human blood, it would help repair the gash in his thigh a little, enough to hopefully staunch the free flow of his own.

A series of snarls sounded to his right as Channon and his wolves surrounded a manticore. While the beast was violent, it had no chance against the pack. Beyond the wolves, Draven watched as three were-panthers chased a Veil beast between two homes. A flash of flame lit up the sky, followed by a harsh cry of pain. The harpies had taken up perch on the rooftops, firing arrows at whatever creature was in their line of sight.

They fought their way farther into town, chasing the beasts down and killing any they came across. Some of the soldiers continued to brandish the torches that lured the creatures out of the shadows and after them instead of the citizens. Their progress brought them into the town center just in time to see one home go up in flames as a beast went after a small girl who had escaped inside. Before Draven had a chance to say anything, Ruan had disappeared into the home.

“Go through the roof!” Draven shouted to one of the harpies closest to him. Understanding his command, she flew to the rooftop, using her sword to break through one of the upper windows and head inside.

Kian had fallen on the monstrosity, which had started the blaze, his gilded hand pinning the beast’s head to the ground as he fought off a clawed foot. Trusting him to handle it, Draven moved to stand below the window, and caught the young fae his harpy brought to the opening and tossed out.

Setting the coughing female on the ground, he stood up in time to catch the young male who was dropped out next. Fortunately, the mother was aware enough to take her child from him, and Draven turned to see Ruan burst through another window, a small female clutched protectively in his arms.

Shaking his head at his nephew, his leather smoking lightly and soot smeared over one cheek, Draven pointed to one of the stone houses down the lane. “Get the family to safety over there.”

Turning, Draven found Hannelore suddenly before him and realized he had lost himself to the bloodshed. Time had passed more quickly than he thought. The harpy was panting from the exertion of a long flight but seemed well overall.

“Eden?” he asked urgently.

“Dhriti has gone through the Veil with her to Midniva. They should be arriving at the castle soon.”

“Had she suffered any harm?”

“We found her fending off beasts when we arrived. But she is okay, and Dhriti will get her safely to King Travion.”

Draven grit his teeth at the thought of Eden battling the beasts that his women and men were falling to but nodded nonetheless. “Thank you, Hannelore.” She had gotten Eden safely out of Lucem and hopefully to Midniva’s castle, which should have been calmer and more secure.

“It was my honor.”

“Now, join in where you can.”

As the harpy took to the air once more, another replaced her. “Sire, we have contained the beasts on the outskirts,” General Ailith informed him. “The army has fully closed around the village and are driving any that remain to the center where the prince’s men await. We’ve sent any who can be spared to the outlying villages to dispatch any creatures that made their way there.”

“Good.” They might yet manage to deal with this before too many casualties were amassed.

“You should head to Midniva, Your Majesty.”

Draven glanced narrowly at Ailith. “I am needed here.”

“Prince Ruan has his men firmly under control. And we harpies were made for this sort of battle. You know this is nothing but a day of sport for us. Go to her, sire.”

Draven contemplated this for a moment before he nodded. “Very well. But this does not stop until we are certain we have killed every last creature that has come through the Veil. Keep someone to guard and make sure no more come through.”

“Already on it, Your Majesty.”

Draven couldn’t help but smirk a little. Of course. This was why Ailith had been given command of the armies of Andhera. She knew how to handle a battle.

“I will see you on the other side, general. Be safe and . . . have fun.” They shared a grin, then Draven headed back through the shadows, making his way toward the Veil.

His journey through the gate and across the vastness was swift, using what energy he could spare to make his movements faster than usual. Draven had no time to waste. If he could make certain things were fine in Midniva and Eden was safe, he would be able to return to Lucem and help finish off the battle that was underway.

It was early evening in the middle realm, so as he stepped through into Travion’s kingdom, Draven was safe once more from the sun. However, it was not peacefulness that greeted him. A dead were-tiger lay on the path leading into the capital city, her body half-transformed back into a human. Cursing, Draven ran toward the main city, keeping his eyes open for any beast that may be lying in wait.

Passing through the streets of Caithaird, Draven was forced to stop to take down a lamia. She had already decimated a small house and discarded the parents as nothing more than things in the way of her true delight. She sat coiled around the bodies of the children she was feasting on. With an angry shout, Draven swung his sword, taking off her head so swiftly, it flew several feet away.

Growling through clenched teeth, he wiped some of the blood from his cheek. “Worthless creatures. I’ll eradicate you yet.” A wash of distress suddenly tore through Draven, strong enough that it caused him to stagger a little. “Eden.”

Filled with a fresh sense of purpose, Draven left the bodies of the slain and ran through the pebbled streets, not stopping until the towering gates of Travion’s castle came into view. A were-panther greeted him with a quick growl, flesh hanging from her jowls. But Draven paid little heed to her, his eyes searching for Eden. Through their blood bond, he could tell that she was near.

When he found her, she stood in the middle of what had once been decorative trees in Travion’s courtyard but which now were a tangle of overly large roots shooting from the soil to wrap around the bodies of screeching manticores. A chimera lay dead to one side, its body speared by the large thorn of a rose bush.

Seeing the snarling beast behind her, Draven rushed forward, his arm slipping around Eden’s waist to spin her out of the way as his sword sliced clean through the beast’s jaw. It fell, its head now in half.

Panting, Draven looked down at Eden, his eyes quickly traveling over her body to make certain that she was fully intact. She was dressed in armor that he recognized as having once belonged to either his sister-in-law or niece, and his hand, when he pulled it away from her side, was coated in blood. The sight of it, and scent of it on the wind, froze him for a moment. Eden was injured, and that thought filled him with enough rage that he could have burnt away all the darkness currently clouding Lucem.

“Draven!” Eden gasped, eyes wide with surprise.

Her gasp pulled his attention away from his fury and up to her face instead. The sight of her for the first time in three days was like a kick to the stomach, making everything inside of him protest the loss of her. Unable to stop himself, Draven hauled her in tight against him and dipped his head to capture her lips in a fierce kiss, needing the reassurance that she was truly well and alive here in his arms. She stiffened at the initial assault, then leaned into it, her lips responding demandingly.

“You’re okay,” he rasped breathlessly when he finally pulled away from her. Pressing his forehead to hers, he took a moment to savor the feel of her in his arms once more. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding.”

“I’ll be okay. And what of you?” Eden drew back, looking his body over. “You’re covered in blood as well!”

“Most of it isn’t mine.”

“Most of it?”

Ignoring her concern, Draven spun, searching the courtyard to see who else was busy fighting creatures. “Where is Travion?”

“He’s right over—” Eden’s words halted, and she pointed to a corner of the courtyard that now lay empty. “He was right there when last I saw him.”

Nodding, Draven took her hand in his free one, and with his sword gripped tightly in the other, pulled her into the castle. “Why were you outside?” he growled.

“I wanted to help. I needed to help.”

Draven cast her a quick glance, his features tight. “And I sent you here to be safe.” Shaking his head, he tugged her farther into the castle. “Travion!”

His shout was answered by the snort of a beast. Hurrying through the open doors of the throne room, Draven released Eden’s hand and rushed forward. Travion lay crumpled on the floor in a pool of his own blood. A manticore hovered over him, its twisted human face bent on devouring him as his arms weakly fought it off.

Draven leaped at it, shoving the beast off of Travion. He rolled as the manticore slid across the floor, its clawed feet scraping at the stone. Jumping back up, Draven grunted in pain as one of the foot-long needles from the beast’s tail caught him in the shoulder, piercing the area between collarbone and neck. Distantly, he heard Eden shout his name.

Hissing through his teeth, Draven ignored the pain and cloaked himself with invisibility. It was enough to confuse the creature and gave Draven enough time to rush it once more, this time stabbing it through the heart. As he withdrew his blade, the manticore collapsed to the floor. Draven dropped his invisibility and turned back to Travion.

His brother’s torso had been torn open, leaving far more of his insides visible than what should be possible to survive. As he hurried back over to Travion, Eden met him, and together they knelt. Through his abdomen, which rose with short, shallow breaths, was an even deeper gash, torn open by the manticore’s spiked tail or sharp claws. The sight of his brother in such a state made Draven feel ill. Too many times he’d been witness to Travion’s pain. Too many times he’d been forced to be the cause of it. Once Zryan had helped them out of that dungeon, it was something he’d hoped never to have to witness again.

“By the moon . . . I thought you knew how to fight,” Draven rasped.

Travion chuckled weakly, his breath hitching in pain. “We’ve been through worse, you and I. I’ve hurt more and less.” His last words came with a rattling breath.

“I can . . . I can fix this.” Eden’s voice trembled as she spoke, and Draven thought she didn’t sound quite as confident as she was trying to be.

“How quaint. One last family reunion before the end,” a cold voice spoke from the doorway of the throne room.

Turning to look over his shoulder, Draven saw Naya Damaris holding a dark leather book in her hands.

“Mama?” Eden’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Naya ignored her daughter, staring directly at Draven instead. “So convenient that you present yourself here to me just as one brother dies so that I might finish the job.”