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Ian McGregor is half Fae and half Vampire, chosen to lead an army of Vampires, Werewolves, Fae, and Demons, against a horde of newly created evil creatures, beings created by siphoning the souls of unsuspecting innocents. He has spent his decades long life fighting against darkness and protecting those in need, never questioning his choices…until he meets Elspeth.
Elspeth McLellan , an orphan raised by nuns, has unquestioningly followed the path of her healing abilities. Now a chance encounter finds her hunted and marked for death for a crime she didn’t commit. In her race to escape, she finds herself facing dragons and losing her heart to a stranger.
Their instant connection has them questioning what the future holds, but danger looms and battle is brought closer to home than they ever imagined. Ian finds himself at a crossroads, forced to choose between life as a warrior and the woman he loves.
Page Count: 412
Word Count: 109920
Close to the top of a mountain near Mystic Kingdom, in the opening of a large dark cave, stood the God of Dark. His long raven hair damp and stuck to his face and neck from the humid heat of the day. The cave provided no shelter from the heat. It was damp and moldy, causing the air to hang thick and heavy. No matter to him, he lived and thrived in heat. He liked this place.
The bottom of his crimson and black robe hung over the opening’s edge as he leaned out and looked down. Two men slowly climbed toward him, one carrying a small bundle, the other a large bag. The God of Dark impatiently watched as they ascended.
He sighed at their slowness and raised his hands. The men were immediately transported to the cave, landing in front of him. He eyed King Rulm and Drakkor sharply.
“You brought the infant,” he rumbled.
“Yes,” said Drakkor. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. What about when he is returned? Will his mother sense he is no longer her son?
The God of Dark hated questions, but he answered non-the-less. “Her memory of what he was like is gone. I’ve replaced them with new ones. She will raise him as her own until which time he is returned to us.”
“Why now, after all these years. Why are you bringing this Seamus back, and why is he so important, who is he?” asked King Rulm.
The God of Dark turned toward the king, his eyes flashing flames. “Because,” he bellowed. “Merlin has been doing good, so much so that it was time the scales were balanced. It’s time his brother returned. And I will be the one to bring him back. With a spell from the Grimoire to the Dark he will once again be given life. The God of Light says he likes balance, as far as I’m concerned, this will be balance.” He turned toward the alter, the glow coming off from him bathing the cave and everything in it with an eerie red glow.
Drakkor took the sleeping baby and placed it upon the alter, removing the blanket and leaving the child naked upon the cold stone. The child awoke and began to wail. “Sileniseo Absoliteus!” The God of Dark raised his hand. The baby fell quiet.
“Let’s get on with it,” he said. “You two will perform the spell, I will put Seamus’ spirit in this body as the child’s spirit leaves. I cannot create a spirit. Only the One Great God can do that, but nowhere is it said, that I cannot manipulate one that already exists.” He laughed.
“Won’t the God of Light know what we are doing, or the very least, the One Great God?” asked King Rulm.
He turned toward the king with impatience. “He will only see the death of a child nothing more. He won’t know we’ve placed another soul in this body. This cave is warded; the child is warded, and here I can open a thin veil from hell to pull Seamus through. This is the only place where the God of Light and the One Great God will not know what we are doing.” He laughed. “It’s time for me! Do you understand? I’ve played by their rules long enough, today that stops!” He was out of patience and small sparks shot from the glow surrounding him. “Do you have the knife that Merlin made and used to kill his brother?”
Drakkor pulled it out from the bag he carried, removed it from the sheath, and lay it next to the baby on the alter.
“The Grimoire to the Dark?” he asked.
Drakkor smiled as he removed the book and placed it on the alter.
“Good let’s begin,” he rumbled. Drakkor placed a bowel of herbs mixed with Seamus’ ground bone near the child while the God of Dark drew blood from the motionless baby.
Holding the babe over the bowel he let a few drops of blood fall from the infant and they began to chant. The child didn’t cry, didn’t whimper, eyes closed as if asleep from the spell that he’d put him under.
“Reenta Oppresucto,” they chanted together. “Suprenta Elemi, Obliicum Pestempra,” and with a final flare, they shouted, “Extermiortis Noctius!”
The sky outside became dark and lightning flashed and arced from cloud to cloud. Inside the cave the torches flared high and static electricity shot through the air. A ball of white light rose from the child and hovered for a second before shooting through the roof.
The God of Dark grew in size, his hair flying in all directions, flames for eyes, his light bright. “Alterempra…Alteritus…Seretus…Vengerrgio Caneus!” Beside him hovered a dark, murky cloud. As the white light left the baby the dark cloud entered and he healed the wounds to the child.
The static electricity subsided, the snapping and popping stopped, the sun once again shown outside, the flames from the torches receded, and the baby opened his eyes.
“It is done,” he rumbled. “Return the child to its mother.”
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