Part I
Prologue
Exos
“Her birthday is next week.” Elana sat back in her chair at the head of the council table, her silver-gray eyes brimming with expectation. “Allowing her to stay in the mortal realm is a risk we cannot allow.”
“Then kill her,” Mortus suggested, his tone flat. “She’s an abomination.”
“Hear, hear,” Zephys agreed. “It’d solve several of our issues.”
“But what if she’s the one?” Vape was always the voice of reason in these meetings. He sat opposite Elana, his white hair pulled back in a bun, the lines adorning his face showing his near millennia of life.
“Oh, this again.” Mortus shook his head. “The curse is a myth.”
“Say that to the nearly extinct Spirit Fae,” my brother said from his seat at the table. I stood behind him, leaving my seat at his side vacant. There were many who wanted me to join the Royal Council, to take my place in the Fae Court, but I never desired that life. I was a warrior by nature. Not a king, even though my blood indicated otherwise.
“Her mother caused that.” A flame played over Blaize’s fingers while he spoke. “Just thought I’d point that out. Again.”
“We don’t know that for a fact,” Vape reminded, his tone stern yet gentle. Because this was a delicate topic, one several at the table felt strongly about. Especially Mortus—the fae who fought Ophelia Snow to the death. Ninety percent of the Spirit Fae perished on the same day. Some argued it was a coincidence. Others accused Ophelia of being the destructive force, her betrayal shaking the entire Fae Kingdom.
My instincts told me there was more to the story than met the eye, but I didn’t know what.
“Oh, come on. We all know Ophelia was the cause, and this little terror is going to be just as much trouble.” Zephys stood. “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation. It’s a waste of bloody time.”
“Sit. Down,” Elana commanded, her place at the head of the table affording her the authority of the room. As the eldest, and arguably the most powerful of the fae, she carried significant weight in this discussion. Despite the fact that she used to mentor Ophelia personally, providing her with a somewhat biased opinion.
Still, I believed everyone deserved a chance. Even Claire. “She should not have to pay for her mother’s sins,” I murmured, knowing my brother would agree. “I vote we give her a chance.”
“Good thing your vote doesn’t count, then,” Mortus sneered.
“But mine does,” my brother replied. “And I stand by my brother’s words. Claire should not be punished for something she had no control over. We should bring her into the Fae Realm.”
“And do what with her?” Blaize demanded. “Keep her in a cage? She’s a Halfling. We don’t even know what elemental skill she’ll possess.”
“Clearly spirit,” my brother replied, his voice calm. “And likely one other.” That was what set our kind—the Spirit Fae—apart from the others. While spirit was our primary element, we all maintained a secondary one. For me, that was fire. For my brother, water. Our kind used to hold the most power in the Fae Realm as a result, and still would if the majority of our species hadn’t mysteriously collapsed and died in a single day.
Mortus snorted. “Right. She’ll be weak with that mortal blood pumping through her veins.”
“Or incredibly strong,” Vape said in his raspy, old voice. “There’s a prophecy depicting a Halfling of five elements. It could be her.”
“You and your curses and prophecies,” Mortus grumbled, shaking his head. “Show me the proof, old man.”
“It’s written in the stars” was his cryptic reply. Despite being a water elemental, he seemed to have a foresight ability, something no one else possessed. But for someone of his age, and with his experience, it almost made sense that he would be able to depict patterns in time, to predict an event before it happened.
“We should vote,” Elana said, eyeing the parties at the table. Each element had three representatives, which mainly comprised of the royal bloodlines and a few high-ranking fae with stronger affinities to others.
Placards appeared, courtesy of an air elemental carrying them in off a subtle wind and scattering them around the long, oval surface.
“Should we bring her to the Fae Realm?” Elana asked.
Purple meant affirmative. Gold for negative.
My brother tilted his to the violet side, Mortus and Zephys immediately flipping to gold. Blaize surprisingly chose purple. “Call me curious” was his explanation. Several others followed suit, all maintaining a similar opinion, bringing the room to a unexpected agreement on allowing her into the Fae Realm.
“All right, then.” Elana clasped her hands over the hard surface. “What will you do with her when she arrives?”
“Send her
to the Academy.” My brother’s suggestion seemed to shock the room.
Mortus’s cheeks actually tinged red. “To corrupt our youth? No.”
Youth? I thought, nearly laughing.
The fae grew up faster than humans and didn’t start attending the Academy until age nineteen. She’d fit right in with the crowd, apart from having grown up without access to her gifts for the last two decades.