1. Kieran

Chapter 1

Kieran

S he is going to kill me.

I rake a hand through my disheveled hair and stare into the silver mirror before me. I struggle to recognize the man looking back at me. Even in the gloominess of my chamber, I can see his bloodshot eyes with dark circles, a shadow of stubble on his cheeks, and his normally immaculate mage robes are wrinkled and hang loosely on his body.

I am a complete wreck.

A sigh leaves my lips and I grimace, rubbing a hand across my aching brow. I pushed my magic reserve to its limit last night and now my head feels like a pot left too long on the boil. Not that this is the first time this has happened.

I turn toward the desk littered with dark green glass vials and jars containing potions and herbs meant to help my mind expand. Another sigh. Leaning against the table, I feel the splintering wood under my fingertips, and I try to ignore the rest of the mess surrounding me. There are heaps of clothes littering the stone floor, the bed with its pristine white sheets is unmade, candle nubs are resting on every surface, and parchment filled with notes are scattered everywhere. The chamber is a testament to the days and nights I have spent tirelessly seeping through the future. Searching for a damn unicorn and an imbecile princeling.Searching for the one thing that will make her happy .

What am I doing?

I have spent my whole life seeking her attention, her approval. Hoping her sapphire eyes would see more in me than a means to an end. How cruel the Goddess is, to make one love so fiercely, only for that love to go unnoticed. Unappreciated. Sure, it would be easier if I could just carve this love out of me, and leave Tricella behind as if she never existed. Yet, I'd rather keep this painful love locked within me than live a life not having loved at all. Even if now, after all these years, it has begun to wear on me mentally and physically.

No matter. My discomfort means little if I can succeed. If I can have Tricella back.

My temples throb, starlight flashing at the edge of my vision as I frantically sort through the assortment on my desk.I reach for the pot of brewing tea at the edge of the table and pour myself a steaming cup of what I hope will be the solution to my aching mind.

"Where are you hiding?" I whisper as I roam over the map before me and take a sip of the brew. My eyes focus on a piece of parchment pinned on a small village north of the castle. There's a number scribbled in dark ink.

112

It's the number of shifters we've caught on our last attack. One hundred and twelve shifters we can siphon magic from. And yet, none of them are what we truly need.

I take another sip, and my eyes water from the pungent aroma.

I would be lying if I said I'm remorseful for the events that have led me here. For turning the key in the locks of all those cells in the dungeons where shifters now lay and wonder what fate has in store for them. For helping Tricella research the darkness and grasp the power she craves. Because once upon a time, when Tricella was not a queen but a girl, her ambition and brilliant mind superseded her desire for cruelty. Her dream was to be happy and loved.

So, when she whispered to me one day by the fire, "I need the power the stories talk about, Kieran. I long to be powerful so I can make them all pay. I will never be weak again," I helped her find the book of dark magic and climb the social hierarchy until they crowned her queen. And when she wanted immortality to stop the hours and the minutes so she could keep that power and not see it taken from her by the thief called time, I found her the last unicorn known on the continent.

Sybil Vandaleur .

The sole creature able to grant such a gift out of the purity of its magic. The same unicorn I must now find again, before she understands her true power and becomes my queen's undoing.

Because what the future had not shown me all those moons ago was that dark power is saccharine. It melts on your tongue and makes you wish for more as it slowly takes pieces of your soul until you're no longer yourself. That is my only regret: to have given her the thing that extinguished the very spark in her eyes that made me follow her blindly, that power that has turned her into this cruel and bloodthirsty version of herself.

I did it all for a dream. Her dream.

I set my empty cup on the side and start following the borders of Shadowvale with my index finger. A knot of unease twists in my gut. Tricella is going to call for me soon and I will have to tell her, once again, that I find no glimpse of Sybil Vandeleur in the uncertain haze of the future. Every time I try, visions blur so fast I can't pick them apart.And maybe this time her rage will be enough to end my life.

I grab the edge of the desk, my knuckles blanching white as I'm hit with a wave of nausea from the pain of my throbbing head.The brew has done fuck all.

Opening the bottom drawer on the right-hand side of my desk, I breathe a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging when I find the bottle I'm looking for. I pour myself another cup of brew but this time, I also pour a heaping dose of the poppy syrup into the steaming mug of tea before collapsing onto the stiff wooden chair.

Agony flickers behind my closed eyelids—a sharp, stabbing sensation that nearly derails me. Thunder booms outside, shaking the thin pane of glass before sleet pelts the window, intensifying the pounding in my head. Winter was quickly melting into spring, despite the clusters of snow clinging to the ground. I didn't have time to waste.

"What to do?" I ask myself out loud, my throat scratchy from the hours spent in silence.

I'd do anything for her.

My hands are already stained crimson, and I doubt the Goddess will ever take a soul as rotten as mine into her kingdom. So, if killing the useless king, his son or anyone else hindering this plan would be the solution, they'd already be seven feet underground. But I've been playing this game for far too long to waste a valuable pawn.

I push on, focusing intently as the steaming cup in my hands burns my fingers. I strain to find the prince amidst the swirling visions. Gritting my teeth, a stifled groan escapes as I endure the pain, my resolve unwavering as I strive to capture a single image of their whereabouts.

The first thing I see is snow. Aramis and his second in command are cutting south through the thick snow in the mountains. The unicorn is nowhere in sight.

This can't be.

I pull harder on my magic, pushing past the pain, seeking the truth. The images keep coming, one after the other in a kaleidoscope of colors. But no matter the time or place, they remain together in all my visions. As the vision starts to blur, I mentally grapple with that single image. They could be anywhere in Shadowvale. I need more information.

Mental claws scrape across the inside of my skull as I focus closer, attempting to hone in on anything that could give me their location.

I take a deep breath, my hold onto the cup tightening. I cannot fail her again. Not now. Not when we're so close.

"Come on." Frustration laces every word. Nothing but snow and ice fills my vision.

"Fuck," I curse, throwing the empty cup against the wall and slamming my fist into the desk.

Kieran.

My body tenses, skin prickling as Tricella's voice echoes in my head. Pushing to my feet, I straighten my robes and comb a hand through my hair before opening the door that separates my study from her chambers.

"Yes, my queen?" I bow, my body protesting the movement.

Tricella sits on a plush lounge chair made of red velvet, reminiscent of the throne she sits on in the throne room. Her chambers are grand and fit for a queen. A large fire pit crackles in the corner, covered by an ornate golden brazier and decorated with twisting thorny vines. Heavy vermillion drapes hang over the window, muffling the booming sound of the thundersnow storm outside. My eyes are drawn toward the wooden table at the center of the room, pristine save for the dark tome and an empty crystal goblet, its edge stained with the imprint of her lips. As always, I ignore the right-hand side of the room, where the sound of shackles and a shifter's quiet whimpers break the silence.

"You've been quiet." She taps her nails restlessly on the arm of the chair as she turns to face me. My heart clenches at the sight of her long golden hair. "What news do you have for me?"

"They've gone into the mountains–"

"I asked for an update, not a repeat of what I already know," she says sharply, pushing up and grabbing my chin, her fingernails biting into flesh as she forces my head up. I allow myself a moment to study the new dark purple veins streaking away from her darkened fingertips until I meet her gaze. My stomach clenches, roiling with a sudden onset of nausea at the sight of her sharp gaze.I look for the woman I met on a summer's day. In the marketplace, her cheeks lit up with a warm blush as she greeted customers with a genuine smile. Her basket, filled with plump, freshly-picked apples, was extended to anyone who caught her attention. She paid no mind to the stares that lingered on her bare, soiled feet and torn clothing. Undeterred, she gracefully moved from stall to stall, immersing herself in the vibrant atmosphere of the market, determined to sell her meager basket. It was her unwavering determination to better herself that drew me to her.

She's still there, barely.

"I'm sorry, Tricella," I say, my lips pressing into a tight grimace. "I saw the prince and his dog heading south, but the unicorn was not with them. Something or someone has blocked her from my view. I'm trying–"

"Oh Kieran," she coos, her voice dripping with honey as she releases me. "We do not have time to lose her. You will find her, or you will finally find where the rest of the unicorns are hiding. Either way, I will get what I need."

The unspoken words, "or else I'll find someone to replace you," hang in the air between us.

I can't fail her. I want her.

With her back turned, she carefully examines the tapestry on the wall, recently relocated from Queen Rose's crypt. It depicts a serene scene of unicorns grazing in the fields of Shadowvale.

"Tricell–"

"Your Majesty," she retorts sharply while advancing toward the table and firmly placing her hands on either side of an expensive black tome. "Just because you have wormed your way to my right-hand side does not give you leave for such familiarities. " Her words hit me in the gut, and I try to mask the pain they've caused me.

"Your Majesty," I echo with a slight nod, lips pressing firmly together as I move to stand by her side whilst she pours over the damn book that caused this whole mess.

The tome reeks of dark magic. Its presence is suffocating, as if it's absorbing the very air around us. Yet it is also alluring, it sings to me like a siren—songs of knowledge and sweet power written in curled letters and runes penned with dark ink. I attempt, as always, to read the words but fail when I am met with a language that is not of this world or this time. Tricella caresses the yellowed pages with the gentlest touch one would reserve for a lover. The Goddess only knows how long I've been longing for that touch. I clear my voice and mind.

"The unicorns have not been seen or heard of in over two hundred years, save for Sybil and her family. There are no records of their existence, except this tapestry."

"Rose would not have made this tapestry if they weren't alive… somewhere." She flips the pages and runs her fingers along the unfamiliar runes, then flips her attention to the male chained against the far wall. "Alfred, read it to me again."

I force my gaze to follow.

"Reading it for the hundredth time will not reveal the answers you seek," he says, voice cracking from screaming. The old man's clothes are tattered and bloodied, purple bruises are scattered on his body. He's a shifter, but his use to us went beyond stealing his magic. We apprehended him a while back at Verdigris Falls before he boarded a ship. He originated from Shadowvale but had spent his life traveling the world, studying ancient magic and language.

I try not to roll my eyes at how unnecessary this spectacle is. Personally, I prefer more subtle ways to make people talk, but the queen has developed a penchant for blood.

Tricella's body tenses beside me before she lifts a hand and dark shadows fly from her fingers, hosting the male up and slamming him against the wall, chains rattling. I clench my hands, hiding them in my sleeves and will my expression to remain impassive at this new manifestation of her magic.

"Read it to me. Again ," she whispers coldly as the shadows writhe across her forearms and up her neck as she moves toward him.

"I've read you the book front to back a dozen times. You know as much as I do. I don't know what that book is, everything in it makes no sense. I can read it but... it's incomplete," he says through clenched teeth, sweat beading on his brow.

Her eyes flash and the veins in her neck pulse.

"Then you must be hiding something, so I'll give you one last chance," she says, using her magic to lift the book before him.

"Or what, you'll torture me and steal my magic as you have dozens before me? Who will read the book for you then?" The man laughs, showing his bloodied teeth. "I only know of four people on this continent who can read it, and you've already killed one."

The shadows pour out of Tricella, the dark veins slithering under her skin as if alive and a wicked smile, dangerous as it is breathtaking, paints her red lips. I brace myself for what's about to happen.

"I spent my whole life searching for this book. It all started with a fairytale; you probably know it too. My father used to tell it to me before he abandoned us. How was it? Ah, yes. The Goddess Alpheaia created Craeweth and the first gift she bestowed upon the land was magic. But she soon realized magic was wild and needed balance, so she wrote two books to guide those who would cherish the use of magic. Books filled with every spell, every ritual and rune, books with the key to unlimited power."

Her eyes have a dangerous light to them. Hungry and unbound. Like clouds gathering before a storm.

"The book of light and... the book of darkness," Alfred whispers in disbelief, eyeing the tome again. He shakes his head. "But that's impossible."

"Oh, Alfred. I knew you were smart. Now, where were we before you so rudely interrupted me?" Tricella taps her long nail on her chin. I pretend to look through the other books stored in her library, knowing all too well where her story is headed.

"Ah, yes. The books. You see, I never believed it was just a fairytale like so many other small-minded idiots like you, because even fairytales are born from a kernel of truth. So, when I was left to rot by my drunken shifter of a mother, rejected, abused and ridiculed by both communities because my elemental father made me a halfling, I went on a little adventure."

Tricella steps closer to Albert, who is surprisingly intrigued by her story. So much so that he does not notice her shadows slowly coiling around his wrists and ankles like serpents.

"I spent most of my life searching for the books. Researched and studied. I crossed kingdoms bargaining and gathering clue after clue from the ancient creatures that roamed the earth around the same time the Goddess created the books and... I found them." Her voice is filled with pride but also bitter at the part of her life she'd rather wipe from existence.

I turn back in her direction and cross my hands behind my back, nails biting into my palms. Does she remember? I ask myself. Does she remember I was by her side following those seemingly pointless clues? I swallow the knot in my throat.

"Well, I found one," Tricella corrects herself with the flick of her wrist. "And after all I've been through, I will not be denied the answers I seek."

As the shadows caress his neck, Albert is reminded of where he is and starts shaking violently in fear. "I've told you everyth?—"

My headache is slowly creeping in again, and I hope this spectacle ends soon. I focus my eyes on her golden hair once again and try to remember the feeling of cursing my fingers through it. This nightmare has to stop.

"Ah, ah, ah!" She lifts a finger, and the shadows cover Albert's mouth for a moment. "If the book didn't contain the boundless power the stories speak of, Alpheaia wouldn't have concealed it so deeply in the mountains."

"You possess more power than any person should rightfully have, except for the Goddess herself. The darkness consumes you, even now," he says with a shake of his head.

"You know nothing of what you speak," she spits out, body shaking with rage. "I will never be taken advantage of again, never feel powerless."

Enough.

"Your Majesty." I step in, and the corners of my lips pull up as I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe. "Perhaps he will become more talkative if he goes without food for another day or two in the dungeons."

"I don't have time to wait," she says, glancing at me over her shoulder, her blue eyes glimmering with rage. "I need answers now. "

Catching us both by surprise, the prisoner laughs. "It all makes sense now," he says between laughs. "There's a reason why the Goddess put the two books to rest together. You won't find the answers you seek without the other half.Magic is limited. You need balance. Darkness is merely the absence of light," he says.

"I don't care about light magic, healing magic. It is weak. I want strength, I want power. Everything I need is within these pages!" She turns back toward him, dark shadows curling up her arms and licking at her flesh.

Tricella's anger radiates as she fumes, her fingers tightly clenching into a fist. The male figure chained before her unleashes a chilling, unholy scream, his body contorting against the wall before finally collapsing. The room falls into a stillness, broken only by the sound of blood trickling from his nose, staining the icy stone floor.

She turns to face me, her face a mask of cold indifference.

"Find me the unicorn."