The Internationally Best-Selling Imdalind Series comes to a close in this long awaited heart-pounding conclusion. For centuries the war that has raged within magic has ripped the world apart. Fought between Skȓítek and Trpaslík; killing father and son, and destroying a fragile balance between mortal and magic. For centuries everyone has been awaiting the Silnỳ, searching for the girl who was prophesized. The girl with power strong enough to defeat the evil that plagued the world, and bring the war to an end. For centuries, everyone was wrong. The Silnỳ was not what they had been told, the promises of future distorted by a sight that was tarnished. The evil was not what they had expected, not what they had been fighting against. Instead it was hidden amongst them; plotting, waiting for their time to strike. And it did. With fire and blade the hidden evil took it’s place upon a throne of blood. The evil has shown itself and now only one person can save them all. But with Sights that are no longer infallible and armies that are abandoning their king – it is no longer clear who that person is, or even if they have the courage to stand up to the evil and face their end.
EXCERPT:
Crown of Cinders Chapter One
Chapter One
“I have a job for you. Do it well, and I won’t kill you. Fail and your life will end in a much more painful way than poor Edmund finally found.”
The man Ovailia had spared cowered on the ground below me as I spoke, blood still dripping from my fingers, forming little pools of red by my feet. It was the red the man couldn’t look away from.
The red matched the fluid seeping from the corpse behind me.
“Stand.”
He didn’t hesitate. He moved quickly, his eyes still on the pools of blood, unwilling to look at me.
“I want you to go and tell everyone what you saw here. Tell everyone of what Sain, the first of the Drak, really is. Can you do that?”
“Y-ye-yes …”
Ovailia laughed as the man stuttered and wet himself in fear.
I smiled, my lips pulling away from my teeth as my eyes gleamed.
“Good. Then, when you are done, come back to me, and I’ll have another little job for you. You have a new master now. Do you understand?”
A nod and then the man tore from the room, stumbling over his own feet in his attempt to escape me.
“Do you think he will do it?” Ovailia asked, coming so close behind me I could feel my magic roar in an attempt to reach her.
“Yes, I do. Now is when things really start to get interesting.” Pulling Ovailia to me, I let my magic swell, moving it to reach her, realizing it wasn’t her it wanted.
It wasn’t her it craved.
It was sight. It was the world that was yet to be.
“Now is when everything gets real.” With two strong hands against her collarbone, I pushed her away from me, watching her stumble on her heels in an attempt to find her balance.
I didn’t care.
Allowing my magic to swell into sight, I saw the whispers of what was to come, shadows of what was about to happen. What needed to happen. I couldn’t let that man go.
“Wait,” I said to the man who was now down the hall, still trying to make his escape. My magic stretched out to him, wrapping around him and pulling him right back into the room.
I could hear his panicked screams due to the movement, could hear Ovailia’s disgruntled complaints from being thrown around. But all I saw was black, the fear and anger of my two companions fading into the screams of another sort.
Of sight.
“See what I have done!” My own voice echoed inside my mind as the images solidified.
I watched the crowd of horrified Trpaslíks appear in the hall of council, a large stone room that hadn’t been used in decades if not centuries. They looked at the corpse of the man I had destroyed, anger and fear clear on their face. One man yelled then another then another, and the sight began to shift to the same room. This time, it was full of bloodied bodies and bowed heads, Edmund’s loyalists cleared from the wheat like the chaff they were.
Useless garbage.
My heart rate accelerated at the sight of that, at the knowledge of what had happened—what could have happened if I had sent Damek out into the hordes with news of my accomplishments.
A revolt.
I had to stomp it.
The sight began to shift again, fire moving within the hall of Imdalind as a child laughed and cried in the background. It was a clear image, but one I waved away. I didn’t need to see more. I already understood the path my sight wished me to take. I already understood what it wanted me to see.
The fire-drenched hallway faded to the dim room before me as the black left my eyes, some prophecy half-formed on my lips before I pushed it away, too.
Ovailia stood before me, still irate at my hasty banishment, her arms folded over her waist like a stubborn child.
“What is it?” she snapped, her head high as she watched me, making it clear she hadn’t missed a moment of the sight. Knowing her, she had even tried to tap into it.
Luckily, the Black Water had been removed from her spine. I didn’t need her knowing too much about what I was planning, about what was coming.
“Something wonderful,” I said with a smile, taunting her as I stepped toward Edmund’s last remaining guard, leaving bloody footprints behind me.
The silence of the room pressed against my chest as the sight’s magic still reverberated inside me, loud and abrasive, the same image of the ignited hallway breaking through.
Just a flash of fire and smoke, and my heart stopped.
While I didn’t know what I was seeing, I knew someone else who might.
Someone who shouldn’t see any of this.
Edmund’s dead eyes looked at me as my heart picked up, a sudden fear gripping me, the disgusting emotion far too real.
I hoped I wasn’t too late.
I needed to stop her from seeing any of this.
Stop her from knowing what had happened.
I needed to put a block around my sight, a block around everything concerning me.
A Zámek.
The same magic had cursed Wyn. The same magic had been taught to Timothy by me in an attempt to kill her centuries before. This time, I would use it the way it was meant to be—to block a Drak’s sight, to stop them from peeking into someone’s life, into their fate.
Only powerful magic could cause such a wall. Although it would also block me from seeing into her fate, causing me to go into any upcoming battle blind, it was a risk I would have to take.
I needed to keep this from her. They couldn’t know what had happened until the perfect moment.
Body tensing in hesitation, I closed my eyes, knowing how much exertion this was going to take.
A Zámek was not done often, if at all. And I already knew it would weaken my ability, weaken my sight. But for this, it was a risk I would have to take.
Heart pounding, eyes shut, I let my magic swell within me, all of my power pulling into me, against my heart that held it, against my lungs that breathed it.
Swelling inside of me, strong and powerful, it began to shake, the energy condensing in a wave of power and sound that moved into my bones, rattled my skull. I could already feel the shield beginning to form, hard as steel, as dark as death. It was heavy enough to keep out even the most powerful magic of sight, to keep the future and past contained within me so that only I could see.
“What are you doing?” Ovailia snapped from beside me, her voice oddly distanced over the rumbling static that was filling my mind. “Sain, what do you see?”
Ignoring her, I focused on the power that seemed moments from exploding out of me. The rumbling grew worse until I was convinced the vibrating I felt moving inside me was visible from the outside. I half-expected Ovailia to scream in worry, but there was nothing except silence, nothing except my strained breathing as the iron-clad shield began to move away from me, stretching past the caves and over the fields that surrounded us, butting right up against the large shield Edmund had placed over them all.
Heaving with the effort, I kept myself upright, determined not to show the weakness the Zámek had on me, knowing I could easily pass out from the effort.
Timothy had almost killed himself, and he had spent a month putting it in place.
“Sain?” she asked again as I opened my eyes to glare at her. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”
“I am securing your future,” I said with a smile, the hidden meaning humorous to me.
Ovailia narrowed her eyes before looking away, obviously not happy with the response yet unwilling to pursue it any further.
I had more exhilarating things to deal with.
“You,” I snarled, aware that I wasn’t certain of his name, although it wasn’t something I would remedy. A man without a name was more valuable than a man who clung to a weak identity.
“Y … yes?” He lifted his head slowly, his body shaking as he pulled himself back to his feet, his head bowed in humility.
It wasn’t respect he was showing, however; it was fear. His focus was still fixed on the drying blood that coated my skin, that dripped from my disheveled beard, on the bright red footprints trailing behind me, on the body of his former master, and on Edmund’s guards who littered the room in a garden of death.
It was the remains of Edmund that he stared at the most, however. The air was saturated with the scent of his charred body. You couldn’t ignore it was there.
You couldn’t ignore what had happened.
“Yes?” I repeated the response with a hiss, my eyebrows lifting.
Even if the warning in my voice hadn’t startled him, I was sure that did.
“Yes, master,” he amended quickly, his body shaking in fear, the anxiety making it difficult for him to stand. He continually shifted his feet, his hands flexing and grabbing at the air as if it would somehow support him.
“Do it,” I whispered, taking another step toward him, leaving another damp and sticky bloody print behind me. “Bow.”
He didn’t hesitate to fall to the ground, his hands and arms tucked underneath him as he quivered in a pathetic show of reverence. He looked like nothing more than the disgusting gelatin the mortals would eat.
This would not do.
“No, you idiot. I said bow, not cower.”
He shivered, the wobbling mass vibrating before me as my magic rushed from me and wrapped around him, infecting him, controlling him, contorting him into a form more acceptable for someone of my stature.
He screamed out in fear and pain as I contorted him, his arms twisting into unnatural positions before I tucked them underneath his torso, twisting him into the perfect form.
“Lovely,” I whispered, stepping toward him as his screams faded to pained whimpers. “That is a bow.”
“Yes, master,” he repeated once more, his voice stronger, as if the quivering would protect him from what was coming.
“I have changed my mind,” I began as I walked closer still, more bloody footprints appearing in his line of sight. “I have seen what is coming, and I have a new job for you.”
He jerked a bit, obviously confused and needing some kind of eye contact to verify what I had said.
My magic flared once in warning, jerking him back to the position I had placed him in, a small whimper of pain seeping from his throat.
“I no longer wish for you to tell them what has happened here. I wish for them to see it. I want them to see.” Flashes of the sight I’d had filled me, the screams and blood echoing inside my mind.
Turning toward Ovailia, I couldn’t stop the smile, knowing her part in all of this made it all the sweeter. She watched me intently, still not pulling herself away from the remains of her father.
“Tell them all,” I continued, the dried blood on my face pulling and cracking as I smiled toward the quivering mass below me. “Trpaslíks and Chosen are to gather in the old council hall. Tell them their master has an announcement to make, nothing more.”
I stood, waiting, focused on the pathetic man, on the quiver in his spine.
He said nothing. He did nothing except shiver.
I could feel my temper rise from being ignored, my magic heating and rising from the insubordination.
“Can you do that?” The words hissed past my teeth, and he shivered more, his head wobbling in what I assumed was a nod.
It didn’t matter. It wasn’t good enough. I did not have to put up with this type of behavior anymore. Never again. I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
“I don’t appreciate being left waiting,” I snapped, and his back jerked as my magic wound around him once more, lifting him into the air with a jolt before slamming him against the far wall. Pictures rattled with the impact, a flurry of dust and tiny rocks falling from the ceiling as I jerked them free from the crevices they had been hiding in for thousands of years.
Ovailia shrieked in surprise behind me, but I didn’t turn, my focus remaining on the whimpering man whose bloodshot eyes were wide as I controlled him in the one way I knew how—with fear.
“I gave you a command, and I expect it to be carried out with perfect precision. Tell no one of what you have seen. Instead, instruct them in what their king has asked.”
King.
My heart was light with the use of the word on my own tongue. My smile so wide that the man before me shuddered, nodding his head furiously in obedience, the words of acceptance and understanding lost in the buzzing that now filled my ears.
After I dropped the man from the wall with one twitch of my magic, he scuttled away, desperate to do what had been demanded, desperate to comply before it was his own flesh that was burned. I, however, remained frozen in place, my eyes trained on the rough stone of the wall, on the streaks of faded blood Damek had left behind, on the word that was echoing on repeat.
King.
“What did you see, Sain?” Ovailia asked from behind me. I didn’t even look at her. “What are you planning?”
King.
“I plan nothing,” I snapped, still not looking at her, the word continuing to repeat within me. “It is the magic of the earth that lays my path. I am simply wise enough to follow.”
Years of plotting, of manipulating, of using everyone around me … After years of carefully setting the stage, I had finally accomplished what I had set out to do.
I was king once again after being stripped of my ruling power so many centuries before. And soon, everyone would know. Soon, everyone would bow to me as they had before, as they had for centuries.
I was one of the first.
I deserved nothing less.
And I had regained it.
Now, all that was left was to destroy the last remaining people who could take away this role. The last people who could challenge me: Joclyn, Ilyan, Wyn, perhaps even Ryland if he ever conquered the madness Edmund had given him.
Four people were all that were left in my way. And I would make them pay, for fighting me, for their parents’ mistake of removing me from the role I had been born to fill.
I had come from the mud. The earth had created me. I was the only one suited to rule them, the only one who could.
“King,” I said aloud, pulling my focus away from the wall and to the twisted charred corpse that Ovailia stood beside, her back straight and lips pursed as though she were guarding him.
Foolish girl, guarding the man she had killed.
Sending an irritated glance at the woman in question, I walked right past her, bee-lining for the body of the former. I almost expected her to step between me and my prey, but she remained still, her arms folded, lips pursed, and one long finger tapping against her forearm like a metronome.
“Is that what you wanted?” she asked, her voice filled with the same false sugar she had never quite mastered.
My face twisted into a scowl at the deceptive quality in it.
“To be king?”
Nostrils flaring in an effort to control my temper, I turned toward her. Ice ran down my spine as anger shook inside me due to her ignorance while she stood frozen over the body of her father, the smell of smoke surrounding us.
“I was king, Ovailia. I was the leader of these people. I should have never been removed from that role.” I scowled, but she didn’t so much as flinch at the anger.
“With the first four holders of magic, you mean?” She remained still, that finger still tapping, her eyes widening in some kind of disbelief.
My anger erupted at her ignorance. A loud laugh broke past the chill in the room as my magic surged, bright and powerful. Long, winding ribbons of yellow and gold trailed from me, dancing through the air before falling to the ground and wrapping around the remains of Edmund. Smoke and ash filled the air as I shifted him, his dead weight sagging and rolling around as I removed the bathrobe he still wore. The white cotton was stained with his blood, singed from the same flames that had devoured him.
“The four were the true rulers of these people. We were the kings and queens of this land.” I chuckled at the memory, the sound haunting as the bathrobe came free from the charred remains. The body fell to the ground in a plume of black ash that fell over us like snow.
Disgust filled Ovailia’s face as I felt her magic trill across the air, a shield keeping the ashes of her father off her.
I, however, let them fall. I let them cover me as I snagged the robe gently from the air, the fabric wet and crusty as the blood began to dry.
“You mean my grandmother.” It was a statement, a forgotten connection hitting me full in the face.
Her grandmother.
The same power of the first that I had worked to destroy was flowing through her veins, as it was Ilyan’s. The addition of Edmund’s Chosen blood made them powerhouses that had hindered my accomplishments for far too long. Powerhouses were too big of a liability.
“Yes, your grandmother,” I mused, holding the robe gently in my hands as I took a step toward her, ash falling from my hair and shoulders with the movement. “How unfortunate.”
“And why is that unfortunate?” she snapped, her voice strong, though I could sense the tiniest shake behind it.
“No reason,” I said with a smile, the icy look making her flinch for the first time.
Oh, well. I supposed I would have to add her to my list. Not that I hadn’t already intended to kill her after I had gotten my use of her. Now, it would have to be a bit sooner than expected.
Ilyan, Joclyn, Wyn, Ryland, and Ovailia. Thank all that I had already disposed of Edmund’s little puppet Míra in the pile of corpses, leaving Ilyan to set her aflame. The child had still borne Edmund’s Štít, which would not have died with his death.
The last of his magic, now I had to dispose of the last remains.
“All the other four are dead now,” I hissed, moving the robe from my arms and letting the blood drip across the air as I threw it over my shoulders, the damp fabric heavy. “I am the only one left, the only one fit to sit in this role.”
“The role of the blood-soaked king?”
“Yes.” My smile grew, the title fitting. “With a robe of blood and a crown of cinders, I leave death in my wake.”
“And hell before.” Ovailia stepped toward me, the tap of her heels against the ash sounding like bells. “You are the devil this world needs.”
A flash of the sight I’d had in the cathedral in Prague caused me to flinch: the white room, the voice of the woman. It blinded me, the pressure of her voice splitting my head.
Pushing the imagery and memory aside, I attempted to ignore the sudden boom of my heart that had exploded in my chest.
“No, darling,” I growled, pressing down on the sudden and despicable emotion, letting my anger and power smother it. “I am hell. It is the devil who searches for me.”
I expected her to flinch from the confession, flinch from the smile I fixed her with, but she persisted, her trademark glare in place as she casually brushed her hair behind her ear, her lithe fingers delicate in the motion.
Beautiful.
Intoxicating.
Lustful.
I swallowed, feeling my magic swell with the motion, trying to push itself beyond my skin to reach out to hers, to find hers.
I held it back, not wanting to feel the sweet need of her magic, not wanting to lose control. Not with her, not now.
I had a feeling, with the smile she now had, she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Maybe I am the devil.”
“Then I will destroy you, Ovailia. Just like all the others.”
It was a threat, but she smiled, her breasts heaving as she moved closer, as though she couldn’t keep herself away from the danger that was dripping from my skin.
“Try.”
I hadn’t expected the word. I hadn’t expected the weight behind it. My perfectly planned rebuttal stalled on my tongue, my magic tangling with hers in a heightened lust the threat gave me.
I swallowed, and she smiled, obviously sensing the control she had over me.
Perhaps she was the devil.
I would have to turn her skin as red as her father’s. And soon.
The imagery of that simple thought was beautiful.
“You killed them, too.” She already knew the answer. Not that it was that difficult to piece together after everything she had seen. Of course, she wasn’t completely right, and I wouldn’t let her know that.
Yes, I had killed two of them, but the third, that repulsive Vilỳ, had been dealt with by Edmund before I could. Imprisoning him, using him to infect himself and to infect his son, that idiotic boy who had released it, leaving him to infect my own daughter.
That little piece of information was too important to get out. If Ovailia knew how much power flowed within my dratted child, I was convinced I would lose her allegiance. She was too valuable of a weapon to lose.
I needed her … for now.
“You killed them all,” she whispered, moving closer as the flutter of her words moved over my skin.
“I did,” I admitted openly.
Her smile grew as mine did, the room silent and still as we faced each other.
The pulse of my magic was becoming unsteady. I needed to put a stop to it.
“I killed your grandmother,” I whispered back, my voice soft, while the words were hostile. “I stopped her heart. I devoured her magic like I did to your darling daddy.”
Her eyes clouded over as she flinched at my verbal assault, stepping back as I stepped closer, a wicked grin now stretching my lips, letting my teeth gleam in the dimly lit room.
Her chest heaved from either the proximity or with the words; I wasn’t sure which. She could either kiss me or attack me. I would gladly accept either.
“Are you sure you want to be the devil?” I prodded, taking yet another step toward her, expecting her to step away again.
She held her ground, her blue eyes hardening into the emotionless steel that was so common for her.
“I have already killed many who thought they could rule the hell that I am.”
Her lips pulled into a tight line, her nostrils flaring as she attempted to control her breathing, to control her anger. The rage of her magic was strong as it flew through the air, obviously moments away from attacking. I wished she would.
The imagery of her blood flowing over my hands to join her father’s was as delicious as it was frightening.
I couldn’t kill her yet, though. This emotional warfare would have to suffice for now.
“Will you be the devil, or will you help me harness hell?” My chest swelled, my heart pounding delicately from the excitement of the game I had entangled her in. The trap was so perfectly placed that, no matter which step she took, she would be trapped.
She knew it, too, judging by the hatred that started to creep into the beautiful blue of her eyes.
It made me want to kiss her more.
To kill her as I did.
Love, lust, and death traveled hand in hand.
“Do you serve me?”
“I do serve you, Sain,” she whispered, her voice strong, yet I could hear the work it took to disguise the shake behind it.
“Don’t forget that, my beautiful creature.” I wrapped my hand around her waist, pulling her to me, my hand strong as I let my magic press against her skin.
The anger in her eyes dissipated with the contact.
My own desire for her death faded right alongside.
She melted into me, lust taking control and firmly securing my control over her. This game of cat and mouse had begun.
Or rather, a game of heaven and hell.
It would be a matter of time before she showed me the devil she truly was.
It was then I would destroy her.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
From writing horror to romance and creating every sort of magical creature in be-tween, Rebecca’s imagination weaves vibrant worlds that transport readers into the pages of her books. Her writing has been described as fresh, original, and groundbreaking, with stories that bend genres and create fantastical worlds.
Born and raised under the lights of a stage, Rebecca has written stories by the ghost light, told them in whispers in dark corridors, and never stopped creating within the pages of a notebook.
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