Page 68
Story: Of Mischief and Mages
“Maps?” I spun around, taking in each piece of plotted land.
“This is our world when the tyrant, Valandril, tried to overtake Terrea.”
“Do you remember when it happened?”
Destin shook his head, frowning. “I do not, but I feel as though I was alive. There are these vague memories I have of my childhood. Moments of waiting by a window, praying to the skies that my father would return. I believe it was during the weeks he battled the dark mages who’d sided with Valandril’s army.”
“But you know the history?”
“I do.” Destin tilted his head, peering up at a map that lined the top of the hut. “That is where the battles began. The sacred mountain. A tree with unspeakable power is planted there. Valandril cut a root from the tree, but instead of taking its power as he desired, the act incited a vicious corruption across all the lands.”
“How did it end?”
“With the sacrifice,” Destin said, voice low. “Each realm offered up their own.”
There were more like me then. My fingertips dragged across the vellum with aland called Talamh.
“Fae lands.” Destin stepped to my side. He offered up short descriptions of each continent. Worlds with all manner of mythical creatures—Elves, Dragons, Vampires, Shifters. He stopped in front of the map of Magiaria. “Mage folk are the ones closest to the mortal form. Our bodies do not shift, we are not made of scales, but our lifespan can reach centuries from the magic in our blood.”
I let out a sigh, dropping my fingers from the map.
“Do you still wonder if this is all real?” Destin tilted his head. Light from the spaces in the sod roof brightened his eyes like blue crystals.
“No,” I admitted, turning around, taking in every land, every river and mountain range. “I can’t explain it, but it feels so familiar. There was something strange about my last night in the mortal realm. It was like obstacles kept me from accomplishing a task I’d been hired to complete.” The nature of working for Lloyd could be kept a dark and dreary secret as far as I was concerned. “Almost like I was being guided forward to the precise position for Magiaria to pull me back.”
“Reports have reached us from other realms, you know,” Destin murmured. “Similar occurrences took place across Terrea.”
My brows shot up. “You think all those who stood as a sacrifice returned?”
“I believe so. Each prophecy ends the same—the blood sacrifices return when the Veil reopens.”
Disquiet tossed my gut in sick waves. I shook the sensation away and tried to focus. “Why was it me, Destin?”
“I cannot say, only that House Ravenwood was incredibly powerful. Great power was needed.”
“I was no one.” I chuckled darkly. “As a mortal, I mean. I was insignificant.”
Destin gingerly took my hand between his. “Adira, you are a remarkable woman. Not only for what you did as the Blood Sacrifice, but by your tenacity to restore your power. Your ability to return to this way of life that must be so foreign to you. I am in awe of your willingness to continue to aid our folk, when we are—by all accounts—strangers.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, but not from the praise. This was feverish and sickly. I swallowed once, twice, until my stomach settled again. I wanted to thank Destin for his words, for his belief in me.
All I could muster was a pinched smile and a nod.
The prince ran his thumb along the top of my knuckles. “I hope you don’t think me too presumptuous, but in these recent days I . . . I’ve thought of no one but you.”
Oh, shit. I was going to vomit on his boots.
The man was offering up his vulnerable heart and I was going to collapse. What was wrong with me?
“I know,” he said, utterly oblivious to the fact I could not draw in a deep enough breath. The prince dropped his chin, a shy smirk on his face. “It is fast, but like you, I cannot help but wonder . . . if this is not the first time we’ve known each other.”
You arrogant prince. The voice of the woman from the first fleeting vision filled my muddy head.
Her voice—it was mine.
I’d been speaking to a prince with levity, with affection.
I might’ve been speaking to Destin Wilder, two lovers torn apart by a cruel battle. Now, he was professing the tug in his own heart, and I wanted to flee.
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