Page 30 of Owned by Four Alphas (Silverthorn Alphas #2)

Long ago, deep in the mountains, something was born. Not a babe of flesh, but a God of fire and death. Prophecy hung from his shoulders like silk and he knew that he was mighty indeed.

Others knew it too. They saw his terrible power and knelt before him, begging for power and mercy alike. They called him Theldir, and the name dripped blood.

When Theldir looked over the land, south of the mountains of his birth, he saw it laid out for him, ripe for the taking.

He did not know why he wanted it. Only that it was right that he should have it.

But the land was not unguarded. A lone God, the Horned One, the Hunter and the Mage had made his home within the forest. And he would not let another take it.

The battle was long and brutal. Countless mortals perished. A whole generation of humans was born and died. The stronger beings, those with magic in their veins, were harder to kill. Great dragons flew at Theldir’s back, the Fae children of fire knelt at his feet.

The Forest God had followers of his own. Huge wolves with flashing teeth that fought with the power of a thousand men.

In the end, Theldir fell.

He did not know why. Perhaps it was because the Forest God was older. Wiser. Perhaps the magic of the Great Mother flew through his veins with more potency.

It did not matter. Theldir was bound in iron chains in the very mountain from whence he had came. And he was left there, with only the mountains for company.

They whispered to him. Over the millennia, they told him of the rising powers of the land above, the shifting seas, the changing order.

And then one day, they told him of The Breaking. Theldir had felt it, deep in the rocks of the Earth. The Forest God had fallen, and left his magic wild and unclaimed behind him.

The mountains also told of a prophecy. Of a child, born of the blood of the Forest God, with the power to destroy Theldir. To undo him entirely.

Theldir knew then that the child must die.

So when the babe escaped, clutched in the protective arms of a mighty pack, when Theldir was driven back into the pit by a dragon and a wolf together, he was almost willing to accept that the prophecy had come true at last.

But he wasn’t dead. Nor was he changed. He remained, buried under a mountain, with nothing left but his rage and fire.

And then the mountains began to whisper again.

They told him that it was not truly over.

***

Young Matty was thoroughly bored. He had been tending the goats, watching them slide and skitter over the rocks, unable to follow them up the treacherous mountainside. It didn’t matter. As long as he kept an eye out for any pesky dragons or hungry wolves, then he had done his job. This wasn’t a wild herd. These goats belonged to him and his family.

The thing was, Matty couldn’t remember the last time any dragons or wolves or bears had come anywhere near their little homestead. Occasionally, they gave dinner and lodgings to fellow mountain Fae who were passing through, but travellers never wanted to eat goat. They much preferred chicken, or lamb. Not horrible, chewy old goat.

So he didn’t really see why he had to watch the herd.

He laid back with a sigh, his wide-brimmed hat falling over his eyes, blocking out the gray sky. Just a little nap. Five minutes.

And then a drop of water fell on his chin. And then another. And then another, each bigger than the last.

Matty sat up in confusion, squinting up at the gathering clouds with a scowl etched onto his face. Of course it would rain when he was trying to relax.

The rain splattered against the stone, darkening the slate gray to near-black, coming thicker and faster.

‘By the Gods,’ Matty muttered, retreating further against the rock, trying to shield himself as the weather built up. His irritation soon gave way to confusion, and then a mounting sense of dread.

Thick, dark clouds swirled above as lightning cracked the sky in two. Goats bleated in terror as they scrambled down the mountainside back towards the homestead and their pen, rocks dislodging from their panicking hooves and tumbling down the steep mountain slope. One stumbled and Matty launched forward, pulling it to its feet, the wind whipping his cloak up behind him.

He had to get inside. Storms weren’t rare in these parts, but they were often deadly. But they never came this time of the year. Normally, his family had months to prepare.

This storm had gathered in a matter of seconds.

He turned, seeing the warm glowing light of the homestead some way down the path. The rock was slippery, and it was getting harder to see. He had to move. Now.

Grabbing his staff, he whirled around, smacking the ground behind the last few straggling goats to hurry their step.

‘Matty?’ he heard his Father roar from further down the valley where their little homestead was built along a stream, ‘Matty, get inside, now!’

No hint of sun shone through the clouds. The rain lashed against his skin, stinging and cold and violent.

‘Father!’ Matty yelled, half-tumbling down the path with the racing goats, ‘What’s happening?’

His father was waiting by the door, holding it open against the roaring wind, one hand raised to protect his face against the sudden storm. ‘I don’t know, this came out of nowhere! Get inside, now!’

A great thunderous cracking echoed off the mountains. Matty’s eyes widened as the very rock beneath him began to shake.

His father grasped the back of his cape and hauled him inside, shouting at him as great arcs of fire and molten lava shot into the sky in sweeping arcs.

Thunder rumbled and lightning burst through the clouds, the rain lashing harder than ever.

It was far, maybe miles away, but it didn’t matter. Chunks of molten rock flew through the sky, tumbling through the clouds, striking the mountains and reducing the ancient edifices to dust.

His father’s hands trembled on his shoulder, and Matty’s throat seized up.

It was getting closer. The fire was getting closer.

His father said something. Matty didn’t hear.

A goat bleated, its eyes rolling, foam frothing at the corners of its mouth.

A roaring, like nothing Matty had ever heard, rattled his very bones.

His staff fell to the floor with a dull thud as the fire took hold.

*****

THE END