Page 15 of Sun, Moon & Shadow (Fate of Aemoria #1)

Two hours later, Nova stood drenched with sweat, her arms unbearably heavy.

Callan had kept her busy, first with learning different grips, then switching between grips, followed by practicing strikes on a sandbag strung up on a post at chest level.

She’d nicked herself a couple times, but the shallow cuts on her knuckles would heal quickly.

Nova dropped onto the ground and leaned back on her hands, enjoying the cool breeze as it ruffled her damp shirt. Callan crouched beside her. Out the corner of her eye, she spied an iridescent glimmer flickering against the open sky over the field.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing to the phantom waves bobbing along the expanse of blue just as they disappeared from view.

“The shield,” he replied matter-of-factly. Evidently reading the confusion written on her face, he shook his head. “Forgive me. I forgot you’re newly arrived here. It’s a guard of protective magic that defends the entire Estate from outside magic and attacks. Every Estate has one.”

He tugged at a clump of yellowing grass, pulling the blades out at the root as he stared off into the sky, his dark brows drawn together.

“Where do they come from?”

“The rulers of each territory weave the shields around their Estates. The Noble bloodlines are powerful enough to cover large areas, though it requires considerable effort.”

“How long have the Nobles been maintaining the shields?”

“Centuries.”

“That’s unbelievable,” she said. “Why?”

“The Realm hasn’t seen open war for more than a millennium. But the shields were raised as a defense against Omen of Raven’s Isle. The Shadowbringer.”

“Omen of Raven’s Isle?”

Callan lowered himself to sit on the ground beside her, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his bent knees.

“Do you enjoy faerie stories?” he asked. Nova nodded. “Then I’ll tell you one, though I should warn you, this one is rather grim.”

Callan shifted his gaze back to the cloudless sky.

“Omen was the middle son of Onyx of Silvergard, a Noble Lord known throughout the Realm for his cruelty. Omen was born with hair and eyes of silver. Those are rare features among the Fae of the Lunar Court, signifying great power. For this reason, folk said Onyx feared his son.”

A chill crept like an icy fingertip along Nova’s spine.

“He sent Omen away to Sonnend, where he served as an aide in the Court of Siris and Sienna. During his time there, it was rumored that Omen was taken with one of the courtiers and wished to wed. But his father soon announced the arranged union of the female and Omen’s older brother, Sable, instead.

On the day of the ceremony, Omen attempted to overthrow Silvergard in retaliation, murdering both his father and his older brother before vanishing.

“Not long after, a quake shook the ground of Silvergard. The northern peninsula of the territory broke away from the mainland, forming the island territory now known as Raven’s Isle.

For more than a century afterward, the other territories of Aemoria faced attacks by lycane and other dark creatures orchestrated by Omen.

Sometimes entire villages would vanish, the residents disappearing without a trace. ”

“Why is he called the Shadowbringer?”

“Because his darkness consumes everything, leaving nothing but death and desolation in his wake.”

Callan paused, seemingly lost in thought as he stared up at the shield, completely invisible for the moment.

“And so,” he continued, “the Nobles concentrated their power, creating strongholds in the capital of each territory to protect as many citizens as possible behind the shields.”

Callan tossed away the withered grass he’d been twisting in his hands. Nova swallowed hard, her throat suddenly bone-dry. She wanted to know more.

“The shields prevent anything dangerous from getting through, then?”

Callan shifted on the ground, squaring his shoulders as he glanced at the high stone walls surrounding the Estate.

“In theory. Think of the shield as a bolt on a door. If someone with great power wished to get through, it wouldn’t necessarily prevent them from slipping through the keyhole.

I worry the Nobles have grown lax in their practices over the past several decades as Omen’s attacks have dwindled. ”

Nova recalled the creeping black mist in her chamber and wondered whether she had only dreamt it, or if perhaps it had truly been in the room with her.

“How are you feeling?” Callan asked, startling Nova from her thoughts.

“Honestly?” She exhaled sharply. “Like a failure.”

“You did well today. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He nudged her with his elbow, and she bit back a smile.

A heavy sigh escaped her. “I’m just frustrated. Fawn refuses to help me develop my abilities. She says I need to learn about my magic before I can attempt wielding it. I should be able to harness the sun’s light.”

“And heal,” he added.

“Do you know of anyone willing to maim themselves so I might practice?” she asked. “I confess, I sometimes find myself wanting to stab Evander.”

Callan laughed, deep and loud, the sound ringing out across the field.

“Our abilities are second nature to us because we were born with them. We’ve had centuries of practice. Have some faith in yourself.” He rose up beside her. “Here, let’s give it a try now.”

Callan extended a sturdy hand, and she accepted it, allowing him to pull her up from the ground. He stood at her back, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed.

Nova twisted her head to look back at him and rolled her eyes before she obliged.

“Now, breathe deeply and clear your mind.”

Nova played along, filling her lungs completely before emptying them. She envisioned her thoughts being swept away, like dry leaves, with the rush of air.

Callan spoke from behind her, his voice low at her ear.

“Try calling the sun to mind—its light and warmth. Feel the sensation in your body.”

A faint warmth came over her, though she suspected that had something to do with the closeness of their bodies.

Chasing such thoughts from her mind, Nova allowed her consciousness to wander to her childhood days spent in the Wood, stretched out atop a bed of soft moss in patches of dappled sunlight.

She imagined the summer sun sinking into her skin.

Seeping into her bones. As she pictured it, she felt the unmistakable sensation of heat gathering in her chest and slowly spreading down her arms, as if the sun had emerged from behind thick clouds.

“You’re glowing, Nova.”

She lifted her hands before her face. A faint golden light flickered weakly in her palms. Eyes wide with surprise, she turned to Callan. The glow winked out in an instant, doused by her broken concentration.

“Gods be damned,” she muttered, throwing her hands down at her sides.

She thought she heard a laugh and shot a glance at Callan, arching an eyebrow at him.

He managed to keep his grin from his face, but she could still see it shining in his eyes.

She huffed in frustration, but her anger softened a bit.

An instant later, an icy breeze swirled around her, whipping at the damp linen of her shirt.

Snowflakes drifted down lazily from the sky, and she tilted her head back to find a tiny snowstorm hovering just above her head.

Fluffy flakes landed on her eyelashes and melted on her upturned cheeks.

She spun to face Callan, who tipped his head in a bow.

“You may feel a bit unwell later. Tired,” he cautioned. “Wielding magic takes from you; the more you use, the more it takes. With training, you’ll be able to strengthen your abilities and learn to channel them, otherwise you risk draining yourself entirely.”

“That sounds ominous.”

Callan’s expression turned serious. “It is. There’s a reason Fawn insisted on training you. Without proper instruction, your magic could bleed you of every drop of your essence, leaving nothing but a husk behind.”

Nova felt her face pale, if it was even possible. Perhaps it would be wise to stick to weapons training and leave the magic wielding to those with centuries of experience.

“We’d better make our way inside,” Callan said as he gathered up his weapons. They walked back to the residential wing together, snowflakes from Callan’s conjured flurry cascading down on them the entire way.

The sprawling halls of the Estate were silent as Nova padded along the plush runners leading to the library. The flame of her candle cast wobbly shadows on the walls.

Nearly a fortnight had passed since her arrival in Pyralis, and, in that time, she’d barely had a waking moment to herself.

Though she was grateful for the constant company, which distracted her from her thoughts, she couldn’t deny that part of her longed for solitude, the quiet nights she used to spend doing as she pleased.

Nova reached the library without encountering another soul.

Twisting the smooth copper knob, she shouldered the heavy door, wincing as a creak cut through the quiet.

She stood motionless for the span of a few quick breaths before slipping inside.

Surely no one would object to her wandering the halls after dark, but her heart thudded away in her chest just the same.

A low fire crackled pleasantly in the fireplace; it was as if the room itself had been expecting her.

Nova’s thoughts turned briefly to Agnes.

What had her friend made of the note she’d left behind?

Had she believed the story about Nova visiting distant relations?

What would Agnes think when she received no further communication from her? Never saw her again?

Nova sorted through the stacks of thick books piled on Fawn’s desk, finally unearthing a text on Silvergard.

Cradling the heavy volume under one arm, she settled into the armchair before the fire, hooking her legs over the side.

The book was a relic. The cover of stretched black leather was cracked and weathered, its intricate silver foil accents flaking off.

Flimsy pages threatened to tear between her fingertips as she carefully thumbed through them.

The first chapter contained general information about the Lunar Court.

The Fae of Silvergard were nocturnal. The territory’s primary export was something called moonstone.

Interesting, to be sure, but not what she was searching for.

She’d already learned that the nobility could read minds to varying degrees, with some members of the Noble bloodline capable of influencing the thoughts and actions of others.

The next several chapters detailed the Noble lineage of the territory going back nearly two thousand years.

Nova flipped gingerly through the delicate pages, as fragile as moths’ wings, until she found the section on Onyx of Silvergard.

Famous for his cruelty, Onyx abused his ability to enter the minds of others in order to control any who would oppose him.

His mate, Luna, bore three sons: Sable, Omen, and Nox.

Luna once petitioned the Aemorian Council to strip Onyx of his title and punish him for violence committed against his family and his subjects.

The Council ultimately denied the petition, and Onyx continued his rule unfettered.

Afterward, relations between the Lunar Court and the rest of Aemoria deteriorated until there was scarcely any interaction between them with the exception of trade.

The text told, more or less, the same tale of the formation of Raven’s Isle as the one Callan had shared with her.

She suspected so little was known about what truly happened when Omen assassinated his father and brother, that the accepted story was more legend than fact.

The book provided no further information about the Shadowbringer.

Nova tilted her head back, staring at the fiery mural on the ceiling while she fiddled nervously with her mother’s ring.

Sitting up after a moment, she grumbled softly, disappointed her search hadn’t yielded any useful information.

Closing the book with a soft thud, she placed it on the desk where she’d found it and returned to her chamber, her mind weary.