Chapter One
I t was the edge of dawn when I heard it. Just before the sun could swallow all of night’s lingering shadows, a deep, feral roar, like the bellow of an angry beast, echoed around me, tearing me from my sleep.
Lying in my narrow bed, heartbeat shuddering, I blinked into the inky darkness, listening. Another throaty growl reverberated above, rattling the panes of glass in our small cottage.
I sighed, my pulse slowing as recognition flooded me.
Whenever thunder rumbled overhead like that, like a mountain falling upon us, that was my signal.
I needed to head toward the cliffs.
I sat up, rubbing my fingers against my temples. With each blink, the fog of sleep gave way to a heavy ache that settled deep in my chest. I tried to push it down, but it clung stubbornly, as it always did. The pressure was strongest in the mornings, the first moments of waking always spent remembering what I had lost.
What had left me.
The autumn chill made it harder to leave the warmth of my bed. I wanted to roll over and bury my head under my pillow, but the storm beckoned me with another booming wail, and I couldn’t ignore it. With a grimace, I shed my heavy blankets and stood.
My dog, Mannix, was already awake, sitting near the door, his ears perked, and his tail wagging, whooshing like a frantic broom against the floor. He blended into the darkness with his coal-black fur, minus the streak of white that trailed from his forehead down to his nose.
“All right, boy,” I muttered, tugging on my boots and grabbing my satchel and cloak. “Let’s go before the storm moves on. She sounds like a moody one.”
Before leaving, I glanced over at my mother, still sleeping in her corner of the room, her breathing steady, her face peaceful. My throat constricted, though, when I noted the hollow space beside her.
Where my father should’ve been.
My fingers grazed the silver ring looped through a chain around my neck while the rest of me remained frozen in place.
Mannix let out a soft whine, shattering the moment and saving me before my thoughts had a chance to spiral into a darker place. A suffocating place. A place where even a bellowing storm couldn’t rouse me.
I opened the door and led us outside.
Immediately, the tightness in my chest eased. In the small confines of our cottage, I could get swept away in dangerous thoughts and guilty reminders, but out here, in the wild, with the storm rolling in and the sound of the sea not too far off, I found solace.
Living in Naohm, the most northern point in the kingdom of Eyre, meant being surrounded by endless, unexplored lands. It was easy to feel like the only person in the world.
I loved it.
A rush of excitement coursed through me as the first clap of lightning streaked across the dark sky. It was powerful and beautiful and fierce. It was everything I wanted to be but wasn’t. Would never be.
But it made me feel alive when I got to hold it, if only for a few moments.
Capturing lightning wasn’t the most impressive power for a witch, but it was something. Much better than lying in my bed, drowning in thoughts of my father’s absence or, even worse, of another council meeting I’d have to endure in his place.
Hallows be, the council. There was a meeting later today about the growing instability of magic. It had begun as minor interruptions in the most southern regions of Eyre, sputtering out every now and then when a witch or mage called on it. Now, it was happening with more frequency and spreading farther north. Naohm, a known stronghold of magic users, hadn’t experienced any major issues yet, but it was clear at this point that the problem wasn’t intermittent and wouldn’t fix itself.
In my short four months on the council, though, I’d quickly learned that proactive decision-making wasn’t their strong suit. They were much better at pointlessly bickering and complaining about the weather.
Thunder rumbled viciously overhead as we passed the short stone wall that surrounded our home, dragging my attention back to the storm. Mannix darted ahead a few paces on the well-trodden trail toward the cliffs, but he always circled back. I couldn’t blame his impatience; he surely acquired that trait from me.
Halfway up the trail, I paused, wiping away the sweat that had sprouted on my forehead. I used the brief respite to glance down the ridge toward the rest of the town, and that’s when I saw it. A tent, large and elaborate, far too gaudy for our simple village. I frowned, squinting at the maroon-and-gold royal banners fluttering in the wind.
So, he’d arrived in Naohm.
I turned away and kept walking, ignoring the fresh tightening in my chest. The prince’s presence here was a distraction, nothing more. The magic was off and instead of focusing on finding a solution, the council had decided to drag a royal into this mess. It made no sense. The last thing we needed was someone with no knowledge of magic meddling in it.
Father would not have been pleased. He’d never liked the royal family and made it well known to anyone who would listen how inefficient they were at running the kingdom. I couldn’t think of one good reason to have disagreed with him. They only made choices that filled their coffers, not for the benefit of Eyre as a whole.
But none of that mattered right now. The sky was rumbling with an urgency that matched my own. I pushed myself harder, forcing my steps along the narrow path toward the cliffs. I wasn’t about to let some spoiled highborn get under my skin.
Lightning first. Princes later.
Mannix barked, snapping my full focus back to the task at hand.
“Calm down, Mannix,” I mumbled. “The lightning won’t strike any faster just because you’re eager for it.”
Funny, I should tell myself the same .
I readjusted the strap of my satchel and continued while Mannix darted ahead once more, a shadowy ghost against the darkening sky. The wind picked up as we got closer to the edge, whipping strands of my hair into my face, but I kept going.
When we reached the top, Mannix circled the area, his nose to the ground again as he explored. I checked the metal rods I’d planted long ago in the rocky soil, making sure they were stable and properly aligned. Their only purpose was to attract the lightning. Once it struck, my magic and I would do the rest.
I bent down to the grassy earth to unload the lanterns stored in my satchel. I lined all three of them up a short distance from the rods.
My targets.
The storm above trembled with promise. I stretched out my hands, feeling the familiar hum of energy beneath my skin, waiting. This part always felt like I was reaching out to something sacred, something hallowed, waiting only to pull it down and contain it.
Mannix plopped down at a safe distance, his eyes eager, waiting for the show. He knew the routine by now.
And he did not have to wait long.
The first strike came swiftly, a sharp crack splitting the air. The rod did its job, drawing the lightning down. I threw my hands out, palms open, reaching for the bolt. Magic answered my call, thrumming through my body, rippling up my arms, and sparking at my fingertips. It allowed me to grip the wild energy of the lightning, to pull it inward, commanding it to submit. Every muscle in my body grew taut as I funneled the raw power into myself. The act was both terrifying and exhilarating, to battle against a force that was as old as time itself.
A small grin formed on my lips as the power surrendered, becoming fluid and malleable in my grasp. With a sharp turn, I thrust my hands toward a waiting lantern at my side, releasing the lightning in a controlled stream. It leaped into the enchanted glass, twisting and writhing before settling into a brilliant, eternal burn. My breath left me in a shaky exhale, the tension in my body loosening as the lantern’s steady glow illuminated the gloomy dawn around me.
I watched the flame, steady now, and felt a rare, fleeting sense of satisfaction. My shoulders sagged as the rush of magic faded. I might not be able to solve my bigger problems, but this...this I could do.
Mannix barked twice, as if in approval, and I smiled.
Maybe it wasn’t much—these lanterns, which could give light for up to one ring—but it was something I’d learned my conduit magic could do. It kept me grounded. It gave me purpose, even when I yearned to be something more .
The second strike went just as well, and I beamed at the two flickering lights.
While waiting for my third catch, the clouds let loose, and swaths of rain drenched us. I wiped my slick hair out of my face. I needed this last lantern.
The clouds churned above, and the air buzzed with energy.
“You have more for me,” I whispered, “I know it.”
The rain had soaked my clothes, and I shivered in response to the cold and the wet. Still, I waited.
When the third strike came, though, it did not go as planned. I called to the magic again, but it was slow to respond. Where moments before it had raced through me like wildfire, now it thickened in my veins like cold honey. Still, I reached out, determined to catch the lightning again, but instead of the smooth connection I’d gotten with the first two catches, this time the energy reared back—crackling, feral.
Uncontrollable.
The rod trembled violently in the ground, sparking before the lightning surged in all directions. An offshoot of the bolt hit the tree Mannix was sheltering under, causing a branch to collapse inches from him. Mannix yelped and jumped back, his ears flat against his head.
I cursed under my breath, the acrid smell of scorched earth filling my nose as I bent to examine the rod. Jagged cracks spiderwebbed across the iron’s once-smooth surface. Sturdy enough to weather countless storms before, the rod now looked like it would crumble if I touched it. It wasn’t the heat from the lightning that had caused this, though.
My heart pounded as I stared at the damage. I pressed a hand to the ground, my fingers brushing the singed grass, and I could feel it—an undercurrent of energy shuddering below the surface. Uneven. Off-balance.
Magic.
The disruption had reached Naohm.
Mannix padded over cautiously in the downpour, nudging my hand with his nose. I gave him a quick, reassuring pat, though my mind was racing.
The kingdom of Eyre wasn’t known for its fertile land or pleasant weather. Magic was relied on for growing food and keeping disease at bay. What if it continued to deteriorate? What if it didn’t stop until it was all dried up?
Without it, crops would fail. Sickness would erupt. People would die.
In a daze, I gathered the first two lit lanterns and the remaining empty one and stuffed them into my satchel. Mannix stayed close, still wary of the charged air around us. I tried to ignore the view ahead of me, where, even with the pelting rain, I could still see the royal banners flapping in the distance.
This was not how my morning was supposed to go. And if the magic’s erratic behavior was any hint, I had no reason to believe a pampered prince would make the rest of the day any better.