Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle) (6 page)

Dazed and lightheaded, she walked on, not sure w
here she was going
but with the knowledge she was supposed to be looking for something. 

The teardrop flared. She came to a stop, cupped it in her palm, and stared in confusion at the swirling light-streaked liquid. She had arrived. 

“
Lianora…
”

The wind whispered to her, caressing her hair and lulling her into a trance with its sweet promise of love and safety. She trusted this voice, knew it from some
time long ago.

The ground grew brighter. In the distance, an island appeared out of the darkness, pushing back the night with its pure beauty. She closed her eyes against the blinding
light, and when she opened them
,
she was standing on the island, surrounded by yeullises of every color. Their scent hung heavy in the air, permeating the atmosphere with their sharp, sweet aroma.

Overjoyed, she delicately fingered the velvet petals of a huge red yeullis in full bloom.

“
Take heed, Daughter of Light.
”

She heard the warning
but did not flinch. Her fingers stroked the thin petals.

“
Keep it safe.
”

She paused. Keep what safe? She looked around her, but there was no one there.

“
Darkness comes for you now.
Stay strong.”

Her fingers shook
,
and she pulled too hard, plucking the yeullis. It disintegrated into a pile of glittering pink dust in the palm of her hand. The island vanished, leaving her once more in darkness, and the teardrop resumed its dull pulsing.
She
watched as the green light shifted to red, then to white and back again before fading away all together.

She searched the v
oid for the source of the voice
but saw nothing. The darkness was so complete that she might as well have been blind. Something rustled to her left
,
and she whirled around, nearly falling over with her sight gone. 

Long, soft feathers brushed against her ear, and she shrieked. Her voice echoed in the void, like she was in a cavern. It had not done that before. 

“Who –
who’s there?” Sh
e groped around in the darkness
but grasped only chilled air. When had the temperature dropped? It was humid only a few seconds ago.

The temperature plummeted. Goosebumps formed on her arms and legs, and she hugged herself to stay warm. Her
toes and fingertips began
numb
ing
. It was as if she had been plucked from summer’s embrace and dropped into winter’s claws in the blink of an eye.

Thoughts jumbled together in her head.
It’s freezing! Why is it so cold?

The harder she tried to sort her thoughts out, the harder it was to think at all. Another rustling sound, like the swishing of robes, came from directly behind her.

“Hello?” she whispered. Her heart hammered in her chest as
her fear spiked. Something was no
t right, and it settled in the pit of her stomach as a tight, heavy knot. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run, but she was so cold she could barely think, let alone force her muscles to work. 

The void was qui
et. T
he only sound
s
were
the thundering of her heart and her quick, shaky breaths. She took a step backwards –

And was abruptly seized by sharp talons.

She
screamed and bolted upright in her bed. Sweat poured off of her as she gasped for air.

What was that?
Her hand flew to her neck. The teardrop was cold as ice, its surface foggy from the humidity in the room. She rubbed the fog away until tiny flecks of light flickered in the liquid.

With her b
ody still trembling, she sighed and relaxed into her pillows.
Calm down. It was
a
dream, only
a dream.

A dream that had felt very real. And that voice. Who was that? What had it said? It was trying to warn her, but about what?

She jumped at a sharp knock on the door, and a few seconds later four knights flooded the room. Alastor and Ana-Elise were the last to enter. Ana looked at her sharply. “We heard screams,” she said, ey
e
ing the guards as they combed the room.

“Everything’s clear,” said a tall man Lian had never seen before, one of Alastor’s personal bodyguards, she presumed.  

They assumed their positions around Alastor and Ana-Elise, forming a half-arc.

Lian cleared her throat. “I’m fine,” she managed, suddenly aware of the fact she had on nothing save a nightgown. She pulled the sheets up to her shoulders and blushed. 

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You sounded like Gharesh himself was coming for you.” Gharesh was a terrible spirit rumored to snatch young girls up in the middle of the night, whisking them off to be his bride. “I was seeing Ana-Elise off to her chambers when you screamed.”

Her mind was still hazy, but she remembered the last thin
g she said to Alastor at dinner.
S
he dropped her eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked. “For what?”
Then so
mething flashed across his eyes.
H
is lips pressed into a thin line
,
and she knew he remembered her crass remark.

“Well,” Ana-Elise cut in, oblivious to the growing tension, “it seems it was
nothing but
a nightmare. We’d best be going so you can get back to sleep.” She grabbed Alastor’s arm and started pulling him toward the door when her eyes rested on the teardrop.
Shadows
settled over her face. “Where did you get that?” 

The ice in Ana’s voice cut through Lian’s hazy mind like a knife. “Er, I, uh, found it.”

Ana-Elise narrowed her eyes and stared at her for several long seconds. Lian bit her lip and stared at the teardrop. Was
Ana-Elise
mad
at her
? Did she think
Lian had stolen it
or that their father had shown her favor over her for once?

“
Darkness comes for you now
.
”

Lian reluctantly tore her eyes from the teardrop and lifted them to meet Ana’s gaze. Her skin crawled; Ana’s eyes were solid black.

She blinked
. The darkness lifted; Ana’s eyes ha
d
returned to normal, and she
suddenly l
ooked very tired. “Good night, S
ister,” she said softly. “Try to dream a little less loudly.” Then she glided out of the room in one of her token graceful moves.

Alastor gave her an awkward smile and left behind her, trailed by his guards.

“Why, yes. I’m fine. Thank you
for asking,” Lian muttered. 

As the door latched shut, she collapsed onto the pillows.
She sighed and closed her eyes
but saw only the murky darkness she had walked through earlier, the same darkness she had seen on Ana’s face.

She fingered the teardrop, wondering what it all meant.
You’re just tired
, she told herself,
and
e
motio
nally drained
. You’ve probably imagined it all.

Though her thoughts felt less troubled, she wasn’t ready to re-enter that dark abyss. She pried her eyes open
, willing herself to stay awake.
Eventually, she
grew too exhausted
and soon fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Predator

VISHKA DREW HER CLOAK
tighter, stirring up mist as she glided down the deserted street.

Having now spent a week in Accalia searching for her blood bounty, she had grown familiar with the country’s somewhat bizarre weather patterns.
Though the sun
rarely showed its face
in Accalia, the moon always seemed to find a way through the thick cloud cover. Spots of starlight littered the sky. Tall buildings of black glass rose all around her,
and
the p
ale light of the moon reflected
off their broken windows. Wrought-iron gates covered in rust and moss loomed over her while monstrous carvings bared their fangs at her from rotting pedestals. She smiled. Accalia was beautiful in its decay, wearing its shadows like a cloak.

Her thoughts shifted
,
and her mood darkened.

After a century, the feelings remained, lurking beneath the surface of her collected exterior. The ache was familiar, a heady mixture of hatred and agony festering deep within her heart that continued eating away at her soul each day she continued the Calling. At Death’s feet, the bargain had seemed easy to accept
, especially since H
e wore the guise of Draxonus
.

She bit back a bitter laugh. Dying would have been so much more
favorable
. At least then she would have been free.

In time, when the Calling was fulfilled, His blood would cleanse her of the lives she had claimed in His name. Then she would truly be free of her sins.

For as long as she lived, however long that ma
y be, she would never forget that
night on the ship.
She remembered
taking his hand right before fire scorched
her blood, burning out her soul until there was nothing there. Then all the colors of the destruction around her swirled, and she tumbled into darkness. When she awoke, she was greeted by the stars that had witnessed her damnation. They were no longer beautiful; they were vile, laughing at her folly, and she cursed them, only her voice was no longer her own. It was darker, hypnotic even, and when she spoke she could see wisps of smoke-like tendrils curl around the sound.

She had always been able to “hear colors,” an ability that proved to be half gift, half curse. Her hearing was more attuned, the colors more vivid and sharper than they had been when she was a mortal. The landscape exploded in color
around her reborn self
, disorienting at first but not so much that she couldn’t quickly learn to control it. She had been left on the riverbank, her arms crossed on her chest as if she were on her funeral pyre. In her hands, she clasped the hilt of an exotic black saber encrusted with a single blood-red gem. Her body hummed with a strange power; it writhed and twisted within her, emanating from the saber, already searching out its prey.

Her victim. Her purpose.

Nothing existed outside of it. Nothing, no one, mattered.

The pain was gone, replaced by an apathetic serenity she had never known in mortal life. She felt stronger. Invincible.

She stretched a hand toward the sky, expecting to see charred flesh only to find the same odd shimmer to her olive skin that Draxonus had possessed. She feared her appearance would give her away during her Calling, but she later learned mortals could not see the shimmer. Only those closest to the brink between life and death, such as newborn babes or the dying, could see through the glamour.

Shaking her head to clear the memory, Vishka
stepped onto the next street. A door creaked open to her left
,
and laughter bubbled out from a tavern with a rush of warm air that smelled of sweat and sex. A couple stumbled past her, tripping over themselves as they flirted and joked. A few more men left the tavern only to be flagged down by a cheaply dressed woman at the street corner. All except one, who fell into step a few feet behind Vishka as she passed. 

Vishka darted past the woman and down the next alley. A heap of garbage rattled and then hissed at her as a cat scurried across her path and disappeared into the night.

Heavy footsteps plodded behind her, but she kept walking. 

There was a dim glow up ahead. It was an old man, his skin so thin and sallow it looked like it had been painted on. He squatted on the ground beside a pile of burning rags, half hidden by a tower of crates. Something roasted on a stick, and Vishka thought she would gag from the putrid smell wafting from it. He heard her approach and lifted eyes partially obscured by a filmy whiteness. “Please. Spa
re some coins for the poor, my L
ord?”

She reached into the folds of her robe and pitched several krillions on the ground before him. He groped for the coins, and his face lit up in astonishment as his fingers traced the embossed profile of Dreaka, Accalia’s patro
n goddess. “Th – thank you, my L
ord!”

Vishka slowly lifted her chin as she passed. Though he could not see her, she could tell by
the pale blue light – the color of death – veiling him
that he
would
sense her. The dying always recognized an agent of Death.