Run.
The world shuddered beneath him as he started screaming. Everyone paused looking to their king crouched down low on the ground, writhing in pain.
“Adair, you don’t have to do this, please.” Roque’s voice cut through his mind, and he growled, clenching his teeth. “The Book of Old only has one motive, one reason for existing.”
The pain stopped abruptly as he shakily stood, whispering to himself, “To end you.” The blow was crippling and unyielding. He ripped and tore, charging through the magic in his heart, in his soul, flaring and electrifying every nerve in his body. Adair obliterated everything the acclaimed King of Kiero was and reveled in it. His bones dissolved to ash, his blood boiled, and ragged heaves escaped from him. Until Roque was no more. And the magic that was slumbering within Adair thundered through him with a crippling force. It was like diving into the coolest water, wiping away any weariness, any pain, confusion, weakness. It filled his heart with purpose, and his ability with strength, and melded into everything he was. And blackened his soul.
Gasping, he was ripped from Roque’s lifeless body in churning black smoke, and his soul was trapped within, his ability roaring. But he couldn’t do anything as they were hurled right toward Nei’s heart.
She was flung back as they collided, the magic soaking into her veins, charring and burning. He felt the blistering rage as they broke her, consumed her. A second or eternity, he couldn’t tell as memories and feelings were devoured, his ability, their magic, devouring her.
Then he was flying upward in the inky smoke, slamming into the ceiling and into the hidden tunnels, leaving the hall behind. Screams rose and fell, building with every second as Adair’s eyes flew open. In the cool darkness of the tunnel he lurched forward, dry heaving. In the half shadows, he saw his skin was streaked with black, swirling on his arms, spiraling up toward his heart. Practically vibrating, he clawed at his chest, ripping his shirt until he saw the monstrous burn exactly where his heart was, his skin raw and swollen. The world spun, and he reached for the familiar depth of his ability only to be met with a wall. Finally. The voices caressed and overlapped in his mind. They were the maestro, and now he was the instrument, bowing and soaring to their commanding hands. Heaving, he emptied his stomach as he was pulled down into the depths of his consciousness.
All the hope and beauty that the lustrous magic showed him before was gone. He felt himself collapse as their claws sank into his heart. Images flashed through his mind, cruel and sharp and unrelenting. He was sucked into the memory, and it charged through him.
Roque Fae looked around the room, raising a dark eyebrow to the two beautiful women seated to his left. “You’re sure the room is protected?”
The woman chuckled. “Roque, after all these years, you still doubt us?” An uneasy tension rippled across the room, and sighing, Roque sat down, his features softening.
“No. I don’t. Forgive me.”
The women shook their heads gently and snapping their fingers, a white light seared down the doorframe. Making sure no one could get in. Or out. Nei gently clasped his hand underneath the table, squeezing it and Roque continued, “What should we add today?” The flickering eyes of the couples lingering on the two dark-haired women at the end of the table. Their eyes, a deep brown, were filled with an infinite void that also filled their world that was foreign to them. Roque chewed his cheek, looking to the man across from him. Damien Foster was the epitome of strength, from his dark hair to his rugged features. They had known each other for years, each meeting bringing quaking memories of pain with them.
Damien was rare, and that was saying a lot among their world. A man who could find and travel amongst worlds. A man who had woven together these meetings, bridging culture, strength, and magic and defying the laws so they all could sit here. The glistening book in the middle of the table was filled with secrets and spells from each world, the government leaders adding every time they gathered.
It hadn’t been an easy task, bringing them together. Damien had sacrificed, having to barter with his life to make people listen. To show them the opportunity of an alliance that was woven across time and space. One that Roque and Nei tucked close to their hearts, shielding it from their country. Despite the whispers, the rumors, that clung to their friend.
He unclasped his hands from Nei’s as the faeries from Daer cleared their throat, their voices strangely melancholy. “It is our turn.” Snapping his attention back to the present, the icy voices of the fae shuddering through him.
Clearing his throat, he stated, “And what will you be addressing?” For a moment, they didn’t say anything but tilted their heads slowly, an identical smile blossoming on their faces. Their silence became icy, making his hair raise on the back of his neck.
They whispered, “Magic not heard of before by your worlds.” Looking at the book, it drifted toward them, scraping against the table. Meeting their outstretched hands, the cover flew open, pages churning wildly under their touch. The others shifted uneasily.
The faeries looked at each other, their lips splitting into sharpened grins. Green light flared from under their fingers... soft and alluring. For a moment, the scent of moss and warm spices
