Page 51 of Where Darkness Falls

I knew who they were the second I was conscious enough to realize they weren’t just figments of my imagination. The markings on their shoulder plates alone—four small rubies on each side of their bodies—indicate the highest ranks. If that hadn’t been enough to convince me, the fact that all four of them were together would have. I expected the feared Cadre to be intense—scary, even. I found myself surprised by the kindness afforded to me from at least three of them.

There was such sympathy and concern on their faces. The one with the soft, somber voice drew me in instantly. I can’t explain it, but I just felt connected to him as he spoke, preventing me from tearing my eyes away. Perhaps it wasn’t his voice that caught my attention, but instead the bands of silver scars covering his entire face and neck. I’ve always believed scars told unique stories. It’d be a lie if I said I wasn’t the slightest bit curious to learn his. The man is well built, with fair skin and a buzzed head, and an odd eye patch. It’s black and iridescent. As he shifted his head, so did the glimmer on it.

It’s a dragon’s scale,the voice had told me in the shop.

How would you know that? Dragons have been extinct for at least four hundred years,I replied.

Being extinct and not being seen are entirely different things,she’d growled, ending the conversation and reverting my attention back to the Cadre at that moment.

The scarred one I feel the most comfortable with. However, the humorous one, called Riordan, is just as interesting to me. He’s as ruggedly handsome as the other Galrosan man, but a complete contrast. He has dark, tanned skin with short curled hair that slightly hangs along his brow. His eyes are also bright amber, indicating Galrosan heritage. Were he not a member of the cadre, I believe we could’ve been friends.

The one they call Laisy is the stoic, serious one of the group. Though handsome, he’s quite intimidating, with his severe jawline and short platinum blonde hair. His eyes look intense, as if he’s always on edge. Perhaps he is after becoming the High General’s Second Commander.

I allow the warm water to seep into the very marrow of my bones as I contemplate the situation I have found myself in. On the way to the inn, I listened to them converse. Out of the four, Riordan seems to have the mildest temperament.

He reminds me of Aidan and Cillian—incredibly kind, wickedly funny, and mischievous.A twinge of sadness grips my heart at the random thought of my brothers.

I miss them.

I quickly submerge myself beneath the steaming water. The details of last week replay in a constant loop in my memory. I relive each haunting moment over and over again:

An ominous warning from an oracle.

A vicious smile from a captain who’s stained in blood.

Cradling Cara against my body as she took her last breath.

A blinding rage as I obliterated the soldiers surrounding the captain.

I unleash a scream beneath the water—for my agony, for my loss, and for my anger. They’re all gone, and they’ll never come back. I’ll never again hear their laughs or their teasing. Amelia will never bake again, nor will I sit with Deidre and read or play dress up with Aine. The boys never had the chance to become men.

And Cara… She won’t be here to counsel me or guide me. I’ll never laugh with her in our shop or see her beautiful arrangements. Cara will never have the chance to be with Gawain or her friends again. Have they heard what happened? I don’t even know which town they reside in, so I can’t even send word.

I should’ve asked.

I reemerge from beneath the now murky depths, reaching for the bar of soap. My hands are stained a deep, ruddy brown. I lather myself and scrub until my skin is a pinkish-red hue. Even though I see that blood nolonger stains my flesh, I still feel it. It clings to my memory, refusing to release me. I still see it as it seeps from their wounds, staining the grass beneath them.

Hot tears spill down my damp cheeks.

I don’t understand why Siorai would allow a king so cruel to destroy innocents—the ones Siorai is supposed to protect. Instead, he allows wicked creations to run amok, leaving us at their mercy. At least Malvoria has a few less evil men.

One Week Earlier…

It’ssunset by the time I make it to the village square—the captain, Antony, and his men stand in their formation… expecting me. “You’ll pay with your lives for the atrocity you’ve committed this day,” I yell angrily.

Before Antony or the small company can take one step, my ability seeps from my skin in vines of light. My starlight is hungry for justice as they snake along the ground toward the soldiers. Their shocked looks are quite satisfying as my ability wraps around their bodies, disintegrating them to ash. Their armor falls with loud clunks on the cobblestone.

All except the captain, of course.

I’ve saved his death for last. I want the sounds of his suffering to ricochet throughout the village square, just as his victims’ screams have over the years.

No more.

He’ll never harm another Malvorian as long as I’m breathing.

Turning my gaze toward him, he’s whispering to the phoenix that’s reappeared once more—another message in hand. Then, it disappears just as it did before.

“Are you informing your master what a good guard dog you’ve been in Aurelius?” I taunt. “What a shame you won’t live long enough to be promoted.”

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