Prologue of the Rain of Blood

Hi!

Okay, so this is the Prologue of the next book in the series, the Rain of Blood. I hope you like it! Just so you know, the hardcover edition of the Cave of Mystic Dreams has been released.

Thanks for reading, and please comment!

-S.P. Kumar

Prologue

Jywven stormed down the hall. His long white hair blew across his back, his face was forbidding and cruel, his long, finely sculpted features casting cruel shadows across the planes of his pale face. His black robes billowed, and his matching eyes sparkled with a mad glint. The corridors were deserted, the only sound the cold clicks of his boots harmonizing eerily with the great booms as his staff hit the ground, across the black marble tiles. His shadow yawned black and cold at his feet, warped grotesquely as it stretched up the wall, like the flickering silhouette of a great beast. When the booms of that staff were heard, the Zaira of Darkness had learned to stay away.

He stopped at a great pair of double doors, great slabs of black oak, designs lain in with red gems, twin golden handles gleaming.

Jywven immediately corrected his thoughts. Twin was a dangerous thought when you served the lady. Deimada was convinced that twins were the source of her problems. If her sister had not been born … she was the only thing stopping Deimada from having everything. If a family gave birth to twins, the entire family was killed.

He shook the thoughts off, unwanted, and raised his staff. He pounded the carved lion’s mouth at the head against the doors three times, each time echoing across the halls.

“Enter!” called a voice, a high, cold, cruel voice. A voice that bespoke Darkness itself. A voice that in it’s cruelty, struck fear far beyond Jywven’s imposing demeanor.

A voice fit to command the shadows. The Darkness.

From the carved lion’s jaws, a stream of icy cold air funneled towards the door, hitting them like a punch. They blew open, slamming against the walls with a loud bang. Jywven strode into the room, and bowed, bending his head low.

“Rise,” commanded the cold, flinty voice.

Queen Deimada of the Darkness sat, long, shimmering black wings folded. Her black dress was like the night sky, and her crown was made up of black metal, swirled into a delicate tiara shape with a red ruby that gleamed like fresh blood. Her eyes bore into Jywven.

“What do our spies report?” she asked impatiently, her tone swift and utterly sure.

“Highness, our best placed spy has retrieved some … rather confidential information,” Jywven said.

“Oh?” said Deimada, her blood red lips curving into a smirk. “And what is this information?”

“My Queen, she has retrieved the information that the Chandler girl is ill.”

“Children are always ill,” snapped the Queen. “How deep is this sickness? Speak, before I slay you myself!”

“Majesty, our source says she has been poisoned. She is extremely sick. The Light who know have been sworn to secrecy. Even now they search for the cure.”

The Queen rose and began to pace, feet hovering off the ground as her wings beat.

“They will likely find a cure – even my sister will find a way. But defenses will be down – and now, we still need to find Jantzen and Merrigan. Even Leianara will not know where they are,” she said.

“Your Excellency,” broke in Jywven. “There is one more bit of information she has recovered, supported by other spies within the palace. The Nightweaver girl is back.”

“Kathrine?” asked the Queen. “Impossible. She is dead.”

“The Nightweaver child lives,” said Jywven. “She lived within the box, and the Chandler girl released her.”

“The Nightweaver girl may be the only one to date who knows – or rather has the means to learn –  the location of Jantzen and Merrigan,” said Deimada.

“Queen Deimada, it would be nigh on impossible to capture the Nightweaver girl and even if we did, the two people she cares most about are dead. She would never tell us willingly,” said Jywven.

“Silence!” commanded the Queen. “The Nightweaver girl will lead my fool of a sister to Jantzen and Merrigan, along with her idiot advisor, the Gray boy, the Duran boy, and the Chandler girl. Our spy will follow.”

“She will be missed, my Lady,” said Jywven.

“Silence!” screamed Deimada. “We will mount an attack. Leianara will be anxious to get the children out of the castle. They will go, and our little spy will follow, not missed in the commotion. And she will tell us where it is, to get the Zarqaui – our Zarqaui – into it.”

Jywven bowed. “I will make preparations, my Queen.”

“Leave me,” commanded the Queen. A mocking smile curved her red lips. “They will never survive the Rain of Blood.”