Women in the small kingdom of Aeriana are disappearing.
Iris Daniels, a budding painter in the East Territory, is trying to keep her head down. In a kingdom filled with abilities, music, and Destined love, Iris is determined to build a career out of...
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"We're getting reports of severe winds in the east Klide County area. The Aerianan Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for both Klide and Grant Counties. If you're in this area, please seek shelter immediately."
—Channel 13, STR News
Doors disappeared, skylights tore from the warehouse ceiling, walls shook. Wind roared through the warehouse, displacing boxes, rattling the metal racking. The lights flickered once. Twice. Then shut off entirely.
Brannon looked up.
Further down, a sprinkler on the ceiling burst, pouring water. Wind swept through the warehouse, collecting dirt, dust, any loose debris as it violently tore apart the area.
Inside, Iris felt the same. She welcomed the wind, welcomed the chaos. Maybe if this warehouse ripped apart and buried them all alive, it would dampen some of the anguish thrashing inside her. Gone. They were gone. The Circle killed everyone she loved. And now they would kill her too.
Just because of her history.
Brannon backed up a step. And another. He looked wide-eyed around the warehouse. "What is happening?"
His lackey was there at his elbow. "Sir, we need to go."
They were going to try to escape. They were going to take everything from her—her life, the people she loved, the kingdom—and they would do it to another Ace. They would keep doing it to innocent people. To unfortunate people caught in the wrong place at the wrong time or individuals who had a position they wanted control over.
And no one would be there to stop them. Brannon frowned. Nothing but the dim emergency lights illuminated his face. Yet it was enough for Iris to see, through blurred vision, as something worked over him. He blinked, then chuckled.
Through the deafening sound of crashing wind and water rushing over the warehouse floor, that chuckle still made its way to Iris' ears.
Brannon aimed his weapon at her. "It's you, isn't it?"
"Sir—"
Brannon ignored his lackey. "There was no wind a few hours ago." He aimed his weapon, his hair flying around. His gun barked out a shot.
Lightning blasted across Iris' thigh.
She screamed, her body automatically trying to curl into herself but unable to because of the ties keeping her in place.
The wind settled for a fraction of a second. One quick, quiet moment. Then ramped up again.
Brannon laughed, a loud, maniacal laugh tinged with a note of something unhinged. "Oh, Driana, we could've changed the kingdom, you and I."
Whether it was the environment, the adrenaline, the fear, or a mixture of all three, Iris didn't know. The pain across her thigh disappeared as numbness spread up her leg.
