A Court of Shadows and Fire

Part 1

Fleetfoot was a very happy dog.

His mother was kind. His father was kind. Their friends were kind. They ran with him, and they fed him, and they saved his life on more than one occasion.

In conclusion, he was a very happy dog.

He padded his way down the stone hallway next to his golden-haired mother. Not the one who had given birth to him. No. Celaena. Celaena was his mother. She held her head high up, keeping her gaze focused ahead of her. Her look scared everyone away from him. That was all right. They wouldn't have paid attention to him anyway.

Two men appeared at the end of the hallway. Both dark-haired. One golden-skinned and one very, very pale.

Fleetfoot burst into a run. In ten seconds, he reached the pair, and in ten seconds, he was jumping on his father, pawing his chest. Father stumbled back a few steps. Fleetfoot dropped back down. Father was always weak these days. Ever since he had recovered from that terrible illness that had smelled so horribly.

"Aelin!" Father addressed Mother. Fleetfoot didn't know why everyone was calling her that these days. 'Aelin.' Perhaps it was only to confuse him. He also didn't know why she looked different. Her ears were sharper, and she was taller, and her bones were sharper. Many people were scared of her. But not Fleetfoot. She would always be his mother.

"Dorian, you're looking..." Mother trailed off.

"As handsome as always?" Father replied.

Fleetfoot didn't know what they were saying exactly. They spoke a tongue different than his after all. But he was sure that they were saying how much they loved each other. He wandered back to his mother's side.

The four of them, Fleetfoot, Mother, Father, and Scowling-One, set off on their next adventure. They strode through the castle, receiving stares and bows. Fleetfoot nodded his head at some of them. He didn't know where they were going, since they were in a different castle from home, so he stayed behind Mother.

They ventured down dark stone stairs into a cold dungeon of sorts. When they arrived at a landing, Scowling-One moved to take a fire stick from the wall. Mother only held up her hand which, in turn, held a blue flame.

"Show-off," Scowling-One grunted.

"You know you love me," Mother said sweetly.

They descended down, deeper into the shadows. The stairway grew smaller, and Fleetfoot nudged Father and Scowling-One aside so he could be the one to walk next to Mother.

They finally stopped inside a room with an iron grate door. Old-One and Uncle were already standing there, waiting for them. Fleetfoot padded over to Uncle, Mother's brother-or cousin, or whatever-and he reached down to scratch Fleetfoot's ears.

Uncle said, "This monster is one of the king's. It can't be killed by any ways we know how, so Aelin is going to be opening a portal with the Amulet, so we can send it back to whatever hell it came from."

Old-One said, "She will be going in alone since fire seems to be the only thing that can hurt it. Though no amount seems to be able to kill it."

They all started to bicker.

"I'm going in alone. Rowan is right. All of you will just be distractions," Mother said firmly. Then, in a lighter voice: "You should all say your goodbyes now. It will be okay. I can handle it."

"Aelin, you're not dying. Shut up and get it over with," Old-One snapped.

Mother muttered something Fleetfoot could not hear. She then opened the iron door and walked into the next room. Fleetfoot tried to follow her, but Father gripped the fur along his neck and held him back.

A few seconds passed by, and the room glowed red. Fleetfoot heard screaming. Mother's screaming.

"Don't worry," Uncle said. "That's the monster."

But Fleetfoot was a dog, and he did not speak the common tongue.

He ran into the next room, knocking Father over. Oh well. Mother was in pain. That was all that mattered. Mother. Mother. Mother.

A force knocked him over. Fleetfoot sniffed. Fresh pine. Old-One.

Fleetfoot whined. Then he saw Mother. Two Mothers. One stood directly in front of him, wildfire shooting out of her hands. He could have licked her shoes. The other one, several feet away, had black veins and black eyes and shadows slowly leaking out of her skin. That mother-the dark one, the one that smelled wrong, like how Father had only weeks ago-was the one screaming.

Directly behind her was bright light.

The dark mother stumbled back, closer to the light. Mother-his real mother-intensified her fire. The room became hotter and Fleetfoot closed his eyes because it was too bright for his eyes.

Then the light lessened.

And something wrapped around his leg.

He whimpered.

It was cold and it felt-wrong.

Then it yanked him away. Towards the light. Old-One tried to pull Fleetfoot away, but the tendril held strongly onto his ankle. It tightened until Fleetfoot started to howl in pain. It dragged him across the stones, still hot from Mother's fire.

He saw her then. He saw her dart towards him. He saw her push Old-One away and grab onto Fleetfoot herself. He saw her shouting.

Then the sky was blue.

And they were falling.