Dark Magic's Deadly Carnage

Prologue

The moon cast an eerie silver glow on thousands of lifeless soldiers, thick crimson liquid oozing from their bodies. Selene's stomach turned with anguish at the sight of their fallen army. They'd been slaughtered by another kingdom, leaving the amount of loss was no victory.

More soldiers were marching towards the war, and she wouldn't let another life be took.

The fire in her veins were like molten strings that threatened to snap on everything and anyone in her way—but she suppressed the urge. She couldn't let it control her, not now. Not yet.

She trudged in the muddy dirt in her bare feet past the fae who were strewn across the field. Dead. Witnessing their mournful cries... she couldn't breathe. All the spilled blood and death were on her hands. If she'd done anything different—

A set of strong, reassuring hands took hold of Selene's shaking fingers, calming them. Elex stood beside her, his jaw set firmly as they shared the grim view before them.

"There was no way to stop it, Selene," he murmured as he gently squeezed her hand.

Selene nodded; her throat was too tight to form any words. For every loss suffered, they had managed to save others. But it didn't comfort her—not when there were too many gone.

They both watched as healers scattered around the island struggled to save the ones barely holding on.

"They will strike again. Jurian knows I betrayed him." She spoke his name with a tremor, the memory of her husband's treachery still fresh.

"I know." Elex's hand cupped her cheek, his touch grounding her. "But they won't suspect our plan."

Selene closed her eyes, focusing on his touch. His warm hand tucked back her radiant red hair, which seemed to glow with its own inner light. Since Jurian had given the unthinkable order to exterminate thousands of fae and those who stood with them, they both had worked tirelessly to gather as many fae as they could.

They weren't the only rebels; others from inside the kingdom were gathering and turning against the orders, but for a long time they were all each other had.

A deep resonant woosh sounded ahead, the view of Desmond's dragon nearing. He had gone to search the location of armies marching nearby to see how long their rebellion had to complete the ritual.

As the dragon's polished, black wings soared over the wide landscape, watching before he carefully landed.

Both Keir and Desmond slid off the scales dispersed along its smooth body.

"Jurian's army are headed in our direction; they're roughly half a day away," Keir said, closing the distance between the four of them, his voice rough.

Desmond watched as his dragon took off, his wings towering over their view before saying, "We should get started before they reach us so we can use our default plan."

The four of them—her, Keir, Desmond, and Elex—had been training for this moment long before the war. They were the four strongest fae who could wield dark magic. It had been a desperate and risky plan, a last resort in the face of utter destruction. The ritual tapped into dark magic, a force that few even had a chance of surviving. In fact, such spells were the reason some fae were labelled as a threat by those who couldn't manipulate such power. Even those who thought they had mastered the power often found themselves consumed by it.

They stood in silence, but it was a silence in which Selene found solace. All their clothes were torn with blood painted on them, the patches reeking of the dead.