(Book 1 in the Jahaerys series)
The land of Lysandre is at war with their former colonies in the islands of Demetria. A widowed father, a childless mother, a cursed prisoner, and a kingdom concubine must band together from the cells of Nophis prison...
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"Wake up my darling"
A golden hue illuminated his head, a mere smudge of light in the darkness of the everyday. It had no shape, nor form, just a deep warmth radiating from where the glow floated. He tried to grasp for it, but his hand swiped straight through as the sunlight rays drifted further backwards, beckoning with a welcoming heat. A voice echoed through his head, he assumed it came from the light, but the way it bounced around the walls of his mind made it unclear which direction it came from, all he knew was that who ever had spoken was far away, unreachable.
The warmth felt like hot water poured over his scalp, sinking over his head and down the sides of his jaws. The gentle submerging into the heat massaging at his shoulders, relaxing each muscle, each crevice of stress. It felt fuzzy, like the spark of a flame running down his arms but leaving him unburnt, his palms upturned, fingers spread wide. Jahaerys kneeled before the orb of light as it continued running down his body, embracing his willingness to succumb.
It felt good. Like a God's blessing.
Jahaerys had been taught to be a devout man after his sight became unrepairable. He would practice his prayers alongside his medicine at the monastery, under the calm guidance of Father Wynne. When the brotherhood took him in, they told him of 'The Light', how it had created all life, how it chose warriors to ascend to Godhood, how it shone over Lysandre I on his coronation, kiss'd his hairline setting forth the bloodline of the monarchy. Was it this light that came to him now, warmed his frostbitten fingers, blanketed his bloody body.
His spirit felt wrapped in the light's embrace as it started to squeeze inside his being, sinking under skin, pleasant warmth boiling his blood. A burning sensation ran down his core, the warm cascading sensation of water felt like molten gold melting into his head, searing his skin as it bubbled. The corpses at the village had bubbled, their waxlike skin slipping off bone as fatty grease. Now it was his turn to feel that pain, a glimpse of another path, if he'd stayed, if he'd allowed himself to burn.
The light grew brighter, his whole area of the mind now flaming orange, golden sunset hues burning his retinas, which remained milk coloured and wet with tears.
"You're hurting me" He called out, teeth barred in agony at the change in heat, still kneeling before the presence of what was burning him.
His skin seemed to melt and then harden in a new shape, distorting his limbs, pulling his arms back behind him as if he were bound by rope. Each arm snapping into place at an awkward angle as flames traced his skin, biting their heated teeth with locked jaw. The heat was unrelenting, sweat flooded down his forehead, or was it blood from where the warmth had melted open his skull, squishing his brain in iron grasp till it squelched out like simmering pus. There was no fowl scent of burning hair or the temptation to cough up blackened ash, it was just the heat, wrapping around him and squeezing like a thousand disembodied hands.
The true nature of the light had been revealed, but he was unsure whether it was this cruel temperature that had been present all along only masking as a gentle warmth or if there were two lights, locked in the battle of his mind. One welcoming, a soft caress, the other violent, like his father's back hand.
