The Collected Tales

✧ 1. Of Shadows and Mirrors ✧

The Lost Chronicles - Part 1

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He was surprised at the absence of pain, for it was all he had ever realized. For the first time in his rather desperate existence, he saw clearly with normal eyes—not the raging Power that seemed to engulf him at any moment.

The first thing he saw was a pair of glittering onyx eyes, regarding him with rapt interest.

"So, you have finally awakened. I was beginning to think I have made a fruitless venture to take you in."

The tall man's voice was deep, and it echoed slightly in the large, well-appointed chamber, as if the room could not contain all of its power. There was something odd about his face and movements—it was too perfect to be human. That and the quiet, lethal presence exuding from his form made the youth tense and inch away from him, staring with wide, green eyes. Inch, because that was all his weakened body allowed him to, his hands helplessly clutching the bed's silken sheets.

"Fear not, Jared Rhyshannon. Within this fortress, no earth-Power will ever assail you nor harm befall you, for I have seen to it. But you will not survive a single day on Ervon without my intervention, for such is the dire fate of all Adepts."

The boy's brows drew down, confused. He vaguely remembered a man with a puckered scar who had saved him from a creature out of his worst nightmares. Everything up to this point was like wading in a fog of pain and confusing images. He recalled being cared for by a couple of beings with bark-like skin and large, luminous eyes. That was all he could remember. That and the name they had called him—

Jared.

But who is this man? His eyes narrowed warily.

"I am Mergenthaal, the Lord of this realm," his strange host spoke, as if he had read his thoughts. "It seems your friends have abandoned you to your fate. And the only family you have, obliterated by the same enemies that seek to destroy you. Would you not want to know why? Would you not want to live instead, overcome the curse of your Adept blood—avenge their deaths and the idyllic life they stole from you?"

Images of a gentle, elderly man and woman flitted through his shattered memories, accompanied by a deep, indescribable sense of loss.

"Aagh...!" the boy gasped and shrank back into himself, startled by the tears that welled up in his eyes.

Overwhelmed by grief and despair, he failed to see the faint smile on Mergenthaal's lips, as darkness closed in around him.

How long he drifted between sleep and a semblance of wakefulness, Jared couldn't tell. Those times of awareness were brief, vague recollections of Mergenthaal's ministrations. Foremost was the cup of black crystal the dark lord held to his lips, filled with a bitter, crimson liquid that seemed to burn its way through his very core. Then he would lapse into a stupor, his mind awash with a flood of memories he was not entirely sure were his own. And such terrible, frightening memories they were, filling the emptiness left by the Myrdraath, the Mind Slayer, after it had devoured everything he knew.

When next he awoke, he found himself alone in the spacious chamber, dimly lit by sconces emitting a thin, purple light. He slowly pushed himself up from the bed, half-expecting to collapse right back onto it, but his shaking arms held. He glanced at the tall, arched windows that were open to the night air. The room was definitely high up, as all he could see was the dark sky and the ribbons of lightning that flickered on the far horizon. Strangely, not a breath of wind stirred.

His mind felt clearer, and the familiar, fiery pain that had plagued him since his arrival on Ervon seemed far away. He almost sobbed in relief as the fae, the fearsome earth-Power that constantly assailed his senses, was nowhere to be seen or felt.