Reyr the Gold (Dragonwall Series # 2)

Prologue - A New World

Tall pillars of blackened glass doth stand,

They were wrought by those of magic.

A portal's gate to a foreign land,

Evils of which brought naught but havoc.

Be wary young children and stray not too near,

Or be sucked inside and exposed to its fear.

Beyond the between whose dark makes you blind,

Lay ghastly horrors of a monstrous kind.

~

Irelia inhaled deeply. She stood in the largest chamber of a vast cavern system. It smelled of seawater and earth, fragrances that were often considered calming; in this instance, there was little that might calm her nerves or deaden the voices in her mind. The voices alone had plagued her for months since the turn of her thirteenth year—coincidentally, the same time she discovered magic. The two were related somehow, the voices and her magic, though she knew not how. With each passing day she grew more fearful of her own mind, enough to keep quiet about it. Even now her head throbbed in response to the words whispered within, fighting against them.

She placed her palm upon her flushed face, holding a torch aloft in her other hand. Then she glanced about, plotting a path with her eyes. Her slippered feet soon followed this path across the floor of the cave.

She saw this as her chance to escape her insanity. Another opportunity might not present itself, especially under the careful eyes of her kenna. Fear gave her pause. She stopped to listen before glancing about, only to find darkness. Nothing but the trickle of water could be heard. After several moments, she continued across the floor of the cave.

Two tall pillars loomed before her, their mirror-like black surfaces dancing beneath the illumination of her torch. The symbols upon them appeared to flicker and transform in the firelight. She reached forward, tracing her fingers along the runes. These markings represented the old way of writing. The Aldinn Malasarlaí was a dying language, though she knew that its magic would remain intact as time progressed. Its symbols were imbued with the forces necessary to transport her away from this accursed place. There was a reason her parents had kept it hidden. One could simply step through the portal and vanish—that alone made it dangerous.

A tumbling rock stilled her heart as it echoed through the cave. She pulled her hand away from the pillars and turned about, lifting her torch high, glancing around for an unseen pursuer. Only stillness met her regard. Sighing, she shook her head, attempting to push her mother's warning from her mind, "My dearest Irelia, never venture through these pillars. You must promise me! The world beyond is a dangerous one, void of magic."

She had known nothing of the pillars until just recently, when her mother brought her deep beneath the city of Kastali Dun. A young city it might have been, younger than the monarchy itself, but the caves beneath were old beyond measure, just as the Gate was with an ability to transport her to a world beyond her own. Her mother spoke of the portal as though it held evil, as though it was a thing to be avoided. She believed otherwise.

A frown tugged on her lips even now. Surely an environment void of magic was still safe, especially for someone like her, who longed to escape the confines of her mind. If her instincts were correct, if the voices were tied to her newfound magical abilities, then perhaps a land without magic would mean a land without voices. For months, she had held fast to the hope, and at times it had kept her going. She would never know unless she tried; that alone was worth the risk.

As she stood lost in thought, more strange voices intruded into her mind. Her head pounded in response. Instinctively, her free hand went to her forehead. Her eyes squinted against the intruders, watering in earnest as tears of pain rushed forth. That was all the reminder she needed.

Resolved, she took a deep breath, knowing that her destiny lay before her. The gate beckoned, offering her exactly what she needed.

She gave the cave one final glance before burying her fear. Then she stepped forward. Her feet carried her, one at a time, until she was swallowed up by darkness.

The cold left her gasping. It struck new terror into her heart. The world was void. She cried out in alarm, reaching forward into the darkness. Her other hand dropped the torch. She stumbled in the emptiness, groping desperately. She despaired. Soundless screams poured from her lips. When her demise seemed inevitable, a warm glow flared into existence, surrounding her. A sigh of relief escaped her lips.

She opened her eyes to find glowing orange light—a comfort after such a frightening ordeal. The snare of fear loosened its hold upon her heart as she studied her new surroundings. Torches and great pyres rested atop an elegant marble floor. Everywhere there were large columns of white limestone supporting a vast ceiling. Statues and sculptures sat upon plinths much larger than any person. She looked upon her surroundings in awe. It was a large temple for the gods. There was no other way to describe it.

When she looked behind her, she saw no sign of the portal that had ferried her through. In that moment, she knew there would be no returning home. Courage and hope were her only companions now.

For a moment she stood still, waiting, hoping beyond all measure that her plan had worked. As time passed, she was met with silence. Ever so slowly, the ache in her head dissipated into a dull throb. Then it disappeared entirely. Relieved, she smiled. Her mind was alone.

Joy took hold of her, lifting her heart. This new feeling was magical, even if there was no magic in such a world. Turning full circle, she stopped to face the goddess before her and gasped. Towering over her was Asjaa herself, for who else could it be? She blessed the Mother of Protection.

She had only just gotten to her knees to pray when a shout echoed behind her. More shouts followed, disturbing the peace of the sanctuary. She dared not move; she was not afraid, for Asjaa guarded her in this world when she had failed to do so in the last.

Footsteps sounded behind her. A tight grip encircled her forearm, pulling her to her feet. Still, she remained calm. She did not protest, for the Mother was with her. Instead she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, for she was Princess Irelia. She confronted her captor's accusing brown eyes; it was her destiny to come to this place, this new world. Her new life awaited her, and she welcomed it. The daughter of King Eymar and Queen Isabella was finally free of her suffering.

⭐🌟 DON'T FORGET TO VOTE!!🌟⭐