Spark of Chaos (Spark of Chaos #1)

Chapter 1

2011 A.S.

Thirteen Years Later

In a chamber set high in a spire on a misty isle, a group of apprentices sat listening to a lecture on the realms beyond. The apprentices were evenly spaced, sitting on stone steps that pooled into an amphitheater's center. They dipped their quills into inkwells, wiped off the excess ink with harmonious precision, and put tips to paper like a hive of busy drones.

This perfect concert of flowing ink was broken by a pupil who never did anything dutifully. The source of discord came from the very back of the chamber, on the highest bench, where a nymph lay on her stomach.

She seemed a dream, a vision, and the only thread connecting her to reality was a cascade of vibrant red curls that pooled on the stone beneath her body.

Isiilde paused to study her work, quill poised while her feet kicked lazily in the air. Satisfied, she dipped her quill into an inkwell and stirred the black liquid with wonder before beginning anew.

"Isiilde!"

Isiilde looked up. Everyone was staring at her, but that was normal. "Yes, Wise One?" she asked.

Yasimina fixed her with a stare that would have made any other student uneasy. That look reminded Isiilde of an icy river—beautiful but cold.

"I do not tolerate singing during my lectures."

Isiilde blinked in surprise. Who would do that? Unfortunately, all eyes pointed back to her. "I'm sorry," she said, hastily. "I didn't realize I was singing. But I was paying attention."

Murmurs rippled around the amphitheater. Along with a single snort—Zianna relished the nymph's misfortunes.

Isiilde ignored the woman and stood. "I was drawing a picture of the realms and their interconnecting domains," she explained, passing her paper down the line for Yasimina to examine. Several overlapping circles filled the page, each labeled in flowing script. Their realm was called Fyrsta, and it sat like a bloated spider in the center of a spiraling web.

Zianna studied the drawing when it reached her hand. "I wasn't aware there were monkeys in the Spirit River."

The others laughed. They usually did. Zianna was quick-witted and beautiful, and people fell over themselves to please her. Isiilde had noticed that humans liked to follow each other. She found it puzzling. Unfortunately, Zianna disliked her, and the others went along with that too.

Isiilde didn't rise to the woman's bait. There was no point in arguing. No one but the gods knew who was in the Spirit River.

"This is an excellent representation, Isiilde," Yasimina noted. The class fell silent. The Wise One might be firm, but she was also fair. "It's obvious by the amount of detail in your drawing that you've already been lectured on the realms beyond. Perhaps you can answer my next question: why is Fyrsta commonly known as the Realm of Gods?"

Yasimina handed her drawing to the nearest student, and the apprentices leaned in close to make copies (minus the monkeys).

Isiilde made a mental note to ask Marsais about monkeys, then turned her mind to Yasimina's question. "Fyrsta is known as the Realm of Gods for three reasons," she began with a lilting voice that danced around the chamber. "The Sylph blessed Fyrsta and honored it by bestowing us with her Gift, the ability to channel her essence.

"Secondly, the people of Fyrsta are near to immortal. We live as long as we have the will, barring sickness or violence. And when we lose the will to live, the Keening takes us and we die. Then our spirits return to the ol' River, where we can be reborn again."