Flames of Ashmore

Prologue

Prologue

The battle waged around her. Blood, sweat, and death permeated the air, clogging the senses amid the clang of swords and cries of the fallen. Pushing through the muck of the battlefield, the last Seer of Milesia struggled to stay alive long enough to do what she needed to do. She could feel the vision brewing at her temples, trying to form in her mind’s eye, but she it would be lost if she couldn’t get to the altar.

The Fomoirians had invaded the realm of Ashmore, taking city after city until they’d conquered Gyare, Carmina, and half of Nemeria. Her own province of Milesia was a willing participant in Fomoire’s crusade. So much death and destruction had ripped at the realm over the last few years, degrading it from the inside out, but the Crown had managed to push them back. They had a plan to contain the Traitor Gabriel and his Order of the Dark Axis within the borders of Fomoire, but it wasn’t without sacrifice.

And it would mean nothing if she couldn’t deliver her vision.

With a war cry, a Fomoirian stepped in front of her, his black armor covered in blood and gore. He raised a sword, a cruel promise curling his lips. She had one moment to react, one split second to grip her dagger and plunge the blade into the vulnerable spot under his raised arm. She felt it pierce the muscle and enter the heart. She felt it beat once, twice, then slow, his eyes meeting hers with naked fear. She watched him until the life faded, then yanked the blade from his chest.

“Jocelyn!”

The Seer whipped around. Sean, the Crowned Prince of Fomoire, ran toward her, battle-worn from his own encounters with death, and caught her as she stumbled on the churned ground. Her body shook with the momentary reprieve.

“We’re gaining ground,” Sean told her, raising his sword to protect them both should the need arise. “Rome and Meredith are holding them off and Davie’s on his way to the border, but Jos, I don’t know if we can win this war.” Defeated, he stared at the ground, his features lined with grief. “This is my fault.”

“No, it’s not. This is Gabriel’s fault.”

“He’s my brother. I should have seen this coming. I should have stopped him.”

Jocelyn shook her head. “He never would have gotten this far if he hadn’t allied with my father. Does that make me complicit, too?” She waited impatiently for that revelation to sink in. She understood the guilt. The Gallaghers led the army against the Fomoirian forces, but there wouldn’t have been a need with Sean’s brother or Jocelyn’s father. Gabriel O’Shea and Viron Raeburn began this war, but Jocelyn had plans to finish it.

“Sean, I need to get to Mount Gerwyn. I need a sacred altar.”

“You’ve had a vision.”

Jocelyn nodded. “My father used the Lia Fal to give Gabriel immortality. Even if his body dies, he won’t be destroyed completely. But I can feel the Goddess’s power, and I know there’s a way to stop him. I have to get to that altar.”

It sounded insane. She knew she must sound delirious, but she also knew if she didn’t deliver her vision, they had no hope of defeating Gabriel. Ever.

Sean didn’t hesitate. “I know a shortcut.”

They set out toward the edge of the battle, hoping to slip through the trees and away from the fray, but another wave of soldiers descended upon them. Sean and Jocelyn raised their swords and fought their way through enemy forces.

Jocelyn ducked and swerved, parrying blows but doing her best not to engage. She hated death, and being the cause of it was something she tried to avoid. But this was war. Her dagger covered in blood, she turned to face her next attacker.

She hardly felt the blade as it pierced her side.

Then there was only pain.

The blade in her side burned her flesh, coated with poison no doubt, and her own weapon clattered to the mud. Jocelyn staggered, gripping her side to stem the flow of blood, and raised her eyes to her would-be murderer.

Her cousin, Torin, stared back at her. There was no regret in his dark eyes. Only malice. “You chose the wrong side, Cousin.” His grin twisted by murder, Torin leered at her. “If only you’d valued family more than your dalliance with the Gallagher prince. Now it’s my pleasure to issue your punishment.”

He didn’t see the sword that plunged into his back until the tip protruded through his front. Torin stared at the cold steel impaling his torso and dark red blood gurgled from his lips. For one stark moment, he gaped at Jocelyn in horror. Then the blade disappeared, and Torin crumpled to the ground.

“Come on.” Wrapping his arm around her, Sean helped Jocelyn limp to the battle’s edge and the two of them slipped into the trees.

The trek felt longer than it was. She could feel her life slipping away with every drop of blood falling from her wound. Sean had wrapped her side with fabric from his tunic, but already she was bleeding through.

Finally, they reached the base of the mountain. Jocelyn followed the shape of the rock all the way up to the top where it disappeared into a ring of fog. The cave she needed was at the top. The ancients had hollowed it out and created an altar long ago. Legends said it was blessed by the Goddess herself. There were few of those sights left. It was only fitting it would be the place she would give her life.

The soldiers came from the woods. Two men and a woman stalked toward them, leering as if they’d cornered a prize. Sean brandished his sword, swinging it through the air and dropping into a fighting stance. He glanced over his shoulder at Jocelyn, then at the path leading up the mountain. “Go,” he told her, with a nod toward the path. “I’ll hold them off.”

For a moment, Jocelyn hesitated. This was her destiny. If she didn’t make it up that mountain, the realm was lost. Not just today, but for years to come. She knew if she didn’t deliver the vision pushing violently at her mind, Gabriel’s tainted Order would vanquish the Isle of Ashmore.

“Go!” With one hand, Sean pushed her toward the mountain, his eyes speaking the goodbye his words could not.

Jocelyn ran. Her footsteps pounded up the path, clattering against the rocks. She grabbed onto vines to help her up, clutching at her wound between steps. At last, the path led to the base of the peak, and the only way let was up. With blood on her hands, the last Seer of Milesia forced her way up the side of Mount Gerwyn. The battle raged below her, both Sean’s and the Gallagher’s. For one fleeting moment, she pictured Rome’s smile, felt his embrace. Her only regret was she wouldn’t get to say goodbye. This was her destiny now. To deliver her vision while death cries filled the air.

The night smelled of acrid smoke and blood. They were winning. The traitor Gabriel’s forces had been defeated, but at what cost? Her own father had used his magic to help Gabriel become the monster he was now, and used her blood to do it. The jagged scar on the side of her throat still throbbed as proof. Now, she was the reason Gabriel couldn’t die.

Still, she climbed.

The vision beckoned, and urged her body to keep moving, to reach the top of mountain. She could feel the Goddess’s hands on her, driving her forward, keeping her life’s blood at bay. With one final reach, her fingers found purchase on the rough rocks at the lip of the cavern, and she hauled herself over the edge.

Jocelyn laid on her back for only a moment, catching her breath before getting to her feet and making her way to the altar. It hurt to move, but it was the only thing she had left to do.

The altar was made of smooth black rock. One large, flat stone balanced on two pillars, making a table. The Seer grabbed the satchel slung around her back and up-ended it on the flat stone. She snatched up the parchment and quill that spilled out. The black ink bottle had smashed in the bottom of the bag on her way up, but no matter. There was plenty of blood to use for the prophecy.

“I knew you’d make it here.”

He came from the shadows. Dark hair, green eyes. His black shirt was soaked through with blood, but whether it was his or his victims, she couldn’t say. Just the sight of him standing in the cavern with her, in this sacred place of the gods, made her stomach turn. A long sword with a jeweled hilt glinted in his hand.

“Gabriel,” she spat, flinching as the skin pulled at her wound. How had he gotten up there?

“You Seers always find places touched by the gods to write your prophecies. Are you writing one about me?”

“About how to defeat you.”

Gabriel laughed, and for a moment, she was transported to a time when he wasn’t trying to destroy the realm. “You’ll never defeat me. I plan to live forever.”

Such a boyish notion for someone who had caused so much damage. Drawing a knife from the sheath on her thigh, Jocelyn flung it through the air, her aim accurate and true. Never in her life had she missed her mark. Even the brink of death wouldn’t disrupt her hand now.

Gabriel let out a cry, the blade lodged in his chest. His body fell backward, and the sword clattered to the ground. His hands bloody, he groped at the cavern walls, his feet fumbling for purchase at the top of the stone stair at the heart of the mountain.

Jocelyn grasped the Goddess stone around her neck and prayed to the gods he would meet his end. Her prayers were answered. Thrusting out a hand, she pushed with her goddess flame, violet energy wrapping around her palm. A shrill wind whipped through the cavern, raging against Gabriel as he fought with the knife, pushing him backward. His body thudded against the walls, echoing through the cavern, knees and elbows crashing down the stairs.

She didn’t have much time.

The Seer laid her supplies on the altar, set up two tall, black candles, and lit the wicks. Bracing her hands on either side of the alter, she surrendered herself to the gods and the visions that had plagued her all her life. Her eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible, and the future washed over her. Lost in visions, she dipped the quill in the blood covering her side and began to write. She knew it would be years, maybe even centuries, before the prophecy came true, that she wouldn’t be around to see it. But she also knew the eochair was the Key to ending the darkness that plagued the land for good. The Key would decide how the balance of power would shift, what the fate of the realm would be. Her decisions would shape the Shadow Realm of Ashmore for generations to come.

And the gods would let those decisions stand.