Lessia has always wanted to be a mancer, one of the great magic-wielders of Eluramance. Her wish comes true when, in an act of desperation, she performs her first act of magic and is granted admission to the Academy of Magic.
There, she learns the skills and discipline to use her gifts for the sake of good. Upon graduation, Lessia intends to dedicate her life to the study of magic. But when her class is killed by demons and her best friend taken, Lessia is instead thrust into the war between Eluramance’s forces of good and Zavus’ evil army of demons.
Each of the races of Eluramance brings their own unique prowess to the field of battle. For the dwarves, their strength; the elves, their wisdom; the orcs, their might; the humans, their drive, and the Drakonics, their ancient connection to the powers that forged the world, and the magics of those ancient ones. As for Lessia, a seeming no-one caught between these dangerous powers, what can she possibly wield to protect her home from the forces of evil?
Excerpt
Chapter 10
Light
And Shadow
Vaelik stood
over Lessia, his evil smile wide. “Stupid girl,” he said. “Your friends sent
you here, never intending for you to succeed. They sent you here to die.”
“They would
never!” Lessia said with as much defiance as she could muster.
“And yet, here
you lie, barely alive and helpless to prevent me from ending your life,” Vaelik
said. “However, there is a way for you to not only keep your life but to become
so much more powerf—”
Lessia didn’t
allow him to finish speaking instead, she spat a globule of blood into his eye.
“Keep your offer, demon collaborator,” she said. “I would rather die a thousand
times over than become Zavus’ plaything.”
Vaelik’s eyes
narrowed. He drew his arrow back, aiming directly at Lessia’s heart.
Suddenly, the
green darklight torches extinguished, bathing the chamber in inky darkness.
Lessia heard a soft sound, like fabric drawn over a surface, and then a clash
of arms, followed by a brief shower of sparks that illuminated Vaelik and his
hooded opponent.
On an instinct
fuelled by adrenaline, Lessia lashed out with her armoured boot and connected
with what felt like a leg, knocking one of the two people to the floor. Someone
grabbed her leg. The sensation of displacement without motion overwhelmed her
dazed senses for a moment but cleared quickly.
Vaelik yelled a
foreign word, and the darklights flared back into existence. Lessia found
herself behind one of the crates on the opposite side of the room, next to a
hooded woman carrying a curved black short sword.
“Who are you?”
Lessia asked softly.
“Like you even
have to ask,” the woman said. She pulled her hood down, revealing Marian’s
grinning face. “Let’s kill this bastard first,” Marian whispered, holding a
hand up, stalling Lessia’s stream of questions. Marian placed a hand on her
shoulder, and Lessia felt energy flow into her body, fortifying her.
“I don’t have a
weapon,” Lessia said. “I…broke it.”
“Just distract
him and cast me some shadows,” Marian said.
Lessia nodded.
“Cover your eyes.”
Marian pulled
her hood back up and readied her blade. Lessia let out another blinding flash
of light, even brighter than before, causing Vaelik to cry out. Lessia stood up
and saw Vaelik cringe, so she yelled at him. He blindly launched an emerald
green bolt of lightning at her, which she evaded easily. As she rolled away,
Lessia emitted a constant aura of light, casting shadows off all the various
objects in the room.
As soon as the
shadows appeared, Marian rolled into the nearest one and vanished in a puff of
black smoke.
“Maneuver it
closer to him,” Marian whispered in Lessia’s mind.
“Be ready,”
Lessia replied. She peeked around the corner of her cover. The shadow Marian
was hiding in was about ten feet away from Vaelik. She knelt and rolled across
to another cover, a bolt of lightning missing her by inches.
“Come out,
Luxmancer. I promise you won’t suffer,” Vaelik said.
“I know, and I
promise you won’t either,” Lessia retorted. She rolled away again and saw the
shadow reach Vaelik. Marian reappeared and stabbed her blade into Vaelik’s
abdomen, thrusting her face in front of his.
“Light and
shadows are never without the other,” Marian said, ripping the blade out and
then impaling it up through Vaelik’s chin and through his head, piercing out
the top of his skull.
Vaelik’s green
eyes dimmed instantly, and his body went limp. Blood poured from all his
various stab wounds. Lessia extinguished the bright aura she had produced and
conjured an orb of light that floated just below the ceiling. She looked at
Marian, who retrieved her weapon from Vaelik’s corpse. Marian grinned, and the
two embraced.
“I’m sorry,”
Marian said.
Lessia looked at
her. “For what? You just saved my life.”
“For trying to
kill you, all those months ago,” Marian said. “I just…”
Lessia shushed
her with a hand. “I know you weren’t yourself, you had one of Zavus’ demons in
you, controlling you. You aren’t to blame.”
“No, Lessia,
that is not how it works,” Marian said, on the verge of tears. “The demon
spirit doesn’t control you; it enhances whatever attribute your magic has. And
as you know, Umbramancy is aligned with pride, and it was that pride that drove
me to seek vengeance on the light and you.”
“She speaks the
truth,” a voice said. Marian whirled around, her blade ready to strike, but
neither she nor Lessia saw anybody.
“Oh, come now,
Lightless, you would recognize my voice anywhere,” the voice said. Vaelik’s
body suddenly raised, as if it was a puppet on strings. “She wanted so badly to
spill your blood that even if I hadn’t told her to do so, she likely would have
on her own.”
Marian screamed
in frustration and anger, throwing her blade at Vaelik’s possessed corpse, impaling
his left eye.
“You defile the
very air that carries your words, Zavus,” Marian said, her voice full of venom.
Using Vaelik’s
own body, Zavus pulled the dagger from Vaelik’s eye, tearing bits of flesh with
it.
“How rude,”
Zavus said, “and to think I was going to keep the two of you alive for my
experimentation. But I see you’re far too much trouble.”
Two things
happened simultaneously. Zavus conjured a black flame tinted with red and
green, and Marian grabbed Lessia. Just as the flame fully manifested, Lessia’s
vision went dark, and she felt the same odd sensation of displacement without
motion.
A split second
later, Lessia found herself back in the Temple of Aero, surrounded once again
by Zethras and the Drakonics.
“See?” Zethras
said. “I told you I could still feel her life force, despite passing from my
sight.” He then looked at Marian. “I am, however, surprised to see you. How did
you manage to find Lessia where we failed?”
Marian grinned
and grasped something hanging around her neck on a silver chain, removed it,
and tossed it to Zethras, who caught it.
Zethras opened
his hand, revealing a polished silver ring which, upon close inspection, was
very faintly sending out a gentle pulse in a particular direction—towards
Lessia.
“How…?” Zethras
asked. “This needs to be paired with…”
Lessia reached
into one of the small pouches on her sword belt and removed Marian’s silver
ring, which Morgaen had retrieved for her from the site of the ambush at Mount
Lainor. She held it up at eye level between her fingers, and a look of
recognition crossed Zethras’ face.
“Evelyn found
these rings on one of her early adventures before we met,” Marian said. “They
were on an island covered with ancient Elvish ruins. They bear an inscription
that reads ‘Meyu-das-shyn’, but neither Evelyn or any of her crew could
translate it.”
“Beacons of the
heart,” Zethras said. “It has been a long time since I have seen one of these,
let alone a bonded pair that still work perfectly.” He looked up from the ring
in his palm. “It is an ancient type of Hemomancy that, like so many other
things, has been forgotten by most. For the last ten thousand years, elemental
magics have become more and more prominent, and Hemomancy has faded into myth
and legend. There has not been a new Hemomancer in nearly a thousand years,
ever since the Red Twilight tragedy.”
“I recall that
name,” Lessia said. “It was in one of my history books, but only as a reference
point to other events. What happened?”
“I had learned
of a rumour that one of my disciples had been dabbling in a forbidden form of
Hemomancy, commonly known as blood magic,” Zethras said.
“Isn’t that
redundant?” Lessia asked, confused.
“No,” Zethras
said firmly. “Hemomancy, at its most basic level, enhances life energy and then
uses that creative force to accomplish a task. Because life itself is not
restricted to a single form of thought, that energy can be made to do nearly
anything.” He scowled. “Blood magic consumes life energy as a fuel, instead of
enhancing it. Blood mages cut themselves, spilling their blood and draining the
energy from their bodies, or through sacrificing another. It is the most unholy
act one can do, as it desecrates the gift Hemo gave us so many ages ago.”
Zethras turned and looked out the window.
“So, I travelled
to the Temple of Hemo, which lies in ruins today. I found all but one of my
students lying dead, arranged in a circle, drained of all their blood. The
murderer spoke to me in a calm tone, saying Hemo had come to him in a vision,
that he wanted his followers to join him in his realm. He was to send them to
Hemo, for Hemo had chosen him as Hemo’s Scion.”
Scion. The word
rang in Lessia’s mind. She remembered what Vaelik had called her—the Scion of
Lux.
“What does that
mean, Scion?” asked Lessia
It was Morgaen
who spoke. “Sometimes, when a child is born with magic, it forms a different
kind of bond with them. Ever since the Seven passed from Eluramance, a portion
of their power remained, to forever be passed down in the spirits of those who
follow their path. These individuals are called Scions. Even though they are
not bound to a dragon’s soul like we are,” she said, indicating the Drakonics,
“their powers are immense. To complement this, they wield their respective
fragment.”
“How often do
they appear?” Lessia asked.
“One hundred
years after the previous one dies,” Zethras said.
“When did the
last Scion of Lux die?” Lessia asked, expecting another specific answer. What
happened surprised her.
Zethras stood
very still, almost unnaturally so, and a red aura surrounded him as if wreathed
in flames. He glanced over his shoulder, and Lessia saw his eyes dim and
narrow.
The four
Drakonics raised their weapons and Zethras looked at them. He closed his eyes
and shook his head, like a bear trying to disperse a swarm of bees. A portal opened
beneath his feet and he fell through it, closing it as he passed through.
“Did I say
something wrong?” Lessia asked cautiously. The four Drakonics looked at each
other.
“Emotions run
deep within the Blood Lord,” Conleth said. “He was wed to Grand Paladin
Zelwynn, the most recent Scion of Lux.”
“Until she
died,” Morgaen said, “killed during a mission just over a year ago, trying to
prevent all this from happening.”
“How did…”
Lessia began to ask, but Conleth held up a hand to silence her.
“It is not our
place to tell you,” he said. “In time, he may tell you himself. But the memory
is still too recent, too fresh.”
“Is that what
that was?” Lessia asked.
Marak spoke this
time. “For as long as we can remember, Zethras has always had two sides. The
eternal protector who fights for every life that is and will be is the version
of him that everyone knows, either personally or through the legends he leaves
scattered through the long winding path of history.” He touched the glowing
orange Dragonstone in the centre of his chest plate. “Our bond-mates were still
comparatively young when Zethras was born, and he has—according to our
ancestral memories—not changed at all since he’s known them.”
“But, like all
things, he has a darker side,” Morgaen said, “When painful memories come back
to him, if they are powerful enough, he can lose control. We have come to know
it as the Blood Fury.”
“You have seen
the craters and gorges of the canyon lands to the south, yes?” Conleth asked,
to which Lessia responded by nodding, “That was him, last year. I am sure you
felt the quakes too.”
As if on cue,
another portal appeared, and Zethras reappeared, his features having returned
to normal.
“You know, a
thought just occurred to me,” he said. “How could you have possibly known that
Zelwynn died?”
“Vaelik said his
master told him the Scion of Lux would be sent to stop him and reclaim
Raizoth,” Lessia said, “and that was his chance to acquire something he called
‘the beacon of hope.’”
“That is
impossible,” Zethras whispered to himself, then held out a hand to Lessia.
“Come with me.”
Lessia took his
hand, and he opened another portal.
“Where are we
going?” Lessia asked.
“To see if the
impossible has changed.”
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