Anita and Eris sat across from one another in the Royal Library, the only sounds coming from the people roaming the aisles, going from bookshelf to bookshelf. The air smelled of paper and leather, something Eris couldn’t wait to share with Selene. Her life practically revolved around books and magic and himself, of course.

But he couldn’t focus on the smell, just stared back at the eyes that watched him, fixated. Eris knew that it was not his looks that had her entranced much to the demise of his ego. Instead, she was looking into his future with her beautiful gold eyes.

“I thought you weren’t all that interested in looking into the future,” he said, flashing the young girl a crooked smile.

“Your future is peculiar. For most people, I see their endings, their lives, which actions and decisions are written in stone. I see many possibilities with others until they’ve made the decision that sets their fate in stone. With you, however, I see nothing. I see you and a clear night sky with dark clouds on the horizon and nothing. It’s as though your fate is tied to another’s.”

Shrugging, he said, “Probably my sister.”

“Perhaps. She is there, in the fringes of my vision. I just can’t get over it. This has never happened to me before. I’ve never seen such a fate or lack thereof.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a bad thing or a good thing.”

“Neither. It just is.” She gave him a thoughtful look before looking back down at her book. As was customary, Reborns, especially the Royals, were schooled until age twenty-one. Anita may not be a Reborn, but she was Royal.

“What are you reading?” he asked, growing bored, playing with the shadows in her book, darkening them to obscure her reading, trying to get her attention.

“History.”

“What does history mean to the Reborns? They lived it. It seems a bit redundant to teach it.”

“That doesn’t always mean they’ll remember. Some memories never return, and some take longer to remember. Some don’t remember the third century until the age of twenty-one. Some weren’t born until the end of the third century; therefore, they do not even know what happened. They do not remember the Great Escape, the Appearance of the Barrier, The Burnings, or the development of society. Some hardly know of Azelia’s Light—”

“Wait, what?” His heart raced frantically at the sudden sound of Azelia’s true name. Anita’s delicate and full lips curled into a sweet smile.

“Azelia’s Light. It’s a legend, a myth. Azelia won’t speak of it, so don’t bother asking her. It’s a sword fashioned by one of her very delicate starlight feathers. She was the firstborn, and with her birth came the magic of creation. With the magic of the goddess within her and the help of a Shadowling, they infused his darkness and her light into a blade and—”

“Together they fashioned, with their binding love, a sword that could kill Shadowlings,” finished Eris. His heart was racing. He had never heard of Azelia’s Light before, yet he knew it was true, much more than a myth. Still, the fear of knowing it, knowing this legend, shook his very being. How did he know? Why was it all familiar to him?

“So you’ve heard of it before?”

“No—I mean yes. The story seems familiar, but I don’t remember ever reading it.”

“You’re father probably told it to you as a bedtime story. Reborns like to tell the story to ease their children to sleep. It’s nice to know that something might be out there that can kill Darkness. Now, please stop covering my pages with your magic.” Eris rolled his eyes but compromised. Azelia’s Light?

“Doesn’t Azelia’s Light have another name?” he asked, staring out the library windows and into the clear blue sky. He was barely aware of the astonished look Anita gave him.

“Yes, it’s called Nuri’s Betrayal. How did you know?”

Eris shrugged, turning his back to her. “I just did—” His voice drifted into a whisper at the sight of Azelia stacking books back onto the shelves. The sun’s rays lit up her honey-gold wings. It looked like the sun was on her back. He watched as she dropped a book and went to pick it up; a short strand of her chestnut brown hair came undone from under her bonnet, hugging her rosy cheek.

Eris wanted so badly to run to her and tuck it behind her ear before he…before he what? He barely knew her. Yes, he knew her name, both her true name and name of birth in this life, and that she was the first. But that was it. It made no sense that he felt an ache that rang so loudly within him, making his ears burn. Eris didn’t know her well enough to want to kiss her and hold her. Yet, when he looked at her, he felt like he had always known her, as though kissing her here in public would not be ludicrous.

“Has your mouth dried out yet?” Eris quickly closed his mouth and looked at Anita, who was looking at him very amused.

“You sound like my sister,” he grumbled, pulling his gaze away from Azelia.

“Your sister would be right to chastise you.”

“More often than naught, she is.”

“I’d like to meet her.” Anita dipped her quill into some purple ink. She scribbled notes onto the page margins, her handwriting impeccably perfect and delicate. Eris stared at it, compelled to watch it flow over the pages.

“You will soon. She’s still recovering,” he mumbled, transfixed on her writing. “Why purple ink?”

“I find the color calming.”

“Mhmm” He watched the ink flow onto the page and into the parchment. He watched the letters grow lightly as the ink spread out. Watched it unsettled and thought little of it, thought it a trick of the light until words began to sink and grow smaller. The ink was moving.

“Anita, stop writing.”

“What—?” Her voice broke as she looked down at the ink on the parchment. Her notes vanished, covered by ink. The ink grew closer together, and a rune formed in the middle of the page. From it sprung lashes, moving in and out of each other the way fire likes to flicker in the night. Eris snatched up the parchment and looked at it carefully. He may not know what it was, but even he knew this was an omen.

***

Selene had no idea how hungry she was. She felt as though she were bursting out the seams of her dress as she continued to engorge herself. Then, under Uriel’s watchful eyes, she blushed.

“You don’t have your marble,” he commented as he examined her with his piercing gaze. Selene’s eyes suddenly widened, and she hysterically began to pat herself up and down, very much aware of how ridiculous she looked.

“Oh no! The Goddess! She told me never to lose it!” Selene buried her head in her hands right after she stuffed a bread roll into her mouth in a very unladylike manner. “What am I going to do?” she mumbled, food in her mouth.

Uriel laughed. “Don’t worry, Selene. Eris had it, but now I do.” Uriel produced, from inside his military coat, a glowing white marble. Selene grabbed it, hugging it close to her heart, letting its warmth wash over her.

“You were messing with me! Very unkind of you, Uriel. But thank you for keeping it safe.”

“You’re very welcome.” He picked up some roast chicken and stared at it thoughtfully. It was apparent that there was something on his mind.

“What’s wrong, Uriel?”

Looking at her, his eyes brushed every part of her face before settling on her eyes. His piercing gaze made her heart race. “You need to dispose of Nuri’s Shadow,” he said quickly, catching her off guard.

“Of what?” Selene stared at him, confused. What in the world was Nuri’s shadow?

Uriel glared at her, retaining his soft and gentle look. “The dagger Selene. I know you know of it, so don’t pretend otherwise. The blade that struck you was one of a kind, so to speak. Never has a Shadowling blade turned someone, not to mention that it has never been attempted. That blade infected you. Those were its orders. It was aiming for Eris. Get rid of it.”

“I’ve not decided what I will do with it yet, but Uriel, why are you calling it Nuri’s Shadow?”

Again Uriel stared at her thoughtfully and pitifully, making her feel like a child who didn’t know they did something wrong. However, his gentleness remained, soothing her nerves. What was going on? “The blade that struck you belonged to a Shadowling named Nuri. He was the only Shadowling to be given the gift of death. But his darkness did not leave the world. Instead, it lingers, seeking him out. Seeking to turn him back into what he once was.”

“Why was Nuri granted death?”

“He fell in love with a Reborn and refused to take her life.” Selene was about to ask more when she saw Azelia running to her, holding up her dress so she wouldn’t trip on the hem of her uniform.

“Selene,” she began, her breath short, “your brother and Naavah need to see you urgently.” Her hair was disheveled, leaking from her bun and bonnet.

Uriel stood up, needing no explanation, while Selene went against her instincts and followed suit, asking no questions.

Selene swore as she ran down the slippery marble floors. She was not accustomed to running in the tiny-heeled shoes given her, nor in a dress. Holding her dress as she ran was increasingly taxing, more on her patience than anything else. She missed her boots and pants. So it was a relief when they had finally reached Naavah’s private chambers. It was fleeting, though, vanishing instantly as she took in the numerous fearful looks around the room. She just couldn’t catch a break.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uriel, bolt the door,” ordered Naavah quickly, wagging her finger at Selene. “Come here, Selene, and examine this. Tell us what it means.” She nodded and walked to the desk. The closer she got, she noticed it was moving, like a wounded animal, crawling around, licking the pages. Tracing her fingers over the ink, she studied the rune. But there wasn’t just one covering the page.

“It’s a rune. The circle is a Binding Circle. That means there is more than one here.” Selene lifted it up into the air, studying the lines carefully, her eyes moving over the page, taking each line individually, deciphering the message. She slammed it back onto the desk and pointed to another with her short nail. It almost looked like a blooming flower.

“This is a Turning rune. You know, it turns things into another, great for Alchemist. This one here,” she said, tracing the intertwining lines that formed an elegant “X” grown from the edges of the Turning Rune. “This is the Rune of Death. Its use is forbidden. Finally, these flames are symbols, not runes, the symbol for Damnation. It can be linked to the Vampyres, who are harmed and saved by fire, or Shadowlings, who are eternally damned.”

“So what does it mean,” asked Eris.

“Isn’t it obvious,” came a sultry voice. Everyone looked up. Perched like a cat on the high open window was Nivette. “What being is dead yet alive enough to turn someone? It’s an omen meant for her,” she said, pointing to Selene. “The Vampyre King is coming.”