Arcane Rising: The Darkland Druids - Book One, R Nicole [suggested reading TXT] 📗

the first place. At least they weren’t one sentence of direct, legible English.

“But that’s not all of it, am I right?” I asked, taking the chance he was holding something back.

From the look on his face, I’d hit the nail on the head.

“Rory.”

His jaw tightened. “Born of ashes, dead in darkness, a soul who bridges the gap has the power to destroy Druid and Fae alike. When the black sun rises, death will choose the hand of fate.”

“That’s nonsense,” I hissed. “How do you know it’s about me?”

“You bridge the gap between Druid and Fae. Your father died in a catastrophic fire which caused you to be born anew as a Druid…out of metaphoric ashes. Who else could it be about?”

“Dead in darkness?” I scoffed. “Black suns?” I didn’t know what to believe.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Rory urged. “You have the power to be whoever you want to be. This is your chance to make your future the way you want it to be.”

I sighed. “It’s a beautiful notion, Rory, but this isn’t high school. The stakes are higher than just getting good grades.”

“Exactly. That’s why you have to believe.”

I can only tell you so much. You have to do the rest. But he could teach me how to fight. If he wanted me to believe, then I had to see for myself. I had to learn how to take my own life in my hands and keep my fate apart from those who’d use me to fulfil their crazy prophecy. If I was going to destroy anything, it would be of my own free will.

“You’re right,” I told him, closing my fist around my stele. “It is up to me, and as my neach-gleidhidh, I’m asking you to help me learn how to fight. I won’t be a pawn in anyone’s prophecy of destruction. My destiny is my own. No one else’s.”

He smirked and laughed. “You’re still saying it wrong.”

“Don’t take my moment away from me,” I retorted. “Will you help me or not?”

“I get to turn you into a badarse warrior woman?” He winked. “Deal.”

I closed my eyes, wondering yet again how I’d travelled so far from my barely passable life in Sydney to this. My once mediocre future seemed idyllic in comparison to what I now faced.

“This is only the beginning. It will only get tougher from here,” Rory warned. “You’ll hate me before long.”

“I’d never hate you,” I said, opening my eyes. “I’m bound to get angry and want to punch you in the face, but hate…? That’s such a strong word.” And I believed every word I said.

Rory studied me for a long moment, his lips quirking as he suppressed a smile. “Well, as long as we have our priorities straight.” Then he leaned closer and murmured, “You know, my foot still hurts from the first time we met.”

I laughed, remembering when I’d stomped on it outside of Greyfriars. “You deserved it.”

“Ach, I need to work on introducing myself to people, especially in darkened graveyards.”

“Cause that’s not creepy at all.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So, what is going on in the city?” I asked. “Has Owen come back yet? Has there been any trouble?”

“Ach, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Rory replied. “All that isn’t important right now.”

“I will worry about it,” I snapped, my hackles rising unexpectedly. “All this trouble is because of me. If I’d known, maybe I could have avoided almost getting you killed. Twice.”

He snorted. “You didn’t almost get me killed.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Ach, Vanora,” he muttered.

I raised my eyebrows.

“Vanora has been watching the new Mrs. Campbell,” he said. “And Jaimie’s waiting for Owen’s return…which is not in doubt. He’ll be back and will waste no time looking for you.”

“All the more reason to become a bad-arse warrior woman.” I held up the nwyfre stele. “Where am I supposed to put this?”

“Ach, watch where you point that thing,” Rory declared. “I’ve got a case you can put it in. Just don’t poke anyone’s eye out in the meantime.”

13

Rory and I trained every day for the next week.

He taught me what he knew about Colour and how to control it, and it wasn’t long before I was making bouquets of flowers that held their shape—daisies, carnations, lilies, daffodils, roses, then onto miniature palm trees and spiky cacti.

For the first time in my life, I was good at something.

Rory also spent time showing me the basics of hand-to-hand combat, building my non-existent skill to something passable. I was tired and bruised, but I was showing the first signs of becoming stronger which only pushed me to want to do more.

I showed my face in the kitchen for breakfast and dinner, but even though I tried to smile and speak to the other Druids, no one met my gaze. Only Rory and Jaimie gave me the time of day, sitting with me to eat and walk through the Warren together.

Ignis joined us at mealtimes, eager to catch any random food scraps that fell onto the floor…or were snuck to him under the table. For a cat made up of prisms, he was rather fixated on food. He was the perfect pet in more ways than one—he didn’t need to be fed or need a litter tray—but he had all the mannerisms of an arrogant feline. As we curled up together at night, I wondered who he’d been before his soul had shattered.

Things were going reasonably well until the day I woke up and my hair was completely green.

Rory definitely noticed, but he was gracious enough by now to know not to mention it—even when the mirrors in the training room reflected it back at me a thousand-fold.

“Illusions are more advanced but essential to our survival on the surface,” Rory told me. “Technically, they’re a type of portal—a bending of reality to render us invisible—but they also play on spiritual power.”

“Spiritual power?” I asked. “What’s that exactly?”

“It’s the power of the mind. Spirit is linked to consciousness. Well, they’re pretty much the same thing. We