Page 1 of Ruin of Revenants

Prologue

In all the long years of her life, Maris had never before seen such shifting, interwoven prophecies. The destinies of two fae were tethered and yet separate—two distinct outcomes that both ended in disaster for different factions of Emberglade.

Of course, she knew why the fates of these two souls were connected, but it was impossible to guess at the outcome. As she’d peered into her fire the previous night and gazed into the dancing smoke, the images that had risen before her had flickered almost constantly, an ever-changing display fickler than anything else she’d witnessed.

And whatever happened, it was clear that the fate of the kingdom would rest on these two paths.

Now, one of the subjects of that prophecy stood before her, a small child standing in his father’s shadow.

“Well?” King Wystan asked gruffly, his orange eyes like living embers as he glowered and shifted impatiently on his feet. “What is my son’s future?”

As a hag, Maris had long worn away her beauty and youth in exchange for her powerful magic, but the half-troll king’s appearance, with his curving horns, burning eyes, and grey, corpse-like skin was still ugly, even to her. What wasn’t intimidating was his mind-reading magic, which she blocked effortlessly, her mind a steel trap against such an invasion.

“The land of Emberglade has not yet accepted your rule, usurper king.” With a smirk, she folded her wrinkled hands in her lap and leaned back in her armchair. Her gaze left the king and his son to scan her small cabin, its rafters full of dried herbs, its shelves cluttered with bones and vials and old tomes. To stave off the chill of the mountain air, the fireplace at her side burned steadily, snapping at the logs within the silence. “What makes you think that I serve you? You are not part of the true royal family I pledged myself to.”

King Wystan stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Whether or not you recognize my rule, Archer is a son of Emberglade and deserving of a prophecy, like any other fae child.”

The young prince stood quietly beside his monstrous father, his golden hair and green eyes making him the picture of youth and innocence. Though he looked like his fae mother, the powerful magic Maris sensed within him was all from his father. The mind magic and manipulative nature of trolls. He gave a sidelong glance at his father, unease crossing his expression. Not fear of Maris, she noted, but fear of his father and what he would do.

Prince Archer knew the cruelty and strength of his father. He wasn’t familiar with the power Maris wielded. She smiled to herself once again.

Maris sniffed. “Part-fae.”

King Wystan opened his mouth, but Maris raised a hand and he stopped.

“I have a prophecy for him. It is just…shifting more than others I have seen in recent years. And tied to another’s future in a way I’ve also not seen in some time.”

Maris could sense the way the prince’s heartbeat accelerated as she gestured for him to approach her.

“Prince Archer, you are destined to destroy the phoenix shifters of Emberglade.”

The child blinked.

“If not, the royal family will be dismantled by a phoenix shifter. Your fate and the fate of this phoenix are tethered.”

The king growled. “Phoenix shifters,” he spat. “Which one?”

“I cannot say.” Maris narrowed her eyes. “The gods forbade me to share another’s prophecy, just as they only permit me to share each prophecy once. The only reason I could share as much about that shifter as I did was because of how intertwined these prophecies are.”

“You cannot tell us more?” There was true fear in the rhythm of the king’s pulse. It made sense—a thief always had reason to fear another thief would come to take what he’d stolen. Lives. Power. All of it teetered on the shoulders of his young son.

“I cannot. The future is now in Archer’s hands. Now leave.” Maris snapped her fingers. The ground beneath King Wystan and Archer quaked, the floorboards shuffled, and the cottage pushed the pair toward the door.

The indignant king grasped the entryway as the door itself flew open, his knuckles turning white as he resisted the cottage’s efforts to expel him. He grasped his own son by the collar to hold him in place. “I order you—”

“You cannot order me, Wystan,” Maris snapped, rising from her chair. Where before, her form had shown them only a decrepit old female, she now threw off the appearance, letting them see another side of her. A towering, imposing figure of darkness, shrouded in pulsing magic and adorned with a necklace and bracelet of bones. Outside, the mountains themselves shook, rocks tumbled, and clouds crowded the night sky. “Begone.”

Not many days later, a young mother and her daughter made the trek to Maris’ cottage and received the damning prophecy that warned them to protect her identity at all costs.

“Danger and death are in your future,” Maris proclaimed as she studied the child standing beside her mother. Raven-black hair threaded through with strands of violet, indigo, and teal hung in a damp curtain around her face. She and her mother, Elora, had been caught in a mountain storm on their way to Maris.

“In Isoria’s future?” Elora demanded, her sharp tone unable to mask the waver in her words.

“In the entire phoenix shifter population’s future,” Maris clarified. She reached a wrinkly, age-spotted arm toward young Isoria Gildmere, using her finger to force her chin upward. “Bright golden eyes. You are full of health and hope.” She tsked, shaking her head. “But you are also an ember about to be ignited.”

“Please do not leave us with riddles to puzzle over,” Elora said. “If there is a way to protect her, to protect us all, let me know.”

“There is no simple answer.” She steepled her fingers together. “I serve all of Emberglade, not one single group.” She raised her eyebrows to emphasize her point. “Now, Isoria’s future is unlike any but one I’ve seen recently. And it is tenuous, one constantly shifting. There are many choices and many paths. This is her prophecy: She is destined to be the dismantling of the royal family. If she does not fulfill her destiny, the crown prince will be the destruction of the phoenix shifters. Isoria’s and Crown Prince Archer’s fates are tethered.”