Today is the DAY! The first installment of "The Kingdoms of Kiernan" is available on Radish Fiction! Here's a preview of what is to come!
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The forest had an eerie quiet this night.
The animals had ceased their incessant chattering, and even the hoot of an owl could not be heard. Not a single breeze dared stir the leaves on the canopy of the gnarled oaks that stood sentry over this worn path through the Sacred Woods.
The only movement came from the dark, hooded silhouettes, each carrying a solitary, glowing lantern in their grasp. Ten figures in all, they glided more than walked along as they made their way to the heart of the glen where the ritual would take place. They were silent now, but they would begin the chant soon, which would set forth the prophecy that had lasted since the beginning of the ages.
It was time for the birth of a new ruler of the five kingdoms.
The Whisper People had chosen the greatest leader of each of the realms to sit on the High Throne, where all the lands would be watched over to keep order and peace. The Spirit Realm was comprised of the ghostly oracles, the ones who held the most powerful magic. The Zen Realm was reserved and calm, where fantasy creatures of all sorts lay behind the border of a shimmering wall. The Warrior Realm contained the roughest terrain where only the most worthy were sent to train as in the days of the knights of old. The Mortal Realm was reserved for the humans, those without any sort of magic who had been exiled from the other realms for one reason or another.
But it was the Chaos Realm that was the most feared of all, a confinement for those who would challenge the authority of the Named. Hidden behind a wall of water, where seasons were a mystery and those within were forever bound.
Beyond a set of five stones stood an altar where the woman was lying. The Whisper People took their places behind and in front of the stones as her cries of agony rang out through the night as the hour of the birth drew near.
They began the chant of old as they waited for the proceeding to occur. Only when the male heir had arrived could the ritual be complete. Once he was free of his mother’s bonds, then he would be taken to the temple at the Land of the Oracles where they would teach him their power. When he was of age, they would return from the Spirit Realm and crown him as the rightful heir to the High Throne.
The woman’s copper hair was plastered to her forehead, her teeth gnashing together as the sweat from her exertions poured down her face. The chant swelled in strength and intensity until the forest pulsed with the power inside the circle. At last, the wail of a child could be heard throughout the forest, signaling the arrival of the newborn as all fell silent.
The High Oracle glided forward and reached out a transparent hand to reach for the head of the baby. Without putting the hood of his cloak back, nor exposing his ghostly form, he spoke in a hollow, empty voice, devoid of any sort of human emotion. “This is the son born to the High Throne,” he announced.
But the moment his fingers touched the child, he drew back as if a jolt had shot through his body. “Impossible.”
The woman on the altar didn’t wait for more, but gathered her baby in her arms and fled from the glen.
“Do not let her escape!” The demand traveled through the darkness, but the woman’s footsteps didn’t slow. She didn’t turn back to see if she was being followed, but kept running. She had to make it to the sanctuary of the wall before she stopped.
Limbs tore at her hair, and her ceremonial gown as she weaved through the dense forest. The ground shredded her bare feet, but still she did not falter. Stars blotted her vision, but she pressed on. She had been raised as a warrior, and she would not allow exhaustion to overtake her. Not yet.
Summoning all of her strength, she continued forward until she spied the tall barrier leading to the Mortal Realm. Only then did she finally allow herself to rest. Her legs gave way beneath her and she collapsed onto a soft thicket of ferns.
Her breath was coming in short pants, the sticky wetness between her legs making her glance down, but she knew what she would find. Illuminated by the full moon, she saw the red blood coating her gown, and along with the scent of death, she knew she wouldn’t be for this world much longer.
Please, come, she prayed. Her vision ebbed and wavered as she continued to utter her pleas, while cradling her baby against her chest. Tears stung her eyes for she would never be able to see the child grow. Perhaps the fates would allow her a glimpse from time to time, but after what she’d done, she imagined that they would not be so kind.
“Solange?” The voice was like that of a goddess. The woman paused and knelt down by her and instantly her face was awash with tears. She lifted a hand to her mouth as her eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, the Heavens.”
“Braelynn, the sister of my heart.” Solange reached up and grasped the hand closest to her and held tight. Her green eyes were wide and pleading as she pushed the naked baby toward her. “Keep the child safe. When the age is neigh, make sure the rightful place is taken on the High Throne.”
Braelynn reluctantly took the baby and wrapped the child in her robes. She stared at the tear-streaked face of the sleeping infant until her eyes blurred with her own emotion. “Solange—”
“You must go now,” Solange said firmly. “Do not fail me. It is…her destiny.” With that, her hand fell away and her eyes closed, her entire body going limp, and Braelynn knew that she was gone.
Braelynn allowed herself a moment of grief, for Solange had been her best friend for many years until it became more. She couldn’t imagine life without her in it.
But as she glanced up and saw the flickering lights of the lanterns in the distance, she realized that time was not on her side. It was perilous that she escape now, for she knew what would happen to the child should they be captured—and what would happen to her. With one last glance at the still form of Solange, she kissed two of her fingers and pressed them gently to the lips of the soul sister she had held so dear. “I vow to protect the child with my life. For you.”
Braelynn rose and fled beyond the wall, the child clasped securely to her breast as sobs wracked her body.
***
The moment Braelynn rushed into her hut, she slammed the door behind her. She fell to her knees in equal parts relief and fear as she held the infant next to her heart. Only now did she allow herself the grief she’d denied.
“Oh, Solange,” she whispered. “However shall I go on without you?”
Immersed in her mourning, she didn’t hear the small boy approach until he was standing next to her. “Mama?” He inspected the small child in her arms. “Is this to be the sister you told me about?”
She wiped at the tears staining her face. “It is.” She held the baby out to him. “Would you like to hold her?”
He stared at the small head peeking out from the robes for a moment and then nodded. He sat down next to her and she placed the infant in his small arms, showing him how to cradle her properly. After a moment his nose scrunched slightly. “She’s got red hair.”
Braelynn’s heart clenched, for she knew she would look just like Solange when she grew of age. “She does.”
He stared at her some more, until the baby’s eyes finally fluttered and opened. Again, the boy made a face of distaste. “Her eyes are strange.”
Braelynn stilled as she picked up the child. As their gazes met, she breathed, “She has the gift.”
“What gift, Mama?” the boy asked.
She didn’t reply but instead rose to her feet and walked into the kitchen where her herbs were stored. In the very back of the cupboard, hidden from sight where only she knew where to look, she withdrew a single vial. There was not much of the purple powder left inside, but it would be enough for what she needed. She laid the baby on the scarred wooden table and poured the powder into her palm. “By thee magic I claim thou look at the world through green eyes.”
With that, she blew the powder into the baby’s face. The child blinked and began to cry, but only for a moment. With a sneeze, her wide eyes glanced up at Braelynn, but this time her gaze was as emerald as her mother’s. Again, Braelynn’s heart clenched with emotion, but it was also filled with relief. Only concealing the child’s true gift would keep her alive. And someday, when the time was right, Braelynn would tell her a wonderful story about her parents and what her mother had sacrificed to see that she was spared the wrath of the Oracles.
This innocent baby would not have an easy road, but she had the fighting spirit of Solange inside of her. Her father’s nature would come later, but only when she knew how to control the power inside. And someday, this girl would rise and take her rightful place on the High Throne.
The boy glanced at the baby, and then turned his dark focus on his mother. “What is her name?”
Braelynn drew a soft line down the baby’s downy cheek and with a watery smile, she said, “She shall be called Kiernan.”
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