The Nysian Prophecy: The Nysian Prophecy, #1

By M.K. Dawn

The Gods have spoken…

…She shall be their savior.

 

Eleven-year-old Alaina woke in the woods, bloodied, bruised and without a single memory of her life before that moment.

Now a week before her nineteenth birthday she's determined to let go of the past.

But the past never stays buried for long.

 

When the mysterious and oh-so-sexy Brady turns up, Alaina is thrown into a world she never believed existed.

And handed a fate she's uncertain is hers.

Pursued by a man who wants her dead, Alaina must decide who she can trust.

 

With the kingdom on the verge of collapse, can Alaina come to terms with her past?

And if so, will she survive long enough to see what the Gods have in store for her future?

Get it now!

 

The Nysian Prophecy Revealed (Book 2)

The Nysian Prophecy Fulfilled (Book 3)

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.K. Dawn
• Release date: Oct 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386498957

M.K. Dawn

M.K. Dawn was born and raised in San Antonio, Texas. She now lives south of town on a cattle ranch with her husband, two kids, seven dogs, and a rabbit. When she's not writing, she can be found driving her kids around to after-school activities, decorating cakes and watching as much Netflix as she can. But her all-time favorite hobby will always and forever be reading.

Book preview

Prologue

Alaina

Can you tell me your name, hon?

Strange noises come at me from every direction. There’s not a thing in this room I recognize. A man to my left shines a light into my eyes. I squint and whip my head away.

Sweetheart. Your name, please.

The fog clouding my brain lifts. Alaina. My name is Alaina.

Alaina, what?

I shake my head, confused by the question.

How old are you? he asks.

Ele… Eleven, I stammer. Yes, that sounds right. I’m eleven.

Do you know what happened to you?

I glance at my bruised and bloody body, close my eyes, and try to remember, but there’s nothing.

How about your parents? What are their names? he continues.

I don’t know. My eyes wander around the room.

Can you remember anything that might help us find them? An address? Or the street name? How about the name of your school? Any small detail can help.

I ignore the bombardment of questions. Where am I? What happened?

You’re at a hospital, he says slowly. A hunter found you wandering the woods close to the river, alone and confused. Your pajamas were dirty and you were covered in blood. He called the police, and we rushed you to the hospital. We’re trying to figure out who you are, why you were out there all alone.

I don’t understand what’s happening. I can’t remember. My body shakes and tears begin to rush down my cheeks. What happened to me?

The man sits next to me and pulls me into his chest. Don’t worry. We will figure it out.

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I stare out the car window and fiddle with my pink oval stone necklace, the only thing I have left from my childhood. Every detail of that night three years ago is burned in my memory.

My social worker, Jenny, rests a comforting hand on my shoulder. You doing okay, dear?

My heartache and tears blur my vision, but I nod nonetheless. It breaks Jenny’s heart to see me cry.

We should arrive at New Ridge in less than an hour. For the past few months, Jenny has worked nonstop to get me placed in a permanent home before I start my freshman year of high school. A few places have been promising but none have panned out. Isn’t this exciting?

I turn my attention away from the passing countryside to her. What’s that?

Me getting a call about a scholarship to an all-girls boarding school just when we were starting to think all hope was lost. The admission office told me that when the scholarship was founded, the anonymous donor even gave your name as the perfect candidate. And it’s strongly recommended that you be considered as the sole recipient of the award. She was about to burst with excitement. I can’t wait until we get there.

She has told this story at least a dozen times, each with increased enthusiasm. I know she’s trying to help but it’s hard to come to terms with the whole situation. Why would anyone want to give me a scholarship to New Ridge - the most prestigious, expensive boarding school in the state? I don’t want to hurt her feelings, so I plaster on a fake smile and agree.

Half an hour later, we stop at a set of huge wrought iron gates and Jenny buzzes us in. We park in the visitor’s lot and head toward the entrance. As Jenny ambles up the steps to ring the bell I remain in the driveway, engrossed by the beauty of this place. The front doors are framed by two massive white pillars that stretch the height of the white house. Each floor has a porch that spans the entire length of the building. Gardens bursting with the most magnificent flowers line the walkway and wrap around the huge oak trees throughout the property.

This can’t be real. My whole life, up to this point, has been one disappointment after another. And now, someone I’ve never met, wants to hand over the gift of a lifetime? There must be a catch.

You coming, dear? Jenny calls.

The front locks click and I follow her inside. We are met in the hall by a short, plump woman with graying hair pulled into a tight bun.

Hello. Jenny, I presume? The women shake hands. And you must be Alaina. Welcome to New Ridge. I'm Miss Bought, Dean Meel’s secretary. She’s waiting in her office, ready to speak with you. If all goes well, then she’ll take you on a tour of the school, Miss Bought explains as she leads us towards the administration offices. There is not much activity going on today. Once school starts up again, these halls will be bustling. Right now, most girls are off the grounds, in the common areas, or out in the back at the pool. Summer months are pretty quiet around here, except for meal times.

We follow her into a small office and she gestures to a small red couch along the wall. Please have a seat. I’ll let Dean Meel know you are here.

A few moments later, Jenny leans into me and whispers, How are you holding up?

Good. Nervous, but good. It’s all just a little overwhelming.

I know it is, but you’re going to do great! This place is known for helping girls that need extra support. I think you would fit in well. When you talk to the Dean, be honest. I'm sure they have done a background check, so hiding things would be unwise.

My eyes widen, but before I have a chance to freak out Miss Bought walks back into the room. Come on, sweetie, Dean Meel is ready for you.

Jenny gives me an encouraging smile as I follow Miss Bought into a much larger office.

Dean Meel is seated in one of two chairs next to a window overlooking the courtyard. As I approach, she stands up, grabs my hands, and pulls me into a hug. At five feet nine, I’m tall. Dean Meel is at least three inches taller.

After a quick embrace, she directs me to the chair across from her. Alaina, it’s so good to meet you. Please, sit. Dotty, will you be a dear and bring us some cucumber water. Is that ok with you, dear?

Sure. My face flushes. I mean, yes please.

I’ll be right back, Miss Bought says as she closes the door behind her.

So, Alaina, what do you think of this little school of ours? Dean Meel asks.

It’s breathtaking. I’m still in shock that I was offered an interview.

This scholarship is the first of its kind. The girls who attend this school come from wealthy families, and their parents spend a great deal of money to send them here. So, for a scholarship to be created just for you, well, that makes you very special. You must have touched someone a great deal for them to offer you such a generous gift. Once we received your name, I requested your file from your social worker.

I wince. Here it comes - the thanks, but no thanks.

Dean Meel smiles. I was quite impressed.

Miss Bought knocks softly, then comes in with a pitcher of water and two glasses. Dean Meel thanks her as she pours us both a glass, places them on the table, and then leaves.

As I was saying, I was quite impressed with your perseverance after such a horrendous early childhood experience.

Before I can get lost in the memories, she continues. What I’m about to say does not leave this room. I will deny ever saying it. This is our little secret. Deal?

Okay.

Most of the girls who come here do so because of self-inflicted issues such as drugs, sex, bad grades. Their parents are busy living their own self-indulgent lives while their kids run wild. When their parents finally wake up and intervene, it’s too late. The child is out of control, so they are sent here. Most of the girls here are spoiled rich kids who have never been told no. But you are coming in under special circumstances and because of that, you may have a difficult time fitting in at first. Please, do not let this discourage you from coming to our school. I want you to know that I’m always here for you. We come from similar backgrounds, and I may be able to understand some of the things you are going through. And even if I don’t, I’ll gladly be a shoulder for you to lean on.

I’m stunned. No one has ever said anything quite like that to me. Thank you.

"It’s why I’m here. Now, back to our school. Let’s see… where was I? Oh, yes. Not only are we a school, we are a healing facility. Like everyone here, you will be expected to attend therapy. You will be with Dr. Siple, our head psychotherapist, and meet with him at least once a week for the entire length of your stay. I would say, in your case, especially with your issues with nightmares, this will be a great benefit to you.

"Your grades must stay at least a 3.0, and looking at your former transcripts, that shouldn’t be a problem.

No drugs are allowed. Any found in your possession will lead to immediate expulsion. Her stern expression tells me there is no leniency to this rule, not that I have any intention of doing drugs.

"Freshmen and sophomores are not allowed to leave campus without a chaperone. When you’re a junior, you will have a curfew of eight p.m. on weekdays and ten on weekends. Everything must be approved by your dorm mother. All your outside activities go through them.

"When you are a senior, things change. We consider you an adult. No curfews, no dorm mother, and very little rules. The only things you must do are show up to classes, keep up your GPA, and attend sessions with Dr. Siple. We want you to be prepared for the real world.

"After graduation, we give all the girls until the first week of August to find a suitable place to live.

Your scholarship includes a small monthly allowance for clothes and personal items.

I sit there, silent as I listen to her recite the rules.

I'm sure you have a million questions, but while we continue our talk, I would like to show you around the school.

She stands, which should be my cue to get up too, but I stay seated, unmoving.

Are you okay, Alaina?

I’m confused. I thought this was an initial interview. It sounds like I already have the scholarship?

Of course, you have the scholarship, she chuckles. Like I said earlier, it was created for you.

Why would someone I’ve never met do this for me?

There are good people out in the world who want nothing more than to help others. I know, with your past, that’s hard to believe, but it does happen. Sometimes you just have to have a little faith that everything happens for a reason.

Chapter One

Alaina

The pain in my chest is smothering. Just breathe, Alaina, I repeat over and over, it was just a dream. A horrible, everyone-around-me-is-dying kind of dream, but a dream nonetheless.

This makes seven nights in a row - a new personal record. To make matters worse, each has grown in intensity. After all these years, something must have changed to trigger them again because now they’re back with such force it takes everything in me to push the images aside when I wake.

Deep breaths, in and out. I need to focus on my happy place. The beach, the sand, and the calming blue water as it crashes against the shore. After a few moments, my breathing settles, and my eyes adjust to the dark. There’s no light peeking from under the curtains, so it must be early. I reach for my phone to check the time. Six-thirty a.m. stares back, mocking me. I scrunch my nose and throw myself back on the bed, pulling my pink covers over my head, appalled I’m up so early.

With my eyes closed, I lay there, willing my body and mind back to sleep. When that doesn't work, I try a little yoga meditation. Hell, I even try counting sheep, but it’s useless; I’m wide awake.

I kick off the covers in a little temper tantrum, climb out of bed, and strip off my damp clothes. With my arms stretched wide, I stand in front of the fan and let my body dry. The air conditioner in this old building doesn’t provide much relief during these brutal southern summers.

My body aches from head to toe. I roll my neck and shoulders from side to side to try and relieve some of the tension that has built up from the horrible dream. I’m exhausted to the point I feel like I haven’t slept in days. My eyes are puffy and swollen; I must have been crying again. With the crying comes thrashing, screaming, and sometimes sleepwalking, which is why my body is so sore.

It’s moments like these I wish I had a roommate, but my nightmares have made that pretty much impossible. Their intense nature tends to scare the crap out of everyone, myself included. On normal, non-nightmare days, I enjoy this one and only advantage. But after a night like this, it would be nice to have someone here to help ease the loneliness.

After accidentally breaking my roommate’s nose after one particularly rough night, Dr. Siple contended that I have my own room and attend two sessions of therapy a week with him. He pretty much runs this place, so what he says goes. But now, after almost four years of intense therapy, my nightmares are becoming more extreme. With all the techniques Siple has taught me, he swears I should be getting better. The nightmares should be fading, but they aren’t.

I take a seat on the side of my bed, pull out my journal and write down every detail I can recall, which isn't hard because the sounds and images are burned into my brain for eternity.

Alaina, baby, get up! We have to go, a voice yells. That, along with vigorous shaking, forces me to open my eyes. The usual face is there but my eyes are too heavy with sleep to stay open. The scent of lavender surrounds me, relaxing me, helping me drift back to sleep. Don't go back to sleep, baby. Please stay awake! We have to get out of here. The voice is coming from a face I know, but I’m confused, she never yells. I force my eyes to open, the light blinding. Come on, we have to go. She picks me up and pulls me close to her chest. I wrap my arms around her neck, my legs around her waist and snuggle into her, though I know I'm too big for her to carry me like this. It's a struggle to keep my eyes open as sleep tries to pull me back in. Her heart is beating so hard that I can feel it against my chest. She’s scared and I don't understand why. We’re home, we’re safe. My eyes come into focus as we make our way through the house. She forces the front door open and runs out into the night. It’s shockingly cold, but that’s not what jolts me out of my sleep-like trance, it’s the screams.

I try to look around but she holds my head in the crook of her neck, still carrying me like a small child, trying to block me from the horrors that no doubt surrounds us. Smoke is everywhere and it fills my lungs. I start to cough, unable to breathe in a full clean breath. Tears burn my eyes and I'm not sure if it’s from the smoke, or the overwhelming fear that has built up inside of me. I lift my head just enough to peek over her shoulder. People are in the middle of the cobbled street, fighting off men in blood-red armor. The sound of swords hitting flesh sends a chill down my spine.

When we get to the large tree in the yard, she releases me, sitting me down in a way that the tree acts as a shield. I can’t seem to stop my body from shaking. The men with armor, red as blood with a dragon on the chest, ride past our house with swords out, striking down anyone they see. Arrows are flying everywhere. Men, women, and children lay on the ground, eyes staring at the Gods above. Grabbing my face, she pulls my attention away from the horror as best she can.

Alaina, you have to run. Run towards the castle. Find Eric. Please, baby, you are too important to be caught. You must get out of here. She is shaking as well, both of our bodies convulsing with fear. She kisses me on the forehead, her tears splashing my face, mixing with mine. Do you hear me, baby? Do you understand what I’m telling-? Her eyes grow wide as she falls towards the ground pulling me down with her, shielding me with her body. I scream as I see the arrow sticking through her chest. Her white nightgown turns red. As she gasps for air, all I can do is cling to her, screaming for her to get up, sobbing into her chest as her skin pales.

Run… Alaina…Run! she says between gasps. Her eyes glaze over and her body goes limp. I hug her with all the strength I have and kiss her forehead as I sob uncontrollably, rocking her in my arms. Arrows whizz by me, one landing so close that I’m startled back to the present. I kiss her one more time as I lay her down. She is with the Gods now, she is safe. Getting up, I run towards the street leaving her lifeless body underneath the tree. I dart through the battle, weaving in and out through crowds of people all running for their lives. I know I must try to find my way to the castle, but the smoke from everything burning fills the air as if a fog has rolled in. I can barely see where I'm going. Someone crashes into me and I fall hard to the ground. I try to get up, knowing that I must keep going, but I get kneed in the chest and fall back down. No one seems to notice me and I get kicked repeatedly. Finally, I give up and curl myself up into a ball. I pray to the Gods to let me be with my mother once again. The screams are growing louder. Screams of terror, screams of pain, and screams of loss are everywhere. I cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut, frantically trying to block out the death that surrounds me. Then out of nowhere, he is there.

Alaina. He is tugging at me but I'm too scared to move. Alaina! he’s screaming, Come with me, hurry. Recognition pulls me out of my state of shock. He holds out his hand and I grab it. He pulls me off the ground and I know at once that I’m safe. We run as fast as we can, Eric pulling me through the madness, towards the forest that lies on the outskirt of town. I fall once, but he never lets go of my hand. As we cross the threshold of the trees, a sense of relief fills me and I’m grateful that no one has seemed to notice us fleeing. I fall to the ground in desperate need of air. It’s still dark but the full moon is casting enough light for us to see clearly. Again, he reaches for me, this time pulling me into his chest. The hug is comforting, familiar, but somehow feels so absolute. I want to ask him what’s going on, why this feels like the end. He whispers in my ear in a strange language that I don’t understand as he places something around my neck. I’m blinded by a bright white light. I scream as I'm pulled away from him. In an instant, everything is black.

God, I feel like such a freak. Most girls my age dream about boys. The worst nightmare they ever have is about a boy not liking them back. No, not me. I get the ‘everyone around me dies’ nightmare. The only peace I feel is when the pair of green eyes look down on me. I get lost in them, feel safe with them, but in the end, I'm always dragged away from them.

Frustrated, and in desperate need of company, I fight the urge to run down the hall and wake up my best friend Gina. I need someone to talk to, and she’s the only one who makes me feel normal. But it’s early, and even though she wouldn’t mind, I decide against it. Breakfast is not until eight, and no one in their right mind would be awake at this ungodly hour during summer break.

I lie back down, this time on top of my covers, still naked, still sticky, and wishing I would drift off into a peaceful sleep but know it’s never going to happen. As soon as I close my eyes I’m that little girl again, standing in the middle of the road, death all around me.

Ugh. Not ready to relive that nightmare again, I get out of bed and wrap myself in my fuzzy pink robe, trying to warm up from the sudden chill that has taken over my body. My heart races, and the sudden need to escape the confines of my room hits. Slipping on my flip-flops, and grabbing my shower stuff, I head off to the communal bathroom.

Though I share the bathroom with twenty-five other girls, at this time of day during the summer, I’m almost guaranteed to have it all to myself. The hallway is dark and quiet. I push open the large wooden door, and head towards the back where the showers are. Like the rest of this place, the bathroom is majestic, complete with marble walls and high ceilings. Being a senior and moving to the top floor of this place definitely has its advantages. The only thing missing is a claw tub. What I wouldn’t give to be able to soak away my troubles in a tub full of steaming water, and lavender bubbles.

With no one waiting, I take my time in the shower, letting the scorching hot water, and lavender body wash engulf me. The intense emotions from the night melt away, and my aching muscles relax. Even though the nightmare still replays in my head, there is no emotion attached.

The bathroom door opens as several giggly girls come inside. It must be the running crowd. Those are the girls who, for some unknown reason, get up before the sun rises every morning, come hell or high water, and go for a run. Like I said, no one in their right mind would be up this early, only the crazy girl with nightmares, and the freaking runners. I shut off the water and towel off. Wrapping my robe tightly around my body, I grab my stuff, and head for the door, giving the runners a quick smile as I pass by.

Back in my room, I rummage through my dresser for my black yoga pants, and a tank top. Once dressed, I towel-dry my hair as best I can then pull it into a messy high ponytail.

There are five floors of this school, or plantation, as the students like to call it. The first floor is home to all classrooms, the dining room, and the administration offices; which includes the therapy rooms, and staff housing. Floors two through five are for dorm rooms, each floor housing a separate grade. Seniors get the privilege of living on the top floor. High ceilings, a large common area, and huge bathrooms are just a few of the advantages.

Most seniors would agree the best part of the fifth floor is no dorm mother which helps prepare us for when we leave the confines of the school and move out into the real world. For Gina, I, and the rest of the senior class, that happens to be one week from now, two days after my nineteenth birthday.

As ready as I am to be free of my childhood, there is something scary about leaving the only home I have ever known. Gina has a huge two-bedroom, two-bathroom loft downtown, and asked me to live with her. All I would be responsible for are the utilities. As tempting as her offer is, something deep inside has kept me from saying yes, though this hasn’t stopped Gina from dragging me all around town the past few months and including me on all the decorating decisions. It’s like she knows that I will give in, which I probably will, since I haven’t found anything else close to my price range.

I take the stairs to the first floor, turn left when I reach the bottom, and walk past the front entrance. With its huge double entry doors, and floor to ceiling windows, it really does look like the entrance to a plantation house. As I take a moment to admire its beauty, something catches my eye. An old beat-up car sits in front of the school, which is unusual since security is very tight around this place. I can sort of make out a shape in the car, a very large shape. For some odd reason, I’m drawn to it, like I need to take a closer look. I start towards the window but stop when I hear someone calling my name.

I turn to see Dean Meel staring at me like I have lost my mind. You okay, Alaina?

Yeah, I was just looking outside, I point out front, at the car that is no longer there.

Alaina? she says. Are you sure everything is okay?

At that… I know what I saw, but for some reason, it seems silly to get worked up about a car. That tree out there. You know, the big one? I thought I saw a bird, maybe a bluebird or a blue jay. I'm not sure what the difference is. But I was just going to take a closer look. Yeah, now I sound less crazy. It takes a minute, but Dean Meel smiles, though I'm sure she buys it.

Well, gotta go meet Gina for breakfast before my last session with Dr. Siple. Have a good day, Dean.

You too, hon. I head for the dining hall but chance a quick glance back. Dean Meel is staring out the window, not at the tree, but at the place where the car was parked. She reaches for her phone, makes a quick call, and smiles. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. She was probably planning on making that call. Still, I can’t shake the feeling there is something more going on.

Alaina! My name is screamed across the cafeteria. I can’t believe my eyes. Gina is sitting at the table with her roommate, Mandy, food in front of her, staring at me as if I'm late. It may be after eight, but Gina is never here this early during the summer. Most days she is at the window of the kitchen, begging for leftovers.

Good morning, girls. I plop myself in the seat next to Gina who glares. Oh, God, she’s in a mood. Which is normal, but as her best friend, I’m usually immune.

She enrolled in New Ridge a few months after I fell asleep in class one day and had a nightmare. It was a dark time. Once again, I had been labeled an outcast. No one would sit next to me in class. People moved out of my way when I walked down the hall. I was about to make a run for it when Gina showed up. She was an up-and-coming actress, who had just landed a starring role in a new B-list movie. Her mother, an A-list actress, came home early one night from a film shoot and found Gina getting high with her boyfriend, naked. She freaked out and sent Gina to New Ridge. Her story was all over the tabloids, and TV. Needless to say, I wasn’t the one everyone was talking about anymore. Having a famous person show up with a drug problem was bigger gossip than the crazy orphan with nightmares. She was assigned to be my roommate since everyone else had refused.

The first night we sat up talking and giggling about our family, or lack thereof in my case, and anything else we could think of. We were just two fourteen-year-old girls at