Destinies Entwined: The Cerafym Legacy, #1

By Faith Rivens

One woman's love cursed a village to despair. Centuries later, another's holds the power to spare it.

For three hundred years, Mariana's town has lived a cursed existence of isolation, threatened by the monstrous Garouvyrn and His army of mist beasts. When three of her students trespass on His land, breaking a longstanding treaty and forfeiting their lives, Mariana offers a trade: her life for theirs. The Garouvyrn accepts the exchange and extends mercy. Her life is spared, but she must leave her husband and child and remain in His castle forever.

Haunted and alone, Mariana dreams of another young mother from a far-off time, before her village was cursed. A woman who danced with winged gods and earned the wrath of their king. A woman whose past is intimately bound to Mariana's present.

These dreams hold the key to discovering the origins of the Garouvyrn and ending her village's suffering. If Mariana can change the heart of a beast, her family will be saved. To fail is to doom them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Faith Rivens
• Release date: Mar 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393877752

Book preview

To all the profound roses and gentle hands,

don’t be afraid to share your heart with the world.

Chapter One

Mariana

WE LIVE A CURSED LIFE, but at least we live. We exist in shadows, but at least we exist.

Those words, an echoing mantra, kept me company as I knelt in the vegetable patch flanking the rear of my family’s cottage. Shadows bloomed from the western forest in the wake of the setting sun, looming over me, a cloak of ghastly gloom. The bulging, rough roots at the forest’s edge buffeted the wooden fence that enclosed our garden. With every day that passed, the trees encroached further on our land. If the curse persisted—there was no reason to believe it wouldn’t—ours would be one of the first cottages swallowed by the forest.

I raced against the darkening sky to finish picking the vegetables for a hearty stew. I would have been done by now had I not tarried so long at the schoolhouse, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the inquisitive minds of my students. They were hungriest for knowledge these days when they were forced to spend nights confined to their homes.

The afternoon’s delay forced me to rush through my evening routine. Night seemed to fall quicker when it brought the threat of the mystvyrns. Tonight marked the last of their haunting for this cycle. If our town survived it, we would have eight weeks of peace before the beasts of the mists made their inevitable return.

Harried, my fingers fumbled with the stem of a particularly obstinate tomato.

Growls echoed, deep rumbles like thunder, from the obscurity of the forest.

I flinched, and the tomato snapped off its vine. It rolled out of my hand, my skin slick with dirt and the sweat of this agitated labour.

Squinting, I scanned the forest for some sign of a ravenous beast. My eyes couldn’t pierce the fathomless shadows. I couldn’t see the mystvyrns, but perhaps they could see me. Perhaps they were watching, eyes wide with anticipation, claws digging into the dirt, wanting to attack me, kill me, eat me. I was safe while they yielded to the sun. She was only a sliver of her glory in the darkening sky, but still she reigned and bought me time to finish my task.

Once the last tomato had been picked, I stumbled to the gate and double checked that the padlock was secure. It was only a barrier of wooden planks that protected this small garden, but it had kept the mystvyrns out these last twenty years. There was no reason to doubt it would fail us this night.

But change was inevitable. Life was inconstant. There was no guarantee in our cursed life. As the night would prove.

FOR NEARLY THREE HUNDRED years, our village of Viedafleur had been held captive in isolation, separated from the rest of Ferranz. A barrier of expansive forest and towering mountain surrounded us, natural inhibitors holding us prisoner in a steadily dwindling area. With each year that passed, the forest intruded further upon our border, its tendrils of vines weaving through our streets, its trees and brushes blooming inwards. They consumed what our ancestors had built, devoured road and land alike, marking us as its territory.

There had been a time once, when Viedafleur thrived in open trade with neighbouring villages and towns scattered across the land. Three centuries ago, our ancestors had lived a free life. That was before the Great Darkness had come, and a castle had fallen from the sky. Those who had lived through the change were dead now, but their stories remained, etched into our communal memory. We had not lived through those days, but the tales kept them vivid in our minds. As if we had witnessed the forest and mountains shifting to separate Viedafleur from Ferranz, to chain us in. As if we had heard the terrifying roar of the Garouvyrn as He took His residence in the forest with His army of mist beasts.

Now, this life was all we knew, subsisting and surviving on our own ingenuity and strength. Flowers struggling to seek the cracks of light through the shadows.

Karlyn returned as dusk settled and the low growls of the mystvyrns built to a rumbling crescendo. My husband now of six years, he was a designated Protector of Viedafleur, tasked with patrolling the streets and surveying the forest. He was often employed at night, a ready guard against any possible attack. But all Protectors were safe within their homes tonight; none could stand against the mystvyrns and survive. Our only hope of safety was to bar ourselves away within the walls of our cottages.

He hugged me tightly, kissed my brow. Is everything secure?

I nodded into his sturdy frame. While the stew had simmered over the fire, I'd scrutinized each of the five rooms that made up our single-level dwelling, securing the planks of wood on the windows, reinforcing all exits and entrances with tables and dressers. The normal precautions.

Satisfied, I had turned at last to caring for my daughter, Amazelle. She had come, a gift of joy, into our wretched lives only fourteen months ago. She didn't know the terrors of our world yet, but she would one day. For now, I envied her her ignorance and wished too that it might be everlasting. I dreamed that she might never know these horrors as we did. But it was a fool’s hope to imagine a day when the curse would be lifted from our village.

We ate quickly, then retreated to our bedroom where Amazelle lay asleep in her crib. I’d fed her earlier and now she rested unawares while our house trembled around us, shaken by the sonorous growls.

The single window was firmly shuttered up and the door was barred, a cabinet shoved against it for good measure. Though we knew these barricades should protect us as they always had, we dared not sleep, alert through the evening, waiting for the dawn. We lit only a single candle, a flame too imperceptible to breach the barrier of boarded windows.

The sun had slipped away long ago, and the mystvyrns came with the night.

They prowled through the streets, wolf-like creatures twice the size of a man. I had never seen one, but I could imagine their likeness clearly in my mind. The stories my mother and father had imparted to me brought their nightmarish figures to life.

The image of their monstrosity haunted me as the mystvyrns lumbered, panted, and howled erratically beyond our fortified walls.

There was something about this night, some sense crawling beneath my skin that true peril would come to us. Intuition was a name for it, but I preferred the term my mother had always used in its place: cosmic resonance.

I wrapped my arms around myself, chills settling deep beneath my skin. Karlyn’s strong arms clasped me, pulled me into his chest. I stayed there in his embrace, the warmth of his devotion easing my fear.

Sometimes feelings were just that.

Sometimes they were more.

Claws dug into the logs that formed our house.

Karlyn leapt up and wrenched the crossbow free from its fastened post upon the wall. He levelled it at the window and held it steady, expectant.

I scrambled over the edge of our bed. I hauled Amazelle up out of her crib and clutched her in my arms.

The snarls and roars of the frustrated beasts echoed through the room as if they surrounded us on all sides.

Amazelle stiffened and stirred in my arms. Her bleary eyes blinked up at me, dazed.

I soothed her with gentle murmurings even as my heart drummed madly in my chest. Holding her ever closer, I retreated behind the shield of Karlyn’s broad frame.

Should we run?

He shook his head, a nearly imperceptible gesture. His calloused finger rested unmoving on the trigger of the bow, his attention unshaken.

I slid my dagger free from my belt. My hand was not as calm as my husband's, my grip on the hilt trembling. I had never wielded the weapon before, but I would, I could, for the sake of my family.

The wood chipped away under the efforts of the mystvyrns, splintering. Debris gushed from the wound as thick claws carved through the wall, and night bled in with their terrible cries.

After three hundred years of teasing our fear, these mist beasts were to manifest their horrible wrath.

A large paw broke through the wall, its razor claws gleaming in the light of our flickering flame.

Karlyn loosed a bolt.

A high-pitched yelp rented the night. A chorus of howls rose in its wake, seeping with frustration and rage. The sound pierced my heart like the blade of the dagger I held.

The paw retreated, but the attack was just beginning.

Something rammed into the wall. The room shifted, the roof trembling, bending, as if it would cave in and collapse atop us.

I swallowed the scream in my throat. Crouching on the floor, I wrapped myself around my baby.

An earth-shattering crash resounded somewhere in the distance.

Amazelle cried out beneath me, her small voice a pitiful call of confusion and fear.

Shh, Ama, shh, I whispered to her, rocking her as I waited for the world to crumble and end.

The expected destruction didn’t come. The room stilled. All was silent, an eerie hush soaked with tension.

We waited, Karlyn, Amazelle, and I, for the danger to come again, for the attack to be renewed. Moments passed, but the uneasy silence kept. Until a terrible, shrill sound split the air in two. A frightened, feral cry as a wounded animal facing its death.

Karlyn darted to the door and shoved at the cabinet. His muscular arms needed no help from me to displace it. I leapt up anyway, not to aid him, but to halt him. I gripped the edge of the cabinet, held it firmly in place. If you step outside, they will kill you.

Karlyn hesitated. He looked once towards the barricaded window, then back at me. Someone needs help. He pushed again at the cabinet. I couldn’t hold it against his determined strength.

I placed myself instead as a barricade between him and the door. I will not let you risk your life.

But that is my duty, he said gently. His arms wrapped around me, lifted me off the ground, out of his way. I weighed nothing to him; my body was as useless to stop him as my words.

Stay here, he ordered, and rushed off.

I didn't obey. I pursued him as far as the threshold of our entrance, calling after him, begging him to stop, to stay for his daughter’s sake.

He jerked to a halt. His chest heaved and rattled with a defeated sigh. He would stay. For our daughter.

Beyond our door, howls pierced the stillness once more.

For that night, we stood there, my Karlyn and I, armed with crossbow and dagger. The mystvyrns did not disturb us again. My family had been spared.

Another’s had not.

Chapter Two

Mariana

THE FIRST LIGHT OF dawn broke, spilling in through the tiny cracks in the shutters.

Karlyn wrenched the door open. Wait here, he ordered, and dashed out into the street. But the threat of the mystvyrns’ wrath had ended with the perilous night, and I wouldn't be contained. Hope swept in with the sunbeams, filling me with courage.

I sprang from our home. Turning left, I stumbled, nearly fell, overcome by the sight there.

A great vine, the size of the mightiest oak trunk, had emerged from the forest with the mystvyrns and crushed our neighbour's house, splitting it in two.

I could offer no aid while Amazelle slept in my arms, only watch as our neighbours congregated around the devastated cottage to rummage through the rubble.

They dragged three people out of the ruined house. My heart swelled as cries rang out, They’re alive! Fetch a cart! In this confined village, we knew each other well. We were just as much family as we were neighbours.

The youngest boy wrenched free of the wreckage was Ruppert. One of the students in my charge, he was a vibrant boy who often lost the light of day staring out at the mountains, dreaming of the day when he might scale them to freedom. It eased my heart to know that there was still a chance for him to succeed.

A large bay horse hauled a cart up the path. Ruppert and his parents were carried onto it and pulled away to be examined by our town’s physician.

Karlyn spotted me wavering in the distance and ran to my side. His tanned hands were dark with dirt and mud and blood.

I cut myself trying to clear the debris, he reassured me as I ran my free hand over his palm. You should go home, get some rest. The children will look to you for answers soon.

With the terror wrought in the night, I didn't trust that I would have any students in my care this day. For the one that might come, I would be there. While my husband and our village rebuilt what had been lost, I would hold to normalcy and continue my instructional duties.

We were nothing if not resilient.

RAIN FELL TO CLEANSE our village.

Later that morning, I trudged through the glistening, emerald grass, cheeks flushed, chestnut locks damp and curling beneath my hood. Sodden as the ground undertow, I followed the familiar path between patches of vegetable and herb gardens, to the heart of the village, and out again past the lake where the rain danced in ripples upon its surface.

The schoolhouse stood at the edge of the forest's southern border. My students frolicked on the lawn. The building loomed over them, a peeling cobalt blue with a red thatched roof. The youth of Viedafleur waved at me, laughing, rejoicing in the downpour. They inspired my spirit to feel and see the rain as a renewal of life that painted the world in a vibrant palette of emboldened colours.

The night's events had not left any lingering mark on them. Not on the surface, anyway. Their innocence swept over me, enchanting me. I gathered up my skirts and dashed towards them. For a moment, I was eight again, yearning to run straight to the horizon and beyond, chasing the clouds as far as they dared me to.

I slowed as I reached my youthful charges. Get inside before you catch cold, I said, twenty years older again, the voice of reason.

They followed me into the confines of the schoolhouse. Water pooled around our feet, staining the already decrepit wooden floor. Chatter filled the cramped one-room building, echoing in an amicable din as the children shook off their soaked cloaks.

There were twenty-eight pupils in my care on the best days. I counted only seven sopping heads. It was more than I had expected considering the night's attack.

Slipping my cloak off, I felt damp and sticky in the close quarters of the stifling room. Derick. Eryll. Open the windows, please.

Yes, Ma'am. The two eldest boys leapt to the task.

I searched the faces and blinked twice at the sight of Ruppert. His head was wrapped with bandages, his face red and swollen. Are you well enough to be here? I asked him. Don't your parents—

We're fine, Miss Mariana. Theroux patched us up, he replied, waving away my concern. And Gasconne's family has taken us in while we rebuild our home.

Gasconne, the youngest child in my care, bounded into the seat beside Ruppert. He was tall for his twelve years, but bore his youth in his ruddy, muddy cheeks and wide-eyed wonder.

What shall we do today, then? I asked as I took my place at the front of the room.

Would you tell us a story? Ruppert suggested promptly, his desires always on the tip of his tongue.

A murmur of assent rippled through the room like a wave in a pond.

I reached into my satchel for the book of classic fables that I never left home without. The golden sprayed edges were frayed and faded, the ebony cover worn and tattered from use. Even the spine was in disrepair, barely hanging on by the threads that had first woven it together. The title inscribed in silver script was no longer intact, letters erased over time to read as gibberish to the unknowing eye.

Which story would you like to hear? I asked.

A clap of thunder shook the schoolhouse and a collective gasp echoed in its wake. I listened for the sound of another cottage succumbing to the trembling world, but there was no crash to justify my paranoia.

Through the uncertain stillness that followed the rumbling roll, a small voice piped up. Tell us about the Garouvyrn. Gasconne stared up at me through falling hair, eyes round and curious, wanting for knowledge.

What more can I tell you that you don’t already know? These children knew of the Garouvyrn, as all who lived in Viedafleur did. But knowing what He was or that He was, was not the same as knowing Him.

Well, it’s just... Gasconne’s voice was a squeak of timidity. But he swallowed whatever uncertainty he had and pressed on. We know, but we don’t understand. Why has He cursed us? What did we do to make Him so angry?

Do not speak of the Garouvyrn. To speak of evil is to call it upon us. That was what the Elders of our town said, ordered really, purveyors of superstition as they were.

After the events of the night before, it would be better to speak of rebuilding our community, of taking caution in the face of a growing danger. Better to silence the inquisitiveness brewing around me. That would be the wise choice. The expected one.

Miss Mariana?

Another clap of thunder shook the schoolhouse. I took it as a sign. Perhaps the wrong one. No one really knows, I spoke slowly. It’s been three hundred years. A lot of the story we know now is only a piece of the truth.

Does He even exist? Ruppert asked. No one’s seen Him in years.

Papa says He does, Nell quipped. She swung her hair over her left shoulder. And if we went into the woods, He and His mystvyrns would devour us.

Voices rose and filled the small room with a discordant and unintelligible ruckus.

One at a time. I basked in their eagerness, in danger of being swept up in it. Caution, I warned myself. Curiosity was only beneficial if matched with wariness. What are the stories you know?

Eryll raised his hand, taking charge as he always did—he was the oldest of the gang at ten-and-six. My parents say that He’s a monstrous figure with horns and fangs. He lost His heart long ago, sold it to an enchantress in exchange for eternal life.

Nell spoke up next. He gave life to the mystvyrns in the darkness of His heart and will use His army to destroy us.

If any trespass on His land, Derrick added, their lives are forfeit. That’s why we’re never to go there. That’s why no one’s seen Him. It’s forbidden.

Their words echoed the warnings passed down in Viedafleur from one generation to the next, warnings that relied upon vilification and fear-mongering. It was all done to protect us from the forest and the monsters that lurked within it, but well-intentioned as these warnings were, they were chains that didn’t allow for questions or consideration of another way, a different truth.

But He hasn’t destroyed us, Gasconne said. Three hundred years and we’re still here. The mystvyrns haven’t killed anyone in decades. And since none of us have seen Him, how can we be sure He’s real? What if the mystvyrns work alone? What if they always have? Gasconne asked with a wisdom that went beyond his youth.

I couldn't resist the broad smile that spread across my lips. His inquisitive mind did him credit. There were some in Viedafleur who spoke of more than just the cautions expected by our Elders, who knew fragments of a fuller history of the Garouvyrn. My parents, now long gone to their final resting, had entrusted that story to me. It was my turn to impart it the same.

You know of the Great Darkness. Of the castle that fell from the sky. Of how the long days without the sun brought snow and a terrible bitterness to consume all that was warm. Of how summer came again, but never with the gentle heat and flourishing it had before. But do you know of what happened when the men of our village met with the Garouvyrn for the first time?

He chased them from His castle, and threatened their lives should they ever come to His home again, Derrick replied, echoing his earlier answer.

There is truth in that, but that story is incomplete.

Incomplete? Ruppert leaned forward. He wasn’t the only one.

As I spoke the words my parents had once spoken to me, I felt their presence with me. It was as if they were standing beside me, hands on my shoulders, encouraging me, supporting my decision to share these words now with these seven boys and girls.

The men found, deep within the forest, a ruined castle firmly rooted in the dirt and stone. As if it had always stood there. They searched within it for life, calling as they wandered through the derelict corridors and neglected chambers, and at last discovered—

The Garouvyrn! Derrick broke the narrative with a loud cry that caused the others to start in their seats.

I pursed my lips to hinder the smile that meant to creep across them. There was no need for me to chastise Derrick. His comrades did it well enough.

"You’re terrible!"

"Don’t do that!"

"That wasn't funny!"

I waited for their accusations to fade to a natural end. They tried to kill Him. They attacked first. He fought back and could have destroyed them all so easily, for though they were greater in number, His strength was worth ten men. But He spared their lives and offered a treaty of peace. That neither trespass upon the land of the other. If any were to break those terms, their lives would be forfeit. The Garouvyrn’s as well as ours.

I paused, hoping for a clap of thunder to punctuate the silence, but none came.

So, are the mystvyrns in His control? Gasconne said. Or is He in theirs?

My parents had believed that the Garouvyrn would not harm us, that He was not in command of the beasts of the mist. They believed too that there would be a day when we would find the courage to escape this village and forge a path up the perilous mountain range. It might not happen in my lifetime, but it could happen for these children, if they kept to wondering and didn't lose themselves to complacent dread.

What does it matter? Ruppert demanded, his tone a sting of ire. In a lower, conspiratorial voice, he added, We should kill Him.

I saw in him, heard in his words, the moment when the boy became a man. When his innocence was devoured by the knowledge of life’s perils. His safety had been shattered in the night with his cottage. His youth had been lost too.

The air around me trembled, as if it too were troubled by this transformation. Do not make me regret speaking of this, I warned him. Warned them all. There is too much we don’t know.

But we could try to reach Him, Nell suggested. To reason with Him.

Yes! Gasconne exclaimed.

For all the hope I held for a different future, I didn't want it at the expense of my young charges’ lives. My heart thudded madly, afraid of their tenacity. Not now. Not on your own. I met each of the seven pairs of eyes, my arms folded firmly over my chest, imploring caution. You must not go into the woods.

They promised to obey, but they couldn’t alleviate my rising panic. I had seen the spark of intrigue come alive in their eyes.

But it was too late to take back what had been said.

Chapter Three

Mariana

I SLEPT, CRADLED IN Karlyn's arms, at peace for the first time in seven days.

A pounding sound roused me from it, jerking me awake. Someone, or something, was banging against our door.

Amazelle released a shrill yowl. Karlyn shot out of bed with a curse and ordered me to wait there. He retrieved the crossbow and dashed into the hall.

I flung my body instinctively in front of my baby. She was unhurt, only shaken by the shouts and bangs echoing from the front door.

I lifted her