Nightvision: Dawn’s Sacrifice

By C. H. Knyght

A ravenous world-eater. A powerless prince. A battle of magic and elementals.
Now isn’t the time for love or fear.

Dante is prince of the wolf shifters. Untested, he fights desperately to save his people and prove himself worthy. The forge of war is not how he wanted to try his mettle.
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Using forbidden death magic, Prince Kobrona corrupts the Mother, the heart of their world to unleashed a being of ravenous hunger. If Dante fails to stop him, their world, his home, will be consumed. Kobrona has magic and an enslaved army at his command.

Dante cannot win alone.

If you love epic battles of magic and elementals. Click now to read this powerful conclusion to the Nightvision Trilogy.

Kings and Queens, mythical beasts, wild magic, runic spells, soul-bound weapons.
The Mother's Realm grows from the great roots of a world tree born of magic, ruled by numerous shapeshifters, roamed by ferocious elementals it is a land full of adventure and turbulence. The fantastical world of Nightvision was dreamed up when C. H. Knyght was young and is finally realized in print.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. H. Knyght
• Release date: Jan 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005004194

C. H. Knyght

C. H. Knyght lives in Minnesota next door to her family with her critters: two dogs, a cat, and a horse. Her library takes up most of her home with eleven bookshelves and counting. (She dreads ever moving for this reason.) When she’s not writing, she’s drawing.Magic is what you choose to create of it.

Book preview

Nightvision Trilogy

Book Three

To my family and friends who’ve encouraged my writing habit over the years it took for Nightvision to exist, thank you.

Nightvision Dawn’s Sacrifice – C. H. Knyght

© 2020 C. H.

www.chknyght.com

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

First Edition, 2020

Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

ISBN: 9798619537888

Imprint: Independently published

Cover art and design by INKmagine and Create Studio

Edited by C. Halverson, Michelle Dunbar, and Charlie Knight

Prologue

Prince Ezai Kobrona

Tendrils of shadow, black as his own scales, twined through Ezai’s fingers in a parody of a caress. For an instant, he wanted to fling the shade away, to scrub the subtle itch from his skin. He rubbed a thumb over the curve of the darkness. Sensing his disquiet, the shade coiled up his arm to drape around his shoulders and whisper. It was a voice in the depths of his subconscious, reminding him of the power, unlike any other, thrumming through his veins. His shaking resolve firmed. With the shade and the Kyomu’s guidance, he was capable of anything. Once the Kyomu was released, the blood staining his hands wouldn’t matter anymore.

A constant chill permeated his bones. Ezai tipped his face to the sunlight like a withered flower attempting to soak up the warmth, but the radiating heat no longer penetrated his scales. The shade muffled all sensation. He barely felt another’s touch. Not that any dared caress him; even his chevaliers stayed at a distance of fearful respect. But it always seemed something lurked on the outskirts of his senses, something more than the shade coiled beneath his skin.

He’d gone searching for the history of bonding elementals. After most of his family died of the fever—father, mother, sisters both younger and older—Ezai had struggled to balance his people’s needs while dealing with grief. It was a position he’d never prepared for, never expected to hold; the crown had been due to his sister. He’d broken under the weight, shattered by grief and responsibility. An elemental bond would’ve proven the Mother’s acceptance of his reign and given him the power needed to rule. Instead, he’d found the crystal, and the shade trapped inside the stone offered a better option.

Prince Kobrona. The messenger stood respectfully in the door of his tent, awaiting permission to approach.

Ezai glared at the interruption of his thoughts, dark as they were. What? If it was trivial….

The messenger flinched, burying the motion in a deep bow. We have the Capra children.

Acceptable reason to disturb the quiet. As Ezai uncoiled from his meditation, the voices in his head hissed with excited approval, one more step towards success and freedom.

The shade manifested around him, a dark cloak, and the messenger paled. After Ezai had cracked the crystal, the shade had anchored itself to him, feeding off his magic like a parasite. Without the fuel of the death magic replenishing his stores, the shade would have sucked him to a dry husk. He was due a sacrifice today actually, to offset the continual drain.

His chevaliers, as stoic as the statues his family was renowned for, moved to escort him as he stepped out. Ezai wondered what it would have been like if they’d been friends before they’d taken up the chevalier bond. They’d been his sister’s chevaliers and grudgingly kneeled before him when she passed. They’d also been the first he’d corrupted to his will.

Behind the shade’s rasp in the back of his head, the greater being—the Kyomu—whispered of its desires and promises. Together, the crystal and the shade linked him to the Kyomu trapped inside the Mother’s embrace. The Mother was at her weakest, and he at his strongest; soon, the Kyomu would be free. Every drop of blood spilled tipped the balance in his favor.

The sheer cliffs of the Capra’s home overwhelmed the sky. Their white clay homes clung to the mountain face like mud-swallow nests. Vine bridges strung over the gaps, coaxed to grow as directed over generations until old and new growths made for a nigh unbreakable trail.

Two younglings huddled together at the feet of his men, where they’d been dropped. The boy, a glaring teen, curled his arms protectively around the younger girl. Who are you?

Ezai gestured. Send the runner. The usual. If they don’t surrender, I’ll start with the boy. One of his people peeled out of the group and trotted across the grass plains towards the looming cliff.

Forked tongue sliding out between his lips, Ezai scented the air. The younglings reeked of fear, as well they should; their deaths were imminent. Not immediate, if their family surrendered, but soon.

Tears flowed down the girl’s cheeks as she sobbed. Something twinged beneath the numbness in Ezai’s heart. Shame? The shade in his ear was quick to drown it out with reminders of power and acceptance.

The children were tied to the wagon while they waited for a response. It was a mostly working system, only failing on the Canidea when they escaped, and the Rattleon when they’d caught his men and fought brutally. The other families had come quietly rather than risk the lives of their children.

The response came from a marching contingent of Capra’s hoisting their weapons of choice. His runner limped, bound in their midst. His face was swollen and purple, and his arm was bent the wrong way to meet the knotted rope around his wrists—broken. They were going to be stubborn about it, it seemed. Well, they were goats. He should have expected nothing less.

They dragged his runner forth and shoved the man to the ground. Unable to catch himself without landing on his broken arm, the runner fell like a log, flattening the stalks of ripe wheat.

Return the children! the man in the lead snapped, a chevalier if Ezai made a guess. They’d kept the royals out of reach. The hard way it was. He had laid out the terms, and they had failed to meet them. Unsheathing his dagger, Ezai strode over to the two children.

No! the girl cried. Ezai hauled the boy up, the teen kicking and writhing. The girl lunged and sank her dull teeth into Ezai’s arm, as though she was a predatory shifter, not a grass-eater. He shook her off. Angling the dagger, he plunged it up beneath the boy’s ribcage. The onlookers shouted. Blood splattered the girl’s face as he yanked the blade free. The boy crumpled, crimson bubbling between his lips and dribbling down his chin.

Ezai pointed the stained dagger at the contingent. "You’ve heard the terms. Surrender, or she’s next.

While the Capra’s gibbered, the shade reached out with tendrils and tasted the girl’s tears. It hissed and jerked away as though stung.

Ezai flinched as the Kyomu laughed across the connection. This one’s death will be sweet, the ancient being muttered.

Chapter One

Dante

The endless shifting sands were hard to walk on. Their Jacklyn guides trotted easily over the surface, their lighter weight carrying them over the tops. Despite the webbed paws of his wolf shift, Dante sank a couple inches into the heated earth. Not difficult at first, but every step demanded more energy to lift him back out.

Only the slim hope he nursed in his heart kept Dante’s head up. The hope that he could actually be of use to his people and stop Prince Kobrona from unleashing the Kyomu and destroying the balance.

In their last couple of days before leaving the library, he had read through nearly as many books as Keer, only his focus had been slightly different. He’d skimmed every book there about the Mother’s Test. Before the general decline of magic and forgetting of some of the bloodline traits, the Tests had been different. A new royal ascending the throne, prince or princess, had gone out on a journey of discovery. Whether the elemental came to them or they went to the elemental, many Tests were completed during this walkabout. It was typically outside the borders of their own lands—from what he’d gathered anyway—as if designed to present only yourself to the elemental, not the Heart, or the people you ruled. Somewhere in the shroud of history, they’d lost this precious knowledge.

The very idea kept him on alert, and magic funneling into his eyes in hopes of spotting the elusive creatures by the subtleties of their magic. There had to be several between here and the Mother.

The journey should all be straight and downhill from here, gaining them time despite the distance. They just had to get the heart of their world before Prince Kobrona unleashed the Kyomu. They had to save the Mother.

If he found his elemental along the way. Funny how, when you didn’t want one, they seemed to be everywhere, but now that he was actively searching for one, they weren’t to be seen.

Walking ahead Keer listed sideways, staggering, before looking around to see if anyone had noticed the moment of weakness. His green eyes met Dante’s and his ears lowered in guilt.

Dante amended his to-do list, adding: keep his pack alive and on the move. Break time, he barked. He shifted and pulled out his canteen for a long drink. The others gathered around, Barin and Zazz backtracking. They didn’t seem winded, but they didn’t question the stop.

Unlike another.

Vendel snarled. It’s barely midmorning. Why are we stopping now? He bristled, canines flashing.

Dante stifled a sigh. The Lupinic shifter’s temper had been nasty since the numbness of shock passed, leaving an inflamed wound of grief for Erica. Vendel lashed out in all directions, heedless of the hurt left in his wake. Despite his understanding, Dante’s patience was waning as was everyone else’s. Tristan did his best to stay between them as a verbally-bruised buffer.

Because I’m thirsty, and some of us are still recovering, Dante said.

Keer cast a narrow-eyed look at him. Dante raised a knowing eyebrow. Keer scowled but crouched and retrieved a vial of medicinal sludge to drink. It had to be bad then. Keer was all for making Dante follow healer’s orders, but utterly recalcitrant when it came to obeying them himself. For him to take the medicine without prodding meant he was in agony. Healer Matau had resupplied Keer with the pain brew before they’d left the library, to ease the blinding headaches remnant from his injury in the tunnel collapse.

Vendel grumbled but subsided with a sneer. He stomped off, kicking up dust while the others took the chance to sit down in the thin shade of the spiny cacti littering the terrain.

Sorry, Prince Dante, Tristan muttered. I should go after him.

Mysti caught Tristan by the arm. Sit down and breathe a minute. He’ll be back. He knows you are here for him, Tristan. Hovering won’t soothe his grief.

Sighing, Tristan obeyed. He sipped at his water, rolling the canteen morosely between his palms

Dante forced himself to cap the canteen before he drained it. They should meet up with the river again soon—it took a far more meandering path through the desert—but he’d learned the hard way to spread out water usage, a lesson he would never forget.

Resting, Dante propped his elbows on his knees, trying to project calm. He was antsy to keep moving, but Keer needed time for the medicine to take effect; he’d barely survived the head injury. A hard line of pain clenched Keer’s jaw. Dante refused to let Keer drive himself into the ground when he’d almost lost his heart brother.

Keer didn’t have the same idea. He got up and brushed the sand off his butt. He tipped his head to indicate the drooping bulk of Vendel returning. We are all here. Let’s go. He kicked Dante’s leg at his frown. Stop it. I’m fine. I’m not bleeding or anything.

No, he’d just split his skull wide open, and it was only to the Mother’s grace that he’d survived. Keer had flipped the part of his hair, but the shaved patch of scalp peeked through, exposing the ugly knots from the stitches that’d held his brains in while the healers coaxed the skull to piece itself back together. It hadn’t been long enough. At home, Healer Gracia would have bound Keer to the bed to keep him still and bored out of his mind. Would that Dante could enforce the bedrest Keer needed. And that Healer Gracia was still alive to demand it. She’d been the first death in Ookamimori that Kobrona had to answer for.

Ignoring Dante’s dismay, Keer shifted and trotted off.

Guess we’re off again, Derrick said as they scrambled to gather themselves back up. When this is over, I’m gonna sleep for like a week.

***

They moved in between the extreme swings of the desert temperatures. Stopping in the worst of the day’s heat, they rested beneath a gauzy sheet of fabric propped up on two sticks to block the sun’s baking rays. They scooped rocks and sand over the other end of the fabric to anchor it down, making a lean-to.

Curled up at the edge of their cover, Nakai stared blankly out into the expanse. Dante combed his fingers through his hair. At some point during their stay in the library, she had grown distant. Had his handling of the prisoner changed her view of him?

He couldn’t blame her if it had. The whole experience had left him out of sorts. He’d tortured an already tormented man. He couldn’t go back and do it differently, he didn’t know if he would; they’d needed to know everything the soldier knew. Dante had learned more than he wanted to know. Kobrona left death in his wake. He’d thought Nakai accepting of, if not comfortable with, the choices made but perhaps not. Understandable.

Dante sighed and sprawled to wait out the heat. What else was there to do?

***

The next day brought a dry wind that dried out Dante’s lolling tongue and cracked his nose.

We are going to have to take shelter, Barin announced. The winds are picking up too much.

We haven’t reached the river yet, Dante said. His second canteen only had a third of the precious liquid left, despite the rationing. A sense of panic shivered across his nerves. I thought we were going to push through today?

Zazz shook her head, beaded braids swinging. We can’t. At this rate, we’ll have a sand storm before midday, and it’ll only get worse as the heat does. You’ve been blessed to have avoided one this long. Out here, it’s only a matter of time.

How did the Mother’s lands vary so vastly? Dante didn’t understand, though he knew their lands were all different, suited to the families living there.

Letting go of his protests, Dante trusted their guides. What do we need to do?

You cannot actually be stopping over some wind! Vendel exploded. We have a duty! Prince Kobrona isn’t going to sit on his ass because of a breeze. How many more people are you going to let get killed over this?

Stipes and Mysti drew up. Dante waved them off. I am not letting anyone get killed. I have done everything I swore to do to protect my family and save my people.

Yeah, and what about us, then? Not like we are so special to be yours. Is that why Erica died? You were too busy defending her, he jabbed at Nakai, your lady love, to bother with the rest of us? What about Roxi? Hans and Ivan?

Dante growled. Squaring his shoulders and feet, he met Vendel’s eyes. "Their deaths lay at Ezai Kobrona’s feet, and his alone. I grieve for them as I grieve for my mentor, Calume, and my childhood healer, Gracia. Nakai mourns her chevaliers, as Saarah and Faar grieve for their family. We all carry loss. And I say we stop here because Zazz and Barin say to