From the Darkness: The Akrhyn Series, #3

By Eve L. Mitchell

Eve L. Mitchell's books are recommended for fans of authors such as Jennifer L. Armentrout, Sarah J. Maas, Annette Marie, Karen Lynch and Anne Bishop.

 

As the Darkness threatens, the Drakhyn become bolder in their attacks, no longer content to remain in the shadows.

Akrhyn are divided. Factions within the Great Council are becoming ruthless in their endeavours to rid the authority of Lycans and Vampyres.

At the Vampyre Court, the Made are isolated and under attack with no promise of aid. A prophecy has been revealed, formed by fate and bound at birth. A Castor so powerful it is feared by some that the Flame will consume him. A Mentor and an Alpha must protect him from danger…and himself.

Two Heirs of one House. One a Blade. One a Stone. Their father the Forger who must hone them both for the battle ahead.

The weapons of the Storm need to be ready.

War is here.

The epic fantasy series concludes in this stunning finale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eve L. Mitchell
• Release date: Mar 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781838055776

Book preview

Tegan ran through the woods. She knew better than to look over her shoulder to see if they were behind and if so, how far. Her father had taught her well, but still the need to know was strong. Sure-footed, despite the uneven ground, she ran. Her hood had dislodged as she sprinted, and her long braid flew behind her. The backpack she carried slapped against her back in rhythm to the light sound of her feet as she crossed the forest floor. Her breath was short, and sweat trickled down her back as she pumped her legs faster. Almost there , she thought as she lowered her head for the final burst.

Tegan saw glimpses of Headquarters in front of her through the trees, and she knew she just needed to get onto the grounds. Hearing a snap behind her, Tegan changed course drastically and aimed for the nearest low-hanging branch. Running at full speed, she jumped, bringing her knees up to prepare for the impact. Her feet bounced off the tree trunk, and using it as if it were a springboard, she leapt for the branch, her body twisting in the air as she flew towards the neighbouring tree with her arms outstretched. The limb cut across her chest, almost winding her, but swinging her legs up, she used the continued momentum of her body to swing her upwards. With a smirk at the thought of those behind her and their reaction, Tegan ran lightly over the branches, and very much like her first introduction to the Northern Headquarters, she jumped effortlessly over the high fence.

Unlike her initial jump all those months ago, this time the fence’s spells were reinforced, and Tegan narrowly escaped a painful descent as she threw the nullifying powder at the fence. Dropping down, she carried on into a forward roll and smoothly followed through the manoeuvre to her feet, her short swords raised and ready.

"Are you freaking kidding me? Sloane shouted as he stood and looked at her disbelievingly, his arms raised in disbelief. What in the name of shade was that?"

Tegan grinned at her cousin as he stared back at her in frustration. Did I win?

Of course you won, Marcus said with an amused shake of his head as he looked down the driveway to see the other two competitors running towards the gate. "Not sure if you won fairly, but you won."

"You said first one on the grounds. Tegan narrowed her eyes as she watched the other two running towards them. I’m first on the ground."

Pity your ego isn’t.

Tegan turned her head to look at Zahra. I did not know you would be joining us today.

Neither did I. Zahra scowled at Marcus, who ignored her, while Sloane shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

"You jumped and flew over the fence? Michael protested as he pulled up alongside them. He looked at Tegan as she stretched her muscles out, and he started doing the same. Seriously, no one’s gaining extra points because you decided to be theatrical."

Tegan snorted at his words, while Sloane laughed out loud. Moments later, Salem joined them and looked at Marcus. She swan dived over the fence?

She did.

Salem looked at Tegan critically. "Well…I didn’t stipulate how to get here first, I suppose."

Tegan beamed at her brother at Salem’s words. Can we not encourage her? Michael mumbled as he pulled his leg behind him in a stretch.

You ran it two minutes faster, Marcus told Tegan as he made a note in his notebook.

Ran? Michael protested again.

Marcus gave a good-humoured sigh. "You completed it two minutes faster."

Winning’s winning. Tegan looked at them all with a smile. What do we do next? she asked Salem expectantly.

Kali sticks in training room four.

Grabbing Michael, Tegan pulled him after her as they both started jogging towards the main entrance. Sloane followed them eagerly, his shout lost on the wind as they gained distance from where the others stood. Salem watched them go before he turned his attention to his daughter, Zahra, and saw her hesitate in following the others.

You joining us today, Zahra? he asked her softly.

Um, yes, she spoke just as quietly. Sloane is going to help me with the throwing stars after you’re finished with Michael and her today.

"Her name is Tegan, and she is your sister. Salem looked his youngest child over. Her pink hoodie hung loose on her small frame, while her washed out grey skinny jeans looked worn and wrinkled. Zahra’s normally shiny platinum curls hung limp and unkept, and her face was drawn and gaunt. Have you eaten today? Are you feeling okay?"

No, dad, she snapped at him suddenly. "And you can just say that I look like shit instead of pretending to care. Zahra barked out a self-depreciating laugh. I got taken out of school, I was attacked by monsters, I’m alienated here because I hate this life, and everyone pities me for being molested by Drakhyn. But they still judge me, because if I was her, I would never have been taken. Movement caught Zahra’s eye, and she turned to watch Kallie walk around the side of Headquarters. Even if I had been her, they would show more respect. Zahra shoved her hands in her pockets. Oh, and my betrothed dumped me. She turned her angry glare to look back at her dad and the Lycan. So, no, I’m not okay." With a disgruntled sigh, she walked reluctantly to the main entrance.

Glad I asked, Salem commented wryly to Marcus, who failed to hide his smile at his friend’s dry humour.

If she spent more time worrying about the war we are all preparing for and less time worrying about what Akrhyn think of her, she would have better energy, Marcus commented as he watched Zahra walk ahead of them.

Should I have let her stay with the humans? Salem asked as the two of them followed into Headquarters.

No. Marcus folded his notebook as they walked. We still don’t know if Zahra was who the Drakhyn wanted. And her school, they knew of her condition…before we did, he added quietly. "She thinks she would be better off there; she would not. Humans are cruel at the best of times. Human teenagers? Merciless. She would not have lasted a day back at her high school."

Salem nodded in agreement even as he struggled to accept that his youngest child had been pregnant. Zahra was spoiled and entitled, and for that, he blamed himself. He had always indulged her. Her desire to live a human life had pained him, but he had accepted that was what she wanted, and it seemed his greatest failing had been letting his daughter have what made her happy. Still he struggled to accept full responsibility, and during Reflection each night, he asked for guidance. Zahra had been so reckless and disrespectful to Sloane, and to him but…more importantly, herself. It left Salem questioning himself and her choices.

He said as much to Marcus, and the Lycan kept quiet. He was known for keeping his counsel close to his chest, and although he listened to his Principal Elder and dear friend, he thought it wise to keep his opinion to himself.

You still keep quiet? Salem noted shrewdly, almost as if he could read the Lycan’s thoughts.

My words would not change what has occurred.

Salem stopped and looked at Marcus. Would they help an old friend who worries they aren’t doing the best thing for their child? he asked pleadingly.

Her brother is losing patience with her wallowing. Tegan avoids her at all costs, Marcus answered heavily. "You try not to upset her, but when you do reprimand her, it’s in regard to a sister she wants no relationship with. Her family are cautious around her, she has no sense of normal. The only one who has not changed how they treat her is, remarkably, Sloane. Marcus shook his head. He dissolved the betrothal, which I think Zahra actually expected, but apart from that, he acts no differently towards her. Marcus looked at Salem, knowing the next words would wound. Her family needs to do the same."

You are different with her, Salem replied defensively as he looked out over the grounds, his exasperation at the situation punctuated with a loud sigh.

I found her, Marcus answered soberly. I don’t think my wolf will ever allow me to be anything but gentle with her.

So I’m handling it wrong. Salem rubbed his hand over his face. "I wish Mikayla were here. She needs her mother, she has always needed her mother."

"You are enough, Salem, you just need to move past the disappointment that you feel."

Pregnant at seventeen, Salem bit out angrily. To a human.

My understanding is that she thought they were incompatible, Marcus answered uncomfortably. She thought since we are immune to human diseases, impregnation was also something her Akrhyn body would be immune to.

Salem stared at Marcus and then turned to the doors of Headquarters. "That’s…ridiculous."

She is seventeen. Which other Akrhyn does she know who have left our community and lived with humans?

She’s seventeen, Marcus, she isn’t stupid! Salem felt his temper rising. Are you sure?

It is what she told me. Marcus put his hand on his friend’s arm, stopping his movements. I would calm yourself before you address this with Zahra.

Salem closed his eyes in annoyance, willing himself to be more composed. I need to ask Michael, he admitted with a rueful shake of his head. I don’t think I can have that conversation with her. Catching the look on Marcus’s face, he realised this is why Marcus had been quiet. "Michael can talk to her about the pregnancy, and I will try my best to be normal."

I suggest you just be honest. Marcus’s comment hung heavy between them as the Lycan walked into Headquarters, leaving the Principal Elder out in the cooling afternoon air.

Salem knew he should follow. He knew he was failing his daughter by being reticent about talking about what had happened to her. He rubbed the back of his neck ruefully as he thought about it. That wasn’t true, he had spoken to her, in great detail about what had happened to her the night she was taken. He had not spoken to her about the human boy she was in a relationship with. He had not spoken to her about how she felt about what happened to her, what she had left behind. Had she even had anything to leave behind? he wondered idly.

They had removed her from the school, but no sooner was she here than her grandmother allowed her to be abducted. The fact that his own mother had recently been compromised and killed was another thing he had yet to face fully. Salem fought another sigh. He was sighing more than an adolescent, and it did not sit well with him. He prided himself on his clear-headedness, his straightforward approach to running his Headquarters and his life, his no-nonsense attitude. Even so, it was well-known to many that it was his children which gave him the greatest joy, but as he stood in the cold afternoon daylight, Salem wondered if he had told them that recently.

Principal Elder? Kallie asked as she approached him. Kallie admired him as she got closer. He was a good-looking male, with his dark hair, deep blue almost violet eye colour, and firm jaw; it was no wonder his offspring were also attractive.

Kallie. Salem smiled at her in welcome. You practicing your archery? he asked as he gestured towards her bow.

Yes, Principal. Kallie half raised her bow. Elder Marcus has added more objectives to my lessons. Kallie stopped herself from rolling her eyes, but Salem gave her a knowing look.

Your father has also added more training to your schedule, Salem reminded her. Commander Bryce has been very vocal in regards to your skill, Kallie. Salem smiled at the young female as she flushed with pleasure at the praise. Your dad is right to be proud of you. I’ve seen your practice sessions; you will be a strong Elite Sentinel for this Headquarters. Salem paused. Of course, where you prefer to guard is your choice, which the Great Council will take into consideration when they assign you.

I would be stationed here, Kallie told him eagerly. My family is here, I have…friends here.

Salem was pleased. He liked to keep the trainees in his own Elite Guard if he could. You seem to have bonded well with my daughter, Salem noted. Tegan needs good friends. Thank you, Kallie.

For what? Liking Tegan? Kallie laughed easily. "Tegan’s easy to like, she has absolutely no pretence and says it exactly like it is. She doesn’t care about who’s what kind of Akrhyn. She’s so open to everyone, it’s—Kallie frowned as she thought of the right word—refreshing."

She is indeed open, Salem agreed with humour as he thought of his daughter’s constant questioning. "A little too open, sometimes."

Well, they always say if you don’t want the truth, don’t ask!

Salem’s humour sobered a little as he glanced at the Headquarters before turning back to the young Akrhyn. Did you need me for anything? he asked, and seeing her face change, he knew exactly why the young female had approached him.

Yes—

If it’s to allow you to patrol, the answer is no. Salem cut her off and carried on when he saw her scowl. You have not passed your final Trial, Kallie.

But I can’t miss when I aim! Kallie exclaimed, holding the bow up as if in proof. I can beat Tegan every single time in throwing knives and the bow.

I know, I’ve heard and— Salem held his hand up to stop her interruptions. "I’ve seen. But tell me, why do you want to be stationed here when you pass your Trials?"

This is the best Headquarters, Kallie answered immediately. And my family, she added on hastily.

"This is the best Headquarters, well, maybe not the best, but it is one of the best because we are strong. We do not—I do not—send Akrhyn on patrol who have yet to pass their final Trials. Kallie’s head dipped down at his words. And your aim is exceptional, Kallie, but I haven’t seen you to be infallible on a moving object yet. Or best one of the Elite in hand-to-hand combat. Salem regarded the young female seriously. Or have you?"

No, Principal Elder.

Salem smiled to himself at her surliness and clasped her shoulder warmly. Keep training, pass your final Trial, and when you do, I will be honoured to welcome you in my Guard. Until then—he dropped his hand as he looked once more to the Headquarters—don’t be so keen to die, there’s been too much death on my watch as it is.

Sorry, Principal Elder.

Salem gave the young female a small smile before he left her and headed into Headquarters, to the training room. As he walked along the corridors, acknowledging the greetings from his fellow Sentinels and Akrhyn, the Three’s Prophecy echoed in his head.

The Mark will fight in the coming war, and he will strike our enemy with his blade made by the forger, honed with the stone. With the alpha and father by his side, he will listen to the mentor, and the power of Velvore will rage through him. Bound to the Raven, the Mark will be. The One does not stop. The One does not falter. The blade must strike true.

He had been trying to train his son and daughter to be what the Prophecy needed them to be, but his conversation with Marcus and Kallie lingered in his mind. Salem hesitated at the door to training room four, his hand on the wooden panel, his thoughts continuing to be elsewhere. He had been honest with the young female Kallie outside. He was always honest, very much like his daughter Tegan, although Salem liked to think he had slightly more tact. His hand dropped from the door as he headed back the way he had come. Taking the stairs to the sleeping quarters, he resolved himself to a hard conversation with his youngest child.

Y ou cannot seriously expect her to get away with that? Sloane goaded his best friend as he watched Michael struggle to get out of Tegan’s punishing hold.

Please, by all means, if you can get her off me, I will surely repay her, Michael replied, his voice tight with strain.

Yield, Tegan demanded as she pressed her knee firmly in between her brother’s shoulder blades. Her thick braid hung over her shoulder, loose strands framing her face as she glanced up to meet Marcus’s gaze. A slight nod from the Lycan and she pushed Michael’s arm further up his back. "Yield," she demanded as he groaned in protest.

Michael? Briony asked from the sidelines. The tall red-haired Sentinel looked apprehensively between him, his sister and the Lycan, Marcus. "Just say yield, she encouraged him. Seriously, I don’t think you’re supposed to be turning purple."

Marcus failed to stifle his laugh at her words, and Sloane gave her an amused wink as he too enjoyed the Heir’s incapacitated difficulty.

Fine! Michael grunted. I yield.

Tegan sprang off his back effortlessly, smoothing her hands over her hair as she swept the loose strands from her face. I win.

"You always win, Michael grumbled as he rolled over onto his back and stared up at his sister. Show me," he demanded as he slowly got to his feet.

Another cheat sheet? Tegan asked as she stooped to pick up her dropped kali stick.

It’s not cheating, Michael said with slight exasperation as he glared at Sloane, who was the one who had taught Tegan the saying. "It’s called teaching."

It’s called cheating, Tegan replied with a derisive snort. "If you can’t learn the technique of breaking the hold yourself and someone has to tell you, it’s called cheating."

Do you even know what teaching means? Sloane asked with amusement from his position against the wall, completely unperturbed by Michael’s glare.

Tegan rolled her eyes at him before pointing to the three younger Sentinels in the room. "Obviously. I teach them every day."

What Michael means, Marcus interrupted them before they squabbled, is that by telling him how to break the hold is not cheating. Who taught you how to break it?

I did, Tegan answered easily. "Father held me in that pose every day for six months before I learned on my own how to break it." Tegan’s look to her brother was pointed.

Okay, so rationally, Michael said as he approached his sister cautiously, "you would be correct in saying that in six or more months, I could learn as you did. But we have a war coming. War, Tegan. I don’t have six months to learn when you know how to do it now."

Tegan frowned as she considered his words and glanced once at Marcus to gauge his thoughts.

Basically, cousin, what we’re trying to say is that we don’t necessarily have to reinvent the wheel if we don’t need to.

Tegan’s attention snapped to her cousin. Who said anything about a wheel?

Ugh, okay, that was a terrible analogy for you. Sloane looked to Marcus for assistance. C’mon, Marcus, Jedi mind trick her.

You have to stop watching so much television, Marcus mumbled. If you put as much energy into your own training as you do watching soap operas, you’d be a better student.

"You cannot, cannot call Star Wars a soap opera," Sloane protested.

It kinda is, Jax mused. He was sitting beside Briony and Gable. Along with Kallie, the four of them had watched over and protected Zahra when she was at the human school, and now along with their normal Sentinel training, they were being given extra lessons with Tegan. It’s often referred to as a space opera.

Sloane looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. Seriously?

Yeah, they even have written articles on it and—

If we could get back to the training lesson, Marcus interrupted them both. Jax dipped his head down at the reprimand as Sloane merely shrugged it off.

And the wheel thing? Tegan reminded Marcus curiously.

He glanced at her once in consternation before he shook his head. "Ignore the wheel thing. You, he said, pointing to Michael, take the position you were in before Tegan subdued you. He turned to Tegan. Talk him through it," he instructed.

He watched the two Heirs, and several moments later, Michael was once again on the floor and Tegan had his arms pinned behind his back, her knee firmly pressing him to the mat. She really did try to tell him, Marcus thought to himself as he took in the scene. Michael was on the ground, grumbling about how she was a terrible teacher, Sloane was laughing openly at them both, Tegan was frowning down at the back of her brother’s head as if she were surprised he was in the position, and the three trainees were providing a running commentary on where Michael went wrong. Marcus felt a pang of longing for the solitude of the woods, and his wolf shifted restlessly within him.

Marcus? Michael’s call brought him back to himself.

Tegan, you were supposed to be on the ground in the hold, Marcus reminded her as he walked over to them.

I don’t understand how I’m not, she admitted in confusion. I talked him through it, she added slightly defensively as she looked up at the Lycan.

Marcus nodded in agreement. You did, Elite, but your actions didn’t follow your words, so while you were saying, ‘Then bring your arm down here,’ Marcus told her as he demonstrated, your own arm was in the position Michael’s should have been. Let’s try another way.

Tegan rose off of her prone brother and stood while Michael rose fluidly to his feet. It’s instinct, he assured his sister as she looked at him guiltily. Your instinct is to act first, talk later.

Tegan, with me, Marcus instructed as he joined them on the mats. Michael, watch.

Marcus adopted a fighting stance, and with a come here gesture, he motioned Tegan towards him. His wolf rumbled in satisfaction as he and Tegan sparred. He had trained with the young Elite several times, and they were always fiercely contested. Even now, as he was supposed to be demonstrating a break of hold, he found himself taking longer to get Tegan in hold. Tegan grinned at him as she dropped low, her leg swinging out and catching the Lycan’s feet, knocking him to the ground.

Marcus was a Lycan though, and simple Sentinel tricks were well-known to him. He was back on his feet within seconds, and dipping low, he caught Tegan’s arm as she extended it in a blow. Smoothly he twisted her around, almost like the lead in a dance as he pulled her towards him. Tegan’s other arm was already reaching behind her as she stretched up and caught the back of the Lycan’s head, and with a sharp pull, bending low, she threw the Lycan over her shoulder. Marcus landed on the mat and rolled swiftly to the right as Tegan brought her knee down to land on his body.

Tegan’s eyes shone with excitement; she loved fighting against the Lycan. He had been trained by her father, and it was almost like she was fighting against him. A momentary pang of sadness almost overwhelmed her, but she was still aware enough to dodge Marcus’s blow. However, her lapse in concentration cost her, and she was too slow to avoid his catch. She found herself on the mat, much as her brother had been earlier with her, and as her peers started to cheer for Marcus, Tegan brought her leg up sharply, her foot striking the Lycan between the shoulder blades even as her head jerked backwards to strike at her captor behind her. It caused a tiny adjustment on Marcus’s hold, but it was enough for the Elite Sentinel to shift her weight onto her hips. Using her core strength, Tegan braced herself and twisted in the hold.

It hurt, she had never not endured the pain as she manoeuvred fluidly from the hold, and with a final kick out catching the Lycan in the face, causing Marcus to lose his balance, she rose and stood breathlessly above him.

By the Ancients, Sloane murmured as he took in his cousin’s appearance. Blood trailed slowly down her cheek from a scratch. She was out of breath and obviously in pain, but still her form was steady and her fists raised, ready to defend…or in Tegan’s case, probably attack.

At ease, Elite, Marcus said as he rose. I have not missed the pain of that hold being broken. He looked over at Tegan and saw her posture relax slightly. I am done, he told her again and saw her shoulders lower a little more.

Now I see how I could not break it, Michael said as he handed his sister a towel for her face. I wasn’t willing to risk the injury, he added as he contemplated his own actions when in the hold previously, or lack of action, he berated himself internally.

If you are ever caught in that hold, you will be killed if you are not willing to risk it all, Tegan answered solemnly. "Every hold, every pin, every capture, you must fight as if it were your last."

Your father was a harsh teacher, Gable said from where he sat.

Tegan spun angrily to look at him. "Is, he is a harsh teacher. That wretched Castor will bring him back to me."

Of course, Elite Sentinel Tegan, my apologies. Gable dipped his head in respect, but Tegan continued to glare at his bowed head.

Tegan, let’s go eat, Sloane suggested, his voice still light and carefree. Then when you’ve regained some energy, you can come back and remind me how woefully inadequate I am in combat against you.

Tegan looked over at him speculatively. Hand to hand?

Sloane bit back his groan. Absolutely, Michael can give me pointers on how to lose. He ducked as Michael threw a kali stick at him, which seemed to lighten the mood.

Tegan nodded as she bent to pick up her hooded jacket. Sounds good. She smiled at her cousin; she knew what he was doing and she appreciated it. And then I will put the trainees through their paces. She ignored the heavy groans of her students.

As she went to put the kali sticks back, she felt the Lycan approach her. Leonid will be found, no matter what, Tegan, he assured her quietly.

Tegan nodded as her hand trembled slightly as she placed the stick back in its holder on the wall. He will, the Castor promised. She didn’t add that Cord had told her he would find her father, and that he would return him to her, whether he was alive or dead. Nor did she mention that she told her bonded mate that he should not return if it were the latter.

Cord sat in the kitchen of the abandoned house and half listened to the droning of the Castor in front of him. Prime Castor Rorik was in a heated argument with an Elite Sentinel from the Headquarters in Moscow. They had been in this abandoned house for the better part of a week, and Cord’s patience was wearing thin.

Well, his patience had been thin before he arrived here. Tegan’s last words echoed in his head, her warning should he fail to find her father doing nothing for his already frayed temper. Cord looked pointedly at Prime Castor Lucas, who was watching Rorik with barely concealed disdain. Prime Castor Garrick merely listened as he ate a meal of bread, dried meat and cheese. Cord’s own food was in front of him, untouched. Again his thoughts drifted to his little tiger. She was already furious with him that she was not to accompany him to Siberia, so when he had—in his defence, he thought he was being encouraging—told her that, dead or alive, he would return her father to her, he had not been prepared for the fury.

What do you mean, dead or alive? Tegan snarled at him as she took a step backwards.

I mean, no matter what, I will return your father to you, Cord replied a little bemusedly at her reaction.

"If my father is dead, which he is not, you propose to just bring me back a body? Tegan glared at Cord angrily, and he prepared himself for the blow he knew she so badly wanted to deliver. Are you suggesting you transport his head separately or will one bag do? Or if he has been burned, are you going to sweep up the ashes and put them in your pouch?"

You’re being dramatic, Cord said with a rumble of frustration.

"Dramatic? I’m being dramatic, Storm? Tegan sneered. Or should I call you the Mark?"

My name is Cord, which you know full well, little tiger, Cord snapped back as the conversation quickly deteriorated. And you’re being ridiculous.

You implied my father is dead.

You’re being blind, that’s why! Cord cried out in frustration. The Sisters said he has fallen, Tegan, they have seen it.

"They said he had fallen, but they said he is in Darkness, they didn’t say he was dead, Tegan replied stubbornly. You will find him, and you will return him to me. You need him as much as I do."

Darkness could mean death, Cord argued even though he knew he shouldn’t make it worse.

Tegan took a further step back from him as if his spoken words were a betrayal. How could you say that? You know my father not. He is mentioned in the Prophecy; he has to be alive.

Cord hung his head as he bit back the reply. To remind his bonded that her father died the day he became one of the Made would not be received well. Cord also had reservations that the part of the Prophecy in regards to the father meant a father to him.

His reflections reminded him that he needed to study the prophecy more, he needed time alone with it and the Texts, but time was something he didn’t currently have.

Castor Ivanov, what are your thoughts? the Elite Sentinel asked him, drawing him out of his quiet contemplation.

My thoughts are that my mate is going to take great pleasure in stringing me up to the nearest tree if I don’t get into the Vampyre Court and return her father to her, Cord said grimly as he picked up a grape from his plate. My thoughts are that I need to prepare, that I need time to do every little thing that I need to do. My thoughts are also that I do not need to contribute to this conversation. You are an Elite Sentinel from one of the most prominent Headquarters. Cord then gestured to Rorik. "He is a mediocre Prime, you know and I know and more importantly Rorik knows that you should be having this conversation with Dark Prime Chernov, who sits in silence because he has too much respect for the Headquarters you represent."

The climate of my homeland makes you even more eloquent than usual, Lucas murmured regretfully.

The climate of your homeland is as inhospitable as my mate will be if I do not get into that Court. Why can’t we break the spell that prevents us from portalling? Cord pushed his plate from him in annoyance. I bear the Mark of Velvore, why am I failing at this simple task? he demanded in frustration.

You bear the Mark, you are not resistant to constraints. Garrick picked up his water glass and took a drink. "The protection spell is strong, and it does not help that it was cast by the Vampyres. Had it been Drakhyn, we could have overcome it by now. We need Council Elder Alexander to discover the origins of the spell. He is the only one outside of the Court itself who would know anything about it."

And he is in Seclusion, Cord snapped angrily, "because the falling of his brethren to the Darkness has warranted him withdrawing from his Council duties to seek Reflection for their actions."

The Vampyres being held under siege have a huge significance to the rest of the Akrhyn, Cord, you know this, Garrick spoke quietly into the heavy silence that followed Cord’s comment in the kitchen.

I know. Cord rubbed a hand over his face. "They said he had fallen. It’s been a week, and I don’t know how long before the Sisters shared that information that Leonid actually fell prey inside the Court. Cord’s head dropped onto his hands. She will not accept his death."

Any child will grieve the passing of a parent, Rorik said dismissively. We are here for more than the survival of Leonid Novikov.

I’ll remember that when we return to the Northern Headquarters and watch as the little tiger removes your head when you tell her that retrieving her father was not your priority, Cord scoffed as he stood. Elite Sentinel... he faltered. I forget your name, my apologies.

Elite Sentinel Kraver, Mark, the Elite replied reverently.

Cord or Castor Lebedev is fine, Cord said distractedly. Tell us, no, tell Dark Prime Chernov again how many Drakhyn stand outside the Court?

As the Elite Sentinel relayed the figures, the completely overwhelming numbers of Drakhyn that were stationed outside the Vampyre Court, Cord felt the numbing disbelief rise once more. He knew why Rorik was sceptical; if he didn’t have the Mark of Velvore on his back, he would have been as incredulous as Rorik.

Drakhyn didn’t mobilise. Drakhyn didn’t form regiments. Drakhyn didn’t have armies.

Cord needed the Texts. He needed history. He needed one who had been alive the last time a bearer of the Mark of Velvore had existed. He didn’t know what he was doing. Every day, he felt the Flare burn brighter within him, the power called to him continuously, demanding that he try it, test it, taste it. Pushing the hunger to try down, he looked up and caught Garrick watching him. Cord looked away guiltily. His Crimson Cast Prime could see past his walls too easily. Cord did not have time for a mental breach, especially if it was his own.

"And they haven’t moved

Reviews for From the Darkness

[Geneva Goodwin · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I adored it!! Couldn't put it down and didn't want to. A gem of a boof and series. Cannot recommend it enough. I just finished the trilogy for the first time but believe I will read it many more times in my life.