Shadows: The Lissae Series, #2.5

By R. Lennard

His choice could change the very fabric of the Realms...

 

The most feared being to walk the Dark Realms was once a mere hatchling. Scrawny, weak, and half-mortal, Sanithane strives to gain enough power to ensure his tormentors never bother him again.

 

But when his Queen sets an impossible task, Sanithane has to choose—his kin, or his life?

 

Find out the story behind the Golden Priest in Shadows.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. Lennard
• Release date: Sep 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201910136

R. Lennard

R. Lennard dreamed of being the headmistress of a boarding school, a jockey, a ballet dancer and a diplomat. At the same time. Two left feet stopped the dancing dream, and a fear of falling stopped the jockey one. At ten years old, when she discovered that the squiggles on the page actually meant something, she devoured every book in the library before figuring out that she could be all she dreamed of and more if she wrote the book. Rebecca enjoys learning about ancient civilisations, cosplaying and endless cups of tea.  An avid fantasy and sci-fi reader, she fell in love with dragons, space travel, discovering fantastical history and stepping through a cupboard. Fantasy became her home away from home, and she loves to share the worlds she's created with her readers in the YA series, Lissae.  Residing on the beautiful Sunshine Coast in Queensland, Australia, Rebecca enjoys the natural beauty of both the beach and the bush, finding hidden writing spots as a makeshift office.  When Rebecca isn't writing, she's masquerading as one of the librarians on the Sunshine Coast. If you want to know when Rebecca's next book will come out, please visit her website at www.lissae.com where you can sign up to receive emails with exclusive extras and get notified when she has her next release.

Book preview

Chapter One

Dark Sky 569

The fumes from the foaming acid river stung all three of Sanithane’s eyes and forced his nostrils to close over.

Whoever crosses the acid falls first may join the Queen and I at dinner. War’Jan looked at Oalark, the fondness for his co-ruler clear even in his watery, yellow eyes. The eldest two Q’Aralide seemed to have a silent conversation for a moment, muzzle to muzzle, wings and tails intertwined. As those around him gagged at how sweet their elders were being, Sanithane was doing his best not to panic.

They were standing on the opposite side of the shore—the falls cascaded into the basin before them. The nearest rivulet splashing to the side seemed to loom closer as he stared at it. He did not know how they were meant to cross the expanse.

Looking at the frothing acid, he could see the dull grey of worn scales just below the surface. The beast under the acid rumbled, and clean-picked bones spewed upwards from the basin, clattering against the ground near his claws.

Someone shrieked. Others laughed, the pitch too high and the sound too loud, trying and failing to cover their nerves.

Sanithane gulped. No matter what, this was going to hurt.

He gazed out at the distant, moving mountains. A few wing-flaps from where they stood, great lumbering beasts undulated as they travelled the same path they always had, protecting the Queen and her brood in the Great City of Altum. He envied them their simple life, forever circling the city, while he and his nest-mates seemed to be stepping into the unknown.

Looking around at his fellow hatchlings, he noted a few shared his apprehension, although most were better at hiding it.

Helk, the largest of them all, strode forward, grinning over the bulk of his shoulder, fangs on display. He stepped onto the bank of the acid river. Sanithane flinched at the sizzling droplets landing on Helk’s hide.

The bigger hatchling ignored the pain and sauntered across. Following the barely visible rocks, he passed underneath the falls. He let loose a few hisses but was otherwise silent.

Well done, Helk. Now, Diren, you next.

They all knew better than to delay. War’Jan’s orders were to be carried out immediately, or the price was fatal.

Diren didn’t fail to obey and gave them a wicked smile when he got to the other side.

How did he get his fangs so sharp? Sanithane muttered.

Beside him, Ruker chuckled. He chews rocks.

Sanithane shot him a piercing look. The pun was getting old.

No joke. I heard him last night. Awful sound. But it matches his brain power.

Ruker! War’Jan bellowed.

The other hatchling stumbled forwards at the shove from Gazn but made it with ease to their Elder’s side.

Sanithane!

Was it his imagination, or was Oalark actually looking at him? Sanithane gulped and edged onto the bank of the river. Their Queen’s gaze was not usually something associated with pleasantries.

Acid splashed against his scales. Trying to hide his hiss, he cautiously made his way forwards.

The bony protrusions underneath the falls were worn smooth with time. How many other hatchlings had passed this way? How many millennia had the falls been there?

He wasn’t sure, but it felt like he saw all of them as he stumbled on smooth stone and tumbled into the river.

Acid burned his eyes and stung his nostrils. Touching the bottom would bring instant death. Thoughts of massive jaws closing around his flailing body swam through his mind. His lungs felt like they would explode as he struggled to hold his breath. Forcing his way to the surface took an age.

As much as the acid hurt, it was nothing compared to the taunts and jeers from his nest-mates filling his ears when he broke through the acid.

Enough, War’Jan cried.

Only the sound of Sanithane coughing the acid out of his lungs broke the quiet. Oalark’s wings rustled against her scales as she came to his side and gently gusted fire directly from her maw to dry him off.

Be nice to your nest-mate. It’s not like he can help being a weakling. War’Jan looked down his snout at Sanithane as he dragged himself, panting and close to tears, onto the bank near the leaders. His father was mortal, after all.

Sanithane felt his entire world shatter.

My father was mortal?

Light Sky 642

Izarrk, Leader of the Priests and Oalark’s favoured female, stood shadowed in the cave entrance, her buff-coloured hide glowing from the luminescent bugs on the walls of Sanithane’s hideout. She stared at him as he sniffled.

What would the priest do to him? Surely it couldn’t be worse than the torments his nest-mates put him through.

The nest room housed all the hatchlings. Each had a long rock slab on which to rest, and an altar where they could practice simple rituals.

There was no privacy in the room, and they did not have permission to keep any personal objects. Some were brave enough to hide their trinkets or treasures, but if any special items were found, they were quickly broken or stolen.

With nowhere to go other than the nest room, and little to do since they hadn’t yet to use their altars, Sanithane was ashamed to admit that he’d been snivelling in an out-of-the-way cave, safely hidden from the unending taunts of his nest-mates.

Finally, Izarrk spoke. You are not the only one with a mortal father, hatchling.

Wiping the effluvia from the end of his snout, Sanithane looked up. Your father was mortal?

Izarrk barked a laugh. Hardly. Like the rest of us, War’Jan was my father. But the last golden one, ah. He was stunning. Meant to be my fated partner, he was. We were to lead if War’Jan and Oalark ever ended. Izarrk stumbled into the cave, and for the first time, Sanithane saw her scars up close. Her maw had been torn apart, almost to the bone, going by the depth and spread of the talon-shaped scars. One eye bore a long streak of a scar across it, running from temple to jaw, reminding Sanithane of the dreaded acid fall.

But the most impressive scars were the ones around her thick neck. Bright red, they stood out as though the wounds were fresh, and showed where the links of Light Innarn chains had once wrapped.

What happened to him?

Settling with a sigh beside Sanithane, Izarrk stretched her tail out. He fell. With the others.

That was more than he’d ever heard before about the last lot of Q’Aralide. None of his nest-mates knew the story either. But he was determined to find out. Perhaps if I sat and listened, something about this golden one might give me a clue?

But in life, he was formidable. Nothing would stand in his way. Not his father, and certainly not his nest-mates. Izarrk looked at him from the corner of an eye. He sure wouldn’t be hiding away in a cave.

Sanithane groaned. I’m not hiding. I’m healing.

Really?

Lifting his foreleg, he showed off the recent acid burns.

Izarrk sighed out a green fog, which had Sanithane holding his breath. Still trying to conquer the falls?

I don’t care if no one else knows I’ve done it. I need to do it for myself.

Word for word... the old priest muttered.

What?

Close your eyes, hatchling. I’ll teach you a ritual to help you speed up your healing.

Snapping his eyes closed, Sanithane listened. Intently following Izarrk’s instructions, it stunned him to find all signs of injury gone when he opened his eyes again. It worked!

Of course it worked. Rituals are nothing more than a way to focus your magic—your Innarn. You seem to have quite a knack for it.

Sanithane grinned, still marvelling at his healed scales.

The old priest scrubbed at her face with a forepaw. I trust you won’t have any further trouble?

Smirking, Sanithane shook his head. A chime sounded deep in the back of his mind as the old priest heaved herself upright.

Hatchlings. Izarrk shook her head. She paused at the mouth of the cave. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if I taught you a few more things. Hmm. The Ritual of the Third Moon will arrive sooner than you’d think.

Third moon? There are only two moons.

Izarrk shook her head again. The Ritual of the Third Moon happens once every thousand years, when a third moon graces our skies. On that night, hatchlings shed their black hides and discover their destiny.

‘Why are there so many hatchlings, and so few elders?’ he dared to send, hoping that the privacy afforded by the communication method would encourage the old priest to answer him.

‘Why do you ask so many questions?’ Izarrk shot back and was out of the cave quicker than Sanithane could follow.

Lightest Sky 724

True to her word, Izarrk taught Sanithane how to harness his energy and apply it to many things that the other hatchlings didn’t know.

He knew how to heal, how to create something from nothing, how to bend the elements to his will, and how to shield his mind. He could even send his thoughts to others, although he only had the old priest to practice with.

Rituals became a place of peace and safety. Only a few other hatchlings showed any sort of interest in learning how to use their energy, and they were shown what to do separately from Sanithane.

He’d quickly learned that all questions about the previous lot of Q’Aralide got him tossed out on his snout.

Outside of Izarrk’s chambers, all Sanithane knew was torment and humiliation. Led by Helk, his nest-mates delighted in coming up with new ways to tease and torture him. Comments about his half-blood status were frequent, as was acid tipping.

Until one night, when Sanithane got his own back.

Slipping out of the doors of Izarrk’s chambers, he kept his mouth tightly closed.