Silver to the Heart: Light of Adua, #1

By Brien Feathers

— So begins the apocalypse, with death and a story of love —
An old soul (several centuries old), the lover, fighter, and telekinetic Drake receives an order to safeguard Ana, a mortal with Elder Talent.

Ana, an artist beset by haunting visions, falls for the perfect stranger while venturing home to mediate emergent family chaos.

Past-warlord and present commander Sasuke wields his telepathic might to outwit Council traitors in an effort to save the human realm and its Guardian from a new Dark War.

Criminal and light bender Lou, now sought by the Council to answer for his sins, seeks shelter with the Reverend—an Elder fit to bypass rules of magic meant to be unbreakable.

As time's last grains of sand deplete, an ancient battle may renew, with pieces of the fractured realm imperiling man's modern world. Though few on Earth are cognizant, dark days now lie ahead. . . 

One fate, two paths, six singular perspectives, and plethoric danger. 
Contemporary fantasy at its polychromic finest—pure delight.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brien Feathers
• Release date: Oct 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201966430

Brien Feathers

Dark fantasy author, poet, screenwriter, and cat enthusiast living in the land of Mongols.

Book preview

Silver to the Heart

Light of Adua, Book I

Brien Feathers

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Brien Feathers

Copyright © 2021 by Brien Feathers

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

Dedication

1. Stay Safe

2. Sugar Rock

3. Call It Clairvoyance

4. Guidelines Not to Be Followed

5. Everything Is Wood

6. Demon Mersik

7. Don’t Be Crazy

8. Tiny Cups

9. Telepathic Conduct

10. Very Fine Indeed

11. A Brick House with Two Trees Outside

12. Bad Weather

13. Necromancers Don’t Have Friends

14. Prelude

15. A Sad Tune

16. Gone

17. Home

18. Light Bender, Coward, Pedophile

19. Silver to the Heart

20. Be Good

21. Too Heavy a Burden

22. Not Bora Bora

23. Farewell, Father

24. Not an Easy End At All

25. We’re Not Doing That

26. The Quandary of the Missing Hat

27. Breath of Malice

28. Light of Adua

29. Feodor’s Cellar

30. A Walk Through the Darkest Valley

31. Ignite

32. Kasa

33. Grace

34. Boy Scout Thing

35. What a Wonderful Dream That Was

Prophecy for the Warlord, Light of Adua Book II

Houses of the Realms

From the Author

About The Author

The Feathers Newsletter

For my mom who makes it possible,

and my son whose autism superpowers inspire me.

Chapter 1

Stay Safe

It was already dark when Enilsa got off work, and darker still when she passed the flamingo pink building with a white on green sign that read Liquor Deli. Andrew was mumbling something amidst the cardboard castle he’d erected for himself. He reminded Enilsa of a photo she’d seen of the local guides in the Himalayas. It was the beard, the hair, and the weather-worn face. She didn’t suppose the guides mumbled to themselves or lived in paper houses.

Hello, Andrew. Enilsa stopped by the homeless man and dug out a cellophane-wrapped sandwich from a brown paper bag. There was a bottle of wine in there too, but that was for her. It had been that kind of day.

Andrew stopped his mumbling long enough to look up at her. His smile revealed two missing front teeth and more than a few molars in the back. What you got there for me, Enilsa?

It’s a double-decker today.

Oh, it got bacon? He reached for the sandwich with both hands. You got off late today.

Enilsa grunted and threw her head back.

That bad?

She rolled her eyes and nodded too, but he’d already started on the sandwich and looked preoccupied.

All right, you have a good night, Andrew. Enilsa got on her way, and Andrew said what sounded like Stacy. She turned, but he was busy with his food, and chewing was hard enough for him without the added task of speaking. She let him be.

Enilsa waited at the crosswalk even though there was hardly any traffic. A couple of cars passed by—maybe. The light turned green, and she crossed. A block away, she could already hear her building— the rent controlled block of flats was a massive jukebox that played cheesy music at all hours. She could always hear it before she could see it.

A stray lab mix sat by the curb, flapping his dirty tail on the ground. Sorry, buddy. Got nothing on me, Enilsa apologized.

As she walked by, the dog suddenly snapped at something behind her. Contorting its face into that of a monster, it growled— aggressive and eyes glaring. Then it yelped and ran off, limping with its tail tucked between its hind legs.

Jesus, girl, you scared me! she yelled after the dog.

Startled still, Enilsa took three more steps—maybe—before her legs quit suddenly. Face first, she went down stiff as falling timber. Her jaw crunched when she hit the pavement, and something tugged at her tailbone. A white converse with a red star kicked, and Enilsa rolled over.

Two teenagers, a boy and a girl not much older than thirteen were looking down at her. The boy was wiping blood off a knife, and the girl tilted her head like a broken doll.

Why wipe it if you’re going to use it again? said the girl, and she sounded normal like a kid.

The boy, who appeared to be cleaning his knife mindlessly, looked down at his hands, then sighed. Right. Forgot. But seeing as how it’s already clean, why don’t you finish her?

The music was still blaring in the background, but no one passed them—not even a car. If only Johnson had shown up for his shift, Enilsa wouldn’t have been so late getting off. But he had a newborn now, and his wife was ill; Enilsa understood times were difficult for him. I’m getting mugged, she thought, but why though? She was flat broke, but the kids wouldn’t know that. She opened her mouth to tell them she didn’t have money, but only croaking noises came out—strange, as if the sound wasn’t coming from her at all.

The girl crouched over Enilsa and frowned. She doesn’t look like much.

She’s human. What do you expect? The boy folded the knife and dropped it into his pant pocket, then pulled his hood up. Come on now, Silvi. Let’s get going.

Where to next?

Couple of places in Oklahoma, then Arkansas on the way, and Louisiana—that’d be the last one. Then, we start the whole thing over again. The boy was looking at a piece of paper he had taken out from his pocket.

We’re not going home for Easter?

Not unless we find him before then. Or so says the Reverend.

The girl took the paper from the boy and studied it. Can we at least go to New Orleans next? I’ve never been there.

Oklahoma is closer. Come on now, sis, have you ever seen a map?

Not since they stopped making paper ones. I used to like how they folded perfectly.

Never mind, Silvi. Be done with it. Let’s roll, let’s walk and talk but be done with it.

All right. The girl’s eyes turned completely black as if being swallowed by her pupils. She made a turning motion with her hand and Enilsa felt her neck turn, twisting completely, until she was facing the pavement. Not much pain—not even as she felt the bone crack. But why, she thought again. What did she do?

A childhood memory came— a rope swing with a baby blue seat swayed back and forth on the porch. Hearing her mother singing inside the house, Enilsa knew her mama would be cooking. Trying to make out what was for dinner, she sniffed through the window, but instead of her mother’s lasagna, she smelled spit and urine of the city pavement. Death is peaceful, was her last thought.

Chapter 2

Sugar Rock

Sugar Rock was a ten-minute walk from where Ana lived, a good enough reason for her to frequent the bar. It had an open terrace with rows of naked light bulbs strung above like a giant parasol. Decorated like a birthday pinata, the bar was a vomit of random colors: pink pillows with yellow stripes thrown over a lime green sofa, a tile floor with alternating palettes, not to mention the chairs woven like Red Riding Hood’s basket. Even the walls were busy with a graffiti portrait of someone playing the trumpet. Someone famous, no doubt, and someone dead—probably.

Ana sat down on one of the basket chairs. There was a menu on the table, but she already knew what she wanted. Double bourbon, no ice. She raised her arm and waved, but the waitresses were busy running around with trays full of yard-long beers and Jell-O shots. College crowd, all out of town, it was about that time spring break visited New Orleans.

There was another bar—lounge kind of a joint—walking distance as well, but despite the laidback Cajun name, that one hosted an uptight crowd. Ana in her ‘starving artist’ look would fare better with rowdy college kids. She had on a faded T-shirt and jeans with black smears. Ana checked her hands and, finding they still had charcoal on the tips, wiped them on her jeans— this made more smears. No one cared here, which was good but she couldn’t get service, which wasn’t so good. It was time to go inside and sit by the bar—might as well be closer to the man she needed.

It looked to be the blond bartender’s shift. With a toothpick in his mouth and a pen behind his ear, the tragic blond would often shake his head if he’d heard and seen it all.

Hey... Ana would say his name but she didn’t remember.

Hey, girl. Looked like he didn’t remember hers, either. He was too busy to be chatty, and that was good as well. He poured drinks with the efficiency of a factory machine programmed for that purpose alone.

Can I get a double bourbon, no ice, please? asked Ana.

Aight girl, he said, turned, and forgot about her.

Unable to get a drink even at the bar, Ana groaned. She’d been planning to meet a guy she’d swiped right on but changed her mind when she received a dick pic. It wasn’t the pervy behavior that turned her off, Ana liked lewd, but she didn’t like his dick. Instead of staying the course, the dick had taken a left and curved—it was bound to rub her the wrong way.

Still no drink. She could go back to her apartment where she had bourbon and better service, and much cheaper too. Deciding she’d had enough ‘people’ for one day, Ana got up to leave but saw a man on the terrace and sat back down.

Maybe not a man but a boy, he hardly looked old enough to be in a bar. Curly red hair and freckles visible from fifty feet away. Black jacket, designer jeans, custom sneakers with digital art. He was smirking. It was the smirk and his posture that caught Ana. The redhead had one elbow resting on the rail and held a drink with the other in a nonchalant manner. He was looking to the side at something out of Ana’s view, and smirking.

Arrogant men stood different, carried themselves different, and smirked when they should smile. The redhead cleary enjoyed his own company and Ana dug people who loved themselves—narcissists. Her therapist would say that was a problem, but she wasn’t here, so who cared?

Tilting his head in a question and looking directly at her, the redhead arched an eyebrow; she’d been staring at him. A normal person would have smiled, maybe even waved, but Ana rolled her eyes and turned back to the bar. Because I have no game.

Here, girl, said the bartender, and her drink appeared. When Ana exchanged her card for the bourbon, he asked, Open tab?

Nah, I’m about to be out of here.

Aight girl.

Hey, how old is the kid over there? The redhead on the terrace, six o’clock, asked Ana. She lived alone and had no dignity, so why not?

The bartender stared behind Ana, squinting. I carded him already. Yeah, because Ana looked like she was from the liquor license revoking… agency?

I’ve seen him in here before. He’s all right, said the bartender answering the question Ana hadn’t asked. The blonde is hot, though, he continued.

Is he looking at me? Ana asked.

Nope, he’s looking at the blonde. With that, he took her card and turned.

Ana threw a glance over her shoulder—carefully. He was talking to a blonde wearing an off-the-shoulder black dress. The woman’s face was turned away from Ana but the snooty attire said ‘not a college kid’. Perhaps he liked older women, which was good, because Ana wasn’t eighteen or nineteen… or however old he was. At twenty-seven, she was already trying to rob cradles—she would need more than one therapist soon.

The bartender returned with Ana’s bill, and as she signed it, she thought about how little money she had and how much of it she chose to spend on bourbon—she had issues therapists couldn’t fix.

Hey, can I get a double shot of whiskey, neat? said a male voice with perfect pitch that was not too high, not too low. Old fashioned and sweet with a bit of southern twang, it spoke again, Are you doing all right, ma’am?

Ana looked up—the redhead, of course. Don’t roll your eyes, she thought and squinted with the effort. Hey. She tried to sound casual, overdid it, and sounded as if she’d ingested opioids.

He had a hundred-dollar bill folded between his middle and index fingers and held it out to the bartender, who snatched it, smiled, and produced a drink immediately without forgetting first.

Ana said, Hey, again—because she was an idiot.

Hey, he said with a smile. Still a smirk, but from this distance, Ana saw he had gold eyes. His freckles were adorable, as if someone had blown copper dust onto his face, and he smelled nice too— musky, like earth and temple. Wondering what kind of noises he made during sex Ana imagined him breathing hard over her. He’s the type to look angry, Ana thought—she liked those.

There must’ve been something wrong with her face because he asked, Are you all right?

I’m Ana, she said and held out her hand as if he was a business associate, because of course she did. She was a well established idiot.

Nice to meet you, Ana. I’m Drake. Laughing, he took her hand and shook it with a strong, warm grip.

Are they contacts, Drake?

What?

Your eyes, I mean. It’s a strange color. The idiocy continued.

No, my mama made me this way. But I’ll let her know they’re not working out with pretty girls. That damn southern twang was so sweet that even though he had the smug tone of a banker or a lawyer... or maybe a doctor, he still sounded like an old-fashioned sweetheart.

Ana meant to say something, and—hell—maybe she would’ve even come up with something pleasant, but the blonde came between them. Not the bartender, but the blonde he had been speaking to out on the terrace. Ana only saw the back of her head (again), and now the hair was in Ana’s kisser. Wiping the woman’s hair off, Ana made a face. She didn’t know what kind of face, but it got a laugh from Drake.

The blonde turned and said, Oh, hey. Barbie doll, as in made of plastic (surgeries). If that was his type, Ana wasn’t.

That’s all, folks. Dismissing the blonde with a swipe of her hand, Ana rolled her eyes—intentionally this time—and headed out. She heard the woman say, Well, she’s rude, behind her. Not hearing what his reply was, she pushed the door and stepped out.

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Nine bands, lit up like halos, were set in eternal motion—destined to churn forever, encompassing a dark planet that wasn’t a planet at all. Heavy like a liquid, but smoke that screamed, that cried like her mom had when she saw her daddy had hung himself. Turning like a spindle hung from a black ash tree, daddy’s feet spun above as Ana looked up. Nightmares, she hated them—and she always had them.

The halos would halt one by one, becoming a giant belt of screeching, grinding metal, turning by way of its own inertia till that faded too—dead weight floating away into the dark space. An insignia was etched on each band but only became visible after the light waned. A single band remained a halo.

No matter how many times Ana had this dream, she could never see the insignia on the halo. The dead bands, yes, she knew the symbols on them by heart, but she could never see the design on the halo. She’d had this dream ever since she could remember, even as a child; it used to scare her then, and it scared her still. A single halo remained to keep the black from enveloping her completely. She’d always been afraid of the halo dying, going out like the rest. She could hear the darkness and all that dwelled within it. When the light dies, the monster will come.

The dream would play itself out, as it always did, and she would wake up in her room as she always had. No monsters, no screaming darkness. Except she’d been getting a feeling of someone watching her dream—the presence felt benevolent and didn’t scare her, but she was crazy (diagnosed and everything). Only crazy people would feel someone watching them sleep and think, he’s just protecting me.

Ana woke, and the black from the dream dissolved into the shadows cast by the objects in her room. Yellow impended—like tiny holes in a blanket of black, little stars revolved on the ceiling. Unable to sleep in the complete dark, Ana had a nightlight—hence the star-studded ceiling. She was an adult who still worried about monsters in the dark.

Ana sat up and flipped through the pages of the sketchbook she kept by the bed. Once again, she drew the insignias, which she counted afterward—eight.

Ninth was the light, and being the halo it was too bright for her to make out its markings. The word fire came to her, but none of it meant anything anyway. Only that the shock therapy didn’t work. That talk therapy didn’t work. That pills didn’t help and that she was still crazy. Ana tossed the sketchbook on the floor and kicked off her blanket. It was still night, but she may as well get up because sleep wasn’t going to happen for her, not without more pills or drinks.

Ana went to the living room and turned on the light but it was too bright, so she turned it off again. She turned on the desk lamp by her computer and made coffee in the dark kitchen. The lamp was enough for the living room and the kitchen—her apartment was small, but she didn’t have a pet or a boyfriend so a single bedroom was okay.

After she got her coffee, Ana sat in front of her computer, turned it on, and stared as all the software loaded. She didn’t know what time it was. The left-hand bottom corner of the screen said 5 p.m., but that was somewhere in Japan. She’d bought the computer second-hand, and the clock had always been wrong. Well, right for where it came from but wrong for where she was. She kept forgetting to reset it—perhaps it was easier to move to Japan.

Ana had several messages. One person had accepted her price. People wanted to commission art but didn’t want to pay a fair price for the work it took. She checked the offer and saw the client wanted it on canvas—that could be done. She read the description… and understood why he’d accepted her high-end price. A request for anime fan art, rule 34: if it existed, there was porn of it somewhere.

The rent was due as it was every month and drawing cartoon porn paid the bills. Why a canvas though, she thought. He could’ve just commissioned a digital artist as they all did these days. But good for him for the boldness, he really went for it—wanted to hang it up at his place and show it to other people who came to his parties. Good for him, his courage paid her rent.

The phone rang, and it was her mom who had sleep troubles of her own, but the difference was that Ana knew normal people would be asleep at whatever hour this was. Her mom either knew Ana’s troubles had started again or just didn’t care about waking her—Ana bet on the latter.

Hi, Mom.

How are we supposed to pick you up at the airport if you don’t tell us when you’re coming in? asked a shrill voice over the phone. Ana tried to remember her mom being nice, and couldn’t—maybe she had been before daddy died, but that would make it a long ago, ‘once upon time’ kind of long.

Ana hadn’t sent her the flight information because she hadn’t bought the ticket. Didn’t have the money and also didn’t want to go to Katie’s wedding. Things had been rough between them since the whole ‘Dennis’ incident, meaning it had been rough for years. Yet, her mom still expected them to get along.

You’re family. You have to love each other, her mom said. Ana loved Katie just fine, she just didn’t like her much was the problem—a mutual feeling as far as Ana could tell. If Maine wasn’t so damn far, she’d drive there, saving the money. But she didn’t feel like being on the road for three days.

I’ll send it to you in the morning, Mom. I’m sleeping, Ana said about the flight information.

A dramatic sigh from Mom. Okay. Fine. And don’t forget what we talked about. You have a habit of forgetting when something doesn’t suit you well, Ana.

Ana didn’t have a boyfriend, and her mom knew she didn’t have one. Still, she insisted Ana bring a man with her to the wedding—it’d ease Katie’s feelings, apparently. Ana had slept with Dennis, who was now the groom (a long, long time ago), but her mom and sister still acted as if Ana was liable to trip and accidentally spill her vagina on Dennis the groom. Everyone called her crazy behind her back, which didn’t bother Ana much, but them demanding she act normal was the bother. Yeah, yeah. I didn’t forget, Mom. One man coming right up.

Good, was all she said and hung up.

Nice talking to you too, Mom, Ana said to the dial tone. Bye-bye now. You take care as well. Love you too.

The dial tone went doooooooo, its way of saying, I love you too, and other nice things.

Ana went through stacks of canvases, picked a size close enough to what the client wanted, and propped it up on a couple of two-by-fours leaning against the wall—the wood had screws drilled into them to hold the canvas at the height Ana liked. She set the canvas atop the screws. Might be nice to have an easel one day, she thought. If she ever got friends, she’d ask for an easel.

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Drake was over a loud blonde. Donny! she screamed. Oh my god, Donny!

It was the wrong name, but the lady was in the middle of something orgasmic, and there was no need to interrupt her. That would be rather rude.

Oh my god! Oh my god!

Well, you can call me that too, darling. Quivering breathlessly, the blonde squeezed her eyes shut, and Drake bit into her neck. She screamed then as well, but that was about something else—not the biting or the fangs.

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The sun was already high and coming in between the shutters, glaring down at Drake one row at a time—thin strips of blindness. Drake squinted at the light, rubbed his eyes, and got up—gently. He had fallen asleep at the blonde’s apartment. She appeared to still be asleep, and he wanted to be gone before that changed. He wanted to avoid the awkward ordeal where she asked for his number, and he told her he didn’t have one. It was true, he didn’t use phones. Yet they never believed him, and that interaction had gotten old around the fiftieth time or so—and that was a long time ago.

Curse the bastard who invented telephones, Drake thought, and death to the bastard who made them mobile.

Drake got dressed but was missing a shoe. He checked under the bed—wasn’t there. Backtracked to the door but couldn’t find it. It was a nice apartment, though—downtown with large windows that let the light spill onto the hardwood floors. The kitchen with a black granite countertop hosted solid wood cabinets.

A small metal bowl on the tile floor caught Drake’s eye. Did she have a dog? That would explain the missing shoe but not the lack of barks. Though he liked dogs, sadly, dogs hated Elders. A soft meow, and an orange fluffball jumped up on the counter.

Drake clicked his tongue to make a soft knocking sound. Hey, girl. The cat felt as soft as she looked. She purred, rubbing up against his arm and leaving a trail

Reviews for Silver to the Heart

[Bree Bilegdemberel · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I love interesting characters and a tight plot, which this book has. Also, it's a unique take on the genre.

[isabela2199 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Let's talk about this amazing book!!!

It's hard to think of negatives about this book as it was so good! I can't remember the last time I had so much fun reading a book. From the first chapters I managed to get hooked on the story and couldn’t stop until I finished it. It kept me interested the entire time and I was deeply involved in many of the character's lives. The author's writing style is addictive.

I loved the action and mystery full of paranormal mystery - sexy romance, we have a mix of creatures that are good, bad, some in between.

The author creates fantastic and complex characters, some of them here already have my heart. I managed to connect a lot with Ana, I wish I was her friend, she is not perfect, for some reason, that only makes her more endearing. And the chemistry she had with Drake !! OMG I love that! What a sexy couple !!!I must admit that my favorite character was Sasuke, from the moment of his first appearance he attracted me a lot and I wanted to know more about him!!!

The world-building is super interesting. The mythology we encounter here has a lot of potential. All about the elders, the guardian!! I already want to see how the author will continue to explore this world in the next books.

Brien Feathers wrote a great start to the series, I want to know more about this story and personally so I'm definitely going to read the sequels. I feel like there is so much more to come and I couldn't be more excited!

If you haven't already, buy this book now.