Empire Island, Empire First: Empire, #1

By Olivia Hawthorne and Jaden Wilkes

If Empire falls, the entire world will succumb to the darkness.

 

Kairos Empire: once a brilliant young visionary, I am now a failed guardian of the Empire well source. A tragic incident forced me away from my home, and I've survived at the fringes ever since. I've been subsisting on the slow trickle of magic coming from Empire Island, but now even that is drying up.

 

I must return home and come to terms with the soul shattering family secrets I've long denied. I must unlock the hidden power residing in my hands and find the courage to save the island and save the world.

 

Come with me to Empire, walk the sacred paths, fight the demon king, search for my lost sister, and strike the match the ignites the fire of my bond-mate, the man they have bound me to since before I was born.

 

All things that would be easy for a conventional guardian of the magic net keeping this world from the next.

 

But my name is Kairos Empire, and I've been anything but conventional since I first time twisted my fingers into a magic glyph and gave rise to a rebellion deep within my heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaden Wilkes
• Release date: Oct 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201809904

Book preview

Chapter One

Empire had been calling again, every night in the darkness, the middle of my dreams, Empire had been calling. I could feel it tickling my bones and making my skin itch with phantom desire to return home.

I was thinking about it during my morning commute when I bumped into somebody out of the blue.

Get the hell out of my way, the woman snarled as she shoved my shoulder, hard. 

I was knocked back a step and thought about swinging, but decided against it. Starting a brawl on the Broadway Sky Train platform in the middle of morning rush hour wouldn’t be the smartest decision I’d ever made. It was crowded and everybody was already moody enough as it was.

Sorry, I mumbled and kept moving off the train, turning to glare at her as she took her seat and the doors closed. 

For a moment she looked shocked, as if seeing me for the first time, then she glowered back and flipped me the bird as the train glided away with its characteristic hiss.

That was weird. Normally Empire magic kept people from noticing me. In crowds, they’d part and let me pass without thinking. If they felt aggression in my vicinity, it was generally dissipated as a sneeze or sometimes a loud fart.

I shrugged and chalked it up to her having fae blood or something in her ancestry that allowed her to peer through the glyph I kept tightly wrapped around me at all times during my morning commute…and most of the time when I moved through the city. Unless I was drinking and diving into a mosh pit at a punk show, that’s when I wanted people to slam into me. It was part of the fun.

I sighed, adjusted my leather jacket and smoothed back my thick, wavy black hair. I had it stretched flat back into a ponytail today, but stray strands kept escaping and tickling me across my nose.

That was unusual, too. Empire magic handled the petty, annoying shit like that in general. Overall, Empire magic kept me going, kept me free of illness — even hangovers, thank goddess — and it delayed my aging significantly. As an added bonus, the magic made it seem like I had my shit together at all times. Even if I didn’t. And let me tell you, I really didn’t. I felt like I was a perpetual eighteen year old stuck in the life of a grown up with adult responsibilities and trapped by all the boring shit I had to do, like work and pay rent. Why had I ever run away to the city and yearned to grow up?

I took the stairs down to street level and joined the flow of people heading along Commercial to my second job, barista extraordinaire for Drive Coffee House. I worked it during my off hours as a bartender at a punk club in Gastown. In both places, I swear they had hired me because I could handle rowdy customers and give them a toss out the door if need be. Sometimes the morning coffee crowd was scarier than the punk crowd, to my surprise. But I guess, like the punks, our customers were looking for something fast and easy to get their heart rate going, helping them limp through their lives.

As I walked along the sidewalk, dodging people who kept bumping into me, my leather jacket kept getting caught on my legs and was constantly clinging to my thighs and knees in the most annoying way. It had never done that before, not since I’d been lucky enough to find it on a rack in the back of Value Village with a twenty-dollar price sticker on it.

My friends at the time had all exclaimed loudly as they’d recognized my good fortune.

That was Empire magic, though. Good luck and aiding with life, making everything easier for the one carrying the bond. It was supposed to be part of the bargain for us committing to holding the portal on Empire Island open and secure in exchange for all the luck and health we’d ever want.

Normally it was a good bargain, but today it was failing.

I cruised into work three minutes late, still pondering the bump on the Sky Train platform as well as the hair, the jacket and the crowds. I was deep in my thoughts when I stumbled on the rug next to the counter, having to grip the cup stand to avoid falling face first in front of a lineup of customers.

Good morning, Kairos! How kind of you to grace us with your presence today, Giles said with that biting judgement only my best work friend could get away with. Have a nice trip?

Ha, I said, rolling my eyes dramatically as I tilted my head and stuck out my tongue. I’ve had a shitty morning, let’s not go there.

Understood, he said, watching as I deliberately ignored the line up so I could hang my jacket up and have a moment to decompress before diving into the fast paced world of caffeine addicts and complicated drink orders.

I loved making them. That’s the funny part about all this. I really enjoyed the skill and talent it took to mix different flavors and syrups, adding foam and creating something that our customers would appreciate. I liked feeling like I was part of the little community around us, contributing to their work days and making them feel better about the world.

Not today, though. Fuck today. It had been janky since I’d slept past my alarm, broken the handle on my favorite coffee mug when I dropped it, then the platform, my hair, my jacket.

All of it added up to one desperately suspiciously shitty day.

I hung up my jacket, tied my hair up into a tighter ponytail, and put my work apron on. I knotted it at the back, feeling like I’d given myself a permanent look of surprise with how tightly I’d pulled my hair up in an attempt to tame it. I didn’t mind, it could help me with the resting bitch face I’d been accused of over the years. Shocked bitch face might work.

I rushed back out to my work area and let Giles handle cash while I found my rhythm and flow with the orders. One latte after another, and I almost imagined I was part of a musical production with pre-rehearsed lines and steps worked out before shift started.

The other girl, Kat, showed up shortly after me and the look on her face let Giles and I both know this wasn’t a morning to poke fun at her, either.

When there were a few moments in between rushes, Giles turned back to where I was cleaning up my station and said, Okay, spill it. Did you get fucked hard and deep last night or what?

Kat snorted and shook her head. You are something else, G man.

That he is, I agreed. But no. Sadly, no. Maybe if I’d been good and deeply dicked, I wouldn’t have minded the string of shitty luck I’ve had since dragging my ass out of bed.

You? Bad luck? But you’re always so god damned blessed, Giles said, pulling back in shock. Who did you piss off? Have you been kicking puppies in your punk rock boots, you little goth, you?

I snorted this time. I’m not goth, I refuse to be shoved into such a narrow niche.

Giles and Kat looked at each other, and at the same time they said, That’s exactly what a goth would say. And they burst into hysterical laughter.

I had to join them, because yes, it was what a goth would say. But I wasn’t a goth, I was just your everyday average girl from a magical island who was tasked with the burden of keeping the well source of magic safe while holding up this section of the fabric between worlds and veils from this one to others.

No pressure or anything.

Oh, did I mention I ran away from all that years ago? Yeah, I don’t generally lead with that. It does give people the wrong impression about me, I was sure.

Laugh all you want, I just had a bad morning. That’s it, I said. I’m sorry I’m boring. But speaking of being wild…Kat, why were you late today? Didn’t you hook up with that guy from the bike shop last night?

Her mouth curled up and her smile was reminiscent of the Grinch when he was about to do something very naughty. She stepped towards me and said, Oh my god, you two. I have to tell you about this guy’s…

And then she proceeded to go into great detail about his dick. It was a good one, if you’re wondering. Eight inches and thick, from her estimates. I can’t vouch for it, though, I’ve never banged the dude myself.

As she described his full back tattoo and Giles and I blatantly ignored customers, our manager strolled in with a dark look on his face.

He glanced over at the three of us, caught my eyes and said, Empire. I need a word.

He pointed at his office and kept walking as if he had a purpose.

Giles and Kat looked at me, I shrugged and said, No idea.

They got back to work and I headed into the manager’s office to find out if this was reward for good work or punishment for fucking up on the napkin order last week.

Sit, he said as soon as I opened the door. He had a cramped space with just enough room for a single metal chair across his desk from him. I sat down and did my best to appear interested.

The truth was, anything he had to say, good or bad, wasn’t going to change the day to day of this job. I’d take my licks or I’d take his praise, but I’d keep working the same way I always had.

Listen, this isn’t going to be easy, he said, running his hand through his thinning blond hair. His blue eyes were too pale, a washed out blue that summed up images of frat boys or reminded me of colonial rule that always gave me the willies. I hated it when he sustained direct eye contact for too long.

Is it about the napkins? I asked.

"It’s about you, he said. Something has been bothering me for the past few days and I woke up this morning realizing exactly what it was. You’re really bad at your job and you drag the entire place down with your incompetence."

Shiiiiiit, I said, drawing out the vowel sound. That’s harsh. I wasn’t expecting that at all. And I wasn’t. This was so out of left field, I felt like I’d been hit straight in the gut with a clenched fist.

I’m sure you haven’t, he said. That’s my fault. I should’ve been correcting you all along, but now I’m afraid it’s too late. Corporate has told me we need to cut one staff from our morning shift and that’s going to be you.

If I didn’t have bills to pay, I would’ve stood up and walked out. I would’ve stormed out, kicked over a few things and taken a box of cookies along the way. If only I didn’t have bills and adult responsibilities, I would’ve made a scene and told him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine.

But I did have bills to pay, and I needed this job reference if I was going to fill the gap in my income that it’d leave. I couldn’t burn this bridge behind me, however tempting it might be.

Fuck, I said simply, standing up. I removed my apron and tossed it on his desk.

You can finish your shift, he said, seeming apologetic all of a sudden. This doesn’t have to end badly.

I shook my head and didn’t say anything in reply. I was afraid I might start crying, and if there was one thing Kairos Empire didn’t do… it was cry.

I’m good, I said, turning to leave. I practically streaked past Giles and Kat, ignoring their calls of what the fuck, and where are you going. I felt heat flood my face. That familiar sensation of shame crept up my cheeks and hit me like the old baseball to the noggin.

I hadn’t felt this way in years. My M.O. was being an unapologetic asshole and reveling in it. Empire Island magic had kept my bad feelings at bay and I’d forgotten the full body physical reaction I had when I was humiliated.

I hated it, and I hated that this was happening.

And even more than that, I hated that I didn’t know why it was happening.

What the fuck was happening to Empire magic?

Chapter Two

H ere kitty, kitty, I whispered brightly as the little gray tabby asshole darted under the dumpster at the end of the alley. Didn’t he realize I was here to help him, for fuck’s sake?

Come on, little guy. I won’t hurt you, I said through gritted teeth, but even Mrs. Lee’s tabby cat, Reginald heard the tension in my voice that promised anything but.

If I didn’t need the hundred dollar reward she’d posted in the laundry room of our East Vancouver low-rise apartment building, I wouldn’t have come for the cat at all.

But I did need it, and everybody knew I had a knack for finding things. In this case, the cat, a hundred bucks, and hopefully some pork and ginger dumplings from a grateful Mrs. Lee. Ever since I lost my job at Drive Coffee House four months previous, things had gotten progressively worse.

I hadn’t been able to use my usual luck reserves to buy a few winning scratch lottery tickets or find a hundred dollar bill on the sidewalk every time I went for a walk.

My original suspicions had been correct. My magic was running out and soon I’d be an ordinary loser in a city that despised me if I didn’t do something about it.

But before I figured all that shit out, I had to get a little cash to somehow make it through the next few days.

I bent at the waist next to the dumpster and heard the tabby yowl in fear. I reached my arm under, trying not to make contact with the filthy side of it, and realized I was out of reach.

You little shit, I muttered, realizing what I’d have to do.

I’d have to get down on my hands and knees and get the little bastard out of there, even if it killed me.

I made the psst psst sound cats seemed to love, and normally it worked. I was a cat person; they loved me and I loved them.

But not Reginald, apparently. There was no love lost.

So I faced the music and eased myself down to my knees slowly, hoping with each passing second that he’d change his mind and come running out into my arms.

He didn’t, so at last I knelt on the cold, damp pavement in the urine scented alley of a Downtown Eastside neighborhood. I nudged at a discarded hypodermic needle and leaned down to look under the dumpster.

There, in the back, was Reginald. His gray fur was puffed out like a spiky striped hedgehog and his eyes were wide and yellow. Something had spooked him, scared him badly, and he wasn’t responding to me at all.

Come on, kitty, I said, reaching my hand in. I was taller than most women, so I managed to get within a few inches until I noticed my hair dragging back and forth across the soiled alley surface. 

I jerked back, shouted, Fuck! and felt Reginald’s claws catch the top of my hand before he made a beeline straight for the alley entrance.

Fuck! I exclaimed again, scrambling back and jumping to my feet. I was wearing my black leather British army boots and the tread had been worn down over the years through service and my own boot stomp dancing at raves and punk shows. So I skidded like a cartoon character with their legs spinning as they gained traction.

I finally caught something less slippery and slimy than whatever I’d been crouched in, and I ran.

I spotted Reginald at the sidewalk and called for him. Reg! Kitty, kitty!

He didn’t stop. He turned the corner out of sight and I whispered, Dammit, as I ran.

I reached the sidewalk at last and ran straight into Missy, another resident of our building and my unofficial rival. Well, she’d decided she was ever since her boyfriend had hit on me at the Slick Fire concert last year and I may or may not have taken him up on his offer for a quickie in the bathroom.

Hey, I told you, I’m good at finding lost things, he’d been lost. Now if I could just remember his name.

Kairos.

She said my name like it was a curse word. Like the order of letters left a taste of shit on her tongue. Kay-russs, with emphasis on the sibilance of the final S.

Missy, I replied, rhyming it with pissy in my head, at least it’d match her dyed yellow hair.

Look who I found, she said, pulling her jacket open to reveal a content, purring Reginald tucked inside. Mrs. Lee is offering a hundred bucks for this little monster. Isn’t that generous? 

I know, so generous, I replied. I was actually just picking him up for her when he jumped out of my arms. So if you wouldn’t mind.

I held my arms out to her, and she looked up at me before she sniffed with derision.

Nice try. The money’s mine, bitch. Call it payment for the knife you twisted in my back with George, she said.

George! Her boyfriend’s name was George. Man, he’d been pretty cute, too.

For what it’s worth, I didn’t do anything with him in the bathroom. Gross, I might lie down on a filthy alleyway for a hundred bucks, but I wasn’t going to hook up with some rando at a show, even if I had been drinking.

The rumor had gotten out somehow, though, and I hadn’t bothered to correct Missy when she’d cornered me in the laundry room. I didn’t like being accused, and I didn’t like being cornered.

But now, I was paying for fighting back, I smelled like alley slime, and my hand ached where Reginald had slashed me.

By that point, I knew she wasn’t gonna give me the cat back, so I twisted the knife harder.

He sure liked me, I tell ya, I said with a grin. Kept coming around for weeks afterward, like he couldn’t get enough of me. Whatever happened to dear old George?

He left me for my sister’s friend, she replied with ice dripping from her words. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a cat to return and some cash to collect.

She stepped around me on the sidewalk with her nose in the air, and I swear that damned cat winked at me as she passed.

I clenched my jaw and slowed my breath, realizing quickly that I couldn’t deep breathe to calm myself down.

I simply stank too badly.

You still owe me three seventy-five for the rest of the rent, Vlad said the moment I got back to the apartment building. And you smell like sewer. You haven’t been doing any illegal shit, have you? Don’t bring that back to my building, you understand?

I have the money, I said, checking my mail on the way up to my place. I have to stop by work to pick it up.

You promise? he asked, scowling at me. You say that every week, and every week, the amount you owe gets a little higher. Interest and late fees, you know.

I promise, I said, thumbing through my ad mail and flyers, feigning nonchalance as my heart pounded from the encounter. I hated owing anybody anything. It gave them a little power over you whether you acknowledged it or not.

Rent in Vancouver was out of control, and since losing my two jobs and my side gig of finding things drying up, I’d been a slowly sinking ship. I’d been sick far too many days this month to stay on top of everything else, and every morning it got harder and harder to get out of bed.

I was sinking fast and didn’t see any dry land in sight. I honestly wasn’t certain what I’d do, so I avoided any more conversation with Vlad and took the stairs two at a time to my third story apartment, relishing my sudden burst of energy.

I knew Vlad was just doing his job collecting the rent for his corporate overlords, but I wanted to lash out at somebody for this situation and he was a convenient target. My mom had raised me with a conscience, however, so I avoided rather than rage.

Inside my place, I peeled off my dirty clothes and practically ran to the shower. The water was scalding, but I felt like I needed it to burn off the alley stench.

I washed my hair twice to make sure it was all gone, running the soap soaked loofa all over my body more than a couple times. I wound up with a handful of hair, and wondered how much more I’d lose before I wound up with a bald spot. It had been falling out for a couple months now and there wasn’t anything that seemed to help.

When I was done, I stood under the hot water for a few more minutes, letting my anxiety melt away but the facts couldn’t be ignored. I owed rent money, I was struggling to live in the city, and things weren’t looking much better on the horizon.

I turned the tap, stepped out and dried off. I stood in front of the mirror and untangled my long, dark curls, when I noticed something new.

I leaned in close and peered at my reflection. I let out a weighted sigh when I realized what I was looking at.

I had a patch of silver hair growing in on each temple.

Fuck, I muttered. I was in my early thirties, far too young for this kind of thing.

At least, I thought I was. Nature, however, seemed to disagree. Without Empire magic, it seemed like Nature came to collect what was due.

I looked again and squinted at myself in the mirror, almost drawing back in alarm at the deep grooves lining my eyes.

Crow's feet, they called them.

Mine were more the size of the blue-black ravens that sailed along the tops of the cedars of the island that was my home.

Looks like I have to pay them a visit, I said to my reflection, standing up straight. With my body showing signs of aging rapidly, my luck failing me, and illness setting in, the outside world got to me and I couldn’t deny it any longer.

Empire was calling.

The thread of urgency that connected from the pit of my stomach, through my navel, joining me to Empire Island tugged harder lately.

I’d woken up from dreams of the island and the people I’d left behind and one in particular I’d never met. He’d appeared in my dreams on and off for years, a tall, handsome man with eyes like a summer evening, deep and blue.

I’d crossed from Empire into the town of Wildwood on the ferry when I was seventeen and had never been back. I never intended to go back, either, but my exhaustion, my string of bad luck and gray hair could no longer be ignored.

The island summoned me, and to turn away meant certain death. Or at the very least, many, many more urine soaked alleys in East Vancouver in my future.

And the way the smell of my dirty clothes filled my small apartment and invaded my nostrils, death might be preferable.

Chapter Three

One of the perks of being a drifter vagabond type was that I had almost nothing to get rid of. In fact, I left my apartment furnished and tacked a note up on Vlad’s door before I snuck out in the middle of the night.

Sell what’s there, keep what’s left over. Thanks, it’s been a slice. KE.

He wouldn’t be happy about it, but some of my vintage records and the mid-century modern sofa I’d lovingly restored would more than cover the money I owed. Plus, it’d leave him enough for a splurge on something he liked.

And that’s when I realized in the three years I’d lived there, I’d never learned a single thing about Vlad. Not even where he was from, what his accent represented. Nothing.

I mentally shrugged as I strolled down the street with my Army surplus duffel bag slung over my shoulder. Next time I’d try to make more than superficial connections in the city.

Next time.

If there was a