Ghast

By Niki McAlister

 

In the distant future, Ghast's presence is a constant reminder to every King of the Dragon Kingdom that, while they may hold all the power over the Kingdom created through stolen magic, Ghast's role as their murderer was absolute and unwavering. But who is Ghast, where did he come from, and how does a young hybrid girl from a small town fit into his story at all?

Dara is a Firstborne, one of the first generation of hybrid Elf/Dragon children created under the conniving eye of King Harrut. Unlike her mother and the other adults of her kind, whose beautiful, lithe bodies are the product of magic stolen from an Elf princess named Eloeen, who the King keeps locked away in the castle—the hybrid children are viewed as monsters, no better than animals. Her life would never be her own, her entire existence bound by the King's plan to reproduce the bodies Eloeen had given his people without needing the Elf's magic. She would wed in an arranged marriage and be expected to spend the rest of her days sequestered in relative luxury, existing solely to birth naturally born hybrid children. No one had ever asked her how she felt about it all, if she wanted to become a brood mare… it was just expected of her. However, despite the plans that had been made for her, Dara's body seems unwilling to perform its one crucial task.


When Dara's husband shows signs he's ready to move on, Dara's world implodes. Although there's been no love between them, she's terrified of what could happen to her as a failed Firstborne woman. As she tries to hold the pieces of her life together, a voice appears inside her head, claiming to be a long-lost part of her. Dara's childhood dreams bubble to the surface, opening her eyes to just how miserable she's been since the day her mother first sent her into training. The voice urges her to take action, to fight for a future that's hers and hers alone—but Dara is afraid. She'll either have to take her chances and hope that there's a future for her as a divorced, disgraced hybrid woman, or strike out on her own in search of her purpose. But unbeknownst to Dara and the rest of the Dragon Kingdom's citizens, war is brewing. The Elves want Eloeen back, and have spent every moment of the past few decades gathering an army, hiring centaur mercenaries and begging the Gods themselves for help. With rumors running rampant about the King going mad, it's only a matter of time before his desire to keep Eloeen costs the Kingdom greatly. Dara has no way of knowing that her decisions are tightly intertwined with the kingdom's own future—that the greatest warrior in the history of Iruli lies within her, waiting to be set free.



If you've read the Scales Trilogy, you'll no doubt know the terror and fear Ghast's presence instills in all those who encounter him. Within these pages, you'll learn of his origin. You can read this as a standalone story, or as a prequel to Ghast's role in the Scales Trilogy.

This story is meant for adult audiences, 18+
 

Tropes: Arranged Marriage, Found Family, Underdog MC

 

Content Warnings: Gender confusion/exploration, Magic-based transition, Fertility issues including miscarriage, Enslavement of sentient beings, Murder, Abuse in many forms (physical, emotional, spousal, etc)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Niki McAlister
• Release date: Jun 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201727239

Niki McAlister

I've always been an avid reader of romance and fantasy, living in my own little world and constantly getting yelled at for daydreaming at inappropriate times. I currently reside in Tennesee with my husband, two boys and my many, many pets.

Book preview

Ghast:

Niki McAlister

♦Novels by Niki♦

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is pure coincidence.

Copyright © Niki McAlister

Novels by Niki

All rights reserved.

Except for use in a review, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

As always this book wouldn’t be here without the help of my friends, family and nearly two years of agonizingly painful over thinking. Here’s to my husband for motivating me, my friends for work-shopping with me, and my family for helping me sort out the best way to describe characters without being insensitive.

A special thank you to the incredibly talented artist who designed this cover.

Shahina Fransman

And another special thank you for Iruli’s map:

Evin Kierans and his email

Celestial Information

Planet: Arahdo

Gods: Arisa and Zirato

Continent: Iruli

1

You’re the bestest mommy in the whole world!

My mother smiled warmly as she straightened out the blanket around us. The brown and red checkered blanket was so threadbare in places that I could see a few blades of bright green grass poking through. We were only a stone's throw away from the well-packed dirt walkway that led home, but in my mind we were beyond the kingdom walls—laying out a feast fit for a king just for the two of us. The wind played with my mother’s fiery orange hair, pulling and tugging at the locks as her amber eyes twinkled mischievously. She was reaching into the picnic basket to retrieve what she’d brought for lunch that day; her hands pulling forth item after item as she spread them out on the blanket between us. I looked down, my excitement building as I took in the tiny finger sandwiches, the delicate flaky pastry of the various pies, and the gooey chocolate chips baked into a plate of cookies. The basket’s gifts were never-ending as she pulled out bananas, sliced strawberries, and several glass bottles of water that glistened in the sunlight. A bowl of hand-dipped chocolate truffles came next, as well as a two-tiered cake with icing every color of the rainbow. Every time I looked down, the blanket had more food on it, each bowl, plate and platter blocking out the colored squares from one end of the cloth to the other.

I was so engrossed with the magical picnic basket that I was oblivious to the scenery shifting around us. It wasn’t until the stately oak tree behind my mother suddenly became a stone pillar that I ripped my eyes from the basket. The tree had been there since the day I was born, never changing except for a new bird nest year after year—and now it was a square pillar of black obsidian. I blinked, looking around in confusion as I realized everything around us was different. The rolling hills of grass all around us were now scorched and singed. The forests that lined the path down the mountain from our Kingdom were nowhere to be seen—leaving behind only twisting, undulating darkness. My eyes fell to the feast all around me to discover that the food was now rotten. It pulsated with maggots and beetles as ants carried off pieces, their bodies burning up the moment they hit the grass. The moist, repetitive sounds of the maggots working their way through the food all around me made my body shudder.

Mommy? I turned my head, looking to my mother for comfort, only to find she had vanished without a trace. Fear shot through my spine like a lightning bolt as I backed off the picnic blanket onto the scorching hot grass, my feet sizzling painfully as I hopped from foot to foot. Mommy! I cried out as I looked out across the dismal landscape for her.

Dara? A voice called to me on the wind. I turned my head to locate it, finding myself starting directly into the brightest light I’d ever seen. It felt brighter than the sun, but just as hot and my eyes burned as I tried to look deeper into it—trying to discern who was calling to me. Dara, wake up.

The ground shook beneath my feet, sending me flying. I rolled across the ruined grass, my body numb to the embers coating the ground as my tail slapped around uselessly. I yelped in surprise as my shoulders were pressed down into the ashes of my dream. I could feel myself slipping away from the world around me as panic welled in my small, childs chest. The voice from the sun boomed at me again and again, calling my name.

Dara? Dara! Dara wake up. Can you hear me, Dara?

It was the sharp pain radiating from her lower abdomen that finally yanked Dara from her slumber. As she grappled with the last vestiges of her nightmare, she gasped aloud, sucking in deep breaths—her eyes darting wildly around. She was in a small, cramped—yet familiar—space surrounded on all sides by a stiff white curtain that ran from the ground to several feet above her head. Dara’s heart fluttered around her chest erratically as she gripped the sweat-soaked blankets that had bunched around her stomach. A bright light blinded her, following her movements as she shivered—not from the cold, but from the memory of the nightmare she’d just been in.

That’s enough, Balth, a soft, hushed voice said to her right and instantly the light went out, revealing the small serpentine creature that had created it as he slithered back around his owner’s waist once more.

Dara, do you know where you are? Tibbalt’s hauntingly pink eyes noted her confused expression, his pale white skin glowing like a ghost in the darkness. He was the one and only doctor running the entire pregnancy ward in the Dragon Kingdom’s castle.

Yes, Dara panted softly, fingering the blanket nervously as she looked down at her stomach. What’s going on?

What’s going on is you’re, once again, keeping everyone here awake, selfish bitch! A girl’s shrill voice pierced through the white curtain, echoed by several other residents of the pregnancy ward. Their whining and cussing woke up more of the sleeping Firstborne until a murmur rippled through the hundreds of beds positioned within the room they’d all been sharing for months.

Tibbalt frowned ever so slightly, his features so soft and unreadable as Balth shifted color from a glistening gold to a harsh, bright red. Without a word, Balth uncoiled himself from Tibbalt’s waist and rose into the air, the jarring red color still visible through the curtain as he began to make rounds through the room to check on the other awake girls. Tibbalt’s attention, however, was only on Dara.

Were you having another nightmare? He asked, his fingers curling around her wrist so silently that she didn’t even notice he’d moved until he was finished taking her pulse. Tibbalt’s features were unlike any of the kingdom’s original dragons—who’d been given their bipedal forms through Elven magic nearly fifty years ago. Unlike her own mother, who looked exactly like an Elf aside from her eyes—Tibbalt’s entire body was off in some way. Dara found herself unable to ignore him whenever he was around, watching the kind male with fascination every chance she could.

She nodded, feeling her heart slow from its gallop as she banished away the rest of the nightmare with a shake of her head. As they stared at each other, Dara felt herself winding down even more, her body growing heavy, and oddly warm as her mind blanked. Tibbalt’s eyes held her own as he searched her gaze, but it wasn’t until his eyes dropped to her stomach that a very specific fear suddenly sprang into her head. In one movement, Dara kicked the blanket off the bed, spreading her legs and hiking up her nightgown to check the sheets between her thighs for blood. Her tail pumped in the air as she tried to haul herself out of bed to check every layer as she breathlessly asked if he’d already checked for a heartbeat.

Tibbalt’s hand gripped her shoulder with only a finger, his touch stopping her frantic movements immediately. To put your mind at ease, he murmured, tucking pillows up against her back for support. He held his arm in the air like he was summoning a bird, calling Balth back to him. The ethereal creature spiraled down his arm, across Tibbalt’s shoulders, and then plopped down onto Dara’s stomach without any sensation. He flattened himself against her nightgown, rotating his head to face her as he opened his mouth.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. The faint sound felt like the first drops of rain in spring as they washed over her, pulling the breath from her lungs.

Baby is fine. Tibbalt assured her as tears welled in Dara’s eyes.

Thank you, she sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

There’s still a few hours until morning, he said softly. Try to get some more sleep.

Dara looked down at her stomach, watching her olive-colored skin rise and fall as she breathed. I don’t think I’ll be able to. Can I take a walk instead?

Tibbalt was quiet for a few moments as Balth slowly circled around his shoulders, softly shifting between his standard golden color, purple, blue, and shades of white. Dara felt like Tibbalt was somehow talking with the creature, but could neither prove her theory nor summon the courage to ask him directly. When he finally offered her his gaze once more, she thought for sure his answer would be ‘no’.

Only for a little while, and only if you agree to allow Balth to monitor you while you’re walking. He said sternly, waiting for her response.

Of course! Dara exclaimed, feeling her cheeks redden as she lowered her voice. Sorry.

Tibbalt stood outside her sleeping area as she slipped into her standard-issue white robe, embroidered with her name, bed number, and the word ‘Firstborne’. She stepped into her slippers, pulling the curtain aside to bashfully meet Tibbalt’s gaze. He held Balth out to her, the tiny serpentine dragon coiled like a sleeping cat.

Uh, how do I… Dara grasped Balth with both hands under his armpits, watching him swing his incredibly long lower body back and forth lazily.

Around your midsection. Tibbalt instructed, more to Balth than to her. Before Dara could respond, the magical creature began to swirl around her wrist without even touching her. Balth traveled up her arm, over her shoulder and out of sight until he reappeared at her side. Dara held her arms up on either side of her body as Balth snaked his way across her midsection, curling his tail around from the opposite side until the feathered tip of one end reached the curled whiskers of the other and he lowered his chin to rest upon the bump protruding from her stomach—the reason she existed.

Balth will keep track of your heart rate, breathing and the baby’s heart rate as well, Tibbalt said, his glossy pink eyes holding her gaze. I can hear what you say through him, so if you need to reach me, just speak aloud—no one here should pay you any mind. He will stay with you until I instruct him otherwise. Do you have any questions?

"You can hear everything through him?" Dara echoed, wondering if that meant she should avoid using the bathroom during her time with the Balth belt.

Yes, so if you have questions, just ask.

Dara nodded, lowering her arms to her side as she watched the doctor leave the room. She remarked to herself about how unnoticeable Balth was, wondering silently if she could pet him. It was probably best not to treat him like a pet, as he appeared to be some sort of great mystical being—but surely even mystical beings enjoyed head pats?

Mister Tibbalt? She whispered as she leaned out past her designated sleeping area to see if anyone else was awake.

You need not whisper, Dara. His answer practically vibrated directly into her skull, startling her so badly that she nearly tripped over her own feet. I apologize. It seems the telepathic communication scared you. Stand still for a moment and breathe. In for five counts, out for five counts.

Dara did as she instructed, watching Balth slowly shimmer around her waist with his eyes closed.

Good girl, now—did you need something? You don’t need to speak aloud, just thinking your words will reach me.

Never mind. It’s probably a stupid question. Dara shook her head despite thinking her words, feeling foolish.

There are no stupid questions if you’ve gone as far as your knowledge can allow. Anything beyond that is expanding your understanding of the world.

Oh, okay… in that case, can Balth feel?

How do you mean?

I mean, like, is he real?

You’re seeing him with your own eyes, aren’t you?

Dara pursed her lips at his literal answers. I was wondering if he could appreciate being pet.

He’d be able to physically feel the sensations of petting yes, though I don’t think he would get enjoyment out of it like an animal would. Is that helpful?

Yes, kind of.

If petting Balth would help comfort you, then do so. It’s not like we have an abundance of pet animals running around here inside the citadel.

Dara smiled at the joke, appreciating his attempt at normalcy as she stood in the pregnancy ward. She looked around at the twenty-foot high obsidian pillars that held up the massive singular piece of black and white granite that made up the ceiling. Around her the other Firstborne girls were still asleep, their privacy curtains pulled to encircle their beds and do absolutely nothing to block out their snores. This wasn’t her first time at the obsidian castle, but she did at least hope to be here longer than last time. As her padded slippers slid across the polished marble floor towards the floor to ceiling double doors that stood like guards on duty, Dara recalled her last visit to the pregnancy ward with a heavy heart. It had taken longer to get back here this time, but hopefully all her efforts were worth it.

She stood in the doorway, looking left and right down the dimly lit hallway as she decided which way she wanted to go. Tibbalt had gone right towards doors that led to the main castle. She’d been through those doors so many times in her life so far and didn’t feel like reliving those memories at the moment, so left was the way to go. Her Balth belt was weightless as she shuffled down the hallway, running her mossy green hand along the mauve wallpaper as she did so. The intricate gold and pale blue flowers seemed to float down the hallways as she walked, her tail lightly tapping the wainscoting on the wall as it swung gently back and forth beneath the robe. About a fifty steps past the main ward was another room, this one set up as a nursery to prepare for the first horde of hybrid children due in just six months. Dara’s baby wouldn’t be part of this first group, or the second… or third… but if she followed all the rules and took things easy this time Dara could eventually stand outside the large, glass-paneled room and watch her little hell-spawn run around with the other children.

The Firstborne were the very first generation of naturally born hybrid children. Her mother was a natural dragon, magicked into her bipedal form like all the adults in the kingdom. She’d never met her father, and her mother never spoke of him, but she’d learned in school that the First, Second, and Thirdborne generations had been sired by Elves captured by their Kingdom’s soldiers. The Elves had long since stopped sending spies into the kingdom, stopped searching for a way to steal back the Elf Queen Eloeen—but recently rumors had begun spreading through the towns encircling the castle that the Elf Kingdom was gearing up for war. Dara’s purpose in life had been decreed by King Harrut: to marry and produce offspring with another Firstborne male, so that the Kingdom’s population could grow. That is why she was here now, her belly just beginning to swell with the promise of life.

Mister Tibbalt? Dara asked, chewing on her lip.

Tibbalt is fine Dara, what’s on your mind?

What exactly did Queen Eloeen?

The doctor was silent for a while, leaving Dara to ponder her question as she stroked the soft hairs on top of Balth’s head. He didn’t crack an eye, move or give any indication that he enjoyed her touch, but Dara felt comforted by the movement of her own hand, anyway.

I’m not at liberty to say, but I would also advise avoiding such questions as you’re wandering around the citadel. People here listen to everything, even the maids. That you’re a Firstborne will have little meaning if you’re found to be sympathizing with the former Queen. Just know that you wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for her, and the best way to honor your gift of life is to fulfill your duty.

Dara swallowed the lump building in her throat as he spoke, noting the touch of emotion in his voice as he chose his words carefully. He knew more than he was letting on, but she knew better than to press him for more information. The hierarchy of the castle was infamous, even in her little town at the base of the mountain. Dragons that moved to the top of the pile were dragons that had earned their place directly through interaction with the King himself. Anyone in the castle would gladly throw her under the bus to climb higher on the ladder. She herself had considered trying to find a permanent place within the castle’s walls, but it wasn’t in the cards for her.

When she couldn’t stand the sight of the nursery anymore, Dara pushed herself to move on, being mindful of her emotions as she tried to keep her thoughts to herself. The lone memory of her husband, Pardeep, mocking her rose to the surface like oil on top of water. The way he’d laughed at her expense, saying that it was more likely she’d be sitting there with an infant when the Thirdbornes were old enough to breed, made her fingers curl into fists as she walked.

Your heart rate is increasing. Tibbalt’s voice tapped on her mind softly, gently pulling her away from the intrusive memory.

So what exactly is Balth, anyway? Dara asked, her fingers playing with one of Balth’s whiskers idly.

That is a very complicated question.

I’ve got plenty of time to hear the answer, unless you’re alluding to my inability to understand the answer? Dara smirked to herself, emboldened by the space between them and the fact that Tibbalt couldn’t level his gaze upon her here.

I’d call you a lot of things, Dara, but unintelligent isn’t one of them. She could hear a slight smile in his voice, but it was the slight pink tinge to Balth’s body that told Dara that she’d stumbled across something with her question. Not that she’d press him about it; some things were better left unspoken. Balth is… my companion.

Now, now, you know that isn’t what I meant, Dara tsked as she walked, reaching up to gently touch every single sconce she passed as she slowly made her way down the hallway.

What I mean is that Balth has existed longer than anyone you can think of. He’s been my companion since before we built this ward. As for what he is, it’s hard to explain him accurately. The best way I could phrase it is… Balth is magic incarnate.

Magic incarnate?

He is magic, physically.

Dara furrowed her brow at Tibbalt’s explanation. So he’s made of magic, then?

I… suppose that’s the easiest way to summarize that, yes.

Where did he come from?

I created him.

So he’s like your son.

No.

Dara stood in a widened out area. To her left, there was one last great room, triangular as it followed the curve of the building. On her right was the last smaller room, its door shut and locked like all the small rooms along the right side of the building. Just beyond the small room was a large lounge area where the girls would often sit and entertain themselves by knitting, reading, or drawing. The room had floor to ceiling glass windows that made it feel larger and overlooked the royal gardens.

Check out the view. Tibbalt suggested.

She’d seen it many times before, but Dara felt pushed forward by his words as she continued her line of questioning. So he’s not your son, but you made him. He’s not your pet, but he is your companion.

Balth is a magical being that I fashioned the physical form of. He is an extension of my magical ability, a ‘friend’ I created to accent my interests.

That makes him sound like an accessory. Dara chuckled. He is literally a belt right now.

He is simultaneously being a health monitor, a fetal heartbeat monitor and a telepathic communication device—don’t belittle him by slotting him in with the scarves and mittens. Tibbalt’s words were firm, but Dara noted that the pink hue radiating from Balth was deepening, so she didn’t take them to heart. If Balth was just an extension of Tibbalt’s will, that meant that the doctor himself had the same abilities, so why did he use Balth to do them instead of just handling them himself?

He’s pretty impressive. That’s all I’ll say on the matter, then. She gave Balth a scratch under the chin as she neared the windows. Am I looking for anything in particular out here?

Watch the sunrise. It’s pretty special to see from this height.

Dara gazed out through the panes of glass as the first rays of sunlight broke through the trees behind the royal garden. She smiled, enjoying the freedom of her time at the castle to its fullest extent. Her entire life was planned out before she was even born. Her husband, her future, and even how she could dress were all set in place before she even took her first steps. The physical appearance of the hybrids seemed to offend the other natural dragons, even though they themselves now bore the bodies more similar to Elves. Although her generation was one of three that were tasked with lifting the entire Kingdom, she and her fellow hybrids were treated like riff-raff by everyone else. The girls of her kind began covering their faces as young as ten years old, although some mothers couldn’t stand the sight of their children and covered them from birth—resulting in a handful of deaths. Both the males and females had a strict dress code that was only for them, as the pure-blooded women wore the skimpiest clothes they could—showing off their perfect bodies and enticing the perfect males to mate with them. The King had ordered the sterilization of all pure males, allowing only the women to breed with Elves in order to steer the population in the right direction. She hated feeling like an outsider amongst the other citizens, but her fertility issues pushed Dara even further away from even the other hybrids. Singled out amongst even her own generation, Dara had begun to fall victim to depression, which was eased whenever she came to live in the pregnancy ward once more.

The palace had prepared for the planned population changes decades in advance. While Dara was still in school, they converted the eastern wing of the castle into a private ward, even though only the middle floor was in use right now. This building was a luxurious resort for the pregnant women of her generation, a welcome respite where most of the females from her generation onward would spent at least half of their lives living amongst each other and their children during the first four months of their lives before being sent back home to be impregnated again. Her mother always made it sound so easy—spread your legs for your husband and then live in relative opulence until the baby was born a year later. If only it were as easy for her as it was for the other girls. Aside from Dara, only five other Firstborne had suffered a miscarriage the first time around. There were some other later issues that arose, leading to a miscarriage and one unfortunate abortion because of some condition that Tibbalt refused to comment on. Everyone else who had lost their first child was back within a few months, knocked up and ready to relax in the warm springs and be waited on hand and foot by staff on loan from the castle. Dara herself had returned with them, but was forced to return home three months later when she awoke in the middle of the night to bloody sheets.

She supposed the other girls probably felt pity for her the first few times. Hell, some might still feel bad for her now—the neurotic mess she was every time she came in a month