Fox Fire: Part One

By Shannon Riley

An ancient war between light and dark, good and evil.

When Fiaa turns 21, strange things begin to happen. A chance meeting with a stranger has her seemingly normal life spiralling out of control. This stranger, Ryker, Prince of Faeire, finds something magical and unique with this mortal girl. With one look she has entranced him, but with one touch she sees right through his glamour. Taken to another world, Fiaa's eyes are open to the magical realm of Faerie, where more secrets seem to loom.

Enemies of old come out of the dark, as Fiaa is no mortal girl.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Aug 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669830856

Shannon Riley

Shannon was born in Western Australia, Perth. She's always had a passion for the creative side. writing short stories since she was 10, escaping and exploring the words she would create on the page. Her dream has been to publish, ignoring all the people who told her because she's dyslexic it would never happen. So, here she is with her first published book. Aim for the stars and never let anyone darken the light inside you.

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Copyright © 2022 by Shannon Riley.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Book cover design by Clarissa Kezen - ckbookcoverdesigns.com

Rev. date: 11/13/2023

Xlibris

AU TFN: 1 800 844 927 (Toll Free inside Australia)

AU Local: [phone] ([phone] from outside Australia)

www.Xlibris.com.au

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Dedication

To my Nanny,

Who has always supported my dreams of writing.

You’ve inspired and pushed me to become the writer I am today. Thank you!

All the love in the world, your granddaughter.

Contents

0.   Prologue, The War

1.   Strange Encounters

2.   A Dangerous Meeting

3.   Glimpse Through a Veil

4.   Faerie

5.   Lost Down the Rabbit Hole

6.   Alluring Darkness

7.   Pretty Kitty

8.   A Brush of Lips

9.   Mind to Mind

10.  The Dark Prince

11.  Healing

12.  True Desires

13.  My Friends Call Me Fi

14.  Transition

15.  Betrayal

16.  Curse Breaker

17.  Little Fox

18.  Scheming

19.  A Betrayal So Deep

20.  Fire Fox

Glossary Of Terms

General Terms

Faerie- A magical creature, born of the realm Faerie.

High Born / High Faerie- Royalty.

Fae- Dark Faeries.

Common Blood- Lower class.

Heir/heiress- children from royal families.

Glamour- Holding a veil of magic, projecting the image you want the beholder to see.

Phasing- A Faerie’s ability to teleport through space.

Runes- Physical markings, a Faerie’s extension of magic and showing of whether they are born royal or common.

Transition- A Faerie’s coming of age, a transition into one’s full magical ability.

High Lord/Lady- Royal rulers to each court.

Court Magic- A Faerie’s ability to wield the magic of the court they are born into.

Portals- Doorways to other realms.

Division- A unit of warriors.

Stelsh- A stealth armour suit.

Shields- A defensive power a Faerie can use to shield themselves and project it onto others, it is a rare ability.

Pure- Pure-blooded Faerie / both parents are Faeries.

Lyrin- A royal line of wolf shifters.

Familial- A half-breed.

Familial Bond- A pure bond, a deep connection.

Alta- A Faerie’s animal form, long since lost after the events of the war.

Family Relations

Fanu- Father- pronounced- Fa-nu.

Manu- Mother- pronounced- Ma-nu.

Soonua- Son- pronounced- Soon-a.

Brula- Brother- pronounced- B-roo-la.

Coola- Cousin- pronounced- Coo-la.

Parnar- Parent- pronounced- Par-nars

Twinewla- Twin- pronounced- Twin-wa-la.

Eye Colours

Gold Ring- Royalty.

Half Ring- Half-royalty.

Purple- Fae.

Pale Blue- Not a pure.

Disclaimer

This book contains swearing, violence and sex.

This book was written with the British dictionary, so it has different spelling and grammar from the American dictionary.

Prologue

THE WAR

Seventy-nine years before the birth of Fiaa.

Ryker.

My Griffin pulses with the desire to return to battle. We were built for war, yet we have never seen battle like this before. The stench of death burns my nostrils—sweat, blood, decaying flesh. I bring my wrist to my nose, hoping to smell the roses and winter lilies from my Court, but the fragrance is long gone. My muscles ache and my hands shake as I burn off the adrenaline of shifting from my animal form, my Alta. Three days we’ve been here, in a valley of death between Winter and Night Court. I don’t know how the Fae keep advancing on our defences, how they seem to know this land like they were born here.

Groans of pain echo around the tight encampment. We’ve had to move closer to the Scoola Mountains. Sintus and his band of brulas found our last camp somehow, and we paid the devastating price of fifty Faeries. Though my fanu, the King of Faerie, possesses the largest division of warriors, this hit will ripple through our divisions well beyond those who lost their lives. We’ve never lost so many all at once.

My manu’s court sent a thousand warriors to add to my fanu’s, and that is the only reason why my morale hasn’t fallen. It’s not that I feel safe, I am just too cautious to address my sorrow just yet. My eyes trail the unusual white armour of those Faeries that are stationed at the edges of camp. I have not visited my manu’s court since I was a youngling. Not many do unless born to the court itself, with the Day Court a mystery to most. The ground is damp beneath me. A knot of anxiety tightens in my chest, telling me to go find my brula. Telling me I mustn’t be out in the open right now.

I wear my Stelsh and war mask until the canvas of my tent falls into place behind me. This tent appointed to me as the king’s soonua, lavish and not needed in times of war, but the king, well, he insists on having the finer things no matter what times we find ourselves in. I am a Faerie of luxury myself, but I take my role as crown prince much more seriously than I do my own comfort. As the thick leather of my Stelsh leaves my body, I am relieved by the soft, cooler cotton that clings to my chest. The tight leather of my breeches much less restrictive than my Stelsh. Another thing my manu’s court helped with—the mating of my parnar’s brought the two Celestial’s Courts together— their mating combined an interesting kind of magic that allowed the creation of the Stelsh among other things. The Stelsh brought us the protection we needed against the onslaught from the Fae, an unprovoked slaughter that gives no hint as to why they rage war with us. I roll my cotton sleeves past my wrist, past the runes on my forearm, and settle them just below my elbow. I stretch the fatigue out of my thighs, allowing the hard muscles to relax. For one fleeting moment, I allow myself to be at ease.

The tent flaps move. Someone enters my tent.

I smirk, he thinks he can sneak up on me and catch me off guard. I let him inch closer—I will give him credit, his paws are almost silent against the dirt ground, but he’s not shielding his magic, the earthy smell that always comes with my bonded.

I let go of the parchment in my hands, turning at the last second. Echo jumps but I move slightly out of the way so his giant paws hit the table behind me instead of my body. He further startles at my sudden movements, the giant mountain cat stumbling as he drops back down to the floor. My laugh fills the tent. This Alta is one I am not as used to; Echo usually favours his black panther, but since the war began, he has stayed in the form of a giant mountain cat. A content warmth fills my chest at being able to say his name. Echo. This is Keelan’s true name, only I have the privilege of it rolling past my lips as his bonded.

Keelan is unique. His heritage gives him the ability to shift into many forms, as he is one of the only familiars in Faerie. The white light of him shifting flashes before my eyes. He stands naked before me with a cocky expression on his face.

Well, I nearly had you, Keelan chuckles as he hops on the table, his bare ass meeting important parchment notes.

I smirk. I heard you the moment you walked in Keelan. You’re getting worse. As I bump into his shoulder, pushing him ever so slightly, I rescue my letters from under his ass.

How many today? Keelan asks, the mood losing its lightness at the question.

Fifty. The words are thick on my tongue as I say them out loud.

How are they finding our camps? We shouldn’t have lost those Faeries. What is your fanu saying? Keelan asks, his mouth twisting to a scowl at the mention of the king.

Frowning, I wonder where exactly my fanu is. My eyes dart around the tent like the canvas will give me the answers I seek. I have not seen him since Sintus attacked our camp, since setting up this new one. My fanu has never been far from my sight, but the war has driven him away from me more than I liked. He’s been having closed meetings with the soonua of Alaric, the High Lord of Winter. These meetings, conducted in secret, are very strange. What did he speak about with Stirling? From my understanding, no one else but me is aware of the encounters. And I think I’m not supposed to know about them either. I stumbled upon the two deep in conversation just before my fanu’s apparent disappearance.

What has your face looking like that? Keelan pulls my eyes back in his direction.

Hmm? I frown at him as he picks at an apple, my thoughts heavy with an uneasy dread.

Ry, what’s wrong? Keelan’s voice loses all humour.

Nothing I hope, but have you seen the king? I ask. I make my way over to him and lean against the table he still sits on. At least he’s glamoured breeches while I’d been distracted, a leather-covered ass much better than bare ass skin on my letters.

Keelan considers something deeply as he twirls the half-eaten fruit in his hand, sharp claws partially retracted from the tips of his fingers. No, I haven’t seen him. He frowns probably thinking the same as me—the king is never away from the spotlight, and never not on our radar.

A distant horn hits my ears, rolling like thunder long after the final blow. Our heads both snap towards the entry of the tent.

Saddle up Keelan, that was a boundary warning, and I have no idea where the king is.

We glamour on our Stelshes. A boundary warning when we had only just left the battlefield mere hours ago is not a good sign. Sintus and his army have already pushed us back several more lines than I thought possible.

I step out back into the mud-crusted encampment, straight into the putrid stench of the dead. The hot sun hits my bare hands. I glamour more protection, the thicker arrow tips of my Stelsh now covering the tops of my hands, the thick suit entwining between my fingers and connecting to a thin strap across my palm to my wrist.

The horns sound again, rattling deep within me. The camp scatters to action.

Keelan and I rush forward and stand among the tents for the wounded and healing. Although we are not alone, the divisions are closer to the boundaries. Keelan shifts, white light flashing in the corners of my eyes, and his giant mountain cat strides past me. Head up to the ridge, find out what’s coming, I speak mind to mind, our bond the strongest it’s been since it first connected us when we were younglings. I hear his rumbling agreement as the giant mountain cat prowls up the high slopes of the sand dunes we sit below. We will see each other soon, Echo.

I spot my royal guard standing alert in front of our division scouts. Aurora, my coola.

Aurora turns in my direction. Her white hair, elegantly done into battle braids, swings over her shoulders. She has a thinner metal armour draped over her Stelsh. Yes, my prince? she speaks as she steps into me, brushing my shoulder, the Alta in her seeking the touch.

Where is the king? My eyes scan the divisions in front of us. I’ve trained with half of these Faeries since I was a youngling, and far fewer are left standing than I thought I would ever see in my lifetime.

No idea, my prince.

The knot of anxiety in my chest creeps up my throat and finds my tongue. Where in the Faerie is my fanu? My face remains stoic, strong in front of the Faerie’s the king has left me to lead in his wake, but my eyes snap to Aurora’s. I am afraid she can see right through me.

I see High Lord Kian and High Lady Ila gathering their division, their two sons—Heir Eris and Heir Arion—with confident strides, tethered to their sides. My eyes scan for the rest of the royal leaders. High Lord Perry mounts his war horse as his mate, High Lady Aster’s, Alta perches on their courts’ flag, the giant eagle’s golden wings stretching wide. I watch their only soonua mount up next to his fanu, the young Faerie just out of his first half-century, the first battle he’s seen like most of the other’s here. My eyes keep searching, not finding the ones I am looking for. High Lord Alaric is nowhere to be seen along with his soonua, Stirling, and my fanu, the king.

Alarm bells are going off in my head at their absence but as another set of horns flare loud, warning us that something has breached the boundary of our camp, I can spare no more time trying to find them.

What is it, Echo? Have they found us? I reach out for his mind, waiting with bated breath for his response.

It’s the princes, they’ve brought their entire army with them. Echo’s words come as a breathless rush as they hit my mind.

My eyes snap to Aurora’s as she waits for my command. Divisions! I stand on the edge of the clearing, grabbing the attention of the entire collection of Court Divisions. The princes advance. Turn to the battle ahead.

I reach my hand to my chest: Heram. I spread my fingers over my heart: Soulis. I raise my head, putting two fingers to my forehead: Medius. As I recite the warrior’s oath, the Faeries join in chorus.

Four divisions stand in front of me. One from my own court, the Night Court, holds the front line, the only division complete with Altas. Aurora, more than my royal guard and coola, is the general of the division. I trust no one more. If we looked weak without the king, she more than makes up for it. She leads them as a shield, her gifts aiding in the control of the Altas.

The division from the Winter Court stands without a leader, their High Lord not present. A foreboding rise of unease cloaks the Faerie’s, but I try not to let his absence affect me as well.

The rest of the divisions are helmed by their royal leaders. The Faeries in the Summer Court’s division don rusted red armour that shimmers in the sun. They turn in the direction of the horns, steel-jawed in the image of their High Lord and Lady. Next to them are the Faerie’s of Autumn, High Lord Perry proud among his Court. Spring Court does not aid in warriors they are our healers, but they fill me with awe at how they keep their backs straight and hands steady as they tend to us.

My eyes dart behind me at the white tents, at the large portion of our divisions already lying wounded or dead. My Griffin growls deep inside my chest, and my skin vibrates as I let go and shift. We are now Alta. We are now one.

Aurora steps back as our wings stretch wide. Take to the front, I’ll see you there. Her words trail quickly in my mind.

Our eyes track Aurora as her gift shimmers from her shoulders. We are gifted in our Alta form to see her magic in a physical form—she doesn’t see it herself, only feels it, unaware of a wave of rainbow light that shimmers off her shoulders as she wills her shield magic, communicating to the division of Altas.

We push down against the ground and push off taking flight. Our wings only take five long beats before we sit high above our encampment, towards the boundary line. A spike of panic hits my chest at the sight before me.

My Griffin is quick to suppress the panic as we tuck in our wings and barrel towards the ground. Though we come at speed, we land with controlled grace, barely any dirt lifting at our landing. The Day Court Faeries surround the boundary in a long line across the expanse of the open field. They make room for the form of my Alta, some eyes widen since they have never laid eyes on me like this. Every Alta is different, ranging from size to a wide array of species depending on the court they originated from, but I am the only one gifted with a mythical bond, which in itself is made from two animals. An eagle and lion.

My lion tail whips out as we tuck in our silver wings. The horns blaze again as the line of Day Court Faeries flank me, behind us the first line of Night Court Faeries forming rank as they come up the side of the sand dunes.

Purple eyes emerge from the haze of distance. Our eyes connect across this vast field. Sintus, tall and unblinking. He smirks in a way that only the prince of the Dark Fae can. Covered head-to-toe in black leathers, one could mistake him as the physical manifestation of rot. His three brothers appear from behind him, lining up so they stand shoulder-to-shoulder, creating an impenetrable silhouette. Following suit is a dark mass of creatures who can hardly settle as they wait. Silence graces the land between us.

The entire presence of the brothers stains the day with an icky, menacing feeling—even though the sun sits high in the sky, darkness hovers over their shoulders. They say their kind and mine used to be one and the same, but the Dark Fae turned their backs on the mother, on the land. They turned to the darkest arts of our realm, blood magic, taking and taking from their victims until there was nothing left. Their magic became unnatural, unbalanced. That there was their advantage over us, their unlimited darkness, giving them unseen magical abilities. We have the numbers, the strength, but what we can’t foresee is how they navigate this land—our realm. It is like someone is giving away our secrets. Their last ambush cost us half of our Spring Court Faeries, our healers, not warriors, yet they killed them still, they have no honour in war. And now they have found us again. I worry that today we will lose even more Faeries before the sun sets.

My wings twitch with adrenaline. I can feel the heavy thud of my heart pumping blood.

The army of the Dark Fae has not faltered once at the sight of my Griffin or the division of Altas to my back. No falseness belies their cockiness. They are not afraid. I am still yet to know the capabilities of all the four princes who stand in my line of sight. I know only of the first two, Sintus and Lucien; the twinewlas that stand together on Sintus’s other side are unknown, the abilities a terrifying question mark.

My Griffin growls, reverberating through our chest and booming out across the field. I imagine it would be a sight, the roar of a lion coming from the beak of an eagle, but I see none pale at the sound of it. My Griffin doesn’t falter, he rumbles at the excitement of their challenge. A deep purr grabs our attention as Echo brushes past our back legs, our bonded sharing the same worries as I do as he scans the army before us.

Stay strong, brula! his calm voice purrs through my mind, balming the last bit of panic my Faerie side holds to.

I return his reassurance. And you, I will see you once we win!

I look down, meeting his emerald-green eyes as my words pass through our minds. His huge mountain cat steps up to my side, the sparkling emerald of his eyes the last thing I see before our horns blare and we advance, breaking the silence, the peace before the song of death starts.

Our paws thump heavy against the muddied and blood-crusted earth of the field. Willing my front paw to sharpen into eagle talons, I swipe out, ripping the throat out of the oncoming Fae. Our eyes dart around, feeling the space around us shrinking—we needed to shift, my Griffin too large for this close combat. We roar, my Griffin frustrated at the thought. I laugh, knowing he’ll add to my strength even in Faerie form. Hush, you know we are one, I say. My Griffin continues his growling as I will our shift. White light blinds the surrounding Fae. I flex my fingers as, for a moment, the tight feeling of returning to a smaller frame aches. I give the Fae standing in front of me half a second to gather himself before I strike out with my longsword, severing his head from his body. My Griffin roars in satisfaction.

Seconds, minutes, hours pass like this. The once quiet, open field is now a valley of death. Both the earth and the sand around it share the same bloodied colour. I can’t tell where one starts and the other begins.

My fingers tremble slightly at the heavy weight of my sword. I kick something with my toe. My eyes dropping to the dead and dying at my feet. The black and purple armour of the Fae litters the floor, but as I look further, I see the colours of my courts, the Courts of Faerie. We are near indistinguishable from one another.

A howl pierces my ears, one I would know from anywhere.

I take off running, slaying each and every Fae as they block my path. I’ve yet to run into any of the princes, and that has my hackles rising. The howl sounds again, my heart picking up at the agonising pain in it. Aurora.

I come to a stop in a semi-clear area of the field, several Faeries fighting, but my eyes find Aurora first. Her beautiful silver moon coat is covered in blood. She shifts fast from her Alta, glamouring on a Stelsh even faster to hug her body and protect it from another of Sintus’s strikes. It all happens within seconds of me entering the field.

A sharp sting has me faltering just as the next of Aurora’s ear-piercing screams shreds my ear drums. I look down, finding an odd black metal protruding from my stomach. White light. My eyes snap up as Echo shifts,