Mist and Mirrors : Books One to Three: Mist and Mirrors, #0

By Eve Langlais

A stunning fantasy epic featuring three previously released titles in one super sized edition.

Includes:

Mist Rising ~ The mist is rising nightly and with it brings monsters. It's up to Agathe and her sisters to delve into the mystery of its origin if they are to have any hope for a future.

Lying Mirror ~ A betrayal leads to a setback in Agathe's quest. The mist and monsters are getting deadlier by the day, however her quest for answers is fraught with lies. Who can Agathe believe?

Deadly Abyss ~With no other choices, Agathe must enter the Abyss to find the truth and save the kingdom. She'll discover more than she expected, including the strength to fight back against those that would see her destroyed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eve Langlais
• Release date: Oct 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781773843865

Eve Langlais

New York Times and USA Today bestseller, Eve Langlais, is a Canadian romance author who is known for stories that combine quirky storylines, humor and passion.

Book preview

Mist and Mirrors

Mist and Mirrors Collection © 2022 Eve Langlais

Cover Art by Addictive Covers © 2022

Produced in Canada

Published by Eve Langlais

http://www.EveLanglais.com

eBook ISBN: 978 177 384 3865

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This book is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.

Contents

Mist Rising

I. Foundling

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

II. Journey

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

III. Discovery

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Epilogue

Lying Mirror

I. Blood

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

II. Lost

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

III. Forgotten

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Epilogue

Deadly Abyss

Foreword

I. Abyss

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

II. Paradise

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

III. Reckoning

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Epilogue

Also by Eve Langlais

Mist Rising

The mist is rising so lock your doors and stay inside, for the monsters have returned.

On a dark and ominous night, at the edge of the Abyss, Agathe rescues a baby from a monster that should have been extinct. Gravely injured in the process, the elderly Agathe is rewarded by having her youth restored.

But that’s only the start of the strangeness.

The child she saves is far from ordinary. Belle has a unique and wondrous magic that must not fall into the wrong hands. Like those of the King.

Everyone knows the monarch steals those they called the Blessed—those with the purple eyes. Supposedly, they are the only thing standing between the Kingdom and the rising mist.

As far as Agathe is concerned, they’re victims of the King’s lust for power. What is the King really doing with the Blessed and their magic?

To discover the truth, Agathe must insert herself into the court of the enemy. Unfortunately, things are worse than they seem.

Can Agathe embrace destiny and not only save herself but also the Kingdom?

Part One

Foundling

Under a trio of suns lies the Kingdom, a lush mountaintop valley ruled by a King whose face has never been seen. A peaceful place with a shrouded past about to be shattered as long-lost secrets come back to haunt—and kill—them.

Chapter 1

A prophecy, foretold centuries ago and mostly forgotten, commenced its deadly course on a dark and foggy night.

Bong.

Agathe’s snoring abruptly ceased and turned into a snort loud enough that it jerked her awake. She lay on her pallet, stuffed with so many raked leaves her body sank into it like a cloud, and listened.

Heard nothing. She must have imagined the noise. She rolled to her side and began breathing deeply for a return to sleep—

Bong.

Her eyes shot open. Not a dream then, even as the ringing of the bell proved surprising for many reasons. First and foremost, because the Abbae rarely got visitors. Built into a cliff face overlooking the Abyss, the journey to its crumbling walls was a treacherous, several-day hike that few bothered with. Why would they when easier-to-reach and better-equipped places existed? Only the most desperate ever ended up at the Abbae, known as The Ninth Shield. It didn’t have a fancy name. Nothing in the Kingdom did.

Purpose. That was all that mattered. The Abbaes of the Shield existed only to defend King’s Valley atop the mountain. It held all of civilization in its cities, towns, and hamlets.

Of the nine Shield Abbaes, only a handful remained active. There was nothing to defend against anymore—there hadn’t been in centuries.

Bong. The bell sounded again, and Agathe could almost swear she heard impatience in its tone.

Who is that ringing this time of night? Few people ventured out after dark, and even fewer this close to the Abyss. The Ninth Shield sat at the end of the road. There was nowhere else to go but down, and that was certain death. The world consisted of the mountain and the Abyss, with the last stop on the way down being this Abbae, the Ninth. Only the most desperate ever made it this far.

Finding out who stood outside involved much creaking. Agathe roused from her pallet, her joints aching as they did every time she lay in one position for too long. The discomforts of age. Yet she had a job to do, even if the task of gatekeeper should have gone to a younger acolyte. Compared to the other remaining Soraer, Hiix and Venna, Agathe was the most agile one left. These days, with their low recruiting numbers, most of the Shield Soraers chose to serve in the Abbaes closest to the rim, giving them easy access to King’s Valley with its many towns and amenities.

No one saw the point in replenishing diminishing acolytes so far from the lines of supply. There was no profit anymore in delivering goods on what was a four-day round trip to a handful of people. Agathe and her two remaining Soraers did the best they could, even as they grumbled about those in charge who had clearly forgotten their core directive: to guard the King’s Valley against the Abyss.

There be monsters hiding down there.

Not that the citizens of King’s Valley ever saw any. The mist made sure of that. The mountain spire, the top cradling the valley, jutted upward from a fluffy expanse, the mist much like a cloud, thick and impenetrable. It could have been only a few hand spans deep or bottomless—no one ever lived to tell. The old stories claimed the mist used to rise at night and bring terrible danger with it.

Bong.

Who is at the door?

For a moment, Agathe clutched the neckline of her nightgown and wished whoever rang would go away. A part of her really just wanted to ignore the whole thing and return to bed. She was too old to be dealing with strangers at the gate in the middle of the night. Nothing good ever happened at this hour. She’d lived long enough to know that. Only death ever knocked this late.

Still, she’d lived a long life and wouldn’t leave it a coward. Nor would she shirk her duties.

I’m coming! She reached for a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. She also let her hand hover over the pommel of the sword gathering dust in a corner. In all her decades of guarding the Abbae, she’d never encountered any threat. The legends of monsters were thought to be fables. Or if real, then extinct.

The worst creatures they’d encountered were the tarrodax, flying beasts that thought small children were tasty snacks. A pity they didn’t go after just the bratty ones.

She tucked the shawl over her head, covering her gray hair, wisping from its many braids—strands gone thin now, compared to the lush mahogany waves of her youth. She slid on her slippers—the footwear she wore the most often these days due to comfort.

The bell didn’t ring again. Perhaps whoever it was had left. Wishful thinking. She couldn’t go back to bed until she checked.

Agathe stepped out of the room by the gate—hers now for more than fifty revolutions of the world. She’d been in her third decade of life when tragedy hit…a horrible accident that claimed her family. The memory was staggering. The intense grief had brought her out of the valley to follow the winding path down the cliffs. In a daze, numb with grief, she knew of only one way to stop the pain: let the Abyss take it and her.

Only as Agathe reached the end of the King’s Valley and stood on the rim of their world had she hesitated.

Was it the right thing to do?

No one would miss her.

She was all alone.

You don’t have to be alone. A voice had spoken to her, not out loud but in her head.

The very idea of caring for someone else squeezed her heart. She couldn’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.

She had nothing to live for.

Don’t jump. You have a purpose yet. Those words had burned themselves into her soul, and even now, decades later, the idea that she could be important seemed ludicrous. Born a simple serf who’d married a man she loved and had children—only to lose them all—how could she have a purpose?

Will you serve me?

Who are you? she’d asked, not expecting an actual reply.

I am Niimweii. Goddess of the Shield.

The memory of that powerful reply still shook Agathe to the core.

Chapter 2

A GODDESS HAD SPOKEN TO HER!

A much younger Agathe had dropped to her knees, trembling, not so much with fear but with awe. Forgive me, Goddess. I did not know.

Will you serve me?

Yes! Why not? If Agathe didn’t choose death, then why not a focus beyond that of knowing she’d never hear her children laugh again? Or have her husband drag her close to whisper, Meet me in the barn.

You may start by choosing to live.

Agathe stepped away from the edge that led into nothingness. But then had no idea what to do next.

The Goddess sighed. Follow the path to the bottom.

Agathe had set off, and by the end of a two-day hard march, she arrived just as the suns set. The end of the road was low enough that she could discern the mist below, swirling and shifting. She turned from the edge to the Abbae built into the mountain with its massive door banded in metal and the knotted pull of its bell.

She’d hesitated before ringing it, wondering if the Goddess would speak to her again then decided it didn’t matter. There was a place for her here. A second chance to see if life could still have meaning.

A tug of the rope rang the bell. The door had opened, and Agathe found herself greeted by the Maeder herself, recognizable by her long mauve robes, lint-free and unpatched—how luxurious. Her mantle swept from her gray-haired crown to the floor, a lacy legacy that told the story of her life and the Abbae she ruled.

I’ve been expecting you, the Maeder had said.

And from that day on, Agathe waited to fulfill her purpose. And, in so doing, found peace among the Soraers. But she’d always wondered if she’d imagined the Goddess speaking to her. If she’d wasted her time waiting for this moment, this awakening in the night. Surely, she’d grown too old to make a difference.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she made it to the courtyard, if it could be called that given it wasn’t open to the sky. It appeared darker than usual because Soraer Hiix forgot to swap the dead solarus stone for a fresh one.

Hiix, you lazy sow. You know it needs to sit in the suns all day! Soraer Venna had scolded, wagging a finger. Her rotund figure had lost some girth in the last few months. They were all thinner than usual, making their wrinkles more pronounced. Blame a bland and restrictive diet. And maybe their age, too. The passing of decades might have taken their toll.

At the chastising, Hiix rolled her eyes and sighed. I forgot. It’s not that big of a deal. Not like we’re planning to stay up late. I’ll charge it tomorrow.

Left unsaid was the reason Hiix had failed to charge it. Her knees were swollen again, meaning climbing the ladder to put the stones on the charging ledges taxed her, but she wouldn’t admit it.

Venna knew it, however. All of them had been at this routine for as long as they could remember. Why bother changing now? Every day, they did the same thing: rose at dawn, did chores, went to bed.

Agathe should note that the bed part was actually welcome at her age. Which was why she didn’t appreciate the interruption of her communion with her pillow and mattress on that chilly and—unbeknownst to her—fateful night.

Her gnarled fingers worked the latch, and the door stuck for a moment because of the moist evening air. She heaved it open with a groan and met the mist’s wet kiss.

The sight of it frightened, and she slammed the door. The mist had never risen this high before.

Agathe wondered if she should wake her Soraers. Surely, this was big news…if she didn’t imagine it.

She bit her lip. Had she seen mist? Yes meant she should keep the door closed. But then what of the person or persons outside? They no longer rang the bell, but they couldn’t have gone far.

Hello? A tremulous query that barely rose above a whisper.

Open the door.

The voice was inside her head. What did it mean?

You swore to obey.

The command had her blinking. Goddess?

Was she really going to question? She swallowed hard and tugged the door open. Immediately, the mist was everywhere, a thick band of white and gray, obscuring everything. She glanced around but couldn’t see much. The two lights flanking the door barely penetrated the swirling fog. It even concealed the wide ledge with its many-limbed tree, an ancient cherrapl that still produced fruit season after season.

Despite having never met any monsters, Agathe suddenly remembered every single story that warned of dangers when the suns set. In the fog, especially. It was why people still superstitiously sealed doors and shuttered their windows at night. If the legends were true, the mist had climbed the sheer cliffs back in the day, and some nights, it boiled up like a storm, spilling over the rim of the mountain and into the bowled valley. With it came nightmarish monsters, which explained the King’s edict: Thou shall not go outside after dark. Not that people obeyed it much. They’d long ago lost their fear of the night.

Agathe blinked as she looked around the area outside the door. The bell-rope dangled with no one around to tug it. Had they gone back up the long path, or did they conceal themselves in the mist?

Why hide unless they meant harm?

Get back inside, her sense of self-preservation screamed.

But that other voice, the one she’d not heard in decades, offered a different command. Wait.

Wait for what? Agathe knew she shouldn’t question the Goddess; however, she was old and had waited a long time. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so quick to agree.

It is time for you to fulfill your destiny.

Took long enough, Agathe grumbled and then winced as she waited for the Goddess to smite her.

When it didn’t happen right away, Agathe’s eyes and ears strained to penetrate the fog. Did something lurk? Would a monster lunge from the mist and swallow her whole?

Whaa.

Agathe blinked. Had she heard a cry, or did her imagination play games with her?

Another mewling, plaintive sound drew her from the Abbae’s threshold out onto the ledge, where the winding path down from the mountain ended. The mist hung all around, pushed back only by the light shining from the globes on either side of the door.

The fog, thick and unrelenting, didn’t allow her to see a thing. Such a change from the daytime when the mist hung low enough to seem like a cloud in the Abyss and the sky was blue for as far as the eye could see.

She grabbed a torch from inside the door and thrust a solarus stone into its cage. By waving it ahead of her, it parted the fog for her to advance. The moist air quickly closed in behind her.

Hello? Her voice quavered as she made herself a target. It had been a long time since anything from the Abyss had attacked, and despite the exaggeration, it had been only an oversized cave spider—nothing to be afraid of.

But if nothing in the mist was dangerous, then why were there Nine Abbaes of the Shield guarding this path?

Were being the keyword there. All but a few of the Abbaes had gone out of business because no danger lurked anymore. Agathe should stop being a coward.

There’s nothing to fear.

Still, she really wished she’d brought a knife. Or that sword.

Waving her torch, Agathe cleared the area around the door. Nothing and no one. She was about to give up and return inside when she heard it again.

"Whaa."

Having suckled a few, she knew the cry of a baby. She couldn’t ignore it.

Torch held aloft, Agathe made her way to the tree that clung stubbornly to the edge of the flat ledge. Its fat trunk could have hidden any number of things. Still, she had to look. She placed a hand on the gnarled bole and mouthed a quick prayer for strength before daring to slowly peek around.

At first, she saw nothing, the torch barely penetrating the fog. Even waving it around did nothing to dispel the thick mist. Her disquiet grew.

The air felt heavy, full of portent. Danger.

She should go back inside.

Not yet.

As if brushed aside by a ghostly hand—or a god—the mist parted, and she saw it on the ground. A bundle with a face.

Agathe couldn’t have said who was more startled. The baby’s eyes widened, and its mouth opened. Agathe expected to hear it yell.

Instead, the child smiled.

And Agathe knew she’d found her purpose.

Putting her torch down gave her the two hands needed to pick up the babe from the ground. Agathe stared into the chubby-cheeked face with its thick-lashed eyes. How did you get here?

Obviously, the swaddled baby didn’t walk. Someone had abandoned their child for Agathe to find.

Not unheard of. It happened quite often in the King’s Valley. If someone had a female child they couldn’t keep—born out of wedlock or one mouth too many to feed—they gave it to the Soraers of the Shield, which was better than families with superfluous boys, who sacrificed them to the old pagan gods.

Was this child an offering to the Goddess? And if yes, then why here? No one ever made the trip to this forgotten place—unless they were desperate.

Agathe cradled the child to her chest and felt a sense of rightness, as if the missing piece of her life had finally fallen into place.

She whirled to return to the Abbae, only to pause as the mist closed in against her. She’d need her torch, or she might get lost. Holding the baby in one arm, she crouched to grab it, her joints creaking. No sooner had she stood than she cursed as the light on the end went out.

The fog practically soaked her with moist glee as it surrounded her. She was blind for all intents and purposes, but she also knew this ledge. She’d guarded it long enough. She’d use the tree to guide her in the right direction. Her fingers felt the bark and looked for the marks on it, the arrow and symbol showing the path going up the mountain. Orienting herself by it, she took her first stride with confidence, the next with a little less surety. By the third, she shuffled. Surely, she should see the light by the door by now. The stone within the glass globe should last until morning. It had absorbed the pale suns’ rays for most of the day. Then again, so had the rock in her torch, and it had extinguished without even pretending to fade first.

What if she moved in the wrong direction? How to tell? The fog pressed in all around her, and turning to look behind, she couldn’t see the tree. No keep. Where was the edge?

She inched more carefully, and a good thing, too, as her left foot came down and began to slide before she caught herself.

She’d found the cliff.

If she did a half-revolution and walked straight, she should hit a wall. She turned and moved again.

Teetered shortly after on another edge.

Don’t panic. She must have veered. Off she shuffled once more. Again, she almost slipped off.

It made no sense. While, at the same time, Agathe recalled the stories. The fog played tricks on minds.

Some said it was the evil spirits trapped in the Abyss below, rising as a mist to cast their displeasure. It was as good a theory as any. And useless right now.

I want to get back inside the Abbae, she muttered out loud before closing her eyes. She took a breath before uttering a soft prayer. Niimweii, help your servant. And if not me, then at least show me how to bring this child to safety.

A breeze caressed her cheek, startling her, mostly because she’d expected a voice. She swayed on her feet, only to realize that she stood once more on the edge. She stumbled back, and the light wind tickled again, almost saying: This way.

She turned to see it pushing the mist aside, parting it so she could see the soft glow alongside the Abbae’s door.

Thank you, Goddess. For Agathe did not doubt that this was the answer to her prayer.

Baby held tight, she ran for safety, knowing the fog could return at any moment.

She’d almost made it when something emerged from the fog, a long, sinuous shape that tripped her!

Chapter 3

Something knocked Agathe from her feet. She did her best to shift and hit the ground on her side, managing to shield the child, but she couldn’t hold on. Her arms loosened, and the baby rolled free.

Not that Agathe cared as she dealt with the sudden burst of pain in her ribs. Probably broken. It certainly hurt to breathe. Lying on the ground and moaning about it wouldn’t save her from the thing wrapped around her ankle, dragging her toward the Abyss!

No, Agathe screamed as she kicked, loosening its grip. Forget the sharp stitch in her side; she’d left the baby on the ground. She popped to her feet just as the tentacle shot at her like a whip.

Agathe’s old bones protested the sideways dive. The ground wasn’t kind when she hit. It was the other side of her body, at least. Not that it helped. It still hurt. She’d be bruised in the morning.

If there was a morning.

Rising, she cursed herself for complacency. She should have brought her sword. Regardless that it hadn’t moved in a long, long time—not even for training. All she had were her hands and wits now, plus the memories of lessons from decades ago.

This won’t end well, she muttered just as the tentacle once more shot from the fog. She managed to punch it and divert whatever it planned. A victory short-lived, as a second appendage snuck up, wrapped around her ankle… Yanked.

By the Goddess! Agathe yelled as her bottom hit the ground hard. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Didn’t this monster understand that she had a purpose? She’d not waited this long only to have it taken from her.

Old didn’t mean her body had forgotten the movements of her youth. She belonged to Niimweii, the Shield Goddess. The Goddess of Battle. Part of worshiping her was learning the intricate dance that dealt death. It didn’t matter that she’d not had any true adversaries in her life; she had still trained.

And that knowledge bubbled forth.

She twisted and, with her hands clenched together, clubbed the tentacle hard enough that something squished. It pleased Agathe to hear a high-pitched squeal. Even better, the monster loosened its grip on her leg, and she scrambled from it.

Turning to the baby, illuminated by the single globe by the door, Agathe had a moment of horror as she saw a tentacle pausing over the child, quivering and turning side to side as if scenting the air.

As it began to descend, Agathe dashed for the appendage, knowing she wouldn’t make it in time—which was when Hiix appeared, curly gray hair in wild wisps around her head, her robe sagging off one thin shoulder. But she had the strength to swing a hammer—the one from the kitchen, used to tenderize meat. It flattened the tentacle. Venna then stepped in and, with a dipping slash of a butcher knife—usually used for chopping vegetables—separated it.

The loss of it drew some major bellowing from within the mist as ichor spurted, putrid and gag-worthy

Grab the baby and get inside, yelled Agathe, drawing their gazes to the bundle on the ground.

What in the Goddess…? Hiix muttered.

Venna yelled, Behind you!

Agathe ducked as her Soraer threw her weapon and sliced off the tentacle reaching for Agathe. The knife clattered to the ground. Agathe scooped it up, clutching the hilt. It felt good to have something to fight with, even as the monster disappeared.

Agathe doubted it had left. There was a stillness to the air, an ominous portent.

Get inside, was her soft command.

Hiix bent to grab the baby just as the monster attacked!

Tentacles shot out from all around them as if the mist itself were creating them. Or perhaps dozens of monsters surrounded them.

One or a hundred, it didn’t matter when they fought for their lives, three women past their prime, former soldiers in an army that never had more than basic training. Were never once deployed. When the time came to fight, they barely remembered how, and their muscles protested the abuse. But they did discover one thing they had in abundance: courage.

Adrenaline smothered the aches and pains, gave them strength. Back-to-back, they parried and swung, kicked and sliced. No matter how many times they struck or diced a piece, they couldn’t gain the upper hand.

When a tentacle began dragging the blanket holding the baby, Agathe uttered a battle cry and charged after it, plunging into the mist with no fear, just one thought.

Save the child.

Within the fog, she lost all sense of direction and sound immediately. The mist clung to her skin, moistened it, gagged her. Filled her ears with batting. Dotted her lashes and made it hard to see.

Where are you, baby? She just needed a sign.

No reply. She felt a breeze instead and followed its arrowing path until she came face-to-face with a beast. The warm wind pushed the mist aside enough for Agathe to see it in all its monstrous glory. A bulbous body balanced on the edge of the cliff, its skin oozing sores, its carapace slimy and smelly. The mouth was a gaping hole rimmed with teeth. The tentacles on the body remained plentiful despite those she and the Soraers had chopped.

She shortened yet another as she sliced to free the child before the thing ate it. As the beast bellowed in annoyance, rather than run with the baby, Agathe suddenly knew what she had to do.

My purpose.

Kill the monster.

She charged, not sure how to kill it, hoping her Goddess offered a tip or maybe a divine hand.

The thing suddenly noticed her entering its personal space. It jolted into action. Her arm arced a little too soon. The blade she swung barely sliced across the beast.

A shallow scratch, but it still bellowed hot gas right in her face, a poison she could see and not avoid. One fetid breath of air and she hit the ground. Paralyzed. Able only to see and hear as a tentacle dragged the baby across the ground, right past her face. A taunt at her inability to do the thing she’d spent her whole life waiting for. Would she lose another child?

Don’t give up!

Her fingers spasmed as fabric skimmed against the tips. She managed to hook them into the bundle, but the monster kept pulling, resulting in the child rolling out of its swaddling.

It wore a simple tunic and a diaper. Its body was chubby, arms waving now that they were free. The fingers grasped and grabbed at anything within reach. The child crawled for Agathe, expression determined, not knowing that a tentacle hovered.

The baby patted Agathe’s cheek just as the tentacle wrapped around the baby’s other wrist. A jolt went through the child and Agathe, a spasm that parted her lips just as the monster bellowed. She saw the tentacle release the babe, but those chubby, grasping fingers reached for it and clung tightly. Even as the infant kept one hand flat on Agathe’s cheek.

She could only watch as the tentacle shivered and then began spasming, undulating, at times nearly pulling from the baby’s grasp. But the child held on with an intent expression, eyes aglow.

If Agathe had not been paralyzed, she would have shoved away from those intent fingers pressing into her cheek, icy-cold and searing-hot all at once. If she could have screamed, she would have. Her eyes were open and fixed on the child’s. The glow intensified, burning her retinas and becoming brighter by the moment, starting out violet and then turning almost white.

Agathe screamed as heat poured into her. So much heat. Surely, her flesh and blood boiled. The pain was intense, insane. Incapacitating.

Gradually, it eased, and Agathe found herself blinking as she saw the baby’s eyes fade from incandescent to merely a purple glow, then nothing.

Only then did the baby release the tentacle, and as Agathe watched, the monster shuddered and uttered a keening sound, thrashing and looking smaller than before. It appeared to shrink in on itself. It uttered one last long howl before bursting into nothing. No chunks of flesh, not even dust. It was as if it’d never existed—unless Agathe looked at the lopped-off limb lying not far away.

The baby made a sound of complaint and then clapped its hands and gurgled. No sign that, just moments ago, its eyes had been glowing brighter than any stone.

What was it? And what had it done?

Should Agathe be nervous, considering the child finished clapping and turned to her to grab at her cheeks again?

She flinched. Surely, she didn’t need to fear a baby. Still, she couldn’t help but tremble, wondering if she would explode next.

It took her another second to realize that, rather than dying, she actually felt pretty good. And she could move. She scrambled to stand, half-crouched as if expecting an attack.

Gah. The child sat, bouncing on its bottom, clapping its hands.

No monster appeared; however, the mist overhead thinned, and Agathe saw stars and the crescent of one of the moons. The ominous sense of danger was gone. Thank you, Goddess.

For, surely, she’d intervened to save her servant and healed her too, since Agathe felt no ill effects from the battle at all.

The infant cooed and smiled—happy as could be. Looking normal and not like a demon baby with glowing eyes. There was probably a hallucinogen in the monster’s bad breath.

Who are you? Agathe murmured aloud. Did it really matter? It was a baby, and it needed her help. Come, little one.

She reached for the child, who immediately nestled in her arms. When Agathe pivoted to orient herself, she noticed remnants of the mist clinging to the ledge, receding as silently as it had invaded. Enough that she could see the rim and the tree, not at all where she’d expected them to be. She also caught sight of the door. As she headed for it, she saw Venna supporting Hiix, whose left knee appeared to have buckled.

Are you both okay? Agathe asked, her stride quickening.

Just old bones. I’ll be fine, Hiix scoffed.

Not if the monster comes back and finishes you off. Venna couldn’t hide the concern in her abrupt observation.

I don’t think we need to worry, Agathe replied as she stepped closer. The monster is dead. The part she kept to herself? The baby had killed it, because she really had to wonder if she had imagined it.

Venna supported a hobbling Hiix, helping her into the Abbae, while Agathe kept an eye out for movement beyond the rim. She saw and heard nothing, not even the voice in her head.

Stepping past the threshold of the keep, she found Hiix just inside, hammer tucked into her belt, leaning against the wall. Her eyes gleamed, and she actually grinned. Well, that was a bit of excitement.

Venna snorted and tugged at her fat braid. I’d have preferred to stay in my warm bed. So she said. And yet the high spots of color in her cheeks spoke of her own adrenaline surge.

What possessed you to go outside in the first place? Hiix asked, lighting the oil basin in the courtyard to give them some heat and light. It had little fuel left, but tonight deserved to waste some of it.

Someone rang the bell, Agathe informed her, taking stock of her Soraers. Neither of them appeared to be bleeding, but their robes would need a wash and stitch. While Agathe felt fine for the moment. If the Goddess hadn’t healed her, then she imagined all the aches and pains would appear by morning.

All in all, despite their first-ever Abyss monster, they’d come out ahead.

Or so Agathe assumed until Venna exclaimed, By the Goddess, Agathe, what happened to you?

Chapter 4

What a dumb thing to ask. Agathe got snarky with her Soraer. What do you think happened? Or in your senility, did you already forget the monster? No need to mention that parts of the battle were fuzzy for her. How had the monster really died? Because what she recalled just wasn’t possible. A baby couldn’t touch a creature and kill it.

I wasn’t talking about the creature. Venna waved a hand. I meant…what happened to your face?

Agathe grimaced. I smacked it off the ground when the monster tripped me.

How come when I hit myself, I don’t lose any wrinkles? Hiix noted.

What are you yammering on about? Agathe barked as she slammed the door shut. It clanged, and the bolts snicked into place with ease. Only then did she relax. Once more, the adage of nothing good happened in the middle of the night had held true.

Then again… She glanced at the baby and only caught part of Hiix’s words. …magic is the only explanation.

Magic is the explanation for what? Agathe asked, looking up.

The fact that you appear to have lost a few decades.

Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the mist making you see things, Agathe retorted.

Am I? Because Venna sees it, too.

Her other Soraer nodded. You really should look in a mirror.

We don’t have any, she retorted. The Abbaes of the Shield frowned on frivolous extras. Polished metal was for weapons, not mirrors. Even if they did have one, she wasn’t vain enough that she needed to look right now. Hiix’s eyes were probably misbehaving. It happened at their age. What looked like an ostrawk in a clear blue sky now often turned out to be a bird the size of her fist.

If she wants to ignore the fact her face looks like it was dipped in a vat of youth, then let’s change subjects. I want to talk about the baby. Where did it come from? Venna circled a finger over the child’s head, crowned in glossy black curls.

It’s not an it, Agathe pointed out. And I have no idea where the child came from or who left it here. All I know is that someone rang the bell numerous times, and when I emerged, I found the babe on the ground by the tree.

Venna’s eyes widened. A good thing you went out to find the baby. That monster would have eaten the sweetling for sure.

Perhaps that’s what someone wanted. Why else abandon a defenseless infant at night on the edge of the Abyss? Who would do such a horrible thing? Hiix couldn’t hide her indignation at such evil.

They wouldn’t have rung the bell if that was their plan, Agathe pointed out.

Are you sure it rang? Because we heard nothing.

Probably because your snores drowned it out. At the same time, Agathe had to wonder if she’d heard the ring or if her Goddess had meddled to ensure Agathe would be in time to save the child.

I don’t snore! Venna huffed.

You obviously heard something, or you wouldn’t have joined me in time to fight the monster.

I heard something, all right, Hiix muttered.

A good thing we arrived. Venna stroked a finger down the baby’s cheek.

The child’s head rested on Agathe’s shoulder, calm as could be. Unnatural given all that had happened. Agathe ignored her disquiet. After all, the Goddess had sent her to this babe.

We won’t figure out anything standing in the courtyard. A grand word for a vast cave. The entire Abbae was a network of tunnels linking to other caves, some natural, others dug and reinforced. At night, only a half-dozen globes glowed, enough to get around. Put out the fire. We’ll get the baby into the communal hall and find a linen to wrap it in before he or she catches a chill.

I’ll carry the child. Venna held out her hands, and Agathe almost turned with a hiss.

As if she’d hand the baby over. Agathe had a duty to protect it. Their Goddess had entrusted the child to her. Chosen her for this special task. Tell no one. The child is used to me. Best not shock it too much.

I’ll wager the child is hungry. I’ll get some milk. Venna hurried to their very small animal pen, now consisting of one goat and two chickens. Back in the day, they used to have more, but three people didn’t need much—and their last pig had tasted delicious once roasted.

What do you think? Boy or girl? Hiix asked, leading the way into the communal hall. The trestle tables—made of stone and from a time when the Abbae overflowed with acolytes—remained in three lines, with the head table for the Maeder and the higher-ranked Soraers long vacant. The Maeder who’d welcomed Agathe had long since passed, as had the one after her. By then, no one really cared who got the job. There were only three of them left. Venna, Hiix, and Agathe. Soraers in their faith and friends so long that they might as well be blood.

I don’t know. One way to find out. Plopping the baby on a trestle table, Agathe lay the child on its back and peeled the wet diaper from it. Girl. Healthy-looking. Well-fed, judging by the flesh on her bones. Good-humored, too. She’d yet to cry despite the action.

Funny, I could have sworn earlier her eyes were purple, Venna stated.

She didn’t need to say anything else. The King’s law was clear. Purple-eyed children were to be presented yearly at the Vionox held in the King’s City when the suns and moons aligned. There, they became property of the King and were never seen again. No one knew what happened next, and they tended to avoid the subject, given how much it upset Hiix.

You must be mistaken. Her eyes are very clearly a grayish-brown.

What are we supposed to do with her? Hiix asked as the baby reached for her. Hiix held out a hand for the child to grasp.

For a second, fear hit Agathe, and she wanted to yell at Hiix, tell her not to let the baby touch her. Ridiculous. As if a child could hurt an adult. I’d say it’s obvious what we have to do. Raise her.

Us? Hiix burst out in rusty laughter. We’re old ladies. At least Venna and I are. A child like this will require much attention. Who will mind her when we have our needed daily naps?

We’ll share the task in shifts, Agathe declared. Or not. If you don’t wish to aid, then I will care for the child myself. It is, after all, the Goddess’s will. She’d waited her whole life for this moment. She wouldn’t fail now.

Never said I wouldn’t help, grumbled Hiix. Just that it’s a lot of work, and we don’t have any baby supplies.

A good point. Agathe had never seen an acolyte younger than her join the Abbae. In her decades, they’d had barely a dozen new Soraers. Older women who, like Agathe, had thought about giving up when life became too hard to bear. They took the walk to the edge of the Abyss, and like the Goddess had with Agathe, sometimes she thought them worthy enough to change their minds.

We don’t need anything complicated. Agathe tapped her lower lip. A way to feed her milk. Their breasts were long dry. A bed she can’t fall out of. We have cloth for nappies. As clothing wore out and Soraers died, their pile of rags grew.

And what if she ends up with the purple eyes? Hiix asked. She’d joined the Order after losing both a son and a daughter for having that particular trait. She would have done anything to keep her children from entering the Citadel and never seeing them again. Not that she had a choice. One could either hand them over willingly or suffer the consequences. Hide them and chances were someone would tattle for the reward.

Hiix had told Agathe that the worst part was the money bestowed after. Her husband saw no reason not to enjoy their newfound wealth. Blood money that reminded her of their loss. Hiix left home the next day.

Agathe stroked a hand over the baby’s soft hair. I don’t care what the laws say. I will not hand her over.

Whatever Venna saw was probably a trick of the light, Hiix stated. Babies are never born with the purple. Most didn’t manifest until puberty. Only rarely did it happen younger.

That child is a miracle, Venna declared, returning with some warm milk and having the forethought to bring a leather skin with a polished wooden spout that made an imperfect nipple. But the baby didn’t care.

She drank, burped, farted, and went to sleep.

But Agathe got no peace, as her Soraers laid into her.

Chapter 5

What really happened to you out there in the fog? Hiix asked, dragging Agathe away from the child, now sleeping within a wooden chest with its lid removed, the bottom lined with a folded blanket. A few solarus lights glowed softly in the stone chamber—not many since it took too many trips to carry them now, but they had no choice since they’d run out of candles.

You really need to do something about your senility. I told you what happened. You were there with me, fighting a tentacled monster.

Venna shivered. "What was that thing?"

Reminded me of a flakan, if it had an ugly cousin. Flakens were creatures with bulbous bodies and writhing fronds lined in feathers that skimmed over the fog. Harmless creatures. But the thing she’d faced wanted flesh and blood.

Stop changing the subject. We all know we faced an Abyss monster. The first in forever. Is the fact you killed it why you returned…changed? Hiix finally stopped dragging, and they stood by the basin for washing dishes. The spout—held together in a mishmash of parts—spewed water and soon covered the bottom. Look and tell me what you see.

A glance into the basin showed a reflection, not a great one because of the subdued lighting and the ripples, but enough that Agathe recognized her face—and didn’t.

She touched her skin, smoother than she recalled in a long time. Not completely wrinkle-free, but definitely improved. I don’t understand. Even as her mind flashed to the child.

Could it be the mist? Venna asked.

I’m still just as wrinkled, Hiix remarked.

Had to be the monster, then, Venna stated with a nod.

None of the stories about fighting monsters had anyone emerging younger. Agathe couldn’t stop staring at herself, running fingers over the newly firm flesh.

Did it spit on you? Bleed? Breathe? Hiix ticked off a list of items.

Breathed, yes. And the smell. Agathe grimaced as she finally turned from her reflection. Recalling the fetidness, I highly doubt it has rejuvenating properties.

Maybe its breath moisturized? Venna queried on a dubious note.

That’s the result of more than a really good cream. Hiix shook her head.

The Goddess must have rewarded you for rescuing the child, Venna declared.

Was it the Goddess, though? Agathe dimly recalled the baby grabbing her cheeks. And what of the glowing eyes? Could the child heal?

The baby certainly didn’t seem strange and otherworldly anymore. Her eyes were a rather ordinary brown. But like the others, Agathe would have sworn they had been another color when they first met. Did it mean something?

Agathe had only met a few violet-eyed folks in her time and had never seen them as out of the ordinary. Not that she had known them for long, as they ended up being offered in service to the King at the Vionox Festival.

You must be right. The Goddess intervened. And then, because it was sometimes fun to cause trouble, she added, Guess I’m her favorite.

Venna snorted. "Guess again. I’m her special daughter, which is why our Goddess woke me and told me I had a special mission to keep the child safe." Her Soraer clenched her hands to her chest and raised her gaze to the ceiling.

At the theatrics, Agathe glanced sharply at her. She spoke to you?

Venna nodded. A voice inside my dream told me to rise and go forth to help save a most important child.

The Goddess called me, too, Hiix admitted.

And me. Apparently, our Goddess wanted to hedge her bets, Agathe muttered.

Our Goddess is wise and smart. Obviously, the child is important to her, and we have been entrusted with her protection. It is a great honor. Venna dipped her head and made a sign of fealty to the Goddess, her hand dipping up and down.

Agathe almost snorted. Everyone knew the Goddess preferred offerings of ale and blood. If, by ill-chance, the child does manifest purple eyes, we’ll need to keep her hidden from outsiders. Which shouldn’t be hard. They didn’t get many folks popping in for visits.

"Even if she doesn’t, if someone does show up, one of us should take her to the catacombs," Hiix remarked.

You do realize that if she is purple-eyed, and we harbor her past the Vionox, we could be executed for breaking the law? Venna pointed out.

I do. Hiix lifted her chin. They can toss my cold and dead body into the Abyss for the mist to consume before I hand over another child.

Caring for this babe is the Goddess’s will, which supersedes any laws from a King, Agathe argued.

I guess it’s decided, then. We’re keeping her. Venna sounded most pleased. A good thing I’ve got seeds left. We’ll need to expand our garden.

I’ll check the defenses, make sure nothing needs shoring. Hiix’s shoulders straightened with purpose. There might be more monsters coming.

As for Agathe, I think we also need to read up on our history. Because she, for one, wanted to better understand what had happened outside. What did the appearance of the monster and the rising mist mean?

With common purpose, they came together as Soraers, doing the Goddess’s bidding and finding out that life still had plenty to offer. Especially for Agathe, who, unlike her Soraers, had regained some of her youth. Appearing in her third decade, it gave her the energy to care for the baby, who proved to be very well behaved. And for a while, it seemed as if life would continue as before, albeit with a new face.

That peaceful moment didn’t last.

Chapter 6

Hiix sounded the alarm almost a year after finding the baby. It had been a quiet year of teaching the child to walk, eat, and say her first word: More.

Hiix was standing watch in the alcove, a grand name for the balcony at the highest point of the Abbae, large enough that two people could use it to spy or even defend, with slits useful for firing arrows—not that they ever had reason. It should be noted, however, they had no bow, arrows, or anyone that could fire one.

Their weapons were, at best, pitted, but at least they’d been scrubbing the rust since the child’s arrival. They’d also taken more of an interest in defense. The mist hadn’t yet returned, but they all had a sense of something impending.

It led to Hiix spending time each day climbing that ladder despite her bad knees and taking a peek at the path where she could see it winding down from the last bend to the final ledge and the Ninth Abbae of the Shields.

A good thing, too, because, for the first time in a long while, Hiix had to shout, Visitors coming!

She thumped heavily down the steep ladder with its rungs worn by time and ready to be replaced—probably for the last time. Agathe, able to climb with ease these days, felt sorry for her Soraer. She’d offered to take over the post, but full of pride, Hiix had refused and got snitty about it. Don’t be trying to horn in on my position. You’re the doorkeeper, so keep your door.

Fine. Just trying to help.

You mean just rubbing it in our faces that you’re so young again, muttered her friend.

Agathe could understand their jealousy and didn’t know what to tell them. Admit that the baby might have done it? Better to let them think the Goddess loved her the most.

Venna was the glue that kept them fed and dressed. Since Agathe didn’t have much to do with her door duties, she helped Venna with the garden. Today, it involved pruning back some vines to free dirt for seeding. She tucked the shears into her belt then met Hiix as she hit the bottom rung.

How far and how many? she asked, knowing better than to offer Hiix an arm.

Within a quarter-turn of the suns. Party of four, Hiix uttered.

Could it be a family bringing us a potential? Venna asked, rising from the suns-lit patch of moss in the middle of the courtyard. The baby mimed her actions and stood, as well, a beautiful child, hair long and dark without any hint of wave. Her eyes had been showing hints of purple for months. No denying it, which was why they’d long ago agreed what would happen if they got a visitor.

Judging by the silver armor, it’s a squad of the King’s Elite. In other words, trouble, since they had no reason to be down this far and hadn’t bothered in more than two decades.

Venna, take the baby to the catacombs. Hiix, secure the entrance. The door to the ancient catacombs was hidden in the cellar by the kitchen. A cask would cover the hatch in the floor.

You aren’t going to let them in, are you? Hiix asked.

I don’t see as we have a choice. In their planning, it hadn’t occurred to them that the King’s soldiers might come for a visit. They never had before. They’d assumed a possible potential, perhaps some Soraers from another Abbae, checking on them. But the King’s own men? That was a trickier thing to handle.

It’s the King’s Elite, Agathe reminded. If I tell them they can’t come in, it will look suspicious.

Why would they be down this far unless they know something? They must be after the brat. The nickname Hiix had bestowed upon their foundling, who seemed determined to spit up on every clean thing they owned. It had stuck, despite the fact they’d agreed to call her Belle.

We don’t know that for sure. But it was certainly possible.

Maybe we could tell them we have the plague, Venna suggested.

And have them barricade us inside and try to burn us to death? Hiix went to the worst-possible scenario. The way her mind could turn to the most macabre possibility made her good at defense.

We just need to keep repeating that we have no idea who they’re talking about.

Lie to the King’s men? So easy, muttered Hiix.

Would you prefer the alternative? snapped Agathe. It’s the best option, and you know it. Or would you prefer fighting the King’s men? Even if we prevailed, do you think that no one would notice their disappearance?

Hiix’s lips flattened. We could pretend that no one is here.

Tell that to the smoke from that roast Venna’s making for dinner. The large rat they’d caught would make a fine stew after. Then, because her Soraers still looked much too worried, Agathe softened her tone. We just need to avoid confrontation. We’ll answer the door and tell them it’s a few old ladies living here. No one else.

Old ladies? Ha. More like a grandmother and her daughter. Remember, Venna will be hiding.

Speaking of which, we are wasting time. Let’s go! Off to the cellar with you two. Agathe clapped her hands, and the baby mimed her with a giggle. Her sweet girl.

As if they’d give her up without a fight.

While Venna hid with Hiix’s aid to roll the casket onto the entrance, Agathe ran around, collecting items that might give them away. Blankets, toys they’d whittled and made of yarn. The chest had its lid replaced, hiding all the items, and just in time.

The bell rang, loud enough that they heard it in the communal hall.

Hiix’s lips pursed. Remember, it’s just me and you.

Is it wrong I’m second-guessing telling them that? They might think us easy targets. Agathe hadn’t resided in the Abbae her whole life. She knew the dangers to women in King’s Valley. The lusts of men.

Hiix frowned. Guess that will depend on the kind of soldiers the King employs.

To which, Agathe couldn’t help but note, They’re not so much employed as conscripted. Purple-eyed boys taken during the Vionox became soldiers once they reached a certain age. At that point, they were allowed to leave the Citadel, where it was observed that they all bore dull brown eyes. As for the girls…all disappeared inside the Citadel, and the young ones were never seen again. People only ever saw the old ladies who worked for the castle, buying wares from the market.

Doesn’t matter how the men became soldiers. Just remember, they can’t be trusted.

Agathe pressed her lips. I can handle them. She hoped.

As the bell rang again, she moved to the gate and shouted into a hole that coiled sound before spitting it from an even smaller hole on the other side. Who goes there?

We are the King’s Elite. Open the door, a distinctly male voice declared.

How do I know you aren’t ruffians? No point in letting them know they’d spied upon them coming up the road.

Would ruffians really bother with a poor Abbae at the end of the road? The voice sounded genuinely baffled.

Sounds like something a thief would say. Agathe couldn’t help but amuse herself.

No thief would think the walk here worth the effort. You are literally at the edge of the Abyss, and I highly doubt you have anything of value inside.

The insult stung, and while she longed to correct him of his misassumption, that would be pride speaking. A smarter move? Let them believe they owned nothing of value.

Do you swear you’re telling the truth? Agathe said instead, trying to sound innocuous.

Yes.

And do you swear not to do us any harm?

By my honor as a knight of the realm, I shan’t do any law-abiding citizens any harm.

Ooh. A clever way of phrasing it.

The Abyss’ll take you if you lie. Agathe undid the locks and swung open the portal.

The man leading the squad stood ahead of three other men. He had a hand on his sword, his helmet tucked under his arm, meaning Agathe could see his mustache perfectly curled and braided to the sideburns. The beads dangling from his beard denoted his rank, lieutenant knight. With him were three squires, still green-looking in their shiny tin suits, their helmets covering their faces but not their wide, excited eyes. The King’s soldiers were more about show than substance—or so she’d heard.

The monster incursions that’d plagued generations ago had long ceased in the King’s Valley, making the soldiers more ceremonial and in charge of ensuring that the populace upheld the King’s laws. They were quite intent on their task, and given they worked directly for the King, not people to insult or ignore.

As the man’s gaze traveled first over her and then what he could see at her back, she clasped her hands. Welcome, travelers, to the Ninth Abbae of the Shield, end of the road before the Abyss, shrine to our Goddess Niimweii. I am Soraer Agathe. How might I help you today? She kept her hands folded over her midsection, knowing she appeared benign. Not that it mattered. The King’s Elite looked down on those not in their ranks, especially women.

The lieutenant knight clenched his fist and held it under a sigil on his chest. Lieutenant Knight Baree, here on our King’s business.

A King, Agathe should add, that few saw. And when they did, it was usually from afar, as he stood on the wall, guarding his Citadel. It had been decades since he’d attended the festival in person. It led to people scoffing at his existence until the soldiers showed up at the heretical person’s door.

We don’t often see the King’s Elite traveling to the end of the path. Did you have news to impart?

Do you think us messengers? The lieutenant knight