Ignited Souls: The Guardians of Altana, #2

By Savanah James

The demon knows more than he should.

 

Her men gone, allies scattered, and imprisoned within the ruins of Waetherea's palace, elven princess Ara Zypherus stands alone. As Ara's sanity unravels beneath the vile ministrations of the god of chaos's champion– hope is nearly lost.

That is, until Raethin Corvus gasps back to life. He's bargained his soul to fulfill his oath of protection to Ara at any cost. But the clock is ticking. Raethin, along with the Rakevan guardian, and a strange new ally- an elven priestess, race to find Ara, knowing that if princess Ara falls, the Void King will succeed in consuming all life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Savanah James
• Release date: Dec 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215927960

Book preview

Ignited Souls

The Guardians of Altana: Book Two

Savanah James

Seven Stars Press

Copyright © 2022 by Savanah James

All rights reserved.

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

This book was originally published under The Ruined Throne and has thus far been unpublished, revised, edited, and re-published under a new title and the author’s new pen name by Seven Stars Press. The original editions should be no longer available or circulating.

Cover Design by Celestial Covers.

Editing by Seven Stars Press.

Proofreading by Books with a Chance.

eBook ASIN: B09QQHK1V3

Paperback ISBN: 9798365214545

Imprint: Independently published

Contents

Pronunciations

Map of Altana

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

8. Chapter Eight

9. Chapter Nine

10. Chapter Ten

11. Chapter Eleven

12. Chapter Twelve

13. Chapter Thirteen

14. Chapter Fourteen

15. Chapter Fifteen

16. Chapter Sixteen

17. Chapter Seventeen

18. Chapter Eighteen

19. Chapter Nineteen

20. Chapter Twenty

21. Chapter Twenty-One

22. Chapter Twenty-Two

23. Chapter Twenty-Three

24. Chapter Twenty-Four

25. Chapter Twenty-Five

26. Chapter Twenty-Six

27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

30. Chapter Thirty

31. Chapter Thirty-One

Afterword

About Author

Also By

Pronunciations

Words

Rav’lah ("Avatar) – rah-v-la

Luithe’la (great spirit/lower deity/guardian) – lew-eth-thee-la

Aelvan tsaza (little elf) – ah-el-vahn zzz-ah-zah

Ir Avel Rakeva (Home of Rakeva) – ear ah-vil rah-kee-va

Majat (evil spirit/god/deity/being) – mah-yaht

Names

Ara Zypherus – ah-rah zi-fear-us

Raethin Corvus – ray-then core-vas

Raifeld – ray-fell-d

Adaena - ah-dane-uh

Maxum Tynara – max-im tie-nah-rah

Arlow – ar-low

Veron – veer-ron

Aescion Waethis – a-shee-yon way-this

Aesdrius – ace-dree-us

Rasilvanor – rah-seel-veh-nor

Cirith – seer-reth

Rakeva – rah-kee-va

Misandreas – miss-and-dre-us

Solas – soul-lass

Vilithian – veel-leth-the-un

Bieva – bee-eh-va

Kiri – kee-ree

Zira – zeer-rah

Iziran – ih-zee-rahn

Elistri – el-ih-stree

Elisdra – el-is-drah

Athaera – aa-theer-ah

Theron – thee-rohn

Karvana – car-vah-nah

Locations

Thraes – thrayss

Altana – all-tan-ah

Therilea – theh-reel-lay-uh

Waetherea – way-theer-ray-uh

Viloth – veel-loth

Kava Sil – kah-vah seel

Sor Vil Zan – soar veel zah-n

Sarcha – sar-ka

Verisca – veer-risk-ah

Tyran – teer-ran

Vasaeran – vah-seer-ran

Zan Delva – zahn-del-vah

Zan Vira – zahn-veer-rah

Zan Kil – zahn-keel

Zan Yel – zahn-yil

Athyr (Island) – aa-theer

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Chapter One

Second Era 13899, The Royal Palace of Sarcha, Waetherea

Sarcha, the legendary City of Sun, remained the last vestige of hope Waetherea had against the oncoming darkness. Ancestors claimed the gods descended to Thraes amid the shining city. Now it housed refugees fleeing the devastated kingdoms surrounding the Visiel Mountains. As the Kaevari devoured the villages across the coast and lower lands, survivors traversed the treacherous terrain to seek haven within Sarcha’s boundaries.

The Waetherean king used the demons’ aversion to the frigid climate and proximity to the sky to his advantage and reinforced the stronghold. Seers and advisors alike advised that it would only be a short time before the demons would come, and the toppling of their neighboring kingdoms testified of the truth to King Kaesith. When Verisca fell, taking the whole of Therilea with it, the Waetherean king had no choice but to prepare for war.

Sitting alone in his chambers, overlooking the city filled with waiting and starving bodies, Kaesith mourned the Therilea family and their kingdom. He and King Raifeld were lifelong friends, and having betrothed their children, they’d intertwined their people. Losing their ally kingdom, and his close friends with it, brought the world crashing down around him.

Death and damnation approached, and in these lonely, silent moments, Kaesith recalled his life. First, his son had disappeared, and when it became apparent that he wouldn’t be found, Kaesith proclaimed the crown prince dead.

Though he and his wife, Samira, mourned, they couldn’t leave the kingdom without an heir. For decades, Kaesith tried to convince his wife that they needed to conceive again, and for the longest time, she refused.

Like King Raifeld’s queen, Samira fell ill with the plague. Her suffering prolonged for years until, one night, she passed peacefully in her sleep with dark veins in her glassy eyes. When Kaesith buried dear Samira, he felt the advancing end of his people.

Once news of Therilea’s fall and Raifeld’s death came to Sarcha, Kaesith mourned, as he had for his wife and son.

A day later, Kaesith stood among his closest advisors and commanders.

For all we know, he said, his voice unwavering. We are the last vestiges of hope. The Kaevari have avoided pursuing Sarcha for this long, but not without toppling the rest of Altana. Now it’s only logical that they come for us.

He paused and glanced at Vikis, his closest commander and the oldest serving warrior on his council. An understanding dawned within his heart and on the face of his comrade.

I will protect this city with my dying breath, Kaesith announced.

A shudder ran through the cluster, a resurgence of hope as they all leaned toward him.

I will prolong the light. Weaken their attempts. I will do what I must to protect these precious lives. We will honor our brethren throughout the lands by not backing down. Pride pushed at the fear that had fluttered in the recesses of his mind, forcing it out for that solitary moment.

When dusk approached that evening, Kaesith stood at the threshold of his precious City of Sun. With Vikis and his magi, he watched the mountain range below and sky above.

Movement caught his eye. A few black masses peppered the area. Not a horde, but demonic scouts who waited in the shadows for the ebbing light to disappear completely under the horizon.

Kaesith and the magi lifted their arms, and bright beams erupted. Together, their magick surged and swathed the city in a light that rivaled the midday sun.

When night fell, the city’s light persisted.

Truly, the City of Sun.

That night, all the magi standing with Kaesith had persisted until dawn. When morning flashed across their sweating, quivering bodies, they fell to their knees. Soldiers carried Kaesith and his magi back to their chambers. At the next approaching dusk, they returned to the city’s threshold.

More demons clustered below. Their curious crimson eyes squinted as the light persisted, even when darkness fell across the mountain.

For a week this persisted, until one night, hours before dawn, Kaesith fell and the light dimmed.

He shivered, spent of energy. His skin clung to bones that ached and groaned under the weight of his own body. Soldiers ran out to carry him to the palace, where healers attended him.

Each day thereafter, Kaesith lost strength at an alarming rate, and his attendants kept him in bed, fidgeting over him in fear of his health.

We will continue to hold the light, Vikis said when he visited one morning, appearing nearly as sick and ragged as him.

And how long will you manage? Kaesith asked.

Until I die.

Within two days, the magi’s light dimmed to a soft sunset across the City of Sun. Demons crept up the mountain, their excitement palpable.

Take me to the gates, Kaesith begged his attendants. Reluctantly, they retrieved Vikis, who, instead, carried him to his throne room. Huge, open windows oversaw the gates below.

Kaesith sat on his throne, eyes misting as he watched the remaining magi struggle to hold the light.

The city inhabitants sagged with relief when dawn broke.

Kaesith refused to leave his throne. He turned his watery gaze to his commander, his friend.

This is it, he said. I feel them closing in on us.

Vikis pursed his lips and nodded.

Kaesith watched the city through the open windows. I pray often. Fervently, I pray the gods will save us. My doubts… I must confess my doubts, Vikis. I had hoped that this blight was a misfortune that the gods would correct. But I wonder…if this is judgment. Is the realm unbalanced?

I, too, wonder this, my king.

I hope Theron can forgive my doubts when I leave this realm. Kaesith sighed and relaxed into his chair, soaking in the sun as it washed the room in pure light. Briefly, he wondered if Theron had ever heard him.

Tension filled Sarcha as the day progressed, and night approached.

A shift in the air pulled at Kaesith. Slowly, his heavy eyelids opened, and he watched as the crowds clustering the streets below parted.

A figure stood at the gate’s threshold. Chatter died in the city as a wave of disbelief struck the masses. Slowly, the stranger progressed, the crowd parting with him as he approached Sarcha’s golden palace.

A soldier ran into the throne room and fell to his knees, bowing low before Kaesith.

Your majesty, he mumbled against the marble floor. It’s the prince.

Kaesith lurched forward in his throne, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests to hold himself within the seat.

How? he breathed.

Vikis rushed down the stairs to greet the stranger. When the commander looked back at him, the shock in his friend’s eyes shot Kaesith like an arrow through the heart.

The crown prince had returned.

Slowly, Kaesith used the last of his strength to stand as Aescion stepped into the room. His clothes were dark and crisp with blood and dirt, but his skin remained unblemished–and his silver eyes held an unfamiliar gleam.

My son. Kaesith quivered. Is it truly you?

Aescion approached. His appearance dwarfed every dim memory Kaesith had of his son. His uncut black hair grew past his shoulders and his silver eyes, a sharp replica of Kaesith’s, shifted into a dark glower. When he stopped, he towered a foot over him.

Father.

Kaesith shuddered as he reached out to Aescion, his thin fingers brushing his cheek. At the touch, he gasped and gripped Aescion’s arms as he fell forward, relieved and astonished.

You’re alive, Kaesith cried. The gods answered my prayers—

Aescion helped him to his feet, fingers curling around Kaesith’s brittle shoulders.

I have missed you. Kaesith touched Aescion’s arms, his constant contact a reminder that this wasn’t a dream. Your mother and I waited for so long—even to her dying breath, she prayed for your return—

He stuttered, choking on his words. With sudden tears, the king turned his graying eyes downward to look at his chest.

Claws cut through him, his heart within the grasp of an ashen palm. He looked up, watching in horror as crimson bled into his son’s silver eyes until blood and black swallowed his gaze whole.

You— Kaesith stammered, blood trickling from his lips. You are not my son.

The stranger’s gaze narrowed as he clutched the king’s heart and squeezed. Blood soaked his palm as he withdrew, and the king fell at his feet.

Sunlight disappeared, and screams filled the air as darkness fell over the City of Sun. Black masses blotted out the moonlight as demons descended.

Slowly, the stranger stepped over the king’s body and sat on the throne. His claws curled around the armrests as he leaned back. Wings burst from his back, flowing down the back of the throne. His skin grayed, and black horns pierced through his temples.

As his demons laid waste to the City of Sun, Aesdrius sat alone in the king’s place. His gaze drifted, then settled on the last king of Waetherea. In his solitude, with the cacophony of screams echoing his pounding headache, Aesdrius felt a twinge in his chest and slowly closed his eyes to the sight.

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Chapter Two

Second Era 13899, The Rakevan Druidic Fortress, Therilea

Cirith stood with the druid elders in the keep’s foyer hours after dawn broke the morning of the demon siege. His body still struggled to heal, and only with Misandreas’s help in ejecting the poison did he recover.

Attendants had carried Zira from the shrine to the elders’ quarters. She had collapsed from exhaustion into his arms, fragile and malnourished. Anger had flared within Cirith, a fresh wound ripped open, and Rakeva’s usual silence became a cause for renewed vicious hatred.

Misandreas rubbed his shoulder in comfort. We have many things to do now, Cirith.

He glanced at her, and she stiffened under the weighted fury in his eyes. Slowly, he softened and sighed.

We must move on and persist, she said.

Cirith looked to the other elders. Solas and Vilithian stood in silence, rigid with guilty and grieving gazes.

Our people are burying their dead brothers and sisters, Solas muttered. We must fulfill our duties and bless the burials.

With a nod, Cirith followed the elders outside. Gingerly, druids carried their kin to carts, laid them down, and covered their bodies with white cloth. Then, with bowed heads, they towed the carts away, heading down to the underground tree roots for burial. There, Rakeva would reclaim her fallen children.

Misandreas cried quietly, and Solas and Vilithian stewed as they worked. Cirith’s heart sank as he carried many familiar druids to their last resting place.

Hours passed, and day descended into dusk. Terror rippled through the fortress as Cirith and his people feared another attack they hadn’t prepared for—Cirith had yet to renew the ward.

As the sun touched the horizon, Cirith halted. A tremor broke through the air, unnoticed by others. A thrumming noise hummed low in his ears.

The pressure radiated from the north, a wave calling out to the deity within Cirith. He turned. His own energy reached for the current, and its warmth struck Cirith hard in the chest. He sucked in a deep breath as trepidation gripped his gut.

Something is wrong, he said.

Druids surrounding him froze, and Misandreas rushed to his side.

What? Are the demons coming?

No. Cirith didn’t detect the signatures of smoke and decay that the Kaevari permeated, but he knew the warmth that touched him from the night he and the elders performed the ritual on the elven commander.

It was him—rather, the luithe’la within Raethin.

Without another word, Cirith started toward the keep. Misandreas fell in line behind him, and druids skirted around the two as they rushed inside.

Cirith found Vilithian in one of the main sitting rooms, consoling a group of guilt-ridden magi and weathered warriors. When he entered the room, they all fell silent, and Vilithian stood to greet him.

I had hoped, Cirith began, his mind miles away, That Raethin and Ara would make it out of reach of the Kaevari by daylight. But I was mistaken.

Why so? Vilithian asked, meeting Misandreas’s confused look.

"His luithe’la has awoken, Cirith said. It sent out a heated signature that spanned for miles. But he’s close, just a few miles north of us, which means they didn’t make it far."

Wide eyes stared at him before Vilithian sucked in a breath.

You must go, the elder said. We will protect the fortress. You must find them and ensure that Ara was not taken.

Slowly, Cirith nodded. An icy fist twisted his gut as a thought dawned on him. Several hours had passed since dawn, and yet the current was just signaled. They should’ve been a lot farther than that by now.

Ara may already be taken, Cirith gritted. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers curling into a fist against his temple. "Gods, she may be dead."

Gather those you need and head out right away, Vilithian said. Take Solas and the mortal warriors. Be mindful. The more you have, the more vulnerable you may be.

With a nod, Cirith turned on his heel and left the room. When he reached the keep’s foyer, Solas waited at the entrance.

A few druids came and told me that something had happened, Solas said as he approached Cirith.

News travels fast, Cirith said. We must go north. Now, toward Visiel.

That’s where you sent the two—

Yes, Cirith snapped. They’re in danger. Ara may be dead.

Solas fell quiet as he followed Cirith toward the guests’ quarters.

They might’ve been safer if you’d kept them in the keep.

I didn’t know how it would all end, Solas, Cirith snapped. I’m not a seer, nor did Rakeva give me guidance. My best judgment was to trap the Kaevari and their leader here.

Well, Solas hissed through his teeth. Now you must fix your mistake.

Cirith stormed through the front doors of the infirmary. Only two remained of Ara’s companions: Arlow and Max. They stood at the bottom of the stairs, muttering to Bieva, their druid attendant.

We are to go north tonight, Cirith said to the two elven warriors. Solas and I will take you two with us to track down Raethin and Ara.

Why? Arlow crossed his arms. I thought they were safer going north to Waetherea.

They weren’t safer anywhere, Solas snapped.

Cirith shot him a look and sighed.

We were losing, Cirith said, his words slow and deliberate. The Kaevari leader had injured me, and I thought I could hold him down until daybreak. But I never expected that thick smog would incapacitate us when I told them to leave. Dawn was mere moments away at that point—

You took them from the only safe place this world has, Max said. How could you think they would be safer?

Cirith grimaced, his teeth clenching.

I thought that, by day, they would be safe, Cirith deliberated. But early this evening, I felt Raethin’s slumbering Spirit emanating mere miles from here. They should’ve been farther away by now, finding a safe place to rest for the night.

We must find Raethin then, Arlow said.

Cirith nodded.

Prepare to head out, he said. We leave as soon as possible.

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Cirith stood before Zira’s closed door. Years ago, he’d had a room in his quarters made for the elven woman. It felt surreal to face the familiar door, knowing she rested inside once more.

He wanted to tell her himself that he was leaving. Being apart for so long only to be separated again stung, and Cirith didn’t want to cause anymore sorrow or strife by not saying goodbye.

Slowly, he swung the door open, his breath halting in his throat. Dim light welcomed him. Low murmurs quieted as a druid attendant stood up and greeted Cirith into the room.

Zira rested in the bed, next to a window that expanded across the outer wall, overlooking the springs and waterfalls along the fortress’s south-side valleys. Dusk illuminated Zira’s pallid features, but her cheeks flushed with life. A wicked gleam in her eyes struck him through the chest.

Cirith couldn’t read her gaze, but he knew she wouldn’t let him off easily. Not after all this time.

He glanced at the druid attendant, who bowed in deference.

Cirith’s lips pursed as he caught Zira’s stare again. You may leave us.

The door shut behind the attendant as she scurried away.

The druids could not tell me how long I was petrified, Zira said, her voice sore and soft. And Misandreas has avoided me since I woke.

Hesitantly, Cirith stepped farther into the room but maintained his distance.

Pain crossed Zira’s eyes before her expression hardened.

How long was I petrified, Cirith?

He shuddered at the sound of her speaking his name—for the first time in…

Four decades.

Zira closed her eyes.

Did you try?

Cirith stiffened.

He knew what she meant. His answer would damn him from her heart for all eternity.

Did you try to save me, Cirith?

He swallowed, his throat dry and thick. Slowly, he choked out the words, unable to hide the truth from her now that she was awake and begging for the answer.

I could not.

"Could not—or would not? Her glare tore through him, betrayal clear in its stormy depths. You allowed your goddess to freeze me from time."

Cirith said