Unforged Path: Songs of Power, #0

By Alma M. Vasquez

Immortality is certain. Then Aerlyn enters the human realm. Death becomes unavoidable.

 

Aerlyn fashions magical luxuries for the elven elite, relentlessly pursuing the title of Master. When she unintentionally transports herself to a frozen wilderness, she learns magic isn't sufficient to survive. Can Aerlyn trust humans to help her navigate their beautiful, but perilous, environment? If she escapes death, can Aerlyn find her way home?

 

Unforged Path is a prequel to Songs of Power, an epic fantasy trilogy.

 

If you enjoy fast-paced magical adventures with strong female leads, click the buy button now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Soul-Spun Words
• Release date: Mar 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215448816

Book preview

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Novella

Kymestra Aerlyn fingered the aged map preserved by a powerful enchantment, enjoying the feel of the parchment. She could sense the hours her grandfather had spent sketching the craggy mountains of the Drylands, beyond which lied a great desert expanse.

On the map, the sand dissolved into nothingness, but the void depicted on the parchment was not accurate. There were unknown lands and life beyond the Asthildi Empire.

Good morning, Myennea.

Aerlyn did not lift her head. Father, please do not address me as such. She took a moment before adding, I am no longer the daughter of Myenne. It had taken years, but she could say that fact in a neutral tone. Aerlyn let her finger drift along the map, imagining the towering sand dunes that could lie at the point in the real world.

As you request, I will call you by your given name, Aerlyn the Five-Thousand Seven-Hundred Forty-Seventh. Galedyn’s voice was as smooth as his unlined elven face. It is a fine name. She could feel his green eyes studying her. I remember well the days spent searching for a suitably auspicious one.

I thank you for your efforts, Father, Aerlyn replied, even though she did not believe fortune derived from having the numeral seven in one’s name.

From the corner of her eye, she saw her father’s blonde head swivel as he surveyed his study, undoubtedly noticing she had handled a few antiquities on the cluttered shelves.

Have you been here all night, Aerlyn? To escape dreaming? Her father took a step towards her, fixing his gaze on her face.

Raising her eyes from the ancient map, Aerlyn looked at her father, Opulyn Galedyn, the famed cartographer of Nylena. The belt on his red robe was askew and his golden plaits were untidy.

Smiling, Aerlyn uttered the chant that her father had neglected upon rising. Please do not be concerned. I am perfectly well. I am not the one wandering about the estate disheveled.

This is not a light-hearted matter, Aerlyn. Galedyn ignored his now smooth hair and the unauthorized use of magic on his person. Your present circumstances must be . . . trying for you. Please tell me. Is there a chance the spell-casting dreams will return?

Aerlyn shook her silver head. "No, Father. I faithfully practice the exercises prescribed by the Lakri. Those dreams were a temporary childhood ailment."

She did not tell him that since returning to the family estate, her sleep was frequently interrupted by dreams she could not remember. In fact, she had entered her father’s study long before dawn.

Galedyn smiled, holding out his hand. I am glad to hear that. He encircled the hand Aerlyn gave him with his larger ones. Your health is more important than any expedition. I will gladly postpone—

Of course, you will do no such thing! Aerlyn smiled as brightly as a Crier giving the Empire its morning brief. You rarely have the opportunity for true exploration. And I have no wish to obstruct progress.

She withdrew her hand to gesture at the blank region on her grandfather’s work. The map must be completed!

Aerlyn. Galedyn’s compressed lips were the only sign of his distaste. I do not appreciate artifice. I am not a patron whose whims you need to indulge. His words flowed as quickly as an Academy magician chanting during an examination. You have become skilled at telling others what they wish to hear. Please, do not use those skills on your own father.

Aerlyn lowered her eyes. Father, I did not mean to do so. Shaking her head, she added, I have spent too many decades in the Capitol. Too many years away from home.

She studied an intricate platinum ring on her finger, resisting the urge to twirl it. Now, I’m afraid you will not believe me.

Aerlyn breathed evenly, sensing the magic coursing through her body. Meeting her father’s gaze, she said, I do want you to go. Truly, I shall be happy, anticipating all the wonderful things I will learn when you return. My imagination will travel with you. Her smile faded. I would relish the distraction.

Galedyn stared at her for a moment, and Aerlyn held his gaze. You promise to be here when I return, then?

Aerlyn nodded. Where else would I be, Father? She couldn’t prevent adding, There is nothing for me in the Capitol. Aerlyn clamped down on her teeth, preventing the rest of her thought from being voiced. ‘Despite all my years of tireless work, curating clients and crafting their magical solutions!’

She inhaled, focusing on her expanding ribcage rather than her thoughts. Aerlyn looked up in surprise when her father clasped her shoulder.

I am confident the Masters will regret their decision to dissociate with you. Galedyn’s eyes conveyed his conviction. Your talent as a magician is rare, and I continue to believe one of your inventions will transform society!

Her father’s words reminded Aerlyn of those spoken by a young Seer who had been entertaining the Masters with her cryptic visions. As the Seer departed the Academy, Aerlyn had crossed paths with her, immediately kneeling in a deep bow.

The mystic had whirled around, her purple robe swaying around her feet, saying to Aerlyn, Of all here with transformative power, yours is the only will to transform. Do not seek it, and you will generate the seed for the deepest of transformations.

Then, the Seer had withdrawn, leaving Aerlyn with her hand to the glass floor protecting the irisean screens below. That day, the screens had depicted still pools of water. Aerlyn had stayed in her bow until approaching footsteps activated images of droplets rippling the pools. Then, she had rushed away before her colleagues ridiculed