The Chaos Mage

By Dawna Jay

At seventeen years old, Verena Bane's nomadic lifestyle is as unpredictable and chaotic as a thunderstorm.
But, when Verena and her best friend, Trivia, arrive in Myrdana for the city's famed summer solstice festival, Verena's entire world is turned upside down.
After accidentally enlisting into a brewing war with opposing sides as old as history itself, Verena can only rely on herself and her new-found magic as she ventures deeper into the hidden world of mages and daemons.
With some new, fiery friends at her side and a cold, but kind mage whom she is slowly beginning to trust, Verena must face a betrayal that she didn't see coming - and discover a power within herself that will twist her Fate to a course that she could never have anticipated.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 1, 1900
• ISBN: 9798350931235

Book preview

MYRDANA, FAERYON

SEVERAL THOUSAND YEARS AGO

She was a spectator. She always was.

The images flashed quickly across the prophet’s awareness. Garbled voices and clashing colors creating a cacophony of chaos as she phased through the planes of time and fate. She waited patiently as it slowed and her senses honed in on an oil painting floating through the abruptly still, dark room. She reached out and grabbed it.

She felt the wind whip violently at her hair and dress. Voices rose from beyond the void, beckoning and calling to her. She turned away from it. At the twist of her foot, the scenery shifted from the pressing blackness.

She was standing inside a dark hut. The ceiling was low and the air was warm despite the shadows creeping around the corners. A woman sat in a rocking chair with her head bent over a cooing bundle in her arms. She was talking to the child, seeming to be in her own little world with her newborn. Around her, the sounds of other children laughing and chickens clucking under the eaves of the home froze in this moment in time.

The mother leaned forward, kissing her child on the pale forehead.

The caress of Fate, a gentle voice whispered in the prophet’s ear. A cool breeze floated through the cracks in the walls and ceiling. The prophet looked out the window to watch a red sky crawl closer across the horizon.

The prophet felt her bones freeze in horror as the sky darkened until black clouds blocked the sun, sending the day into nightfall.

A great war is coming, Priestess.

The prophet turned back to the mother and watched as the woman nuzzled her nose against the baby’s and her heart sunk. The baby squealed happily in her mother’s arms, her chubby arms flailing.

One with a mage that will change everything.

The child turned her attention away from her mother to look straight at the prophet. The child’s gray eyes flashed silver and the prophet’s vision went white.

Her feet stumbled forward and her boots instantly sunk deep into the earth.

The prophet was suddenly standing on a charred and bloody battlefield. Bodies littered the barren earth and the air was filled with a thick smog of poisonous sulfur. The sky above was as red as the ground and menacing clouds rolled over the distant mountains towards them. Blue and orange bolts of lightning clashed in the sky as a great crash of thunder shook the earth below the prophet’s feet.

A great mass of darkness hovered over the broken and dying soldiers, their cries for mercy ignored as daemons rose from the darkness in great waves. Their own bays for death mixed with mortal blood and the prophet could only stare in mute horror as the world burst into flames around her.

This is just one of the many ways the world shall end. It must be stopped.

The prophet closed her eyes tightly as the wind roared loudly in her ears, masking the sounds of war and death.

The blood of the Reckoner shall be the key.

═════════════════

He was exactly where she thought he would be.

The first place she went as soon as she woke up from her dream was the training fields behind his large keep. The sheer necessity to relay the message was hard to ignore and there was always a push of urgency that tugged at her throat. It was a deadly feeling and it always left a bitter taste of blood in Cassandra’s mouth.

Sebastian had stopped mid-swing of his sword when he had noticed her and was waiting for her to come to him. She gave him a weak smile as she approached.

Cassandra. He greeted her warmly. Even though he was now married, he still had many admirers and Cassandra could only fail to keep count of them all. Sebastian of Myrdana was a righteous man with a heart of gold and a strength and wit to match. But Sebastian, to the indignation of his rivaling potential lovers, found his wife, Rose, in the midst of one of the many battles in the war. Cassandra had the wonderful opportunity to watch her friend finally be bested by someone new.

Rose gave him a challenge every day and, for men like Sebastian, it kept him faithful.

Sebastian, hello, Cassandra said. The feeling had grown stronger and now that she was here in front of him, the words that she needed to say gagged her throat.

It’s been a while. Did you come all this way for me? He grinned charmingly down at her.

I have come for you, yes.

Sebastian nodded thoughtfully as he scanned her face before his smile dropped at whatever he had managed to gleam from her tight expression.

Come, sit. He stowed his training sword in his belt and led her to the nearby stone bench. From the rose that was encrusted on the seat in rubies, it was obviously a tribute for his wife. He sat beside her comfortably. Cassandra looked over at him and tried to force the words to spill out, but something stopped her again.

He seemed so happy. The scar on his cheek from his last clash against their foe was fading. His shoulders were relaxed and he only watched the surrounding property as if he was on a merry stroll through the countryside, and not preparing for the biggest battle of his life. The sight of him, golden and full of youth, made something inside of Cassandra unclench. This was the life she wanted for him.

I suppose this couldn’t have waited until next week when the Seven convene?

No. This cannot wait, not even until then.

As a messenger of Fate, Cassandra was duty-bound to tell the right people the right things to have the strings of Fate balance out. To accompany that task came pain and discomfort along with the deadly, pressing urge to tell those people.

I see. Sebastian turned finally to look at her, his face serious even as he spun a joke. So tell me, First Priestess: what is my future?

The urge intensified. Cassandra dug her nails deep into her palms.

Sebastian, she said. The next battle is the last of the Wars. It will be the most bloody and many lives will be lost.

Yes, so you have said. Sebastian was leaning away from her now. He had been avoiding the talk of the final battle since she had Seen that vision. He knew the risks involved and his choices were difficult.

Cassandra continued.

I have come into more information since, she said.

A prophecy?

Yes, and a warning.

I see. Tell me, Cassandra.

And so she did. Cassandra told him of his Fate, the words spilling out in the lyrical way they do when they’re written into the very fabric of destiny itself. You will live long and well, Sebastian the Great. When the war is over, never again will you be required to wield your sword. Your name will be in history books for thousands of years to come. The tugging at her throat vanished and Cassandra gasped for breath. Sebastian rubbed her back gently and passed her his canteen of water. Cassandra sipped it slowly and blinked away the remnants of the vision.

This does not sound so urgent, Cassandra. You could have told me this next week or even fifty years from now. Sebastian said doubtfully as she handed him back his canteen. Do not misunderstand me, I am pleased that my Rose and I shall live well after this, but… I do not see the emergency.

It is not the Fate of next week or even fifty years from now that I have come to warn you of, Cassandra said. She turned her attention down to her hands. The crescents scars embedded deep into her palms were red and raw.

Finally, she gave a heavy sigh and she raised her steady gaze back to her childhood friend.

The Fate of our world will come to rest on the shoulders of a single mage once again. This will be the destiny of your last descendant.

═════════════════

The only light in the room was a single flickering candle.

The first solstice of the year had just passed and the darkest days of winter were still upon them. Snow fell gently outside, transforming the once green hills and forest into a clean slate of potential. White covered the usually green forest in heavy sheets.

It had been two months since the final battle of the Wars and the Seven had been victorious. The daemons had fled back to the Dark Realm, leaving the mages to clean up the messes that they had made.

It was obvious that the long years of the Wars had changed the Seven, Sebastian reflected.

No longer did they serve kings or countries; now, they served the entirety of humanity. Councils were being formed throughout the mainland and alliances were being forged in the wake of the daemon’s purge from the overworld. This was a time for celebration and advancement, but the whispers of Fate and the fatalities of the future troubled him deeply.

He stared out the window, deep in thought as he tapped his fingers gently on the oak wood desk. Cassandra’s prophecy worried him. Deep down, in the marrow of his bones, Sebastian mourned the destiny of his descendant. He, too, had to walk the roads of war long before he should have.

Sebastian? Come to bed?

Yes, give me a moment.

In the reflection of the glass behind him, the figure standing in the doorway of his study moved closer and a pair of slender arms wrapped snugly around his chest.

Are you not happy, husband? You have saved us. The Dark Ages are over. There shall not be any more fighting. Why do you still not sleep well? She asked, interlocking her fingers above his sternum.

Sebastian turned at her words, his mouth twitching at her sleep-mussed hair. He reached up and gently pushed a strand behind her ear, the warmth of his affections for her blossoming deep inside his chest. It warmed him against the chilly night.

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he murmured into her skin, Oh, I am very happy that you and our future are safe.

The words of the prophecy echoed around the room for his ears only, casting the shadows of the study deeper into the darkness.

What has Cassandra told you? Rose asked, pulling away from his embrace. Her dark eyes pierced through his soul. You have been melancholy since she came to speak with you last.

She gave me a prophecy, Sebastian said finally.

What did the prophecy say?

Sebastian paused, the weight of the words hesitating on his tongue. He looked down at his imploring wife and braced himself with the steel of courage that would write his name into legend.

That there will be no more wars. Our future is filled with naught but peace.

Rose beamed up at him with the force of one thousand suns and Sebastian let her lead him back to their chambers. The lie left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

The city bells had tolled fourteen times before she woke up.

Trivia woke up as she always did: with a large yawn that was accompanied by a series of pops from her joints as she sat up. Verena watched the routine with pursed lips as she waited for her friend to truly come back to the world of the conscious.

It’s after two. Verena blurted out. She leaned back against the barn doors and shoved her hands in her pockets as Trivia cracked her knuckles. The sound put Verena’s teeth on edge.

Wha’? Trivia blinked up at her with bleary green eyes.

It’s already two, Verena said.

Trivia frowned up at her. Great. And? Since when did you become my mother?

Since you said we would be out of here by nine for the festival. The words came out with an edge, and suddenly, Verena regretted saying anything at all as Trivia’s eyes flashed.

Jeez, did you wake up on the wrong side of the haystack or something? Trivia’s defenses rose with her form, leaving her tone scalding and harsh. Verena suppressed an eye roll. Gods, Ren, sorry I woke up late.

Never mind. The trick with Trivia was to just let her win, Verena had found. Let’s go, please. The owner might be here any minute anyway.

Since when did you become such a stiff? Trivia scrunched up her nose even as she began to brush out her flame-like hair with her fingers, dislodging some strands of straw that had found their way into her bird nest overnight. Verena sighed before turning and pushing open the doors.

The sun overhead was warm and chased away the lingering chill of the damp barn. It didn’t smell as bad as some of the places they had slept, but it was still a far cry away from a warm tavern bed.

They didn’t always get a place to sleep though. They had their fair share of nights out under the stars with only grass and leaves to cushion their heads. Living like they did wasn’t the most comfortable.

The friends had moved from place to place since they had met when they were seven summers old. Money came easier when they were that young. Merchants and royals loved sob stories of poor orphans who needed something to help them along. They had gotten the routine down to a science by the time they were ten. One would spin the web of lies as the other used the distraction to rob them blind.

The money slowly dwindled away as they grew older. Now, instead of them being cute and gaining sympathy, they had to do their best with swindling and staying out of the night houses.

They had just left Cair Valley, a merchant city to the west to come to Myrdana, the second most populated city in Faeryon.

The summer solstice festivals that were celebrated here were legendary. Merchants came far and wide to sell their wares and artists came to sell their crafts by the dozen. Verena and Trivia had been trying to come to Myrdana since they first heard of their famed festivals when they were twelve summers old. Now, they were there and it was the second day of the week-long Festival of Isorae.

And, once again, the other girl was late getting up. It was one of Verena’s daily challenges, being the traveling companion of the spit-fire that was Trivia Elderwind.

Trivia only woke up when Trivia wanted to wake up.

Normally, that wasn’t something that Verena minded very much. It was as much a part of Trivia as Verena, herself, was. But, ever since the duo had crossed over into Faeryon just a few months ago, Verena had felt something pulling her towards Myrdana. It had made Verena feel increasingly on edge the closer they had gotten to the gates of the city of the sun.

The night before, they had found the run-down barn in the middle of the thick forest that covered the majority of Faeryon and had decided to camp there for the night. All the inns in Myrdana were bound to be full with the festival in full swing this week.

But, while Trivia had fallen asleep in the bed of dry hay almost instantly, Verena had jolted awake at every movement and sound from outside, her skin feeling tight and her chest aching.

Something was happening to her and Myrdana had all the answers as to why.

Her errant friend joined her outside soon enough and the two began walking towards the city in silence. The heat was harsh overhead, a show of how late in the day it was. Sweat immediately broke out over Verena’s skin as they walked through the humid forest.

Verena waited patiently for Trivia to speak, but neither said a word until they hit the end of a long line of people who were waiting to pass through the city gates.

So, about this morning, Trivia began hesitantly as they stepped onto the brick road.

In the distance, Verena could see a large iron gate that was being manned by several city guards. Through the entrance tunnel, vivid hues like those of her dreams colored flags and decorations that littered the streets of Myrdana. Children ran through the streets with spinning pinwheels and streaming flags. She could even begin to hear the joyous music that played within the city walls.

The festival was already in full swing. The now-familiar pull in her chest tightened for a moment before relaxing again.

Already forgotten, Verena said dutifully.

Trivia smiled and Verena could only shake her head as the other bounded off for the colorful stalls and venders. As soon as Verena stepped through the funneling gates, the sounds and smells had her stopping to take it all in.

Screaming stall-keepers and laughing customers crowded the sides of the road, creating a narrow walking path down the busy streets. Flags and banners of yellows, oranges, reds, and purples celebrating the coming days of sun made the wooden stores and homes come alive. Fresh baked goods from nearby stalls created an appetizing aroma and Verena tried to ignore her growling stomach.

So, I had this dream last night, right? Trivia said as soon as Verena had caught up with her. The vender in front of them was a dark haired man who was haggling with a silk-clothed woman. Verena looked down at the table. It was covered in a vast array of light, silk scarves that were dyed deep and beautiful colors. Verena picked up a royal blue one with zigzags stitches of white hemming the sides and ran her thumb over it appreciatively.

Yeah? Verena prompted as Trivia grabbed a crimson one with black flames stitched carefully along the border.

Well, we were in the woods and we were running from someone.

Or something, Verena said with a grin.

Shut up! Trivia said with a laugh. I’m trying to tell a story!

Verena shook her head, still smiling. Sorry, sorry.

"Anyway! So we were running,