PROLOGUE

Unknown

MIST TRAILED DOWN THE cliff as soft steps of bare feet walked the cold stone ground. Loose pebbles were scattered about, and large boulders stretched toward the sky. The pathway twisted and turned up the cliff overlooking the abyss below. A slender woman with stringy ebony hair set against rose-tinted skin, clad in a red silk gown that flowed with her movement, stepped out of the shadows, her golden dragon eyes staring at the mystical archway at the edge of the cliff.

She paused at the stairs leading up to the archway, one hand raised in front of her when a foggy white crystal orb materialized in her hand. Her eyes softened.

“Soon, my love,” she whispered.

A dark shadow loomed over the orb, enveloping it in a cocoon of darkness. When the last bit of white disappeared, intricate carvings on the archway glowed various shades of violet and scarlet. Wind rushed forward, snatching at her gown. A swirl of ruby energy glowed inside the archway, and for a moment, the woman narrowed her eyes.

Then a foot slipped through the growing portal. Followed by the plump frame of a woman wrapped in white satin and tulle, her silver hair flowing down her back. Dark black eyes shone in the darkness, standing out against her face, both smooth and amber in shade.

“Kykla,” the woman in white said, her hands gracefully clasped together in front of her.

The red woman smiled, her eyes gleaming with pride. “Astia, my light in the dark, how have you been?”

Astia stepped closer and took hold of Kykla’s hand. “I could ask you the same. But we have more pressing matters.”

With a nod, Kykla gestured toward a cluster of boulders that seemed to coil into a private shelter. Kykla led Astia toward the boulders, stepping into the shadow and wrapping her arms around Astia’s waist, pulling her close. Their noses touched, just briefly. Astia tilted her head to the right, pressing her lips against Kykla’s soft ones. A tingle sparked over their skin, igniting like a burning bonfire that exploded with life.

Kykla was the first to pull her, a soft whine from Astia sounding disapproval.

“You said it yourself,” Kykla said. “We don’t have much time. Mykdall will likely realize where you are.”

Astia sighed. “Yes, of course. To the matter at hand, the child was born.”

Kykla’s eyes widened. She had sensed a shift in the air, like the fates were aligning. Bringing her hand up to Astia’s face and brushing a light strand of hair behind her love’s ear, Kykla smiled. Not a soft smile, but one that tugged at her lips, threatening to split her face open at the thought of the child.

“Are you sure? The prophecy—” Kykla said.

Astia smiled, her hands reaching up to take hold of Kykla’s wrist and nuzzle into the open palm of Kykla’s hand. “It is coming true. We don’t have long before we can stop Gesyn from his power grab.”

“What is the child’s name?”

“His name is Astaroth Angelus, and he’s a dragonthorn.”

A chill swept through the air. The portal flickered, dimming for a brief second. Kykla looked in the portal’s direction and frowned. Looking back at Astia, her heart sank. They were together at last, but only for a fleeting moment. Astia smiled weakly, her lips trembling. She broke from Kykla’s grip and turned to leave.

“My love,” Kykla said, “watch over him. He’s yours to guide.”

Astia glanced over her shoulder. With a slight nod, she slipped from the shelter of the boulders, leaving Kykla standing alone in the darkness once more. Their task had been set out before them.

Astaroth was the savior they had been waiting for.