US copyright ©2016 by Mary Fan

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

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  Published in the United States by Glass House Press, LLC, 2016. GLASS HOUSE PRESS and colophon are trademarks of Glass House Press, LLC.

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  ISBN: 978-0-9977461-0-5

  Library Of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication is on file with the publisher.

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  Cover by White Rabbit Book Design

  Book design by Inkstain Interior Book Designing

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  First Edition

  A trail of death leads to the river. Flower petals, once brilliant shades of purple, hang shriveled from brittle stems. Blades of grass, once vibrantly green, lie curled and brown and dry. Patches of exposed dirt, usually invisible beneath a lush carpet of flora, gape like open wounds.

  And though it should horrify me, I find myself oddly captivated. Nothing like this has ever happened here, within the enchanted bounds of Kristakai. Each felled piece reminds me of a person suffering under the sharpest instruments of torture—a person who has coiled herself into a little ball and wept into her knees before the bliss of death ended the pain forever.

  I make a derisive noise at my own thought. Nothing as appalling as that could ever occur in this land of peace and magic, which is guarded by the power of the unicorns. They are the keepers of this domain and ensure that it remains forever safe. Though this place might be more interesting if that weren’t so. I’ve only read of terrors like violence, beings purposely inflicting pain on other beings, in books that detailed the affairs of the human world outside. And as a nymph bound to her homeland, I’ve never so much as set foot in their realm, let alone witnessed the dangers that plague them.

  Until now.

  If a human could see me in this moment, staring in astonishment at the sight of the lifeless plants, she’d probably laugh at me. In her world, such things would be commonplace. I almost laugh as well… How tedious a land must I live in if a few dead flowers can shock me?

  But they’re a harbinger of something far darker, and knowing that frightens me more than I wish to admit.

  Nothing that draws its life from the earth ever dies here. The flowers, the grass, the bushes, the trees—they only sleep. They descend into slumber when winter falls, becoming crisp to the touch and dull in color, but then awaken each spring. They never turn to ash as the ones before me have.

  And I know in my heart that the barren sight can only mean one thing: A threat from beyond our borders has infiltrated this protected land.

  I rake my fingers through my thick hair, glimpsing flashes of its copper shades in the edges of my vision. Under the sunlight, the strands flicker like the flames I’m so used to casting. But fear trickles down my spine in icy drops, and I can almost hear the specter of danger whispering in my ears. I don’t know whether it’s a curse or a creature or some other force of evil that’s invaded Kristakai, only that it can destroy life.

  And if that’s true, what’s to stop it from trying to destroy me?

  I clench my fists, reminding myself that should anyone—or anything—threaten me, I can transform into a column of flames and demolish them. The unicorns created each of the nymphs from the element we embody, and I was born from a blaze. In the sixteen years I’ve walked this earth, I’ve never had to face a menace that would merit a fight … but I know I can protect myself if I must.

  I am fire, and fire fears nothing.

  Yet, I will still expire in my time, and I can still be killed. The spells around Kristakai were supposed to keep out anything that could harm me… But if something can poison the immortal land, then no one is safe anymore.

  At least I’m better suited for survival than most others here, I tell myself. This place is so serene—infuriatingly so—that it wouldn’t occur to many to fight back should something attack them. They live in willful ignorance, believing that nothing bad could ever happen as long as they remain here. But I know better, having read much about the human world outside and the kinds of dangers that could exist.

  Though I never believed before today that I’d ever face any such threat, I always told myself that if I did, I’d strike back. And if there is truly danger in my land, I mean to do just that.

  Before me, the shriveled plants form a morbid path through the otherwise lush riverbank, and I follow it anxiously toward the water, wondering if the source of the death lies beneath the clear ripples. I do not step on the fallen blades and stems, in case some poison lingers on their surfaces. The still-healthy grass feels cool and soft against my bare feet … which makes the cracked and broken flora all the more disconcerting.

  Whatever caused this destruction did more than just kill—it sucked the life out of its victims. And I find that both disturbing and fascinating. What must it be like to wield such deadly magic? Whatever did this must be very powerful to have breached the enchantments around Kristakai. Those spells were cast by the unicorns themselves, thousands upon thousands of years ago. And it’s not just any magic they used. Celestial beings, created by the Divinity at the dawn of time to watch over the Terrestrial Realm, the unicorns are immortal and wise—earthbound deities who safeguard the world. Their magic is not easily defeated.

  In fact, I do not think it possible for any Terrestrial being to break a spell they cast. Not a nymph like myself, or a fairy whose small stature belies great power, or a sprite whose ethereal appearance disguises mighty abilities. And certainly not a human—even one with magic.

  I pause as a dark thought enters my head. Perhaps whoever did this is not Terrestrial… I gasp as a realization hits me.

  What if a monster escaped the Infernal Realm?

  My heart beats harder at the thought—from both fear and anticipation.

  Not long after the Divinity created the world, Her wicked brother, the Fiend, sought to destroy it by unleashing hordes of beasts on the world to ravage the living. Though the Fiend and his minions were ultimately defeated, cast back into Inferno by the Divinity Herself, it’s said that the creatures sometimes manage to escape, beings of shadow and flame that wield the power of the Fiend. They come in many forms, from incorporeal spirits to beasts with sharp teeth and deadly claws. I’ve read about several, but there are too many to name… And the types described in the books are only the ones that left survivors around to write about them.

  What if such a creature somehow made it here? And which one could it be?

  I yearn to know more, and though the sun shines bright against an azure sky above, I sense an invisible shadow creeping across the world. The thought of an Infernal creature in Kristakai should fill me with horror. It could destroy everything, leeching the life from both the land and those who inhabit it. The kind of pain and suffering the unicorns enchanted our borders to keep out could strike the innocent and unsuspecting… Or maybe it already has, and I simply haven’t heard of it yet. I should be appalled.

  Instead, I find it all strangely fascinating. I’ve never encountered anything Infernal before—not in real life, anyway. All I know is what I’ve read, and I’ve only seen the beasts depicted in illustrations.

  An odd kind of excitement glitters in my chest as I continue toward the water, hoping that whatever killed the plants left some kind of footprint … an Infernal footprint.

  Reaching the riverbank, I crouch by the water. The skirt of my green dress, which is secured by a knot at the nape of my neck and leaves much of my back exposed, pools on the ground and nearly blends into the grass. Anyone—or anything—looking at me now would think me vulnerable, with my girlish appearance and flimsy clothing. An easy target for an attacker.

  They’d be so, so wrong.

  I take a moment to summon my powers, feeling them spark to life within me, and suddenly invisible flames ripple through my torso and flow into my limbs. Until I call upon them, they will remain within me, and no one looking at me from the outside would suspect that beneath my bronze skin, a conflagration waits. If the mysterious monster is waiting in ambush beneath the water, it won’t know that I, too, am dangerous, until it’s too late. A perverse part of me hopes it is there, and that it will attack, so I can unleash my powers and defeat it. Though I know how foolish the notion is—how could I best a creature that overcame the magic of the unicorns?—I can’t stop myself from thinking it.

  Slowly, I peer over the edge and into the water, looking past the white clouds reflected in the shimmering surface and searching the gray rocks below for anything unnatural.

  A sudden splash sends my heart leaping, and flames surge instinctively from my hands as I jump back with a gasp. I’m about to release the blaze when my gaze lands on the cause of the disturbance.

  A little frog, brilliant blue and speckled with yellow, sits on the riverbank beside me, its two bulbous orange eyes staring up at me. Its type is common along the river, and I close my fists to extinguish the fire. I almost laugh at my own foolishness, though my heart is still racing.

  “Silly frog.” I kneel beside it. “You should know better than to startle a fire nymph.”

  But it doesn’t react—not even to twitch its little hea

d—and its stillness puzzles me. Discomfort rises in my gut.

  Then I spot a stream of red oozing from where its two front legs should be. It takes me a moment to realize what I’m looking at, and when I do, I find myself shocked into motionless silence.

  Nothing ever attacks anything here, and yet something has ripped the front limbs from the frog, leaving it bleeding and helpless. The horror that was missing before hits me now with full force, and I scoop the frog up with my hands, shuddering at the slippery feel of blood in my palms. Just then, its back leg twitches, sending a hint of relief through me; as long as a single shred of life remains within its tiny body, the power of the unicorns can heal it. I can’t stand to see it suffer and die like this.

  The magic I summoned before still crackles under my skin, but now I direct it toward a different purpose. Like my element, I can travel through air, and I feel my legs dissolving into flames in readiness. Though I blaze bright, I hold the frog tightly to my chest. My fire wouldn’t burn a leaf unless I told it to, which means the frog is safe in my grasp. I must get it to a unicorn, and quickly. A life is depending on me.

  I’m about to leap into the air when I realize I have no idea where I’m going. Kristakai is a vast domain, and the unicorns are few. Even in flight, searching for one would be like combing through an enormous pile of black sand in search of a single white grain.

  I don’t have time.

  So I return to my solid form and throw back my head. “Cyim!” I scream, calling for the one unicorn I know will always hear me—the one whose magic created me. My Terrene Father, whose power flows in my veins, and who is inexorably connected to my very being. “Cyim! I need your help!”

  I call again, certain that he’ll materialize before me at any moment and set everything right. Cyim always seems to be hovering nearby, keeping an overprotective eye on me and my sisters—the other nymphs his magic created.

  But he doesn’t appear. Where the blazes is he when I need him? I can sense the little life in my hands slipping through my fingers, and frustration grinds my gut. Nymphs possess great powers of destruction, yet not one iota of magic that could heal or create. That’s why the unicorns confined my kind to their realms after the Age of Unicorns—the great era during which enchanted beings roamed the entire world alongside the humans—ended, thousands of years before I was born. Somehow, the plain and vulnerable humans rose to power and sought dominance. Rather than fighting them, the ever-peaceful unicorns divided the land and erected the borders, which keep humans out and nymphs—only nymphs—inside, while other creatures are free to come and go as they please.

  For we are the race the humans feared the most … and, if what I’ve read is true, with good reason.

  But, though my abilities, by their nature alone, are among the most lethal, I have no desire to kill. And in this moment, I wish I could reverse their impact and have them restore instead. I hate having to stand here, helpless, while an innocent being dies.

  “Cyim!” I call yet again.

  This time, my cry is rewarded by the sight of golden sparkles materializing before my eyes, dancing over the grass. A second later, they explode into white light. Most would shield their eyes from the blinding glare, but as a being of flames I’m accustomed to such brightness, and I stare directly into them. When the light fades, Cyim stands before me, a majestic presence with a coat so dark it seems to absorb all light. His white mane and tail billow under the gust of lingering magic, in sharp contrast to the rest of him, and his gilded horn gleams above his sharp amber eyes. Though the unicorns have always been equals to each other, the ignorant look upon my Terrene Father and, because of his imposing appearance, assume he’s a king among his kind. He awes most—even those who know him well—but to me, he’s a familiar and safe presence.

  Towering over me, he meets my gaze. What distresses you so, Elaia? His deep voice resonates in my head.

  I extend my arms, holding the wounded frog toward him. “Can you save her?” I ask desperately.

  Cyim glances at the creature in my hands, and understanding dawns in his eyes. Without a word, he bows his head, aligning the tip of his horn with the frog’s now motionless body. A gentle beam of light streams toward my hands, and a comforting warmth envelops them; though the healing spell is meant for the frog, traces of it brush my skin, and each spot it touches sends energy pulsing up my arms and into the rest of me.

  I did not need restoring, and yet even that small dusting of magic breathes life into my body—an exhilarating sensation. I watch the frog, whose blue form glows under the spell, expecting to see its lost limbs regrown and its dull eyes spark to life.

  Instead, it dissolves into sapphire sparkles, which dance like a thousand tiny fireflies before spilling from my palms in a glittering shower. They vanish as they hit the ground, and the warmth from the magic disappears, leaving me to stare in surprise at my empty hands.

  I’m sorry, child. Cyim’s voice rings through my mind. The creature’s life was already lost. There was nothing I could do but to return its body to the earth and air from which it came.

  “You mean … something killed her?” A cold fist closes around my heart. Nothing is ever killed in Kristakai… In fact, I never imagined it would be possible. I thought the barriers would keep us safe, or, if something did infiltrate them, that our magic would guard us. But evidently that is not true.

  I’d thought finding a creature that had been attacked would be the worst I’d ever encounter … but clearly I was wrong.

  Beneath the fear, a barren emptiness sits in my soul, as if a piece of me is now missing. I suppose in a way that’s true, since I’m a part of this land, and it’s a part of me. I don’t know if the void I feel now is because of that connection or because I just watched something die. Or maybe it’s because I should be experiencing some kind of sorrow over the death, but instead feel only shock. “What could have done this?”

  I do not know. In my mind, Cyim’s low voice is heavy with grief. But that frog was not the only victim of this new danger. I sense the loss of many others, whose bodies were consumed by the beast. He lowers his head, a pained look in his eyes. There has been a massacre here, and though the frog was the only physical trace it left behind, I feel the loss and devastation. This should never have happened; violence should never have entered this domain. Subtle anger flickers through his tone.

  “So it was a beast?” I widen my eyes. A massacre—I wonder how many creatures the monster swallowed whole, leaving not even a drop of blood as evidence they ever lived. And to my surprise, though hearing of so much death should cause me to mourn, all I can think about is the thing that caused it. There’s no time for grieving when the attacker is still here and could strike again at any time. Yes, what happened is horrible—I know that, of course I do—but the need to learn more triumphs over my ability to grieve. “Something from the Infernal Realm?”

  Most likely. Cyim’s eyes sweep across the riverbank, taking in the dead plants that first drew me here. Evil has breached our borders. In the nearly seven thousand years that have passed since we built them, such a thing has never occurred. I dread what this means.

  I stare at him, the fear tightening its grip, but I find something strangely exciting about the sensation. Up until now, my world has been completely safe—too safe for my liking. But now something new is happening … and I’d rather be afraid than bored. In fact, I wonder if I’ve ever truly been afraid before today. Living in Kristakai is like lying on your back upon the calm surface of a lake, floating serenely under a nourishing sun with only the occasional ripple troubling the water. Every disturbance I’ve felt before has been but a splash to the face.

  And now, a great wave is rushing toward me, threatening to crash upon my body and bury me in the depths. It’s frightening, yes. It’s a danger, yes. It could even drown me…

  Yet, in the most honest core of my heart, I know I don’t want to stop it. I want to discover what it’s like to be tossed about, to have to fight for something, to unleash my magic for an actual reason, and not just to see what they can do. I find it maddening that I’m unable to use the great power I possess, since everything is so peaceful, and there’s been nothing to fight. I asked Cyim once why the unicorns bothered creating the nymphs at all if we weren’t going to be permitted to live out our full potential. His reply was that part of the unicorns’ duty was to ensure the continued existence of every living race created by the Divinity, and that just because we could do something—like burn trees to the ground—doesn’t mean we should. The wisdom in his words has done little to temper my frustration over the years. But now, because of this monster, I have a chance to be the greatest I can be.

 

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