The Serpent and the Shattered Sword, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
The Serpent and the Shattered Sword (The Fates of Aten, #3)
Chapter I | Hunted
Chapter II | Leave No Trace
Chapter III | What Lies Beneath
Chapter IV | Through
Chapter V | The Messenger
Chapter VI | A Tale of Two Hearts
Chapter VII | Of Curses and Rebellion
Chapter VIII | A Betrayal of Faith
Chapter IX | The Bleeding of Vindovia
Chapter X | Homecoming
Chapter XI | The Only Way Out
Chapter XII | The Enemy of My Enemy
Chapter XIII | The Lost World
Chapter XIV | The Dark Passenger
Chapter XV | Cloak and Dagger
Chapter XVI | The Shattered Soul
Chapter XVII | She was Never Mine
Chapter XVIII | To Work in the Darkness
Chapter XIX | Servants of the Light
Chapter XX | The Fate of Aten
Chapter XXI | The First Step of the Last Path
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THE SERPENT AND THE SHATTERED SWORD
Copyright © 2025 N.A. Betts. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by copyright law. For permission requests please contact the author at the website below.
This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.
This novel was not generated, written, or assisted by artificial intelligence (AI). Any unauthorized use of this publication to train AI technologies to generate text is prohibited.
Contact Info: https://www.nabettsfantasy.com
Cover design by: J.N. Ignacio
Edited by: Yoanna Stefanova
Proofread by: Debbie Myers
Translations to Alterede (German): Angelina Schiffmann
Translations to Amienne (French): Alexandra Riduet
Translations to Santospettro (Italian): Gea Wildwood
Theme: The Plight of the Shattered Soul by Gea Wildwood
ISBN: (Paperback) 978-1-7381877-8-2
(E-book) 978-1-7381877-7-5
First Edition: November 2025
Publisher: Legend Forge Press - Gibbons, Alberta, Canada.
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ALSO BY N.A. BETTS
The Fates of Aten Series
The Waking of Storm and Flame
The Last Cry of Innocence
For those who prayed, and only found themselves
May you never attribute your victories to a god
who rewarded your devotion with silence
The original theme for
The Serpent and the Shattered Sword
The Plight of the Shattered Soul by Gea Wildwood
Gea Wildwood considers herself a “wandering spirit,” free from the limits of any single musical genre. For her, music is more than sound—it’s a journey that crosses space and time, reaching into the infinity of the unknown. Nature serves as her source of inspiration, influencing every aspect of
her life and art.
On pages 341 and 342, the words of the mysterious Godbreaker will grace your journey. When they do, you’ll see the QR code below and can immerse yourself in her song–listening, like Alira, as you read.
THE STORY UNTIL NOW
Book One: The Waking of Storm and Flame
PRINCESS ALIRA VERBRANDT of Namelle lives in the shadow of her siblings: her brother, the Duke, Cael Verbrandt, and adopted sister, Captain Zahra Ke’elle. When tensions with the Illyrian Empire ignite, Namelle readies for war. They must fight alone, with their closest ally, Talliers, recovering from a civil war. The evening before their departure, Alira learns of the tragic War of the Lost Alliance, where her father, Trystan– who was possessed by an entity within the Ring of Terra–fell.
The campaign ends in disaster before it begins. Cael is slain by a monstrous Reaver, and Alira learns from the Goddess, Drea, that she is one of the five Fates—scions of ancient elemental power, and must awaken the Lightbringer, Aten, to battle the returning shadow of the Archon, Aegill.
The Royal Army is crushed at the Battle of the Heaven’s Fall by Essea, and their Viscount, Artim; Zahra escapes with the ring, while Alira is captured. In Braddock Fortress, Alira faces the dark disciple Calos, before being rescued by Emile Riennes, the King of Talliers, and Fate of Flame as champion of the goddess, Kaata. Meanwhile, Zahra uncovers betrayal at home: the General, Rygar, seeks an alliance with Illyria. She draws her sword against him, but not before his schemes destabilize Namelle.
Alira follows Emile to Drangvik, the sworn enemy of Namelle. There, she discovers a lost aunt, Sonja Verbrandt, who is the Jarl, and oversees the islands. The nations of the
south: Talliers, Vockla, Reyvia, and Drangvik–with exception of Shiun–will rally, and aid in retaking Alira’s homeland.
Zahra is shipwrecked with Avery Gelrain, the last of Alira’s Royal Guard. They’re set upon by brigands, but saved by Rinley Tillit, a Tallieri exile. With Avery sent to Vilmonde, Tallier’s capital, to recover from his near-mortal injuries, Zahra, and Rinley set off to confirm the death of her sister. Their journey brings them to a showdown with Calos, who reveals that Zahra is part of the fated, Kelevelle, line, and she too is a Fate. Rinley risks punishment of death to save Zahra.
Alira and Zahra reunite in Talliers, only for the Princess to realize that her sister has fallen to a corrupting poison called sheyde. Her sister’s mania is beaten back by the re-awakened Goddess of Storm, Siblina, with the aid of Kaata, and Drea.
Landing in Namelle, the allied forces fight their way onto the beach, leaving Alira to track down her sister when she realizes she’s gone. In the throne room, Zahra confronts Rygar, and in her blinded fury becomes a vessel for the shadow, Semera, who crawls forth and kills him.
In the climactic battle, Alira calls on Aten’s light to repel Illyria and overwhelm the power of Vanir, the Imperator. Though she breaks the shadow briefly, Zahra is taken through a portal by their enemies. With her homeland saved, Alira vows to rescue her sister, sailing north to Radia, with Rinley as her bodyguard, and awakened as the Last Lioness of Namelle, and Fate of Aten.
Book Two: The Last Cry of Innocence
For two years, Alira–with Rinley at her side–struggled to rally the continent of Radia against the Illyrian onslaught, losing city after city to the empire. Alongside Réus, a re-awakened
Shadow, Zahra, now Semera, fights back as their enemy. From Astera, the last bridge over the River Zybril, Alira, and Rinley narrowly escape, after discovering the treachery of Troian Blasevic, the City Guard Captain, who throws his city to the Empire to save himself.
Alira’s search for allies takes her across Radia until she lifts the siege on the port city of Théabourg with the help of Luca Vega. On her journey through the maelstrom of the Taitapian Archipelago, she forms an uneasy alliance with the Pirate Queen, Teora Waiata, who is revealed as the Fate of Water, and subservient to the goddess, Yvella.
Returning to Theabourg, the city nearly falls until Teora, Alira, and their ally, Rinley, discover the last Fate: Olivier Dubois, the Marquis’ son, and the Fate of Stone under the goddess, Drea. Alira forges an alliance of convenience with Evenglacia, and its officer, Knight Commander Caius Serras, whose true motives remain suspect.
Narrowly escaping with her life after being mauled by Craven Bloodmoon, the lycanthropic champion of the Marsh Lord, Hiram Reilly, while battling in the Cauldron of Waystrider, Alira escapes to the mountains of Lochlannon. There, she learns more of her father’s past, Zahra’s origins, and Olivier’s true name: Flynn Grahil.
Teora is mortally wounded by poison, and is escorted to the lowlands by Rinley, who is captured by Hiram’s med, led
by Troian in his hunt for Alira. Flynn befriends the ice dragon, Myakal, and claims the seat of High Chieftain of Lochlannon, though it’s given to the late chief’s son, as Flynn realizes he must follow Alira. They save Teora on their descent, and Alira
leverages her allegiance with Serras, through a blood pact, to enlist Evenglacia in defeating Waystrider to save Rinley.
With their defeat, Luca is installed as Waystrider’s Marsh Lord, with Hiram’s life being spared. Someday, Alira will owe a return favor from her blood pact with Caius, but not this day. Returning to Théabourg, she discovers Emile has arrived with the Tallieri Army. He’s quick to discover her and Rinley’s burgeoning love, which creates animosity between them.
The Fates meet with their Illuri to enact a plan to liberate Zahra from her oppression, using the same ritual Rinley used to save Avery. Alira disagrees, as the Fates will need to kill Zahra to save her, and is met in quiet council by Vanir. He shares his concern for Evenglacia and tells her to be wary.
In Estrada, with the unity of the West and the superiority of Evenglacia, the allies pitch a decisive battle after Kyliika is destroyed, and Troian is executed by the shadows. Together, the Fates confront Calos, Réus, and Semera, freeing Zahra from their control with the Ritual of the Eternal Flame. Alira believes her sister is restored.
The story closes with Alira leading the united Fates into the icy wastes of the Great Glacier, in search of Clerracia; a city Zahra once called home, even if she was too young to remember. Alira faces the hellscape of the arctic, determined to finish what began a thousand years ago.
Unaware of the shadow that still walks beside her.
It matters not how straight the gate,
how charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate.
I am the captain of my soul.
-William Ernest Henley, Invictus
Chapter I
Hunted
THERE WAS NOTHING before the cold, except for the unshakable feeling it had come for her. One foot in front of the other, Alira’s shivering body was devoid of the slightest comfort. Her mind was freed of thought. Unable to process the chilling nothingness of the glacier.
She trudged on, thin fabric shielding her cheeks from the biting frost. Her boots had turned to blocks of ice, her legs burning as snow crusted up her trousers, climbing toward the caps of her knees.
Her heart thudded faster, pumping sluggish blood through her veins. She lifted her cloak above her head like a sodden dome and wrenched her frozen left hand free. Her right hand trembled, barely steadying the cloth. The wind stole her breath before it could thaw the pain biting at her frigid fingers.
Then, a thud.
Snow erupted beside her, a spray of white powder torn into the gale. She dropped her cloak and squinted. A body lay half-buried in the drift.
Teora.
Alira dragged her under the cloak, baring her own hands to the cold as she gathered Teora up. No response. Not even a twitch. Her heart clenched. Alira brushed icy hair from her companion’s face, unable to tell where the frost ended and where skin began.
Cold. It was all cold.
“Hang on, T–T–Teora. Just a bit–”
She risked a glance–no sign of the others. Everything was the same. Five days of marching, and still they’d seen nothing. Not but the bitter sting of a headwind determined to drive them back. A glacial gatekeeper. The harbinger of frigid damnation meant to hide the frostbitten jewel of the north.
Is it worth it? If it costs even one life...we’ve failed. But if we don’t press on, the last stone remains uncollected. The five stand united, yet the last remains unfulfilled.
“Alira! Teora!” A voice boomed through the storm. “Is there anyone alive out there?”
She pulled the icy strands from her frosted eyelashes and peered across the desolate, frozen wastes to see the flickering light of Étincelle–as unyielding as its bearer.
“Em–Emile! We’re...here!”
Her throat scratched as it strained against the bitter cold. His body shivered in unison with the utterance of her words, even with Teora pinned against her chest. At least, she thought she did. On the infinite expanse of the Great Glacier, she didn’t know where her body ended and the Taitapian’s began.
Crunching footsteps. Emile pushed through the snow, sword in hand. He drove the blade into the snowy ground, flame blooming from its hilt. Kaata’s gift. Fire that wouldn’t burn him.
He threw his heavy cloak around them, trapping the heat. Alira wrung her hands before the flame as she pulled Teora close. Ice melted from her cheeks, dripping down her tunic.
“Did you find h...anything, at all?” Alira asked.
She helped clean Teora’s face with a thawing cloth she dug from behind her bracer. It had been at least a day–by unclear reckoning–since they’d lost sight of Zahra and Flynn. One ran ahead to scout further on, disregarding the imposing level of protest from her companions. She seemed unaffected by the cold. The other ran after her. Unwilling to leave Zahra exposed.
And alone.
“There’s no trace of either one. Snow’s covered their tracks, Lira. Wherever they’ve gone, they’re beyond our aid until sunrise. We’d best find shelter, and wait this out.”
“How can we?” Alira’s voice snapped back at him, stinging her throat as she hollered. The frigid air rode her warm breath to the core of her soul, threatening to claim the few pieces of her sanity that she still clung to.
She couldn’t feel. Couldn’t think.
An endless night was coming–as pale as her skin–with its hand outstretched. There was nothing she wanted to do, nothing she could do, but wait to be buried. An unmarked grave. A covered stone. Adrift in nothing. A mound in the ice fields. “I don’t understand. It’s a city of legend; surely we should’ve seen it on the horizon by now.”
She risked another glance, seeing that the sun dipped below the horizon, and was clawing the last of its rays back toward it–needing every measure of its heat to sustain its own life, leaving nothing for them. She needed to be ready.
It would come for her. Again.
The fourth night was upon her, and Alira didn’t know if they had enough left in them to make it through. With the falling of the light, she waited for it. A damned sound from a cursed mouth–the trumpet of the Abyss itself. A cry signaled that the fissure of the deep was opened, and the spawn of darkness could again walk the lands of Idel. The call was but the last note of her life, waiting to be sung.
At the moment of the sun’s disappearance, it returned. Tearing across the fields, dragging her heart down into her stomach with claws that pierced her flesh, was the howl that followed them since the first night. Threatening, but not engaging.
A scout. A predator.
Why would it fight when it could wait?
Wait until there was no spirit left to break.
No struggle. No fight. A day longer, and it could clamp its jaws around the neck of its prey. Whether by memory, or the pain of an injury longing to heal, her hands were drawn to her neck, the only infectious warmth she had left. Scorching to the touch. She felt them slide back into the bitten grooves. Teeth, embedded within as a reminder.
“You okay? Alira!” Emile shook her shoulder, trying to break her stare.
“Fine,” she replied. Level, gaze unwavering. A melting bead dripped down her neck, and as she touched her fingers to it. Withdrawing her hand, the flickering of Kaata’s Flame illuminated the crimson tips of her fingers.
The howl broke again. Louder. Closer.
She pulled away, recoiling at the sanguine sheen. The incisions seared her neck as though light and heat threatened them. Even against the arctic air, it burned. Heart fluttering, banging against the walls of her chest. Her breathing was thready and quick.
Beyond the veil of cloth came its grumble, and ravenous breath. She slammed her eyes shut, covering her ears. Swaying back and forth. Forth and back. It was inside her mind. Her body fought its infectious calling. She couldn’t run. Couldn’t flee. It was fright, or freeze–and Alira had grown sick of the cold.
Her hands reached down, fumbling at her waist for a sword that wasn’t there. Panicked, gasping for air, her eyes shot open, stung by the cold in the dark.
No Emile. No Teora.
A sharpness drew along her back, following around to her front, tearing at the walls of the cloak. The ends parted, and drool pooled at the base of her feet.
Fur. And claws. And eyes. And teeth.
Torn open, unshielded, the beast leapt on her, pinning Alira beneath its weight. Frozen, by air or by fear, she fell. Screaming and kicking as the familiar sting pierced her neck.
“Alira, wake up! Wake! Up!” The crack of an open hand raced across her cheek as her eyes opened to the dim light and warmth of Étincelle, beneath a frozen-over dome of snow and ice. Teora dismounted, careening backward as she shook the shooting pain from her hand. “Damn it, blondie. The things I do for you. You and your damned dreams again.”
“It wasn’t a dream.” Alira’s lips trembled over the words, “I saw what it wanted me to see.”
“What?” Teora asked, stopping to rub her hand for a moment. “Something wanted you to...see?”
“Her visions,” Emile said, quietly. He whispered to Kaata’s Flame, coaxing more heat from the sword. “They’re not dreams at all, but they show what’s to come. A gift, if you can call it that, from her mother.”
“Oh,” Teora said, returning to massaging the pain out of her hand. “All this time, I thought they were just nightmares. I guess she is just crazy after all.”
