Shadow Rules the Land: Chronicles of Radelea, page 1
Copyright © 2024 Samara Saward
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
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Shadow Rules the Land
Samara Saward
Contents
Dedication
Content Warning
A Guide
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
Author's
About the
Also by
Find your flames
Content Warning
Shadow Rules the Land contains content that may be triggering to some readers, including, but not limited to, depression, torture, asphyxiation, death, disownment, misogyny, war (including knife, sword, and axe violence), drowning, references to off-page sexual assault, suicidal ideation, PTSD, trauma, depictions of blood and gore, dismemberment and amputation, murder, and sexually explicit scenes.
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A Guide
to Radelea
AUTUMN COURT
Kerym — keh-RHYME — Bria's father
Rennyn — WREN-in — High Lord
Gorred — GORE-ed — Rennyn’s second
SPRING COURT
Nyana — NIGH-ar-na — High Lady
Imala — EYE-marr-lah — Nyana’s consort
Argi — ARR-gee — Nyana’s consort
Darcel — DAR-cell — Nyana’s consort
SUMMER COURT
Ad’Starrag — ADD-stah-rag — Summer Court keep
Tohminic — TOM-in-ick — High Lord
Chlora — CLAW-rah — Tohminic’s lover
Xaler — ZAY-ler — Selkie leader; Tohminic’s second
Yaryn — ya-REN (i.e. Karen) — Tohminic’s mother
WINTER COURT
Ruith — ROO-ith — High Lord
Tarathiel — ta-RATH-eel — Ruith's second
Uma — OO-mah — Bria’s mother
Vacon — VAH-sohn — Ruith’s guard
NIGHT COURT
Maude — MAWD — High Lady
Blodwyn — BLOD-wen — Torin’s mother
DAY COURT
Warakoris — WAR-rack-oar-iss — Zentha’s home
Zentha — ZEN-thuh — High Lady
Elmon — ell-MON — Zentha’s son
Kyra — KIE-rah — Betrothed to Elmon
DAWN COURT
Jonik — JOHN-ick — High Lord
Leilani — LAY-lah-knee — Jonik’s mate
Tasar — t-SAR — one of the triplets; Prince
Larrad — Lah-RAHD — one of the triplets; Prince
Xaria — ZAR-rea — Jonik’s niece
DUSK COURT
Vander — VAN-dah — High Lord
Bria — BREE-ah — Our main character
Wynetta — WIN-et-ah — Bria's best friend
Torin — toh-RIN — Vander’s second
Penna — PEN-nah — Healer
Chapter 1
Wrath.
It forces a guttural roar from my throat as I lunge for my opponent. I use that anger to strengthen my attack, as I have with every move since we entered the training field hours ago. Wrath rules my every move, it taints my every breath. It has been my companion since the Night fae first stepped foot on our land.
I cannot help but place blame. Our court would be whole, and Ulakas would still be with us if Nyree did not betray Dusk. Darkness would not weigh us down if not for Maude and Tohminic and Rennyn. Not darkness in the sense that our hearts beat with anguish and dread, but the literal darkness of night and shadow. The Mother Star did not rise after the battle. She has not graced us with her bright rays since. I fear we will never see the golden glow of noontime again.
I could have won this round, but my wrathful attack is too forceful, and I slide on the loose dirt when Vander twirls to the side. Determined to succeed for once, I spin and swipe at his thigh with a dagger wreathed in shadows. The hilt is a comforting weight in my palm, but the worn leather is slick with sweat. It slips in my grip.
A sweet breeze sends strands of my copper hair billowing behind me, the scents of lavender and orange fighting the rage with calm. Dust plumes from the ground, coating my leather boots with a fine layer of beige.
Vander’s air magic is not enough to deter me — at least he is refraining from using his illusions to confuse me this time — and I pivot at the last moment, swinging my other arm around and taking him by surprise. “Don’t bother, Van,” I pant as I press the blade against his throat, my emerald eyes flashing with warning. “No amount of calm will soothe my haunted soul today.”
“You’re letting the rage rule your actions.”
I pull a second dagger from my boot and press it against his chest. “So are you.”
“It doesn’t rule me, Princess.” He brings his axe down in a wide arc, hitting my dagger away. The clash of our blades rings in my ears, almost drowning out his next words. “I let it fuel me. There’s a difference.” He twists from my grip, leaving both my daggers piercing the constant night air. He’s on me again in the next heartbeat, the curve of his blade pressing against my throat and his free hand gripping my wrist.
My magic roils at losing this final round. The shadows I inherited from my birth mother snake from my palms in tongues of piercing darkness. My ice magic escapes through my ragged breaths in glittering clouds. The blades strapped to Vander’s body hum when my metal bending power wraps around them. The amber threads of my animalistic magic writhe and shove against the hatch that keeps them contained.
“You have to learn how to push the anger aside.” He steps back and sheathes the axe. “It’s time.”
I welcome the anger. It is a pleasant change from the demons, from those nightly terrors that remind me of all the red staining my hands. Of Nikolai’s blood, the blood of every fae who died at Ad’Starrag, Fayeth, Ulakas, the undead who were not truly lost from this world until we disposed of them, and of everyone who died on our land. Crimson seeps into the lines of my palms and stains my ivory skin.
I am learning to move past the guilt and regret, and learning to live with the knowledge I’m not the only fae at fault; as much as I can cope with everything during the waking hours, it is during the quiet time when everyone is sleeping that my mind rebels.
“Ten days, if we can even call them that anymore, is not enough time to forget we’re at war, let alone forget the fae we have lost.”
He runs a hand over his head, his calloused palms scratching against the short ebony strands. His silver eyes darken before he runs his thumb down my cheek. “You overcame your guilt. You can climb this hill and conquer the rage, too.”
The mention of climbing hills takes me back to when I first stepped foot on his land, when I was determined to earn my freedom by climbing a literal hill. I was beaten, defeated, and on the brink of death. I dragged myself to Dusk Manor, and Vander crawled with me. It was the first time in my five and seventy years I did not feel alone in my pain.
Wyn and Torin cross the training field, joining us after overseeing the rebuild in the western village. Their arrival pulls me from the horrible yet comforting memories.
A sigh flutters past my lips. “I’ll be okay. It’s just hard. After everything we have survived, I cannot understand why the Mother Star would abandon us.”
“Because she’s ruthless and cunning,” says Torin. He ties his long, blonde hair back with a length of leather, making his dark eyes seem brighter. He tilts his face to the shadow that rules the land and shouts, “Did you hear that, you shiny bitch?”
“Yelling at the only being we believe in will not help matters,” says Wyn.
She and Vander could be twins with their identical ebony hair, tawny skin, and silver eyes, but where Vander sparks with life, Wyn is a quiet shell of her former self. There is something different about my best friend of late. She is withdrawn since the battle that sent the Mother Star into hiding. Withdrawn and… just different. She does not speak often and keeps to her bedchamber.
Vander sighs. “No, I don’t think it will. We’ll hit the archives. See if we can’t figure out why she refuses to shine.”
“It’s because of the war,” I say as we gather our weapons and head towards Dusk Manor. “The first time she rose was after the ancient fae shared wine and signed the peace treaty. She won’t rise again until the fighting ends.” The truth of my words settles in my bones, the knowledge having come from years of studying our past and teaching it to the younglings of my home in the Autumn Court.
I wonder about Rennyn and what he thinks of this turn of events. As High Lord, his denizens expected him to choose a side. What no one expected, me least of all, was for my brother to side with my enemies. Perhaps I should have seen it coming. I disowned him, after all. I shove the image of his golden-brown eyes and hair from my mind. Thinking of his betrayal will only add to the anger swirling within me.
Wyn smooths her shining ebony hair. While it’s strange for her to care about her appearance, her words distract me from the thought. “Then we focus on putting an end to the war.” Rage should drip from her voice. Instead, it’s flat and lacking emotion. Her air and illusion magic doesn’t pulse as it once would.
I pull back from Vander and walk beside my best friend, nudging her with my elbow. “Are you okay?”
“What do you mean?” she asks in that same emotionless tone.
“You’re kind of… lifeless. You’ve been different since the Gloom.” It’s a moniker we gave the battle that encompasses all the fighting brought: darkness and heartache.
Her steps are almost automated — like the technology on Earth — as we climb the hill to the manor. She does not scoff like she often would when confronted with a harsh truth. “I’m fine.”
Melancholy.
She is the epitome of the word. She is not the only one.
It is the only word I can use to describe the Dusk Court. No matter where Vander and I go, whether it be the western village, the manor, or the northern village, there’s an air of sadness pressing down on everyone. The fleeting happiness that followed the battle against Night, Summer, Autumn, and the Ill-fated has long since vanished. It faded when the Mother Star refused to rise, then disappeared altogether when we assessed the damage to our court.
Our efforts in rebuilding the eastern village after the undead attack and tavern fire, wasted. The bustling grid of homes and stores suffered under the cruel hands of the Night fae. The northern village is nothing more than smouldering remains, and those who live there have sought sanctuary with friends or family. Many of them claimed rooms in Dusk Manor, and the brick building has never been livelier.
I look at the manor now, where it shines like a welcoming beacon atop the hill. The winds of Dusk part around the russet bricks and envelop the manor in the scent of lavender with a hint of citrus. The onyx roof blends with the dark blanket of the sky. The only distinction between the two is the stars that glitter above.
Everything is dark now. The moon still comes and goes, as if none the wiser that its golden counterpart refuses to brighten the land. For a moment yesterday, we feared the moon had forsaken us as well, but I am glad to see the slither of silver tonight. Last night’s new moon sent ripples of panic through Radelea, all assuming the worst.
I throw another worried glance at Wyn and sigh. “Vander and I are here if you need to talk. We’re all enduring the same heartache. We know what you’re going through.”
For a heartbeat, sorrow pulls at the corners of her eyes, but it’s gone within the next beat of my tortured heart. Wyn turns back to the manor, then disappears beyond the large front door. The din of chatter floats into the night from the large sitting room inside.
I let the door fall closed and turn to Torin and Vander. “She’s not getting better. If anything, she’s more distant.”
“I kind of miss her bossing me around,” says Torin. “And she hasn’t joined us on the training field since before the Gloom. I’m still waiting to get my revenge for the last time she handed my arse to me.”
Vander turns towards the west, where darkness veils the Night Islands. Before the Mother Star set for the last time, we could see the undulating landscape of Maude’s Court, where fae with the power to control both body and mind live among the harpy population. Now, it is nothing more than an obsidian smudge in the distance.
Van’s magic churns, the signature of his air and illusions pulsing around us in waves laced with the scent of cedar and apple. “She’s the only family I have left.” He turns his starlight eyes to Torin. “Find out what’s wrong with her. I’m begging you.”
It’s rare for Van to show such vulnerability around anyone other than me — the twin soul bond we share leaves no room for secrecy.
Torin dips his chin, the bronze skin of his jaw hidden beneath a halo of golden hair. “I’ll do whatever it takes. She’s my family, too.”
Though not related by blood, he has been with the Theron siblings for centuries, forsaking his Night heritage and leaving his mother, Blodwen, to her lonely life on one of the smallest islands. There is no disputing his claim: Torin is family.
“I’ll help you.” My body tingles with the need to help Wyn, just as she helped me when I was a captive of Ad’Starrag. I shove the memories of my time in the Summer Court to the back of my mind. “Let’s meet in the northern village tomorrow and see what we can find.”
“Why the northern village?” asks Torin.
Vander says, “Wyn defended the village during the Gloom. It’s the last place she was before she changed.”
“Well, I have a warm bed and a beautiful female waiting for me. I’ll see you love birds tomorrow.”
“Don’t let Alizeh take too much,” warns Vander. “We need you at your best. Only the Mother Star knows when Maude and her Night fae will attack again.”
Alizeh, the alluring wind wraith who flits from fae to fae feeding on their air magic, is a regular in Torin’s bed. He is always lacking his usual energy the next morning, and his smart remarks do not quite hit the same.
He only smirks before disappearing into the forest of she-oaks.
“She’s going to suck him dry one of these days,” says Vander, threading his fingers through mine as we enter the manor.
“Pun intended?”
“Bria Sutherland, you have a dirty mind.”
I cringe at the use of my full name, the name given to me by my father. Perhaps I should speak with Uma about taking on the name she shares with Ruith of Winter. I still marvel at finding my birth mother after all these years, and the reminder makes me smile.
The Autumn Court was once my home, though I did not belong there. As the High Lord’s daughter, there were too many expectations of me, and the earth and animal wielding denizens treated me like a pariah, purely for my title. Illegitimate Princess. What a load of horse manure.
For a long time, I believed I was born of a Spring fae, and dreamed of manipulating plants and using the psychic abilities of the Court of Blooms. I am glad my copper hair, which is a trait of Spring, is not a gift from High Lady Nyana, but from Uma, Lady of Winter.
My mother brings a rare ray of light to this shadow-ruled land.
Vander and I nod greetings to any fae we pass on the manor’s ground floor, both of us relieved when we step onto the winding staircase to the third-floor apartment we share with Torin and Wyn. Somehow, we have kept it as a kind of sanctuary, a place where we can be ourselves without the weight of our responsibilities pressing down on us.
We peel apart when we enter the spacious kitchen, Vander backtracking to check on Wyn while I rummage through the kitchen for something to serve for dinner. Given how distracted we have been of late — rebuilding the villages and the extra training takes most of our time, with Vander’s responsibilities as High Lord filling the rest — there’s not much to choose from.
I settle on a selection of bread, cheeses, and cured meats, and have the smorgasbord laid out on the over-sized dinner table by the time Vander returns.
“How is she?” I ask as I set two pewter mugs down and fill them with plum wine.
“No different.” He sags into his seat, like his body refuses to hold him upright any longer. “She was just sitting on the edge of her bed staring out the window when I entered. Her eyes were vacant, like her mind was elsewhere.”
