EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEAK || UNBROKEN ch. 1-3

SOME DAYS, YOU AWAKEN TO POWERFUL THOUGHTS THAT TEAR YOU OUT OF BED and set you in motion. Other days, you awaken to thoughts that make you groan, roll over, and wish you’d never wakened.

When Shadow aroused to a whisper on the wind reminding him that “sometimes, Bliss visits,” he couldn’t discern which type of thought he was having. Moaning, he rolled over, resisted the impulse to jump out of bed to wander his palatial cavern looking for Bliss, and tried to forget reality, whatever that was. He was expert at forgetting, not so good at holding onto memories, and that summed up his problem altogether.

It seemed he was getting better, though.

Something visceral informed him things were improving, but how could he ever be certain? Would the effects of Ali’ikiswan’s stone ever wear off? Could that ever happen? Bliss promised it would, hadn’t she? If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t certain if he could trust his own memory. Besides, even if she’d said so, it remained a distinct possibility that Bliss might be more prone to offer pithy words of comfort rather than being straight with him. Not that he minded. Her very presence was soothing. He lived for those rare days when she came to visit.

With agonizing grogginess, Shadow raised himself to near sitting position, forced his legs to tumble to the side of his bed. As he did, he thought he tasted Bliss’ lips, breathed in deeply as he imagined her hair scented by azhmalam blossoms and spices, and then—

He blankly stared into the heavily polished mirror and wondered when he’d arisen from bed, when his waking thoughts had slipped into something he now couldn’t remember, when he’d dressed and … eaten. The lingering taste of fresh mint leaves hovering on his lips and tongue informed him as much. He drew in a full breath and then sighed heavily, the kind that comes from deep despair, when after doing everything you can, you know it isn’t good enough, the kind that confesses you’re all but beaten, but you’re still going to try a little harder, a little longer, all while wondering why you don’t just surrender to the inevitable and give up all hope. What hope was there anyway?

A careless move of his hand nearly pushed a loosely bound book off of the shelf next to the mirror. He gaped at it’s bright red cover, wondered what it was. It bore no title. His thoughts tore him other directions so he set it more securely on the shelf, quickly forgot about it.

With no natural lighting this deep into the cavern, there was no way to discern what time of day it was, how long he’d been awake. Eyes riveted on the mirror, Shadow observed slumped shoulders, worn features, and red-streaked eyes staring back. He looked ragged, like he’d endured an inexplicably hard day, the kind nobody else truly understands because it seems custom designed just to tear you down, the kind that doesn’t seem so bad after someone listens to you tell about it because the depth of suffering eludes words, leaves you feeling stupid for venting. He felt worn, exhausted, depressed.

Shadow could have gone straight back to bed. It was only a dozen paces to his left but that wouldn’t suffice. He needed to keep track of … something, to better understand … something. Mother Earth knew he’d be happy if he understood anything at all. Even a modicum of understanding would have been nice. At first, he’d blamed Ayzhlen. After months passed by, he’d grown less certain. And then—

Bumping into a highly polished stone wall, Shadow shook his head, already weary of trying to remember what he’d concluded after blaming Ayzhlen for his troubles. Her illusions were near godlike. How could anyone discern reality with her around? He’d heard rumor she’d been spotted by … someone. He couldn’t remember who but he had heard it, hadn’t he?

Shadow quickened his pace, rounded a few corners, descended wide, crescent moon-shaped stairs into the main living area. He smiled, nearly laughed. He loved this room. Although largely carved out of the mountain, Shadow had swelled this part of the earth, moved huge mounds of rich soil here, and diverted a portion of a small stream to create a mini-waterfall on the north side so he could have a small forested area in his home. Not flat, the room cascaded in different layers with two paths intertwining their way through an approximated middle. He’d carefully crafted a few large holes in the ceiling surrounded with strategically angled mirrors to allow natural sunlight to tend the plants here. Occasionally, hanging vines and obstructions required attention so plants below could be properly tended. The room was dark enough that he could have concluded that it was dusk.

However, he’d installed mage lights throughout this chamber to supplement natural lighting. They weren’t on. If life had been normal, that would have told him evening had come. Lately, however, life wasn’t normal. He could have commanded the lights to change their schedule. He could have turned them off because he’d wanted to nap there during the day. Or, they could turn on any moment. There was no way of being certain without meandering outside or exercising patience he didn’t have.

Shadow breathed in scents from Izhna, Olemai, and Melambara plants. Richly scented and colorfully decorated with his favorite grasses and plants, including an unnaturally large Nackna tree, the room gushed with Mother Earth’s energies. Despite his fatigue and dark mood, the swirling energies improved his attitude, checked his discouragement. That’s why he slept here sometimes. To reinvigorate himself. Well, most of the time. Sometimes he slept here because he got too confused to retreat to his bedchambers. Shadow scowled, didn’t like thinking about that, pressed forward through a small gathering of overgrown ferns, touching them with his fingertips as he passed by. Light green whisps of energy danced from the leaves as his fingers left them.

Soon, he passed through a vaulted entryway and into the last small room he used to keep unwelcome wild animals out. Large enough to accommodate Etsnahee, his black griffon friend, or the largest kotrakoy, the ceiling was nevertheless too short to allow flighted entry. Centuries of power at his fingertips notwithstanding, Shadow still tended to be precautious.

Especially when he couldn’t trust his own mind.

“Well, that settles it,” he announced out loud for no reason in particular.

Eyes resting upon a bright half-moon, Shadow clenched his jaw, grimaced slightly. In the distance, he observed six Hinzwalan mage lamps shining vertically into the sky, a nightly ritual reminding villagers that their saviors were now their greatest peril. Originally symbolic of their victory from certain decimation, the beams of light were nevertheless a bittersweet attestation that villagers could never feel entirely safe from the desolation they called kotrakoy. Shadow remembered telling villagers that they needn’t fear kotrakoy — he could control them now. Even Leith Azh wouldn’t dare cross him. But oddly, they hadn’t believed him. They’d smiled kindly, chuckled, and watched him over their shoulders until they disappeared over the horizon. None of it made sense to Shadow. He pursed his lips, furrowed his brow as he tried to understand.

Makana had introduced the lamps at a newly appointed festival of rejoicing, a time to honor both Shadow and kotrakoy and those who’d bravely fought in the last Trayki battle but now, they were associated with a not-so-elaborate security system to offer a last-minute warning if kotrakoy ever graciously showed up unannounced. How the villagers could so quickly forget their debt to these magnificent creatures was baffling to the utmost. Shadow huffed, scoffed in frustration.

It seemed every night that the city had visibly grown. Mage lamps no longer designated the center of the village. As refugees relocated from villages ravaged by battle, the northern end had grown faster than other portions of the city. So, despite a culture deeply steeped in traditions honoring the earth and her vegetation, buildings continued to monopolize portions of the skyline in Hiwazh’len. The sight never ceased to disturb Shadow. Nothing was the same anymore, not even the quaintness of his home village.

Shadow determined he’d visit it tomorrow. It had been a long time since he’d visited. Hadn’t it? And Bliss lived there. At least, he was pretty certain she did. And he wanted to see her again. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and tried to clear his mind, remember things accurately. When he opened his eyes, Shadow found himself in pitch blackness, wrapped in heavy blankets and searching the pillow next to him with his fingertips. Bliss wasn’t there.

Of course she wasn’t. What kind of foolish thought told him otherwise?

His heart yearned for her like a parched, browning plant thirsts for water, hopes to receive moisture, the feeling of imminent death hovering because of its absence. It disturbed him to feel so lonely. It was dishonoring, wasn’t it? Why should Hiwalani’s greatest war hero be all alone? Maybe he’d felt to honor Ali’ikiswan by echoing his life choices … He couldn’t recall for certain. Bewildered, discouraged, and heart aching, Shadow shifted position and resisted the urge to weep.

Zhak, Kekonya. There were disadvantages from inheriting decades of memories from an emotional women, he lamented. He’d never been prone to cry. Now, he felt like crying every few days. Slightly shaking his head, Shadow released a disgruntled moan and shifted positions again. He hoped this wouldn’t be a long night of sleeplessness, but neither was he doggedly tied to that aspiration. He had mysteries to solve, after all. He might as well solve them in the middle of the night as any other time.

Hours later, Shadow cracked open an eye, glanced around his bedchamber. Not recalling issuing an incantation to turn on the lights, he rolled off the bed and ambled through his home, still dressed from the night previous. His stomach ached with hunger.

“Ishtalen vomish,” he mumbled as he strolled from chamber to chamber, dismissing lights behind him with less formality, if not similar efficacy.

“Perhaps I’ll hunt a bear,” he groused, so famished, he thought he’d be willing to eat bitterroot if he happened to see any. He thought some grew around here, wasn’t sure enough to bet his life on it.

Shadow continued a careless pace until he arrived outside, squinting under the bright sun and raising his hand to shadow his eyes. Uncertain if he heard voices or not, he stopped his brisk pace, trained his ears toward the sound. Concentrating, Shadow willed his hearing to be more acute, summoned energies to make it so. Soon, voices grew more distinct, disturbing. Threatening foreign words he didn’t fully understood whispered through the winds.

Trayki soldiers.

They weren’t supposed to come here. He’d taken great cares to warn them, to keep them away and despite his miserable fluency in the Trayki tongue, Shadow understood that their words were neither kind nor inviting.

Perhaps they’re only scouts … or lost like Athna.

Quietly, Shadow scaled a few boulders to gain a better vantage point to see if he could spot where the voices were coming from. As soon as he crested the largest boulder, his stomach sank. Blood rushing to his face, he gritted his teeth and silently uttered curses. Several score Trayki troops dressed in clothes that disguised them well enough to hide in tall grasses and small bushes common in the area, were poised to attack Hiwazh’len. From makeshift lean-tos, he concluded that they must have arrived just before nightfall.

Shadow sunk low, behind a boulder, gathered his thoughts, sought to make himself one with the earth’s energies, called upon them to fill him until he nearly burst with power. Ideas began flowing through his mind like an artist kept from his craft too long. His pet dark griffon was close by. What was his name? No matter. He sent powerful telepathic images to the beast, called for him to fly him high above the troops, high enough to avoid gunshot. Several moments later, the beast landed atop a nearby boulder, eyed Shadow skeptically as if assessing his mental acuity.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’m not all better yet, but I can handle this and you won’t be in any danger.”

As Shadow approached, the dark griffon bent its left foreleg and extended the left wing to allow an easier mount. Ripping out some vines near the foot of the beast, he canted words he barely recognized, words from Kekonya’s nearly lost memories, moved his hand over the surface of the vine until it folded over itself, twisted, and wriggled until Shadow held a fully formed rope that he wrapped around the griffon’s neck and around its legs. A few knots and adjustments later, he found himself crouched over the beast and offering commands to get started.

“I’m sorry,” Shadow assured him, “I won’t forget to take it off this time. I just need something to keep me from falling off.”

With no response forthcoming, Shadow was reasonably certain the griffon wasn’t too happy about the development but he couldn’t allow himself to be too distracted by the beast’s feelings. He had people to save. It shouldn’t be so and no one despised the idea of war more than Shadow but that didn’t stop him from doing what had to be done. He closed his eyes briefly, canted words and directed energies to make himself and the griffon invisible to the troops below.

He could have turned the soldiers against themselves. Leith Azh had done that with great efficacy. He could have replicated the spell to tear the earth asunder and watched troops fall into the earth’s belly. Shadow allowed these and other ideas to filter through his mind. He could have done any number of things. The question was, which thing would be the fastest and require less cleanup later? Only one idea remained after he asked that particular question.

Dive. The instruction was more image than word but the griffon understood his meaning all the same.

Stomach lost somewhere above, Shadow recalled the first time he’d flown on kotraykoy. The feeling was both exhilarating and terrifying. He didn’t experience much anything different right now, either, but he allowed himself to breath in the excitement so he could remain more in harmony with Mother Earth. Then, with the power of centuries behind him, Shadow unleashed thousands of granules upon the troops below. They quickly disappeared from his vision but he knew they were making their way to the earth below. He felt them.

As the dark griffon continued to circle around the field below, Shadow continued to rain granules upon Trayki soldiers. Soon, he heard commotion below, watched as the men searched the skies, sported baffled expressions as they tried to discern the meaning of this strange Hiwalani weather that rained sand from the heavens above. Despite the gravity of what was about to happen, Shadow chuckled. Then, releasing more of the earth’s energies, he shouted, “Ishtalen Vomtivohm!”

The sound of granules exploding blue flames a score paces in every direction was nearly silent. The sound of Trayki men crying out in pain as they burned alive was deafening. Shadow had forgotten. Covering his ears, he reversed his earlier incantation to enhance sound, cursed at himself for being so shortsighted. Oddly dizzy from the experience, Shadow hunkered over the griffon, grasped its feathers tightly to keep himself from falling off.

That’s when he heard screaming.

Athna?

It couldn’t be. She hadn’t come back, probably never would. If she did, she wouldn’t have brought a few hundred troops with her. Somehow, the scream seemed to be hers nonetheless—

“Shadow!”

Bliss! She was in danger. Perhaps a straying soldier …

“Bliss!”

Shadow released his tight hold, turn around to see better behind him — where the voice was coming from — and then slipped, fell. Confused, Shadow blankly stared into the sky as his body landed much quicker than he’d expected. Snapping his gaze from one direction to the other, he quickly surmised he’d fallen from a nearby boulder, not a griffon. And fewer than a dozen paces away, Bliss lay fallen on the ground, hunkering over her charred leg and moaning uncontrollably.

Wearing shorter leggings than customary, and being barefoot as expected, her right leg sported burns from the soles of her feet to her upper thigh. Some areas were genuinely black. Most of her skin donned bright reds and brownish coppers. Her left leg was burned as well, but not nearly as badly.

Shadow all but flew to her side, dismayed at her unfortunate timing. Had he done this?

No …

She was too far from the field. He could see it from here, mostly scorched to barren ground. What few grasses remained smoldered grudgingly, too wet during this spring season to maintain fire well. No, Bliss was far too far away from his attack upon Trayki troops. He doubted any survived to make it this far, promised himself he’d scout the area later. He’d find whoever did this to his beloved friend, he’d—

Bliss moaned, cried out, contorted her face nearly beyond recognition.

“What happened, Bliss? Who—”

“Shadow—” Bliss whimpered, squeezing a nearby, fallen branch with the kind of desperation that only comes with unbearable pain. With prodigious effort, she raised her head, gasped, and fixed her eyes on Shadow. Tears streaming, she squinted her eyes, forced a smile, and then shook her head. “Shadow—” She paused a second time, trembling. “Just … just heal me, okay? You’re a powerful mender. Just …” Shuddering more intensely, Bliss shook her head again, moaned as she grasped at her particularly charred knee. “Ahhh … Hurry! Do it!” she barked with uncharacteristic impatience.

Shadow berated himself for asking questions when he should have been serving. Foolish dolt! he silently castigated himself. Hovering both hands above Bliss’ burns, he drew hot energies from her body, envisioned her leg whole, with perfect, smooth skin and tone muscles, full strength and endurance. Portions of her leg seemed unresponsive. Even for Hinzwala’amakan menders, this was a nasty injury. Most would call for amputation. Even collaborative magery seemed a dubious option but somewhere, in distant memories, Shadow recalled details, repetitive incantations that would allow mending. In quiet tones, he nearly whispered those words to enhance his efforts, offered a few polyphonic tones to enhance the mending.

Bliss’ moans and intermittent cries devolved into sobbing and occasional shivers.

Shadow’s heart ached as he observed her suffering, focused more intently upon imagining her legs whole, healthy, and beautiful. Intoning ancient words louder, he drew heat and sickly energies from her deeply cooked muscles, replaced them with soothing, cool energies and newly growing tissues. He imagined reinvigorating them with strength, endurance, youthful texture and energies.

Bliss’ unresponsive knee sent Shadow into a brief panic. He crumpled his brow, focused harder, grew more pleading with his incantations. After he finished one, he inadvertently blurted, “If I can raise kotrakoy from a cursed grave—”

“What?”

Although clearly in less pain, Bliss remained somewhat incoherent throughout much of this process. It pained Shadow to see her like this, wished he had a Hiwalani cocktail to help her with the pain, considered that really wasn’t a good idea despite their common usage for pain relief.

“Sorry. Never mind my rambling. Relax. Find peaceful thoughts. It shouldn’t be long now.” He didn’t now if that was true or not but it seemed the best thing to say, the most comforting words to offer. He placed one hand over her forehead, released every healing energy he could summon and sent peaceful images through her consciousness. Colorful, strongly perfumed flowers, waterfalls, gentle beach breezes, gurgling streams, cheerful birdcalls, and occasional flashes of a memory when they’d first kissed.

For at least an hour, Shadow continued in that vein, soothing, comforting, healing, and wishing he was more powerful so this wouldn’t take so long. Deluged in the earth’s energies and swirling centuries of experience through his and Bliss’ bodies, he somehow still felt impotent and inadequate. Hours later, when he’d finally succeeded, he felt more prone to critique himself rather than rejoice in success.

I’ll do better next time, he promised himself.

When he finished, gathering clouds had covered the sun, leaving Shadow wondering whether he’d lost track of time or if dusk was approaching. He supposed it didn’t really matter but he wanted to know. He wanted to feel more control in his life.

Maybe none of that would change the real time of day but it would offer peace of mind.

For several moments, he traced his hands over Bliss’ skin, observing the texture, monitoring the energies, and simply enjoying her soft, luxurious skin, moist as if newly coated with invigorating, moisturizing oils. When he became entirely certain there was nothing left to heal, he leaned over and lavishly kissed her thigh, her knee, her calf, and then the top of her foot, dropping tears along the way. Adjusting his position, he focused his attention on the other leg. This was a simple matter, he considered, after healing the other burns. This would take no time at all. It was practically healed already, as if it had simply known what to do on its own. Nevertheless, he began the healing process anew.

He smiled at her, wondered at the odd expression she offered in return.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” he began again. “I’ll track down whoever did this—”

“Shadow,” she interrupted. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all better. Let’s just be happy we’re together.”

She smiled one of those contagious smiles, the kind that made Shadow’s heart flutter. But something wasn’t quite right. Behind her flirtatious gaze, lay some primeval pain, some unspoken hint of discouragement, unhappiness, something that made Shadow uneasy, worried. He grinned in return, didn’t know if it appeared forced or not.

Only a few minutes passed before her left leg responded fully to his healing efforts. The burns had been relatively shallow, less extensive, and because he was already in unison with the earth, with energies effortlessly flowing through him, it took little effort to mend those burns.

Nevertheless, when he finished, he all but fell into her lap as she sat upright. His stomach growled so loudly, Shadow blushed from embarrassment.

Bliss giggled in response, but her joviality quickly dissipated, her crumpled facial expression clearly betraying concern. “You’ve lost weight again,” she lamented. “You promised you’d start eating bitterroot,” she chastised with the most tender tone Shadow had ever heard escape her lips.

“I couldn’t find any,” Shadow explained. “I was hunting bear when—”

“We planted some in your garden,” Bliss reminded him. “Remember? It’s next to the Nackna tree so it would be easy to find. Come,” she nudged his head upward, “let’s go get you some and then we’ll make some dinner. I’m hungry, too.”

Shadow awakened to Bliss tugging at his eyelashes and repeatedly kissing his cheeks. Smiling and chuckling though his eyes were still closed, he blindly reached around her head, drew her closer to kiss her lips and opened his eyes. Happy to see her leaning over his bed, he playfully hooked a leg around her waist as he pulled her onto his bed and rolled over until he straddled her from the top. He gave her a good, long stare into her mesmerizing amber eyes, noticed she’d added splashes of paint along the edges of her eyelids that made their already artistic eyes all the more entrancing. He laughed freely now, rejoiced to have his best friend with him first thing in the morning.

Ma’Koolee.

The thought disrupted his happiness, instigated insatiable curiosity, guilt.

“Bliss,” he began with eyebrows furled, “what happened with Ma’Koolee?”

She inhaled deeply, accentuating her curvaceous figure, pursed her lips, donned a patient smile, and slit her eyes as she was wont to do. Then, looking to her side, she exhaled sharply. “Shadow, I wrote that down for you. It’s in the book next to your mirror. The red one.”

“Oh,” he answered absentmindedly, remembering the book, but not remembering what was in it.

Bliss teasingly kicked her right leg upward and outward, knocking Shadow off balance and sending him rolling back to the spot where he’d awakened.

“Come on,” Bliss teased, “breakfast is waiting.”

They were simple words but they filled Shadow with love. He may have been the most powerful mage alive but that didn’t stop him from needing someone’s help and the comfort Bliss conveyed to his soul. He needed her like moss needs rain — the more, the better. Gratitude overflowing in his heart, he reached for a hug. She resisted, pushed him away with a giggle and tore off toward the kitchen. Still wearing his breeches from the day before, Shadow threw his legs over the edge of the bed, grabbed his vest from the nightstand, and quickly followed. He took no notice that it was dirty.

Shadow happily meandered around the corner near the kitchen and then—

Fiercely adopting a Hinzwalan brace, Shadow growled incantations while summoning the earth’s energies. Dark mists swirled so quickly around him, an onlooker may have surmised a tornado was about to form. Reaching behind his back, he began a hand movement to direct the energy blast toward a small gathering of Trayki spies not a hundred paces in front of him.

“Shadow!”

A more frantic voice had never reached Shadow’s ears. Was it Athna?

“Shadow! Stop! Shadow!”

He stopped incanting, blinked, looked upward, and gawked into a broken moon. It shone eerily as if something was wrong, inconceivably wrong. Extra large this time of year, its surface cracked, leaking unnaturally dark crimson veins trailing in every direction, perhaps oozing evil itself. The light from the second moon left an unholy, glow on the first’s surface as if spotlighting the presence of some great malevolence.

Shadow modified his brace, riveted his feet to the ground, incanted a spell to fasten his legs to the ground as if they were part of the stony earth below. His body viscerally responding to this ethereal threat, he—

“Shadow!”

“Athna?” Shadow released his Hinzwalan brace, scanned dumbly in every direction to find his blond friend, nearly stumbled from his perch atop a boulder.

“No, Shadow. It’s Bliss. I’m right here.”

Although she poorly disguised the pain in her eyes, Shadow returned a broad grin when he beheld her gorgeous, restrained smile. Forgetting his imagined enemy, he leaped from the boulder, ran to Bliss, picked her up enthusiastically, and twirled her three times before stopping to offer her a charismatic, welcome kiss.

“I’m so happy to see you,” he began. “I was … I was just—”

“Are you hungry?” Bliss interjected.

“Yes, now that you mention it, I’m very hungry—”

“Perfect. I have espen wood burning and and a few rainbow currawong ready to roast over the flames. It’s—”

“Where?” Puzzled, Shadow surveyed the area, looked for a campfire. “I don’t—”

Bliss lithely placed a finger over his lips, smiled, and shook her head playfully. “Inside,” she answered and then jabbed his ribs in jest. As Shadow let go of her in response, she ran inside.

Dutifully, Shadow followed.

“You’re getting better,” Bliss assured him from somewhere ahead. “A few more months and we’ll put all of this behind us.”

Shadow furled his brow, considered what she’d said. What did she mean? Had they broken up? Was that why she didn’t come to visit very often? “Did I do something wrong? Is that why you’re away so much? I miss you when you’re gone,” Shadow blurted, feeling ashamed for saying it. Still, he couldn’t help it. He needed her to know. “I love it when you visit. I just—”

Bliss surprised him, emphatically reached up to put her hands over his mouth, and stared at him with wide eyes, brimming with tears. Then, she broke into uncontrollable sobbing, collapsed at his feet.

“What’s … what’s wrong?” Shadow asked, feeling like a little child and despising every second of that condition. He loathed these emotions, hated feeling desperately dependent upon anyone else, especially Bliss, the woman he’d protected from—

“Shadow.” Her voice creaked like an old door whose hinges barely fit after far too much negligence and years of grinding. “How could you say that?” Desperate, her words and sobbing were riveting, kept Shadow’s tongue bound to the roof of his mouth. “I’m here … all day … every day … every single day since—”

Words broken and voice cracking, Bliss wept harder than Shadow had ever witnessed. And yet, her words made no sense. He’d been alone so many days. He’d searched for her on several occasions. He’d even ventured into the villages to find her, only to be impudently cast out …

Bliss knelt at his feet, body crumbled over her knees and legs like a jellyfish, nearly lifeless after her sobbing slowly grew silent. Shadow knelt down, hovered over her and held her tightly, poured calming energies through her body, sent peaceful images into her mind.

“Stop it,” she whispered, nearly too softly to be heard.

Incredulous, Shadow didn’t stop, wondered if he’d really heard her say anything at all.

“Stop it,” she repeated, this time more emphatically and with a tinge of sharpness.

Shadow continued deluging Bliss with calming energies, but arrested his psionic efforts to inspire peaceful thoughts. None of this made any sense. Why wouldn’t she want healed of sorrow, whatever the cause?

Suddenly, Bliss pushed her way out of his embrace, stood up, whimpered as if she was frightened. Shadow jumped to his feet, turned around to confront whatever might be behind him but there was nothing.

“Shadow!” Bliss called out instinctively.

He turned around quickly, to see if she was okay, only to find her trembling, hands covering her mouth, elbows glued together, and eyes riveted on Shadow. As Shadow approached her, she reached out her right hand and tenderly caressed his face, peered at his confused visage with a mixture of godlike empathy and unbound horror.

“It’s true,” she concluded, gazing deeply into his eyes, “you don’t know … you really don’t know.”

Her eyes darted all over the room, sending Shadow into a near panic. He began to turn around, to find whatever Bliss was searching for, but Bliss grabbed his head, both hands cupping around his neck and jaw.

“Shadow,” she said, tender care back in her voice, “it’s okay. There’s nothing scary in this room. “I’m just … I just thought …” Exhaling heavily, Bliss took a few steps to her side and flopped into a chair, buried her face in her hands again. “I thought you were getting better.”

That’s when Shadow remembered. Yes, he’d been sick, forgetting things. An image of the red book flashed through his mind. Runes from an ancient ritual passed behind the red book, quickly dissipated. That was it.

“I know a spell,” Shadow began, “a way to heal forgetfulness. I—”

“We’ve tried that,” Bliss blurted, sobbing again. “Don’t you … okay, forget that.” She sat upright, straightened her back as best as she could, extended both arms along the armrests, took a deep breath. “You defeated the Trayki, alright? Do you remember that?”

Shaddow nodded.

“You killed a couple hundred of our people too. Do you remember that?”

Shadow blinked, furrowed his brow, clenched his jaw.

“Okay — don’t think about that. That was all months ago, Shadow. But you keep fighting them. Nearly every day, you sneak by my alarms to go outside and burn everything to a crisp. You fight Trayki who aren’t here. Sometimes when I follow you … you hurt me.” Bliss grit her teeth, took labored breaths as she seemed to govern more tears from falling. “It’s been four days now, four days.” Another few labored breaths followed. “You haven’t burned anything in four days. You stop when I call your name now. Once, you … you didn’t even go outside. I thought you were getting better.”

“I am,” Shadow assured her with all the convincing power of a charming toddler promising to be good in exchange for a treat. “I’m just—”

“Stop.” Bliss choked the word with determination. “I can’t ...”

Shadow patiently waited for her to resume speaking but it seemed a very long time in silence.

“How could you not know that I’m here with you every day? I feel like I’m the one losing my sanity now. Just go … go read the red book, okay? I should know better than to talk like this. I just get hopeful.” Bliss pulled her knees to her chest, rested her feet on the chair seat, wrapped her arms around her legs, and let her head fall deeply on the right side of her right leg.

Shadow watched her take a deep breath and then hold it for a really long time, wondered what he should do to help her.

“Shadow,” Bliss moaned. “Go. Read. The. Book.” She exhaled sharply, looked up at Shadow with that powerful, sexy smile that melted his heart, and added, “please,” as if the word should convey both request and demand, desperation and confidence. Her cheeks and lips glistened, saturated from many tears.

Nodding, Shadow dropped his eyes in shame and turned around to read the book. As he sulked through the hallway, Shadow slowly grew determined this wouldn’t continue. Whatever was wrong, whatever he’d done, he would make it right. He would heal Bliss. He’d heal himself if he had to. Flitting through the pages, he found most of them blank. Only a few pages said much at all. Other pages had quick notes that appeared to be progress reports. Two days without incident. Broke my arm. No days without incident for two weeks. Showed me where he hid the stone. I moved it for safety. Two days without incident. Several other entries like this revealed nothing new. Seeing that the remaining pages were blank until the end, Shadow flipped back to the first page and began reading.

Shadow. I love you. I’m sorry you have to read this but I have no more patience to offer. I tell you the same thing every day so I think it will help to make a book for you.

Two moon rounds ago, you defeated the Trayki. Leith Azh and the other kotrakoy flew toward the Mists of Ishmandool. They’ve not been spotted since. Everyone assumed you’d died in your final fall from the sky, whether from the explosion or the fall — no one knew for certain but your body was nowhere to be found. I wouldn’t let them torch the area or bury the bodies in a mass burial so bodies were buried one by one after being tested for illusion spells. No one wanted to spend the time to bury thousands of soldiers this way but out of respect for their hero, they did it. Until your fate was certain, they endured the gruesome task.

I found you laying on the battlefield four suns later, your illusions finally expired. You rested in bed for nearly two dozen suns before you were able to walk. Rambling and mumbling most of the time, I pieced together the information that follows. I don’t know if it’s accurate.

Athna went home to see her father, maybe to get Ali’ikiswan’s other stone. She doesn’t know her father was murdered during the invasion. At least, so says Ayzhlen.

Ayzhlen claims that the other stone is broken, but no one has found it. She claims it exploded somewhere between Ali’ara’s home and Trayki camps. Despite her efforts to prove you’d gone insane, she was banished for violating her oath. She hasn’t been seen for at least a moon round. You say that you see her from time to time, but you’ve also claimed to have seen Athna when you were in bed. I was with you so I know she never came to visit.

Your stone is safely preserved. Makana wanted it destroyed but you claim to know how to make it work better. Out of respect, he ordered it hidden for safety until you either get better or die. Using it made you sick. You claim it is temporary and occasionally, you show signs that the sickness will wear off. Sometimes I believe you. Sometimes … I’m not so sure.

The rest of the page was blank. As was the next page. The following page had symbols drawn on it, symbols Shadow immediately recognized, but couldn’t piece together. What did they mean? As comprehension surfaced, his thoughts went blank. He blinked, breathed deeply, and turned the next page.

As he began to read, his heart pounded fiercely as if he’d accomplished some prodigious feat. His mind hadn’t wandered into delusion. He remained present. He’d exerted some control over the sickness. This was mage-sickness, he understood now. He read words on the page but they meant nothing as he remembered ancient spells to combat similar conditions. It used to be a common condition centuries ago when changes from a turn sent dozens of mages into incurable insanity. Some slowly got better. Some were healed. Some turned on their people. Shadow huffed at the memory, shook his head with great deliberation, began reading again at the top of the page.

You keep asking me about Ma’Koolee. He died in the first airstrikes before they created illusions to throw off the bombers. He left me a parcel of land and a present he made for our marriage. Miraculously, neither got burned. He died visiting relatives in a nearby village. I failed him. I failed you. I don’t like talking about it. Please don’t ask any more.

There was nothing else on that page. Shadow guessed discolorations in the blank space below the writings were tear stains. He turned several pages full of pithy entries detailing Shadow’s progress or lack thereof. The only remaining entry of any significant length was sloppily penned, as if written in a great hurry or with intense emotion. It began after two other pages had been torn out, an observation that made Shadow’s heart sink. Why? What had he done?

He remembered how Bliss had broken her engagement by going to Daya’s Tavern to get publicly plastered, to shame herself so Ma’Koolee would be relieved their engagement had been broken instead of hurt. The memory left Shadow with a burning question. Bliss had claimed her visions had never failed before. And yet, here she was in Shadow’s cavern, alive and well. What had happened? Zamora. Yes, Zamora had sacrificed himself to preserve her at the very last moment. Shadow had long admired Zamora. Now, he had much more reason to do so.

Three moon rounds and half a moon. Progress?

I probably shouldn’t write this. Apparently, you didn’t like the last two entries. I tore them out so you wouldn’t be upset every time you read them.You nearly burned my leg off. I know you didn’t mean to. As usual, you were gentle and kind when you saw I was hurt. Thank Mother Earth you’re an amazing mender. At least there’s that. Please. Please do not ask for further details.

Just when you make great progress, you lose it. I drank my first cocktail since the battle. It slowed my fear so I can stay. You need me most at nights. I don’t know how much I can help, though. Ghost throbs. They’re awful lately. I forget what you call them, mage-mending echoes or something. I know they won’t last long but they keep threatening to knock me out this time so I’m hoping cocktails will mask the pain.

I know. You know a memory ritual and other healing spells. I’ve tried them. Last time, it gave me a headache so bad, I wished to be dead. You say you have one last spell to try, an ancient one. As with everything, I will always try whatever you ask. No one deserves that respect more than you, but if I fail, please don’t ask me to do it again. I know I should be stronger. I’m not. I don’t know how much more I can take without someone to help me and honestly, unless you knew their voice really well, you’d probably kill them within a week.

You’re starting to remember villagers casting you out. Please don’t ask about this. Just know this: they’re terrified of you and they have good cause to be scared. I know your heart and I know this hurts you to hear but it’s true. Your mage-sickness has been as severe as anything historians can find. I’m the only one who believes you can be healed. Sometimes, I’m not so sure, either, but I don’t know what else I can do but hope. Villagers are scared of me, too. They sometimes worry you’re invisible via illusion and I’m escorting you somewhere. It’s difficult to see how terrified they are, heartbreaking to know I played a part in all of this, made mistakes. That

The last word was stricken out. He didn’t know why, wondered what she’d been about to write and changed her mind. Seeing there was nothing else to be read, he flitted through the earlier pages again, reviewed some of the odd symbols there. This time, he understood them, remembered their meaning. Excited, he ran back to Bliss. She wasn’t where he’d left her so he tried the kitchen area.

True to her character, she’d already gotten up and started making food.

And bitterroot tea. It wasn’t his favorite but Bliss knew how to blend other flavors with it and how to sweeten it so the taste wasn’t nasty, just … neutral. He’d been very impressed the first time she’d made it. Had she made the tea out of bear droppings, he wouldn’t have been more impressed at how she masked the original taste. Bitterroot was as nasty as anything that could be eaten. It nevertheless was exactly what he needed to heal. Shadow didn’t know all of the details but he knew it was beyond extremely nutritious and legend was, centaurs and elventaurs and all other nature of taurs ate the root regularly to supplement the extra demands of their magical bodies.

The moment Shadow saw her, he exploded in smiles. She wore a light blue, mostly sheer dress with lots of embroidery, slits, and thin panels that dripped along her shapely legs. Designed by courtesans on the north side of Shade’s Deep, the dress didn’t resemble any local fashions and screamed exoticism. Bliss claimed it wasn’t her favorite style and she would have discarded it but for the fact that she knew Shadow especially loved it. He didn’t remember where it came from or when she’d gotten it but somehow, it looked ragged and perhaps, abused when he inspected it more closely. Nevertheless, it accentuated everything lovely and feminine about Bliss’ figure and Shadow appreciated her thoughtfulness in wearing it just to be nice to him.

Excitedly, he called to her.

When she heard her name, Shadow noticed her subtly flinch and then relax with such self control that he was immediately impressed.

And ashamed.

The red book told him why. Only she knew how many injuries she’d suffered at his hands. She’d spared him most of the details and for that, he was grateful. Still suffering from an onslaught of feminine emotions he’d inherited from Kekonya, the last thing he needed was more feelings to overwhelm him. He thought he was growing better at stifling them, but wasn’t certain. The more he thought about it, the more sure he was that he didn’t really know anything at all.

Confusion began to set in. Dark mists seemed to swirl around his head and fogginess of mind began to overrun his consciousness.

“Shadow.”

She’d spoken his name softly, not out of desperation. Somehow, that realization filled him with hope, though he wasn’t certain what hope he needed or what exactly he might hope for. Nevertheless, the feeling was there. Her tone exuded love … and comfort. Shadow willed his mind to receive her feminine energies, to allow them to heal his mind and clear away the charcoal colored mists swirling around his upper torso.

They vanished.

Bliss beamed.

“Thank you,” he said.

Bliss set aside the utensils in her hand, hopped over to where he was at, and gave him a long, meaningful embrace.

“I remember all of the spell now. Are you ready to try?”

Bliss paused, took a long breath, seemed to ponder something. “Two things,” she began. “First, breakfast, yes?”

“Deal. I’m starving.”

“Second, if you’re still able to remember the spell after breakfast, I will remind you that last time I tried a similar spell, you ended up psionically blasting me. I need you to be certain you can focus while I complete the ritual, whatever it may be. Deal?” She seemed timid, worried over his response.

“Of course,” he assured her. “My every desire is to protect you from—”

“I know,” she interrupted, “from everything that isn’t there. That’s how I get hurt. Please, for now, tell yourself not to protect me. Just for a little bit.” Bliss forced a smile, threw a flirtatious wink at him, and caressed his face as if all she’d just told him was the hundred ways she loved and admired him.

Who could deserve such a woman? Shadow thought.

“I’ll try,” he promised. “It goes against every desire of my soul … but I’ll try.”

Bliss smiled again, reached up to sensuously kiss both of his cheeks before kissing him on the lips.

“Come,” she coaxed, “let’s eat before we run out of time.”

“These runes, here,” Shadow explained, pointing to the runes in the red book, “represent Hinzwala’amakan forms twelve through fifteen that I taught you before. You remember those?”

“Of course, Love,” Bliss winked, said nothing more.

“While you work your way through those forms and incantations, I need to read these runes here—”

Dark mists slowly materialized, menacingly swirled and darted around Shadow. He stood, moved into a defense posture …

“Shadow,” Bliss purred, “My love …”

A hand caressed his cheek, veered his attention back to her. The mists continued to swirl but changed color to an orangish-brown, then a yellow-splotched cream.

“Perhaps we should try this tomorrow,” she suggested, “when you’re well rested and fresh.”

“But, we just barely had breakfast,” Shadow retorted, “we—”

“Shadow. That was dinner. We just had dinner.”

“No matter,” he answered. “I can’t hurt you any more, not a moment longer, not a single injury, not a single burn.” Those thoughts upset him. Mists began swirling more menacingly, turned to a light shade of gray and then grew more charcoal.

“Shadow!”

He thought he heard his name, wasn’t certain, riveted his eyes upon his surroundings. It was dusk but he could make out the silhouettes of trees and a few stars peering through their boughs. The moon seemed to be burning, a menacing, lava orange color.

“Raz!”

The voice was frantic. No one called him that. No one but … “Ayzhlen?”

Two notably cool hands caressed his cheek and neck, traced fingertips along his ears and dragged their nails back and forth along his scalp in a soothing fashion. The refreshing coolness felt like frost along his neck, invigorated his consciousness. The room reappeared and the scene he’d just seen dissipated. Swirling mists evaporated.

“There,” Bliss purred, drawing a line across his lips with her fingertip before offering a tender, yet casual kiss. “There you are.”

“That’s a key,” Shadow declared.

“What’s a key?” Bliss asked.

Shadow grew disturbed, wondered what was wrong, began to frantically search the room when Bliss’ hands held him firm, exuded healing energies of calming assurance. Only the slightest trace of mists appeared and no sooner did they materialize then they faded once more.

“Thank you,” Shadow answered. “I hate to need anything from you but that peace, the calming comfort of your touch. It—”

“That’s the key?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” he said. “It grounds me.”

Tears welled until they deluged her cheeks. Bliss tightly wrapped her arms around Shadow and sobbed.

He matched her embrace, tightened when she tightened, loosened when she loosened, and gave her soft kisses along her neck and shoulders as he waited for her to be ready. Whatever he’d said, she’d needed to hear but he could no longer remember what had made her emotional and he needed to talk to her before he forgot something important.

“If I forget,” Shadow said, “it wouldn’t hurt to remind me that these runes are Hinzwala’amakan. They’re from Kekonya’s childhood, ancient runes she copied from a library and memorized as part of her earliest training. They’re very old magic but they should work with adjustments.”

Blissed gazed into his eyes, fear and doubt rimming her now swollen eyes even as she nodded in agreement and took a slow, deep breath, the kind every Hiwalani learned as a youth, the kind intended to give you courage and focus.

Bliss began form twelve, incanting the words.

“Stop,” Shadow instructed. “These must be sung. As much as you can, add polyphonic notes to your singing.”

If she looked doubtful before, Bliss’ expression betrayed wholesale disbelief at his instructions. “You know I’m awful at singing,” she said, “especially polyphonic singing.”

“You’ll do fine,” Shadow assured her, but even as he said the words, anxiety crept over him, as did dark, swirling mists of sanguine colors. Bliss’ eyes widened, fearfully, sending Shadow into a frantic routine of scouting out the danger. The mists darted about him now, dashing one way and then another as if trying to shoot or jab some imaginary target.

“We’re safe, Love,” Bliss intoned in her most soothing voice, “everything’s fine. We’re in no—”

“Quick — behind me!” Shadow yelled, brushing past Bliss and moving into an aggressive stance. “I’ll—”

“Shadow! Raz! My only love!” Bliss both belted out the names and spoke them with every ounce of allure she knew how in the midst of being frightened.

Shadow felt gentle arms wrap around him from behind, remembered the Mists of Ishmandool, Ayzhlen’s illusions, and a host of other threats and began to spin around to confront whatever danger lurked behind him when he felt Bliss’ head on his back, incanting soothing words and dispensing calming energies into his soul. Quicker than he would have hoped on his best day, his delusions dissipated and the mists disappeared as quickly as he grasped the reality of his surroundings.

Although trembling with fear, Bliss bestowed peaceful energies into Shadow as if she was the most confident woman in the known world. To Shadow, she represented every positive aspect of femininity, those under appreciated sides of womanhood that every fortunate child learns to appreciate as a small child. He loved and adored her every waking breath. His shoulders slumped in relief. He slowly turned, held Bliss in a tender embrace and kissed her on the top of her head countless times as he thanked her.

“See?” he encouraged, “you can do this.”

And so she began singing.

Shadow could have agreed that she wasn’t a born singer. In some ways, her voice was rough around the edges and it certainly wasn’t traditional in tone. And yet, the raw, broken edge of her voice was the very thing that he loved about it. Perhaps Mother Earth required a certain level of perfection in song — he didn’t know — but he didn’t. He was simply grateful for who she was and what she offered. He loved her voice because it was hers, not because she sounded like some accomplished loreman.

While she sang, Shadow recited the ancient runes, moving his hands and arms from time to time as the runes suggested. He envisioned dark clouds surrounding his mind, keeping him from seeing or hearing the world around him as it really was and then, he envisioned those dark clouds disappearing into nothingness like steam blending into the air around it. He began to feel great peace and rejoiced in the happiness he felt being with Bliss.

He loved it when she came to visit. His heart ached from missing her. He didn’t know why she didn’t come to see him more often, yearned for her company, sorrowed at the thought that she didn’t want to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her.

The sky around him blackened, the sun cut off from the gathering storm clouds. The sanguine moon appeared in a small opening, however, and began threatening Shadow and everyone watching with curses like the world had never seen before, lava orange and fiery.

“Shadow!”

Hundreds of voices repeated his name, mocked him for his inability to stop the moon from whatever she was about to do, from blocking her, tentacles wrapped around his neck and legs, squeezing his arms so that he couldn’t defend himself, couldn’t produce the magic he needed to save his people. He struggled against the attack, tried to gather his wits about him when he felt velvety lips slathering him with tender affection from cheek to cheek, around his eyes and back down his cheek, occasionally offering desperate kisses on his mouth, all while humming peaceful tones and stroking his neck and scalp with touches barely felt, fingertips summoning calming energies.

“Bliss?” he asked, confused.

“Yes,” she answered, smearing tears all over his cheeks as she pressed hers against his. “You go it right,” she said with great pleasure. “It’s me.” She beamed with the most charismatic, seductive smile he’d ever seen and then pressed her forehead against his while stroking his cheeks and sending healing energies through his body.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Shadow said, glowing with excitement. “I’ve missed you so much! I was hoping maybe you’d visit today. It’s been a long time.” With that, he hugged Bliss tightly, but noticed her body slump some. “You’re the only friend I’ve ever been able to count on,” he continued. “I had a dream we were married. It was the happiest time of my life. I saw you every day and you were always by my side.”

Bliss squeezed him tighter than before and didn’t loosen her hug for a very long time but she continued to lavish him with attention.

Soon, Shadow remembered that she’d nearly completed the fifteenth form and probably needed to restart the form from the beginning. Before he could tell her, she spoke first.

“Shadow. You need to finish reading the runes. They’re from Kekonya’s childhood, remember?”

He stared blankly at the pages in front of him, barely recognized the runes, barely understood what they represented, but resolved himself not to disappoint Bliss.

“Start at the beginning,” she encouraged. “You’ll do fine.”

As Shadow began reading them from the beginning, he barely understood what they were saying. He also noticed nearly transparent mists swirling around his body but these, these were green, the color of life, the color of healing. Maybe this was going to work. When the mists started turning darker colors and grew less transparent, Shadow began to worry but as soon as he did, he felt Bliss there with him, intoning gentle words, wrapping her legs around his own, offering him sensuous touches to his cheeks and forehead between forms, and whispering loving encouragement to him when she wasn’t singing. He felt like the most fortunate man that ever roamed the soils of Mother Earth and couldn’t contain energies of gratitude that deluged him. They oozed around him, encircled the two of them as with a protective shield of energy, a nearly orgasmic sensation of appreciation enveloping them as they did. The mists were nearly pure white. This was going to work. He was certain this time.

Thank you for reading - it helps me develop stories that you enjoy more if you take 30 more seconds and answer the following poll. In writing Bliss, I’ve been striving to create a female character that epitomizes feminine traits that deserve the praise and appreciation of humanity … but that are deliberately overlooked in most modern stories. Tell me how I did.

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