Welcome back to our Tuesday Teaser! This week the kind Lexi Spence is sharing her novella, Prophecy of the Fated. How gorgeous is this cover?? This is another freebie you can have simply for signing up to her newsletter (totally worth it!).
Ready to read?
(NB. the formatting issues are mine. The file that Lexi sent me is gorgeous, but when I copied it over, all the “fl” turned to “!” and other random things. I urge you to taste it here, but download the actual story for a better experience. ~Rachel)
Chapter 1
Shadows Unveiled
C aius
The cool night air clings to my skin, heavy with the scent of damp earth and distant !re.
Shadows stretch and twist around me, bending to my will as I weave through the enemy camp. My heartbeat is steady, even as the sentries’ eyes scan the darkness. They won’t see me. They never do.
Aeloria teeters on the edge of chaos, its fragile peace threatened by fractures both seen and unseen. The council speaks of war like it’s a storm they can outrun, but I know better. Shadows whisper the truth: the enemy has already infiltrated, spreading rot to the very heart of the kingdom. And tonight, the fate of Aeloria may hinge on one girl—the chosen one—hidden within this labyrinth of enemy tents.
She’s more than just a girl, though. She is the last hope for Aeloria’s survival, the key to holding back the tide of destruction. I’ve heard the whispers in the council chambers, the rumors that she alone can restore balance to a fractured land. But what they won’t say, what no one dares to acknowledge aloud, is the other part of the prophecy— the part that hints she might destroy it all instead. My orders are clear: find her, protect her, and deliver her to the council. But even as I approach the central tent, doubt creeps in. The Seer’s words hum in my mind: ‘When light burns too brightly, shadows consume. When darkness reigns, the golden flame will fracture the night. Tranquility results from a woven balance.‘ The prophecy has been my guide and my curse, its truths maddeningly unclear. Is she meant to save us—or is she the spark that will ignite our end? As her magic brushes against mine, radiant and untamed, I can’t tell if it’s a blessing or a warning. The council would call my hesitation treason, but they’re not here, standing at the edge of a blade-thin line between salvation and ruin. The High Seer claims the prophecy’s truth, but she’s always been too cryptic, her visions shrouded in riddles. The Warden of War argues for force above all else, his strategies brutal but effective. And then there’s the Chancellor, whose silver tongue speaks of alliances and balance, though I suspect he’s more inter‐ested in power than peace. They think sending me will solve their problems, as if plucking her from enemy hands is the hardest part. They don’t understand what comes after.
My shadow magic thrums beneath my skin, an ever present whisper promising power and destruction. I suppress it, focusing instead on the mission. The darkness is my ally, cloaking me as I slip past a pair of guards. Their conversation is low and gruff, punctuated by the occasional clink of metal. I don’t need to hear the words to understand their complacency. They think they’re untouchable here, deep in the heart of their territory.
Fools.
I duck into an alcove, scanning the camp’s layout. The tents form a rough circle, with the largest one at the center. A commander’s quarters, perhaps. Or a prison. My instincts tug me toward it, the faint pulse of magic brushing against my senses like a breath of wind. It’s her. It has to be.
My steps are silent as I approach, each movement calculated. I’ve spent years perfecting the art of invisibility, blending into the night until I am the night. But tonight, something feels… off. A prickle of unease skates down my spine, and I pause, fingers twitching toward the hilt of my blade. The air around me thickens, charged with an energy that’s not my own.
Before I can react, a shout pierces the quiet. “Intruder!” Damn it.
I twist, shadows spiraling around me as I prepare to vanish. A bolt of magic sizzles past my head, illuminating the night in a burst of pale blue light. The camp erupts into chaos. Shouts, the clang of weapons, the rush of footsteps. My cover is blown.
With a muttered curse, I throw myself into the fray, weaving between soldiers as they converge on my position. My magic surges, dark tendrils lashing out to obscure their vision. They’re disoriented, stumbling through the sudden veil of shadow, but it won’t hold them for long.
I’m out of time.
I channel my power, summoning the spell that has saved me more times than I can count. The shadows around me writhe, coalescing into a dense fog. With a whispered incantation, I step through it, the world blurring and bending as the spell takes hold.
When the darkness dissipates, I’m no longer in the camp. Instead, I’m standing in a forest clearing, the air crisp and laced with the scent of pine. Relief floods me for all of two seconds before I sense the presence behind me. I turn, hand on my blade, and freeze.
She stands a few paces away, bathed in the soft glow of her own magic. It clings to her like a second skin, high‐lighting every curve and line of her lithe $gure. Shimmering hair like liquid gold cascades over her shoulders, somehow catching the light and holding it captive. Her presence is magnetic, a beacon of warmth and power that both draws me in and keeps me on edge. Her eyes, bright and unyielding, lock onto mine with an intensity that sends a jolt through my chest, like a lightning strike that leaves me breathless and exposed. Her gaze doesn’t just see me—it seems to unravel me, as if every guarded part of myself is laid bare under its penetrating light.
This is her. Seraphine Liora. The chosen one.
And she’s pointing a glowing sword at my throat. “Who are you?” Her voice is sharp, commanding. There’s no fear in her stance, only defiance. The light surrounding her pulses in rhythm with her heartbeat, a stark contrast to the shadows curling around me. I raise my hands slowly, the universal gesture of surrender. “Caius Valtor,” I say, my voice steady. “I’m here to protect you.”
Her eyes narrow, the glow of her magic intensifying. “Protect me? You just appeared out of nowhere, reeking of shadow magic. For all I know, you’re a spy.”
“If I were here to harm you, you wouldn’t have had time to point that sword at me,” I reply, letting the blunt truth hang between us. Her eyes flicker, uncertainty breaking through her resolve for the briefest moment.
“Bold words,” she says, though there’s a hint of wariness now. “But not enough.”
The tension between us is a living thing, crackling in the space where light meets shadow. I can feel the weight of her magic pressing against mine, a silent battle neither of us acknowledges aloud. My instincts scream at me to retreat, to regroup and try again under better circum‐ stances. But I can’t. Not without her.
“Listen to me,” I say, keeping my tone even. “The people who captured you—they’re coming. I’m the only one standing between you and them.”
Her grip on the sword tightens, but she doesn’t strike. Instead, she studies me, her gaze piercing as though she can see past the shadows and into the man beneath. I hold my ground, meeting her scrutiny with unwavering resolve. She has to see reason. She has to.
But then her lips curve into a bitter smile. “You think I need your help?”
Before I can respond, her magic #ares, a blinding light that forces me to shield my eyes. When I lower my arm, she’s taken a step closer, her blade now inches from my chest.
“I don’t trust you,” she says, her voice a low growl. “And until you give me a reason to, I’ll treat you like the threat you are.”
The forest around us seems to hold its breath, the weight of her accusation hanging heavy in the air. My mind races, searching for the words that might convince her otherwise, but before I can $nd them, she raises her sword, light pooling at its tip.
“Stand down,” she commands, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I don’t move. If she’s going to strike me down, so be it. But something tells me she won’t. Not yet. There’s still a chance—however slim—to earn her trust.
The tension stretches, taut and unrelenting. And then, as the light around her flares brighter than ever, I realize she’s not waiting for me to explain myself. She’s readying to attack.
But something shifts. A crackle in the air, a ripple that both of us feel at once. Her magic falters for a split second, her eyes darting toward the trees beyond me. I don’t dare turn my back on her, but I sense it too—a new presence, one neither of us expected.
“What now?” I mutter, more to myself than to her. Whatever is coming, it’s close, and it’s not friendly. The sound of rustling grows louder, a deliberate, weighted movement that sends a chill skittering down my spine. I glance at Seraphine, whose blade remains steady, but her eyes are wary. Whatever this is, it’s nothing she expected either. The light around her flickers slightly, her resolve faltering for just a moment. It’s enough to confirm what I already know—we’re not alone.
Continue reading Prophecy of the Fated.
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