Prologue

Darganoth of the Host walked with the Custodian through the breathtakingly beautiful gardens of the gods. The King’s voice was kind. ‘Thank you for coming, Lys. I’m sorry we welcome you back to us during such troubling times.’

She did not lift her eyes or smile. Lys walked stiffly beside the King of the gods, her heart heavy. ‘My lord, I have failed you.’ But she had not come here for forgiveness. She had come to seek the help of her fellow gods and the Elders.

‘This is not true, Lys,’ he offered gently. ‘Come, let us walk through the magnolia valley.’

He took her by the arm and guided her through the small gate which would take them into the cool, fragranced corridor of splendid trees. She allowed herself to be led into the exquisite surrounds which, after so long in the Bleak, might have lifted her spirits. But Lys was distracted; filled with despair.

‘Dorgryl tricked me, my lord; fooled like a child I was.’ She shook her head sadly.

‘He fooled me too, Lys. And now he has tricked us again.’ He paused, then added: ‘It is for the last time.’

Darganoth inhaled the sweet perfume of his magnolia trees. He was tall and broad with black hair and the brightest of blue eyes with a piercing gaze that could hold one still as no chains could. He is so like his son, Lys noted, with the same flaw of—what was it? Kindness? Weakness?—she knew not what. Still, it saw the King unable to destroy his own brother.

Darganoth interrupted her thoughts in a voice achingly similar to another’s. ‘We must consider what to do now, not dwell on what is done. We cannot change the past.’

Lys felt slightly reassured by his calm. ‘Have the Elders discussed it, my lord?’

But her fragile confidence crumbled with his next words.

‘They have. They offer no solution. They assure me that in order to finally deal with Dorgryl, our precious ones may perish.’

Lys stopped. She felt her skin go clammy even though it was cool beneath the canopy of trees.

‘No!’ The King turned back as Lys fell to her knees. ‘You cannot, your majesty. I beg of you, don’t desert them now.’

‘Lys, we no longer have any choice.’

‘What do you think will happen?’ she whispered.

‘I presume Dorgryl will overwhelm the body he inhabits and we will be forced to interfere against the Law and Quell him once and for all.’

‘Murder your own heir,’ she said bleakly. ‘I thought it could not be done.’

‘There is a way,’ he said, softly. ‘He was always at risk, Lys. He must pay the ultimate price, but I can ensure it won’t be in vain—Dorgryl will die with him.’

‘And what of the others, my lord?’ Her voice trembled. All this time of patience and watchfulness; centuries of pain for the Paladin; such sacrifice of young souls—Lys could not believe it was all over, and in vain.

Darganoth shook his head; said nothing.

She felt anger rise. Her voice was hard this time, no longer caring for protocol. ‘We cannot let these loved ones die. They’ve given their lives to us, been through so much hurt and despair, with more still to come. I cannot stand by and watch any longer, your majesty. Do you forget who it is I gave to the cause of the Trinity?’

She knew she should never have said it—but it could not be helped, the words could not be taken back. She watched the grief move across her beloved King’s face; he too had suffered similar pain. He knew as well as she what it meant to sacrifice a life, a life which he had sired.

He bit back on the words which sprang to his lips; who knew better than he what it was to lose a treasured child.

‘I can never forget the lives we have enmeshed in this, Lys, but Dorgryl’s escape has changed the complexion of this struggle. With him, my son becomes more powerful than we could have ever dared to dream…even in our nightmares.’

‘We must not forsake Tor and Alyssa, nor their children, your majesty,’ she implored.

‘Then pray my firstborn is strong enough to withstand Dorgryl,’ he took her hand, ‘and that Torkyn is stronger still.’

Lys felt shattered. Her King gave her no hope with these words. In truth they sounded the death knell for the very people she contrived to protect.

Distraught, she took her leave and fled the grove. Beauty had no place in her existence now.