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Logline
When the Aphyre shatters and unleashes the undead, Iliya and Sorein must set aside their differences to save their world from collapsing into Heilos.
Blurb
Hated by her lineage, Iliya Dalaminai dwells in self isolation, awaiting the day her cousin marries so she might escape the Throne.
Feared by the Gods, Sorein Chakrine's crown is mainly a relic put on display at royal ceremonies to ward off evil.
When Souls escape the Aphyre and wreak havoc in the streets of Chiori Faire, the Solstice Festival becomes a haunted front line for the undead. With the Royal Guard struggling to gain control, Iliya and Sorein find themselves thrust in the middle of an ancient investigation.
Constantly at each other's throats and lost in the conspiracies beginning to corner them, the race to seal the Afterworld and return the Souls to rest quickly morphs into something much darker.
A trial to prove their innocence.
As more and more evidence surfaces against Sorein, the irreverent Fae Prince might just wish he had never stepped foot on Chiori's shore.
Leaving Iliya to pick up the pieces of her crumbling country the only way she knows how.
Stowing away.
~Chapter One~
The Lord lay on the floor of the Grand Archives, gasping for air.
Iliya watched, stunned, her hands trembling uncontrollably as etharis files scattered around them like escaping birds. Tables and chairs shook on the ground, some flying backward.
"What is wrong with you?" Lord Alvero demanded from his splayed position at her feet.
She blinked, confused, although his words still rang in her ears.
"Between the Halfling and the Bastard, Chiori Faire will become a breeding ground for mutts."
She'd heard a million smug, condescending comments before.
Yet they had always isolated her.
Never once was her cousin brought into it.
Why would this Lord–
The ground swayed beneath her again, and she looked up at the obsidian pillar stretching up before her..
Streams of mana began to pull straight from the Aphyre, alarms sounding as magic threatened the barriers' integrity. A whirlwind of light funneled into her hands, the runes on her arm searing bright red.
Iliya shrieked at the burning, thrashing around as the Lord stood and tried to pin her arms behind her as he yelled for the King.
He clamped his hands around the runes and pain radiated over her skin.
