CHAPTER ONE
Like foxes, they slink through the trees, swiftly and noiselessly. The setting sun peeks through the gaps in the canopy leaves, casting a golden glow across their faces as it begins its slow descent below the horizon.
The end of another day, and yet again Kale feels as though he's achieved nothing. Again.
How had everything changed so quickly?
Once, Kale Anderson had been an unwavering heir of the Kingdom of Shadows, a pinnacle of loyalty and strength to his people and his birthright.
Now, he was an outcast, his loyalty thrown aside and his bloodline the only thing that still binds him to his old life.
Almost two weeks on from the Dark War, he was already frustrated with the seemingly little progress he'd made. The War had seen Harper, the Saviour, persuade the Rebellion out of hiding — the first time the group had ever launched an offensive in living memory. With Harper at the head, the Rebellion had risen up against Kale's father, Lord Ash, the man that had single-handedly murdered Harper's parents and henceforth destroyed her childhood.
Along with the lives of so many others.
Kale picks up his pace, darting through the trees with near unnatural agility. His heart thumps in his chest, breaths becoming deeper - but no less steady. To his right, his brother, Blake, matches his pace.
They travel almost noiselessly over the damp forest floor, both of them having trained endlessly in the Shadow castle for majority of their lives. It's that training that permits them to keep pushing, to move faster, to pick each footfall with a measured precision that prevents them from tripping or stumbling.
They'd been moving for days, determined to track down their father, Lord Ashleigh. Determined to find him. To locate his forces.
The Shadows had fled following their utter defeat, uncannily disappearing almost without a trace. The Shadow castle had remained mostly abandoned since, the Rebellion monitoring it in the event the Lord of Darkness should return.
Kale doubted his father would be back so quickly.
Ashleigh would likely return only if he had some form of surprise counter-offensive.
Which Kale also doubted.
So that leaves only one remaining option: Kale would have to chase the Shadows down.
Wherever they may be.
If he and Blake are to succeed, to find the Shadows and their father, Kale was still unsure as to what they would ultimately do.
Would he really be able to end it? Would he be able to kill his own father?
Would Harper have wished him to?
He knew the answer to the last question, at least, deep down buried inside him. As much as he tried to rage against the truth, Kale knows in his heart that Harper wouldn't have wished death upon anyone. Even with her justified loathing for his father, he knows she would've preferred to see Ashleigh's downfall — not his death.
She would never have asked it of Kale to take the life of the man responsible for his birth.
But she wouldn't have had to ask. Kale would have done it, if it meant she'd be saved.
He would've killed his own father.
Grief hits him like a tonne of bricks. He should've been there to save her. He should've prevented it, should've stopped it. He should never have let her go into battle.
He should've done so many things differently. But he hadn't, and now she was gone.
Gone.
And he would never see her again.
His vision blurs slightly, the word echoing around in his head like some twisted melody.
Gone.
Forever.
The woman he'd fallen in love with, despite everything that'd been stacked against them.
Taken from him by his own father.
The decision takes shape easily in Kale's mind, fuelled by loss and mourning. If he and Blake succeed in locating the Shadow forces, Kale will not hesitate to kill Ashleigh. He'd do it. For her.
All of it for her.
He'd enact Harper's revenge.
And he'd claim his revenge for her death.
She deserved that much, even if her dedication to the cause had always extended beyond her personal motivations to avenge her parents.
Kale knew that it had.
From the very first moment he'd met her, he'd known she was the main driver of a much larger change, even if she hadn't realised it. She'd helped to unite the people of their world and pushed them to overcome tradition in search of something better, something greater.
That was no easy feat.
Harper Bryant had been a miracle. His miracle.
And he missed her more than he'd ever have believed.
He'll always miss her.
Her death had taken a part of him; had torn out a chunk of his heart that would never be replaced. It's absence would forever be a reminder of what he'd lost, what he would never find again.
An agonising, constant absence brought upon him by his own father.
Kale is snapped back to the present by a sharp whistle. His eyes instantly dart to the right, trained on Blake. It was their signal.
His brother has spotted something.
Blake motions for Kale to take cover behind the nearest tree, as he himself ducks out of sight on the other side of the mostly overgrown path.
The grief in Kale's mind is overcome only by a burst of adrenaline. Have they found the Shadows? Is that what Blake has spotted?
Kale's eyes shift from Blake to their surroundings, monitoring, assessing.
Silence.
Nothing.
But Blake motions again to remain hidden, and Kale overrides his instinct to jump into action and instead trusts his brother. He stays put.
He'd never been able to trust Blake until Harper had come along. It was another thing she'd given him, something Kale had given up hope of ever experiencing — what it was like to have a brother.
Not just another person born from the same parents, but a rock. Someone that understood him almost as well as Harper herself had, and someone he could trust with his life in her absence. Someone he could rely on, who he knew would have his back.
Yes, Blake was all of those things to Kale. And he had Harper to thank for mending their previously shattered relationship.
A twig cracks — from the west. Kale's eyes focus on the forest ahead of them, scanning for the threat. For any sign of the entire army he and his brother were now seeking. Kale squints his eyes against the setting sun, appearing to light the forest on fire with its bright red and gold hues.
But there's nothing.
A high-pitched, sharp whistle sounds again. To anyone else, it would sound like a bird. But Kale knew better. Blake holds up two fingers in signal.
There were two guards.
And sure enough, true to Blake's words, Kale slowly makes out the outline of two people moving gradually towards them. The strength of the sun's rays at their backs keeps their identities hidden for a few more moments, until the distinct black clothing and red stitching around the bottom of their sleeves is visible.
Shadow soldiers.
Kale glances back to Blake, and gives him a short nod. That's all the confirmation they need, silent understanding passing between the pair.
Three short seconds later, both brothers are springing out from behind the trees and drawing their swords, just as the two soldiers reach them.
Taken by surprise with no precursor to the attack, all the two Shadow soldiers can do is stand still and unmoving.
Recognition flashes in the eyes of the shorter man, Kale's blade pressing threateningly against his chest. The man steels his jaw, a hard look filling his eyes as he stares at Kale with something akin to disgust.
"Who are you." Blake's words are more of a demand then a question, his voice commanding authority in the way he has always done so well.
"We're hunters, we're out looking for some game to eat for supper tonight," the one closest to Blake answers. The taller one.
"Wrong answer." It's almost a growl, the phrase Blake utters. He presses the tip of his blade harder against the man's throat, like a predator closing in on its prey.
That's exactly what this situation is.
Kale and Blake know they can't let the men leave this encounter. They need information, yet can't risk these scouts reporting their location and the entire Shadow army coming after them.
As skilled in combat as the Anderson brothers are, nobody would be able to survive against an entire army — half of which were soldiers they had personally trained themselves.
"They know our uniforms," the shorter man in front of Kale says levelly to his friend. His eyes don't leave Kale's even as he says the word. "They know who we are."
He recognises them. He knows they're Ashleigh's sons.
"But who are they?" His friend questions back.
The man in front of Kale snarls. "They're traitors."
Kale snaps into action, shoving the man back against the nearest tree. He releases a groan as his back collides with the rough bark, knocking the breath from his lungs. It's all the time Kale needs to close in on his opponent, pressing the smaller blade of a dagger to the man's throat instead.
"Where is our father," Kale growls at the man.
His opponent laughs, but there's nothing humourous about it. No, his laugh is a mockery.
"I owe you allegiance no longer, Kale Anderson."
Behind Kale, the man at Blake's knifepoint pales slightly as the realisation of the identities of the brothers hits home.
As he notices that he's held at knifepoint by the two men that were meant to lead the succession of the Shadow Kingdom upon Lord Ashleigh's eventual death. That Kale and Blake are two princes with an indisputable claim to the Throne of Darkness due to their royal lineage.
If these soldiers are to kill Kale and Blake, Lord Ashleigh would never forgive them. But if they are to let them go... That news wouldn't go down well with the Lord of Darkness, either.
They're dead men walking.
Blake watches with a predatory stillness as the man processes his realisation. The realisation that the other three men in his presence are already well aware of.
And then, Blake smiles at the man, in a cold, calculating way. Venomously.
The man turns, attempting to flee.
He makes it barely three steps before Blake's knife is flying through the air. It connects with the back of the man's head with a dull thud, and the Shadow soldier drops to the ground.
He doesn't move again.
With one of their opponents dealt with, Blake now also diverts his attention to the soldier Kale holds at knifepoint against the ancient redwood tree.
"You won't get away with this," the man in Kale's strong grasp spits out. "The entire kingdom will know of your betrayal. You will pay for this."
That may very well be true, but Kale pushes the thought to the back of his mind. Let the kingdom know. Maybe then it's people would realise the lives they were currently living did not allow them to live at all. They were merely surviving, each and every one of them, subject to the darkness brought about by Lord Ashleigh's reign.
"Where is our father," Kale demands again.
The man just snarls.
With a flick of his wrist, Kale sends the man's blood spurting out into an arc from his neck, splattering onto the slowly drying leaves below. The man's eyes go wide, his breathing gurgles, clawing at Kale's hand on his neck.
And then it's over. His body slumps to the forest floor, and their surroundings are consumed by silence once more.
Kale lowers his blade with a blank expression on his face that Blake watches closely. Since Harper's death, Kale had barely experienced any emotion other than grief; since he'd watched her draw her final breath in his arms.
Since it had completely broken him inside.
He feels no emotion once more as he briefly glances down at the man's body, and wipes his dagger before he slides it back into its small sheathe at his side.
The men had given them no information at all. Nothing that would help them in their search.
The thought only leads to frustration.
They can't stop. Finding the Shadows, finding their father, would be the only way to make any of this worth something.
They have to end it.
They have to knock Ashleigh down from his place of power. It is set to be no easy task.
The more Kale thinks about his father's downfall, the more he's certain it will need to end in Ashleigh's death.
The more he's certain he will have to kill his own father.
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