Page 1 of The Night Runs Red

PROLOGUE

Long ago, when the world was little more than rubble and ash, one family reigned over all living beings. First King of the Fae, Calix Darrow, was a benevolent ruler, ensuring peace within his kingdom. The fae, witches, vampyres, and mortals united to form the High City of Kallistos—a unique utopia for all who dwelled within its walls, as well as the permanent home of the royal family.

Fae magic was initially bound by the laws of nature, coursing through the land as earth, wind, water, and fire. But as the centuries passed, their powers evolved. Unions between the fae and the witches caused offspring to be of both worlds—the divine and the elemental—thus ushering in a new era of magic.

Somewhere along the way, peace began to falter as evil crept through the land, poisoning the minds of its inhabitants. Vampyres became infatuated with amplifying their gifts, craving more magic than they were blessed with. They became relentless as they grappled for power that was not theirs to hold. Arowan D’Arcy rose above the rest, calling those who shared his beliefs to action. Soon, what was once a prosperous land was reduced to cinders as fae and vampyre turned on one another, shattering the hard won peace and creating a war unlike anything seen before.

As the death toll rose across Auria, King Calix desperately searched for a way to quell the uprising and bring peace again to the land. Mortals were slaughtered, witches hunted for their magic—forced to surrender it or risk their lives. Covens dispersed and fled, fearing for their lives and the lives of those they loved. They pleaded with the king to end the madness, but he saw no way out. Not until the night before the fabled blood moon did his answer come to him in a dream.

The following day his vision became apparent, and the king set out to find his salvation. Standing amongst a field of poppies, a woman knelt and prayed beneath the red sky. Golden marks along her skin shone under the moon's light, her hair the color of freshly fallen winter snow. She turned, fixing her bright, luminous eyes on him before speaking in a language he hadn’t heard in centuries.

“What is it that you seek?” she asked him, her voice soft and tender. The woman listened as he divulged his fears regarding the war Arowan waged on his people and land. As he finished, she looked back up to the moon before closing her eyes. “There shall be consequences—”

But the king interrupted her, insisting she do what she could to save the land. Her hands lifted to the sky as she chanted once again.

The wind howled around them as lightning tore through the night. In the distance, thunder sounded from the heavens above like the pounding of war drums. He fell to his knees at the sight, both wonder and fear filling his thoughts. The air was permeated with the scent of copper and iron. Soon, the king’s hands were covered in droplets of blood that fell from the sky.

The woman dropped her hands, pressing her face to the wet, crimson ground below as she finished her prayers. She turned to the king, who’d fallen back in awe of the power he’d just witnessed. “It is done,” she whispered. Her voice had grown hoarse, barely audible over her heavy breathing. “When the sun rises, the vampyres will be forced into a world of darkness. They shall never feel the warmth of sun upon their skin. Those who try will forfeit their lives.” The king thanked her, crying joyfully at this good news, but the woman was not done. “Beware, King, for nature demands a balance.”

“What have you done?” he cursed, a quiet rage bleeding into his short-lived happiness.

She turned on him, using her magic to wrap death-touched fingers around his throat. “I tried to warn you that this magic would have consequences, but you refused to hear them. Now, you shall listen and take heed; this agreement begins with your heir. While the vampyres will never know warmth, your people shall never look upon the stars. From now until the end of time, when the blood moon rises in the sky every one hundred years, nature will demand the joining of Darrow and D’Arcy. Those chosen will be marked by the fates. Should either refuse, by the time the cycle has ended, both lives will be taken as payment. The key to both your salvation and damnation relies on a fragile balance of power between your descendents and those of your Vampyre foe.”

The king wanted to ask more, beg her for clarification, but as the woman released her hold on his throat, her form dissipated, blowing away in the wind. He was left on his knees, watching the sun rise on his broken kingdom.

Word spread quickly from town to town as the fae guards rode hard to disperse the news before nightfall. As neither creature could walk under the same sky, their bloodshed came to a halt. Arowan wrote to the king, demanding an audience. They met in the tunnels beneath the palace with only their children at their backs. He ordered the king to reverse the effects of the curse, however there was nothing to be done. Their children had already been marked.

The king explained how the witch had told him that their children would be forced to wed as punishment for their bloodshed. Arowan took his son and left, laughing at the king’s gullibility and pleas for his daughter’s life.

Within a fortnight, as the moon returned to its natural glow, both men were forced to come to terms with their curse as they watched their children’s ashes scatter on the wind.

As the centuries passed, animosity grew between the two families as they watched their children be forced into a union with their enemies. Despite the years and their long lives, neither vampyre nor fae had found a way to end the cycle and free their kind from the new laws set forth by their creators.

As Kallistos was ushered into a new, modern age, the monarchy crumbled. As a concession, each faction elected members to represent their interest on a new council. War was no longer fought on battlefields but behind closed doors where corruption ran deep and hungry hands grabbed for control that was never theirs to hold. Time did nothing to mend old wounds, and the history of the past slipped further from the minds of the present.

CHAPTER ONE

A bolt of lightning snaked across the darkened sky, illuminating my room and the body draped across mine. The storm had been raging for days, remaining just as angry and violent as it was when it began. I’d held onto hope that it would postpone the events of the next few hours, though the thought was quickly shut down by my father this morning during breakfast.

No, I would be forced to walk down the aisle tomorrow and sign my life away to a man I’ve never met to appease a vendetta I played no part in.

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of my wedding day. There would be flowers as far as the eye could see, filling the room with their sweet, aromatic scents and the most delectable food money could buy. I would wear a dress made just for me, one crafted with hand-spun lace that shimmered as soon as the light touched it. My father would walk me down the aisle before passing me off to the person I loved. He would kiss my cheek and tell me how much he loved me and how I’d made him proud before turning away to stand by my mother. They would cry, of course, because I was their only daughter.

But as I grew up, I realized that life was no fairytale. A happily ever after was never promised, nor would it come.

My impending marriage was an olive branch to keep the peace amongst two warring factions. And because I was born with a mark on my back that designated me as nature’s chosen, my life has been tied to someone else’s.

The specifics of our contract were handled behind closed doors, where the men smoked cigars and drank fine whiskey while making decisions that affected my life. It didn’t matter if I wanted to do it or not.

If I refused, I would die.

As I stared out the window, I resented the city below. It glistened under the night sky, coming alive under the thrum and power of the full moon. Even I could feel the call of the inky blanket of stars beckoning me to stand beneath their glow.

I’d never seen the stars without the barrier of enchanted glass, but I’d always felt a calling to them. I longed to dance beneath their subtle glow, to be kissed by the night’s cold wind. But I was cursed, as all fae were, to never know what the night felt like.

This was the closest I would ever get, and that was only thanks to the magic my family’s money could buy. The local covens stayed far away from business relating to the fae and the vampyres, but even they could not refuse the allure of lucrative endeavors.

When I was five, I’d become obsessed with the darkness and what lingered in it. My mother had the power of illusion and would cast stars upon my ceiling every night when the thick, steel shades descended across every window in the house. As I grew up, though, I could tell it wasn’t real. The call to the true darkness never abated, no matter how hard she tried to pacify my curiosity.

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