Page 1 of Sky of Thorns

AstheeveofBolide approaches, Sybil Vandeleur, one of the last unicorn shifters on the continent of Craeweth, sits alone in the tranquil night. Tomorrow, the sky will fill with a cascade of stars, streaking across the darkness like fireflies. The robust scent of hearths cooking many delicacies will permeate the air as the village celebrates the holiday. It’s a time of joy and camaraderie when the people of Kallistar come together to celebrate their shared harvest and blessings of the year.

Bolide is a time of change when the stars rain like heavenly fire. The flames turn to ash, and from the ashes, hope arises: a promise that never fades. The days grow shorter as the nights grow colder, but the earth still holds the promise of spring, even with fall fading into winter.

As Sybil sits there, lost in her thoughts, she senses a strange energy stirring within her. It’s a feeling she’s never experienced before, a subtle but persistent thrumming that seems to emanate from her very bones. She tries to shake it off, telling herself that it’s just her imagination, but it only grows stronger with each passing moment.

Suddenly, a shooting star streaks across the sky, blazing a trail of light and color that takes Sybil’s breath away. She watches in awe as it disappears into the horizon, leaving behind a trail of shimmering sparks that seem to dance in the air. Little does she know that her life will change irrevocably from this moment onward.

Sybil

Thesoundofatwig snapping jolts me awake. The windows rattle as a howling burst of wind beats relentlessly against the panes, its force almost palpable. My heart pounds in my chest as adrenaline floods my veins. Instinctively, I reach for the dagger that I keep hidden under my pillow.

“It’s probably just the coming storm,” I whisper, trying to settle my racing heart. I’m just on edge. A loud snore above me draws my attention to Lemon, my ferret, in his hanging nest. With a sigh, I shut the book I fell asleep reading, setting it down on the floor beside me. After snuffing out the candle, I lay my head on the soft pillow and pull the blanket over my shoulders.

My eyes are just beginning to close when I hear the scrape of metal as each of my locks disengages.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

The door swings open, and a shadowed figure steps over my threshold. As I try to get up, a tingle of magic, like a gale of wind, pins me down to the bed. Despite this, my eyes remain wide open, refusing to blink.

“Sybil Vandeleur,” a deep baritone voice murmurs.

As a scream threatens to escape, my body spasms in my failed attempts to move. My breaths come in ragged gasps, making me dizzy and light-headed. Cold fear coils in my gut.

In the glow from the dying fire, an icy blue gaze meets mine. A metallic taste fills my mouth as I will my body to fight the magical hold on me. I glare back, both fear and determination flooding my veins. Magic rolls beneath my skin, an uncomfortable need to metamorphose battling with the magic that holds me down. I take a steady inhale and reach deep inside, willing my body to shift into my equine form.

“Not so fast, little unicorn,” he says as he strides to my side, clamping an iron bracelet over my left wrist. My magic immediately diminishes down to a spark. With a lift of his hand, the wind magic pinning me down relaxes, and I tense even more. The stranger pulls me to my feet, towering at least a head over me.

“Wh—who are you and wha—what are you doing in my house?!” I stammer, attempting to move so I can push away from him.

He roughly grabs the back of my head and brushes aside my hair with his free hand. With a calloused thumb, he traces the six-sided star mark in the center of my forehead. The movement sends an odd humming sensation throughout my body as a deep woodsy scent mixed with leather fills the space between us. Realizing how close his movement brought his body to me, I jerk, trying to pull out of his grasp.

“Who I am is none of your concern. As for why I am here,” he pauses, grasping my wrist tightly while tying them together, then pulls me roughly to my feet. “The King and Queen of Shadowvale sent me on a mission to retrieve you and bring you before them.”

My heart drops.

Shadowvale? That is hundreds of miles north of here. A kingdom mostly of witches and wizards that are rarely spoken of. Kallistar hasn’t had many relations with Shadowvale since the war ended over a hundred years ago. Few people dare trespass through the looming forest that separates us from the Northern kingdom for fear of the shadow monsters.

“Release me!” I yell, kicking out at him. A flicker of motion in the doorway precedes five more shadowed figures crowding around the towering male before me.

“I said, let me go!” I glare, gritting my teeth.

He pulls my wrists again, and I stumble towards the door. Digging my heels into the floor, I try to buck my body away, which only elicits a growl from the male as he turns to look at me.

“There must be some kind of mistake.” I object again, looking frantically around the room for anything that might help me. Fear, like cold lead, settles in the pit of my stomach and sweat perspires along my skin. I’m not a fighter, so I resort to using my words–the only thing I can use.

“Yes, my name is Sybil, but I don’t think I am who you are looking for. I’m just a local healer. Half-trained at that.” I attempt to clarify, because this must be a huge mistake. “I am no one of importance, nor have I done anything for or against the kingdom of Shadowvale. I have never even ventured outside this small village. You have the wrong person!”

Lemon chatters quietly behind me, but I do not dare to turn my head and draw attention to him. Instead, I look into the male’s cold blue eyes and plead, pulling at my restrained arms. “Please, let me go. I have little to offer, but if it’s gold and silver you want, I have a small savings in that healing salve tin. Just take it and leave me in peace.” Tears prick at my eyes, blurring my vision, as I look towards the shelf where my savings sit in an old dented silver tin.

In a deep rumbling voice, he declares, “you cannot buy your way out of this.” He nods to the figure behind him, who shakes the tin, causing the silvers and coppers I had saved to restock the pantry before winter to quietly clink together. “We are not here for your money, however little you possess,” he continues.

My fear turns to anger.

I knee him in the groin and twist, scrambling over the bed behind me and frantically grab for my dagger. In my elated freedom, I stupidly pause. It’s enough for the man to grab a fistful of my hair and yank me back. Crashing into his hard chest, he snakes his arms around me, pinning my arms to my sides. His breath is warm against my ear as he growls. “Do not try to escape, Shifter. We have a long journey ahead of us and trying to thwart me will do you no good. Now, be a good girl.” He reaches onto the bed, grabbing the dagger exposed in the blankets from our struggle and tucks it into his belt loop.

“I have a name, and I don’t feel like going anywhere with you,” I spit out, struggling against his hold, my body shaking.

He shoves me roughly towards the open front door before turning to the guards. He looks over at me, then at his accomplices ordering their next moves. “Grab whatever supplies or evidence you can find and load them onto the horses.” I narrow my eyes in anger, quickly resolving to find ways out of this scenario forced upon me. “I’ve got the girl. I’ll meet you at the forest pass.”

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