“I found this book fascinating because it was about an old world that had a lot of history. [...] Ms Santiago’s characters are strong, well-defined and determined to do the right thing. They have conflicts, there is jealousy, there is hate, and there is love. [...] The ending in this one will leave you yearning for the next book.” - Aloe, 4 Suns, Aurora Reviews

This, along with the fact that I’m coming off of a nasty writing slump has been music to my soul. I’ve been rereading my YA fantasy and falling in love with it, despite my exhaustion (I’m putting my condo on the market and trying to buy a house! Man, is it draining!).

I have been posting regularly over at Hollow Tree. I hope you guys will swing by and see me. Have a great weekend.

Read the rest of the review here! Or check out an excerpt of Zerah’s Chosen for yourself, right over here.

Having started the first few paragraphs of Zerah’s third and final book, I thought what better way to celebrate/inspire myself, than to take part in the awesome Excerpt Monday, where authors of all genres take a little time to share the writing love and impart luscious reading goodies for their devoted and amazing readers (YOU!).

Curious? Read on!

Once a month, a bunch of authors get together and post excerpts from published
books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You don’t
have to be published to participate–just an writer with an excerpt you’d like to
share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday
site! or click on the banner above.

Excerpt Monday:

Copyright © Isabelle Santiago, 2009

All Rights Reserved, Drollerie Press

It was wrong to stare. She knew that. She just couldn’t help herself. Some irrational part of her thought if she looked hard enough she’d see something new. She was wrong. Everything about Kieran remained exactly the same, as closely guarded as the very first day he arrived.

She thought she’d gotten through to him out in the courtyard a few weeks back. She’d felt the little crack, caught the smile he’d tried so hard to suppress. But just as quickly, he‟d built his walls back up. Now, it was nearly impossible to get through the thick emotional armor he hid behind.

Kieran shifted uncomfortably. Amaya looked away. He must have felt her prying eyes. She turned the page of the book in front of her. The words looked foreign. She had no idea what it was about.

Taking a chance, she peered at him from over the cover. He hadn’t moved. He still sat all alone, his eyes focused on something outside the library window. The longing etched on his face was almost too painful to bear. Amaya bit her lip, anxious to think of something to say.

He sighed. She didn’t have to open her empathic connection to know just how unhappy he was. She could hear it. Her stomach clenched. She hated how helpless she felt. Wasn’t there anything she could do or say to make him feel at home? Or at the very least, to put a more permanent smile on his face?

“Are you done examining me?”

Amaya’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Oh!” Her cheeks burned hot. Nervous fingers pushed hair behind her ears. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, I… I just…” she slammed the book on her lap shut. “I was just thinking.”

“Why don’t you just ask me?”

“Ask you what?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “Whatever it is that has your eyes looking at me as though I were some sort of specimen. Go ahead. Get rid of some of the curiosity. Maybe you can go report back to the rest of the group.”

“I didn‟t mean to be rude…”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Neither did I.”

Amaya took it as the apology she knew he meant it to be. Unable to help herself, she crossed to the nearest chair and sat down. “You did really well in training today.” A moment passed. Then another. She got the point. He wasn’t going to answer. “I’ve noticed how much control you have over your power. I’m jealous. Master Iagan is constantly chiding me about my control. I suppose I do all right, most of the time, but it requires me to remain emotionally unattached. Objective. Otherwise, my own emotions magnify the ones I feel from other people, in a kind of loop. They can be so overpowering, it feels as though I might explode.” She laughed, a tense mixture of nervous giggle and self-deprecating humor. “I’m a bit of a walking disaster.”

He didn’t respond. She swallowed the last bit of laughter. The silence was stifling. She could take a hint. He obviously wanted to be alone. She just couldn’t bring herself to leave. He stared out the window. Enki and Phoenix wrestled in the courtyard. Amaya watched them carefully, trying to see what Kieran did when he looked at them.

“Can you really take souls into Arezh?” she asked, unable to contain the question any longer. Master Iagan said he could, but she had to hear it for herself.

“Yes.”

No word ever carried more shame, visible in the weight Kieran bore on his shoulders, a weight too heavy for him to handle alone. Compassion moved her closer. Without warning, her mind opened to him, smoothed his rocky soul with strong, warm waves of empathy.

“Don’t do that.”

She blinked, startled back to reality.

“I told you. I’m dangerous.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It isn’t my concern whether or not you believe me. Either way, it’s true.” He leaned forward, glared at her with a look that would have sent Hana out of the room crying. “Do. Not. Do. That. Ever. Again.”

“You know what I think?” she asked, her voice tight, “I think that you tell yourself that to excuse your separation from us. I think you use it as a barrier to keep others away. You can’t do that here, Kieran, we’re family…”

“You are NOT my family.”

His voice echoed against the high library walls. It rang like thunder, caused the ground to feel unsteady beneath her feet. She kept her hands close to her side, pushed away his burning anger. The pain felt so raw. Tears welled in her throat. Even without an open connection she felt him. His emotional vibrations changed the entire metaphysical structure of the room.

“I’m sorry. I realize you have other family. We all do. But within the Temple walls, these,” she took his tattooed wrists in her hands, “these unite us in a bond as thick as blood. You, Kieran, are my family.”

He looked up from his wrists into her eyes. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her. She forced herself to remain steady, to keep contact.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

She heard what remained unsaid. Like everyone else. Sympathy curled her lips into a smile. Could she really explain what she felt in him? He had so much self-loathing. She doubted he saw the good he still possessed.

“I’ve felt part of the struggle you carry within you. Your feelings, even the darkest ones that frighten you, stem from a very pure feeling: love.”

His dark brows scrunched in deep thought. She watched his face register confusion, epiphany, and then understanding. Her smile grew wider. There was something incredibly innocent about his face when he wasn’t brooding.

In one swift, fluid movement, he twisted his wrists until hers were in his hands. His fingers grazed the tattooed mark on the skin of her left arm, from her wrist up toward her shoulder. She shivered. The touch, so soft from such coarse fingers, felt strangely electrifying. The intricate bends and twists of her branding felt hot. On fire. Amaya’s smile faded.

“You want so badly to see the good in me,” Kieran whispered, his gaze pinned her. The depth of its darkness fascinated her. She leaned forward. His breath felt warm against her face. “You can’t seem to grasp the fact that I could kill you just by thinking about it.”

“But you wouldn’t.”

He sighed. The puff of air blew stray hair off of her face.

“Don’t be blinded by what you want to believe, Amaya. I’m not like you or any of the others. I never will be.”

His hands fell limp at his sides. Without another word, he stood and walked away from her. The blazing touch of his fingers left a cold frost in their absence.

“Links to other Excerpt Monday writers

Note: I have not personally screened these excerpts. Please heed the ratings and
be aware that the links may contain material that is not typical of my site.

Annual Romance and Chocolates Social: Multi-Author Meet and Greet

Isabelle Santiago, Jessica Andersen, Stella Price, Cat Johnson, and Bianca D’Arc will be doing a Romance Author Panel and book signing. Come by and support some of your local authors for a delightful afternoon of books, chocolate, and more!

Please be aware there will be various genres and heat levels available so that there might be something for everyone! Take the time to peruse the bookstore, chat about what you’ve been dying to read, have a warm cup of coffee, and enjoy! ♥

Date: Saturday, February 13th, 2010
Time: 2:00pm-5:00pm
Location: Borders Bookstores
Street: 1600 South East Road
City: Farmington, CT

And Sunday, February 14th I have the privilege of being part of Susan Hanniford Crowley’s BLOGOVERSARY! Nights of Passion is turning a year older and I’ll be stopping in to chat a little about Zerah’s Chosen and do a an ebook giveaway to one lucky winner!

So swing by! I look forward to seeing you! <3

“And it is one hell of a tale that Miss Santiago tells with a surprising amount of passion for a YA novel.

I’m not talking about eroticism, I’m talking about characters who believe in their causes. I’m talking about two teenagers in the throes of adulthood caught up in duty,honor and the expectations of others, but unable to deny their attraction and growing fondness for one another. [...] And as a bonus, the supporting cast were a fun lot! That always makes me happy.”

http://soleilnoir.wordpress.com/2010/01/27/zerahs-chosen-by-isabelle-santiago-a-review/

I have (FINALLY) updated the blog with the addition of Zerah’s Chosen to the book section (on the left sidebar). It has a link to the excerpt and buy page. I have also added Drollerie Press’ logo to the Publisher tab on the bottom left.

On the right sidebar, I have added a newsletter sign-up box. The first letter will probably go out late this month, early next month, so sign up now!

My website will be getting updated this weekend as well, with all of the updates on Zerah, excerpt page, links, an appearances page, and newsletter sign up info.

And finally, Heather Ingemar is the featured author today at Tales from the Hollow Tree! Check out what she has to say about Gothic Young Adult fiction.

Starting today and running through the 17th of October, Drollerie Press has put all of their books (including my new release, Zerah’s Chosen!) on sale for 1.99 or less!!!

If you’ve never tried an ebook, now is the perfect time (the pdf is probably the best way to go in that case), and if you have tried them but haven’t read one from DP, now is definitely the time to check them out!

So shop til you drop, without the guilt! <3

Check it out for a chance to win a Henna Body Art Kit and a free copy of Zerah’s Chosen!

And don’t forget, you still have time to enter the giveaway! I will be giving away a pack of really pretty fairy glitter tattoos as well as a free PDF copy of Zerah’s Chosen, so go on over to Monday’s post and let me know which Elemental is your favorite and why, to qualify to win!

Chapter 2:

The Dark One

The crowd gathered in the Great Hall of the House of Eukleides waited with eager anticipation for the death sentence of a woman none of them knew. They huddled along the edge of the expansive rotunda, gathered in the portico’s colonnade, hung over the second story balcony. In a land where disobedience meant Divine Judgment, they watched, impatient to see who had been bold enough to go against the Code. Their voices, en masse, created a mind numbing hum, a swarm of hornets eager to attack.

Kieran glared at them, challenging them with his eyes.

Bronze double doors opened with a heavy thud, ripping his attention from the crowd. The excited whispers died. All eyes turned toward the deliberating jury of High Priests as they walked into the Great Hall. Kieran cursed their dour faces under his breath. He knew what they would say.

Everyone around him stood at attention, but he remained seated. He would not now, or ever, give them honor they did not deserve.

With a heavy heart, Kieran watched as a woman was brought in and forced to stand in the center of the room. She looked nothing like the tender-hearted mother he knew, with her soft hands and loving smile. Instead, her delicate wrists and ankles were bound with thick rope. Her long, ebony hair fell disheveled over her face, a clear sign of dishonor. The tattered remains of a white hava draped her body, soiled and ripped, barely held up by the broche on her right shoulder. Still, she stood with pride, her posture straight and her shoulders back. A woman with nothing to be ashamed of.

His throat thickened. Guilt burned a hole in his stomach. He’d woken that morning on a comfortable bed covered in plush linens. He’d eaten from a buffet of fruits and grains, and washed himself with warm, clean water. Meanwhile, she’d sat alone in a dark cell all night. No telling what abuses she’d suffered there. Whether they’d even allowed her water to drink.

Seven of the priests sat, almost in unison, on a long stone bench, their robes sweeping the floor, while one near the center, Ophiuchus, remained standing. Kieran glared at him, the head of the House of Eukleides, the man who proclaimed himself the mouthpiece of the Beings.

Kieran knew with absolute certainty that Ophiuchus had never once heard the Voices, never felt Their presence. The weight of it would have bowed the old man’s shoulders, would have painted shadows in eyes that didn’t sleep. Kieran sneered. No one knew what a connection to the Beings meant better than he did.

Ophiuchus spoke directly to the woman who stood before him. “You have shown a blatant disrespect for the Code in the handling of your son. From the moment of his birth, he was marked for service at the Temple. After his weaning, you were to bring him in for training. How do you account for your selfish indulgence? Do you know the danger you have placed upon us all?”

Kieran winced at the charges she faced. It took all his self-control not to speak up for her, but an outburst would only make matters worse.

“I make no apology for what I have done.” She kept her head high, though tears shimmered in her silvery eyes. “He is my son, given to me by the Higher Beings that I might be blessed with motherhood. It is what I prayed for and it was granted. How could I give him up when I had only just received him?”

“It does not excuse you. This child, with the mark of the Dark One upon him, should have been delivered to the Temple years ago. Now, we have seen the consequences of such frivolity. A man is dead, a seer from your province. How do you account for this?”

Kieran fought the memories that surfaced at the mention of the old seer. He bit down hard and tasted the metallic tinge of blood. Nausea filled him. He envisioned the man’s milky white eyes, the look of horror on his face when he realized just who, or rather, what Kieran actually was.

His mother didn’t flinch at their accusation. “I take full responsibility—”

“No!” Kieran jumped from his seat. “That is not true!”

Strong hands caught him and pushed him back down, the faces of the two armed guards at his left and right expressionless.

She never looked at him. “I accept my punishment with humility. I know the Beings to be full of mercy.”

“Very well then.” The Priest rubbed at his thick grey beard. “In accordance with the Code, we, the adjudicators of the House of Eukleides sentence Najad of the Province of Aipa to public execution, to be carried out at first light tomorrow.”

“No!” Kieran fought the hands that kept him down. He could not let her do this. It was his fault. All of it.

Harsh whispers traveled with lightning speed, the noise deafening. The weight of the crowd’s macabre joy filled the room. He lost all sense of reason. Time slowed. Desperation fueled something dangerous in him.

He recognized the sensation. This time he didn’t fear the surge of power that filled him. He embraced it, fueled it with his rage, bitterness, and remorse.

Sudden silence broke the footpace of time.

Each person’s soul began to separate from their bodies, called on by his authority over them. Their delicate spirits became a tangible cloud of life that hung above their heads like halos. He reached for the cloud above the High Priest’s head and tugged at it, soft at first, then harder, willing it to come free from the man’s body.

Ophiuchus grasped at his neck. His wrinkled skin bunched in a pained, strangled expression as he struggled to breathe.

“She will not die.” Kieran’s voice, like rolling thunder boomed throughout the chamber.

Time returned, racing through the crowd with the swift strength of a tsunami. Eyes stared at him wide with horror. The guards stepped away in alarm.

“Restrain him!” Person after person called out orders until voices came from every direction, circling him.

“Enough!” his mother commanded.

Immediately, the spell of death dissipated from his hands. Ophiuchus’ breath came in heavy, panted gasps. He fought the very atmosphere, drank it in as though he knew each gulp of air might be his last. Kieran gathered sadistic pleasure in Ophiuchus’ suffering.

“Is this what you want?” Najad faced him. “With this senseless act you prove only that everything they fear about you is true. This is not who you are, Kieran.”

The accusation in her voice tightened his chest. “I cannot let you die. Not because of me.” He fought the childish tears that attacked him, refused to cry in front of so many condemning eyes. He would not give them the satisfaction of knowing they’d broken him.

“If you had killed that man, I could never forgive you.”

Her words pierced his heart. He froze, uncertain what to say or do. Didn’t she realize he did it for her, for them?

“If you ever kill a man of your own accord,” his mother cut into his thoughts, “you go from being a victim of circumstance to being a murderer. There is no mercy for those who take lives senselessly. The power that lives within you would consume you and you would become the very thing you fear. You are not Death, Kieran. You simply control it. Do not let it control you.”

“It isn’t fair!” he shouted, angry with her for not understanding, angry with himself for having lost control. “Remove this burden from me! I do not wish to be marked!” He ripped his wrists, scratched at the spiky black tattoos that had branded him into servitude from birth until blood leaked onto the stone floor.

“Take the child away,” Ophiuchus called out, “before he harms himself.”

He fought the unmerciful grips on his arms. He would not leave until he saw his mother to safety. “Let me go!” he shouted. Another wave of dark energy flooded him, this time without warning. The very foundation of the room shook. The crowd gasped.

“Be still.” His mother’s voice calmed the demons inside of him. He broke free of the guards and rushed to her side, fell to her feet, and wrapped his arms around her. “I will go with you. I will go wherever you go.”

“Kieran,” she whispered as though they were the only two in the room. The tips of her fingers grazed his hair.  “Look at me.”

He glanced up, unable to fight the tears when faced with her all-seeing eyes.

“Perhaps you are too young to understand that in life, all have a purpose. Mine was to bring the Child of Darkness into the world, that he might know love and compassion. Not just death. Yours, Kieran,” she sighed, a weary little breath that signaled her exhaustion. “Yours is yet to be determined. Find peace in knowing that I have done my part. It is time to set the balance straight. Rules are to be followed, peace to be kept. When these things are disrupted, someone must be held accountable.”

“But I did it,” he cried out, “I killed the old man!” Chaos traveled like a wave amidst the crowd. One of the Priests slammed a gavel onto the stone bench.

“We command that the witnesses be escorted out. This matter has become a private hearing.”

Guards herded the audience, despite their groans and complaints, through the double doors that led outside and slammed them shut. The sound echoed against high limestone walls and marble ceiling tiles.

“Is this truth that you speak, child?” Ophiuchus’ brows furrowed in displeasure.

“It is.” Kieran forced himself away from his mother to stand before them. “I did not mean for it to happen. The man meant only to heal me of my curse.”

“It is not a curse. Your branding is a blessing from the Beings.”

“No blessing could be complete without my family.”

“The bond between you and your mother is troubling,” the Priest said. “As Guardian you should not have formed it.”

The men leaned in to whisper among themselves. Ophiuchus nodded and turned his attention back to Kieran.

“Your murder of this man, though unfortunate, was not purposeful. You lost control because you were never trained. But you are marked, which means you have been bonded to the Dark Stone. With the new group of Guardians growing older, time is not an option. To wait for another born with the mark would unbalance our society. Zerah has never been without a soul keeper. We cannot afford to lose your power because of a triviality.”

“A triviality? I killed a man. Should I not die too? Does his blood not call for restitution? I lost all control. I killed him and I deserve to die.”

“The blame lies on your mother for not delivering you according to the Code.”

“If she dies, then I shall die with her. I will not be the one to carry her soul into Arezh. I refuse.”

The priests turned away, speaking to one another in hushed whispers.

Kieran’s stomach turned. He had no idea what their sudden silence meant.

His mother’s eyes closed in prayer. Her lips moved in silent worship. Did she beg for mercy, forgiveness, or did she seek to clear her sins one final time? Kieran followed her example, and closed his eyes in quick prayer to the Beings he’d lost all faith in, the ones who demanded a task of him heavier than he could carry. He would do whatever They asked of him as long as his mother’s life was spared.

The eight men straightened and turned to him, their faces set, and Kieran took a deep breath.

Ophiuchus spoke the final verdict. “It is the decision of the House of Eukleides, under the divine influence of the Higher Beings, that Najad of Aipa be held in captivity for the remainder of her days.”

“Captivity?” Najad gaped at them in shock.

“She will be held in the dungeon, never to step on the Holy Grounds of Zerah again. Find comfort, Kieran, Guardian of the Dark Stone, that your mother will be alive and fed. You, Najad of Aipa, will suffer enough, alive but unable to see your only child grow into the powerful man he will become. The day will come when you will wish you’d perished rather than be left to die alone.”

Content with their decision, the high priest summoned the guards. “Take this boy to the Temple immediately and call forth Master Iagan.”

“Wait!” Kieran reached for his mother’s hands. “Let me say goodbye.” The guards lifted him off the floor by the waist. He fought them, but their physical strength far surpassed his smaller frame. “Mierma!”

To his surprise, she smiled sadly, but no fear or bitterness marred her gaze. Her lips shaped the words he wanted so desperately to hear.

I love you.

He tucked them away into the very depths of his soul for safekeeping.

Those three words would have to last him a lifetime.

Gossip within the Temple complex burned like wildfire. It reached the school so fast that by the time Iagan arrived at the stone steps of the House of Eukleides he already knew why he’d been summoned.

Just that morning a woman had stood before the panel of Priests for breaking the Code, the mother of the child who had been brought to him in the middle of the night. The young man had been out cold, lost in a sleep so deep he hadn’t stirred when the servants bathed the dirt and grime from his ink-black hair and pale body and tucked him into bed.

When he’d awoken that morning, his wide, onyx eyes had registered panic, and his first cries were for his mother. Even after they’d explained her whereabouts, explained that he would be safe within the Temple walls, the boy could not be appeased. He spent the rest of the morning in a trance, unable or unwilling to speak to a single soul.

Now, hours later, Iagan wondered just what had really happened at the hearing. Whatever it was, it kept the crowds outside murmuring. He stepped into the Great Hall and bowed before the panel of Priests, each grey with wisdom and experience. Ophiuchus stood to greet him.

“Thank you for being so prompt, Master Iagan. We realize you are deep in your preparations for the Festival, however, there is much we must discuss.”

“I understand,” he nodded. “The arrival of this new Guardian is of great interest to me. I seek whatever guidance you may have concerning him.”

Ophiuchus visibly tensed at the mention of the boy. “Although he is late to the Temple, he will be raised along with the rest of the trainees.”

Iagan’s brows furrowed. “Is that really wise, your Grace? The boy, though still young, has surpassed the normal age to begin training.”

“He is clearly marked with the symbol of the Dark Stone. The Temple is where he belongs.”

“That may be true,” Iagan argued, “however the children have already spent the last few years of their lives together. They have formed bonds, friendships. His entry into this new world with no visible place for him will make for a difficult transition.”

Ophiuchus leaned forward, his hands folded on the stone bench before him. “He is not there to make friends, Master Iagan. The boy is in desperate need of training. We expect you will take a personal interest. He will be inducted with the rest of the Guardians tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Iagan almost laughed. That was absolutely absurd. “With all due respect to the House, a Guardian is not to be inducted until they fully understand their place in the Circle. Until they choose to willingly follow this life course. He does not even understand his mark. One night is not enough time to help him build the appreciation necessary to induct him.”

“He has killed a man.”

Iagan blinked. He shook his head. He couldn’t have heard

correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

“A seer from Aipa is dead.” Ophiuchus spoke without emotion. “In a fit of rage, the boy took a life.” He paused, his lips stretched into a thin, angry line. “Today, he nearly took mine.”

Iagan stared at the panel. Words refused to form into coherent thoughts.

“So you see, Master Iagan, our soul keeper must be trained, fast. He is a danger to society and to himself. If he cannot be trained, he must be replaced, and another Guardian is only appointed when the current one dies…”

Iagan swallowed hard. He could not live with the bloodguilt of a child, a Guardian at that and they would kill him if it meant the harmony of the Circle. “I fear his life outside of the Temple has given him a skewed perspective that might interfere with his training.” Iagan finally found his voice. “As a Guardian, he should never have used his power in that way. It is unnatural. It goes against everything he represents.”

“Because he has arrived to you so late, he does not understand this. Yet. It is our desire that you teach him. He will be difficult, no doubt, but he will learn to adjust. If he ever gives you trouble, remind him that his mother still lies in the dungeon, alive so that he can fulfill his destiny.” Powder blue eyes glared at Iagan from beneath thick, shaggy brows, and the pulse at the priest’s temple ticked visibly, a sign of the anger he fought to control.

Iagan stared at the leader of the House of Eukleides in amazement. He had never heard Ophiuchus speak with such contempt. “I will not threaten the boy concerning his mother. This has been a very difficult day. I suspect yesterday was no better. Taking a life is something that will forever scar him. I need not add to his pain. There is no doubt he is already harmed.”

“Do what you must,” Ophiuchus said dismissively. “As long as he is inducted tomorrow.” The panel of elders leaned in to whisper. Ophiuchus nodded his head. “The Book of Prophecy speaks of one with great power who arrives belatedly. What word on the Guardian of the White Stone?”

“She is yet to be found, your Grace.”

“How is that possible?”

“It could be that she is not yet born.”

“Are the Guardians not all to be near the same age?”

“Traditionally, yes.”

“So how do we account for this?”

“Perhaps she too has not yet been brought to the Temple.”

The Priests whispered in a hurried frenzy, their faces tight. Disapproval creased the corners of their eyes.

“We cannot be too careful. If the Soul Keeper is the one referenced in the Great Book then he must remain in control. We expect reports on his progress. Keep a close eye on him, Iagan,” he warned, “The future of our world depends on it.”

I will post two excerpts. Stay tuned for part 2, tomorrow!

Excerpt:

Chapter 1:

A Mother’s Sacrifice

Wrinkled hands spotted with age lit the final candle on the floor, a wavering circle of flame in perfect order around the walls of the tiny, one-room bungalow, surrounding them like burning soldiers. “He must remain completely still. If he moves, it will disrupt the connection.”

“He understands the procedure, Tusoyah.” Najad reached up and clutched her son’s stiff shoulders. “Are you ready, Kieran?”

He looked back at her. His face, once innocent, looked weary. Dark circles shadowed his panicked eyes. “I don’t want to do this.”

Pity filled her heart to the brink. “It is the only way. You’re almost a man grown. This may be our final chance to make it stop.”

“But I’m afraid.”

“I am too,” she whispered into his ear, “but we must be brave.”

He nodded, though he wore his dread in every tight muscle of his body. He sat where he was directed, at the center of the room, within the holy circle inscribed on the floor, directly across from the old seer whose milky white eyes stared blank and sightless. As the old man knelt to study him, Kieran watched the floor. Quivering hands cupped his cheeks.

“Do not look away from me, boy. Though I may not see you with my physical eyes, the seeing eye uses yours as a window into your soul.”

Najad’s heart raced. Sudden worry turned her stomach in sickening circles. She’d chosen the blind Healer for that very reason. No one else would help her. Her gaze caught the thick, dark ink that marked her son’s wrists. She wondered if she’d made the right choice in bringing him here.

“Now, tell me of the wicked visions.”

“First, there is pain,” Kieran told him, his voice trembling. “Blinding, terrifying pain, followed by fear. Then there is nothing. Mind-numbing silence. That’s when they appear.”

“Who appears?”

“The travelers.” Kieran’s voice dropped to a dazed, monotonous timber. The candles in the room flickered. “They take my hand. They tell me they’re afraid.”

“Are you afraid?”

“I know I should be,” Kieran stared ahead, unblinking, “but I’m not. I tell them they have nothing to fear. That the journey is a short one.”

“The journey where?”

“Arezh.”

The Healer dropped his hands from Kieran’s face as though they burned, and scrambled to stand. “This one has the mark of darkness upon him!”

“Just calm down, Tusoyah.” Najad stepped toward them, afraid any sudden move could frighten the old man. “There is no need to panic.”

He pointed toward Kieran with his walking stick. His entire body trembled. “You dare bring a marked child into my home!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. “To disgrace me with your disobedience?”

Kieran shook his head, back from the hypnotic state he’d been in. Large, wide eyes stared from her to the Healer in confusion.

“Come stand by me, Kieran,” she demanded. He stood without question. The minute he did, she shielded his body with her own. She knew what came after the initial panic. She’d been here many times before. “We shall leave and you shall never hear from us again, Tusoyah.” She led the way to the front door. “I apologize for the inconvenience I may have caused you.”

“Do you think you can hide him from The Beings? That They will not see you?”

“What I do with my son is none of your concern.”

“It is everyone’s concern!”

“As I said, Tusoyah,” she spoke through clenched teeth, “we shall leave, never to bother you again.”

“I cannot allow that!” The seer slipped around her with surprising agility. The air whistled as he slammed his walking stick against the door frame, barring their exit. “It is my obligation to report you to the House of Eukleides.”

She felt Kieran tense beside her and anger tightened her hands into fists. “You will let us pass, sir.”

The old man held his ground, though his hands shook. “I will not. And I will not continue to perpetuate your disobedience. It ends here. Tonight.”

Najad saw the set lock of his jaw, the manic look of fervor in his eyes. “Step back, Kieran.”

“Mierma, I…”

“I said step back.”

The seer pointed his walking stick at Kieran, ready to strike. “Do not move! I will use force if I must!”

“Easy old man.” Kieran held up his hands in peace. “I have no desire to harm you.”

“You dare point that at my child?”

“Keep your distance, woman.”

She lowered her voice. “We will leave and you will speak of this to no one. Or else.”

The seer’s milky eyes grew wide with horror. “Keep back!”

“Let us pass!”

The old man raised his arms; his weapon perched above his head. She brought hands to her face to shield the blow.

Time stood still.

The candles flickered. Eerie silence filled the room.

Kieran howled.

“Don’t!” she called to him, hoping he could hear her past the surge of uncontrollable power. But it was too late.

His ebony irises grew until they formed a terrifying circle of endless darkness. “You will not harm her.” Like a hundred shouting voices he spoke.

Each candle blew out, one by one, until there was nothing but shadow.

Najad turned her face away. She covered her ears. It did nothing to shield her from the nightmare.

Wind shrilled against the narrow cave opening cutting through the silent night. Najad’s eyes snapped open. Kieran lay sound asleep, his head on her lap. Soft puffs of air cooled the wet fabric of her hava, still drenched from his earlier tears. It was strange to think the garment once symbolized her wealth, marked her beauty. Now, it mirrored her life, tattered and insignificant.

They had run, faster and further than ever before, though they had no place to go. It no longer had to do with hiding his identity. The old man’s words haunted her. The Code had been established for a reason. Bitterness coiled through Najad’s blood like acid. More than once she’d heard those words. She never wanted to hear them again, words that implied that the child she’d carried in her womb, the child she’d nurtured and fed and sung to, was not hers.

They knew nothing of her tearful pleas to the heavens, of her endless nights crying toward the stars. The Beings had given her what she asked for. A gift in the form of a raven haired child. Would They really give her a child only to have him ripped from her arms?

She mindlessly caressed her son’s thick hair, as her mind replayed the horrors of that evening, and the defeated look in her little boy’s eyes when the darkness faded. She glanced down at him, hardly able to believe that the boy on her lap, all pale ivory skin and thick, black hair could be a monster. A force of ancient, infinite power encapsulated in the small body of a child.

Tears blurred her vision. She mourned the loss of her son’s innocence. Cursed her stupidity for not having seen sooner how thoroughly his demons consumed him.

Even in sleep, Kieran was not peaceful. His brows were creased in troubled thought, his eyes pressed tightly shut. Every few minutes he moaned, pained by whatever awful visions haunted his sleep. How had she missed it? How had she not seen that every day the burden imposed on him since birth took another piece of his soul? She couldn’t imagine a life like that.

Over the shriek of the wind she heard distant footsteps, the clatter of harness and weapons, marching closer. Najad gripped Kieran tight, awaiting the inevitable. They came for him. Just as she had known they would. She closed her eyes and prayed one final time for The Beings to show their mercy. She imagined her son’s future, pictured the Temple she’d visited yearly as a child. He would be happy there, safe amidst the large stone pillars and marble walls. He would be well fed, clothed, given luxuries she could never afford. Most importantly, he would find comfort among others like himself. He could hone his power; perhaps have some measure of a normal existence.

Armored soldiers appeared in the entryway, spears pointed in her direction. “Up,” they shouted, “away from the boy!” Kieran stirred in her arms. She kept her fingers in his hair, whispered promises in his ears. They didn’t need Kieran jolted out of sleep only to find himself under attack.

“We said, up!” Two stepped closer, their weapons held tight in their hands. They wore armor as though it would save them from his wrath.

“Quiet,” she hushed, “You must not wake him.”

“You pretend to command us, madam?” the center soldier asked, his eyes narrowed.

“It is not a command, but a request meant to spare us all.” She held up Kieran’s small wrists, banded by the mark of The Beings.

They gasped. One soldier eased back.

“As long as he sleeps, there is no danger.”

“You lie,” the soldier said, fear written on his tight features.

“If you are aggressive, he will wake.” Najad held up her hands palms forward. “I am unarmed. You are free to do with me as you please. Only handle him gently and with care. He must be taken to the Temple at once. The House of Eukleides will decide his fate.” She bent down, gave the boy she carried on her lap a final kiss on the forehead.  “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered.

In a flash of motion, two soldiers lifted Kieran from the ground and carried him out of the cave. She watched until she couldn’t see him any longer. Tears fell like waterfalls on her face. She barely heard the soldier’s commands behind her. She moved, numb, in whatever direction he took her. None of it mattered now. Her fate was sealed.