Heirs of Darkness Sneak Peek

Prologue

Years before the start of our story….

Rhamiel, the newly crowned Night Prince, paced the hallway, his footsteps echoing with a heavy thud, almost creating a rut in the polished stone floor, his black wings flexing behind him. Inside the Queen’s birthing chambers, the sounds of hushed conversation, soft moans, and the occasional muffled cry reached his ears.

He’d stop pacing at each sound, his heart hammering against his ribs, waiting for the door to swing open, for a glimpse of Naomi, for the first cry of his child. Hours had passed since Naomi had been taken to the birthing chambers. Hours of agonizing anticipation, of pacing, of whispering prayers to the old gods and goddesses. This child, their child, was the culmination of years of longing, of duty.

Naomi had been an arranged marriage, a political alliance forged between his family, the House of Twilight, and the powerful White Nephilim dynasty across the Silver Lands. Their kind of Nephilim were coveted, sought after for their flawless lineage, their wings a dazzling, pristine white. His parents, eager to secure their family line, had pushed this union, viewing Naomi as a prize, a trophy wife to solidify their power.

But Rhamiel had seen beyond the political maneuvering, beyond the expectations that the crown held. He had met Naomi, with her soft pale hair and iridescent eyes of blues and purples that held the depths of a thousand stars, and fallen utterly head over heels in love. Their marriage, though initially a contract, had blossomed into a genuine, passionate love. And now, the culmination of that love, their child, was being born.

Rhamiel stopped pacing, his ears straining for any sound. Then, it came. A soft, mewling cry, followed by a gentle cooing sound. A wave of relief washed over him, so intense it almost brought him to his knees. The door to the birthing chambers creaked open, and a midwife emerged, her face beaming. "My Prince," she said, her voice filled with joy, "it's a boy. A strong, healthy boy."

Rhamiel felt a surge of overwhelming love. He wanted to rush in, to see his son, to hold him in his arms. But then, the midwife’s smile faltered slightly. "There is... a peculiarity, my Lord," she said hesitantly.

Rhamiel’s heart plummeted. "What is it?" he demanded, his voice tight with apprehension.

The midwife hesitated, then said, "The child... his wings... they are not white, my Lord. They are grey."

Rhamiel felt a small wave of sadness. Grey wings. In their society, grey wings were considered an aberration, a sign of weakness, a blemish on an otherwise perfect lineage.

The midwife, sensing his unease, quickly added, "But he is strong, my Lord. And his mother, oh, she is overjoyed."

Rhamiel closed his eyes, trying to reconcile the news. Grey wings. It was unexpected, certainly, but it didn't change the fact that he was a father. He had a son. His son. He took a deep breath, a shaky exhale. "Let me go to them," he said, his voice firm. He would protect him, cherish him, and show the world that he was the heir to the throne of Tenebris, of the Night Court and a Night Prince.

As he held his son in his arms, his heart overflowing with a love he never knew existed, he knew this child, with his unexpected grey wings, would be the greatest joy of his life.

He cradled his son close. The baby, still drowsy from the ordeal of birth, stirred slightly, his tiny hand reaching out and grasping Rhamiel's finger.

Tears welled up in Rhamiel's eyes. He had never imagined a love this profound, this all-consuming. He looked at Naomi, who was gazing at their son with a mixture of awe and tenderness. Her face, pale from childbirth, was radiant with joy.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin. "He's perfect," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Naomi smiled, a tear escaping her eye. "He's ours," she murmured, her voice soft as a sigh.

Rhamiel gently slid into the bed beside her, pulling the covers over them. He carefully nestled their son between them, his tiny body warm against their skin. As he held his son, he thought about how complete his life was now.

All that mattered was this moment, this precious connection between them, this tiny miracle cradled in their arms. He closed his eyes, the sound of their son's soft breathing a lullaby.

In this moment, surrounded by the love of his wife and the warmth of his child, Rhamiel knew that he couldn’t ask for more from the gods. He fell asleep, a contented sigh escaping his lips, the world fading away.

5 years later

His footsteps echoed through the grand halls of the Night Castle. Rhamiel, his broad shoulders swaying as they moved with the weight of his wings on his back, strolled along, his five-year-old son perched on his hip. Their son, a whirlwind of energy, giggled with delight as his father swung him around, his tiny legs kicking out with glee.

Finally, Rhamiel sat him down, the boy immediately launching himself towards a nearby tapestry, his small hands reaching out to touch the vibrant threads. Rhamiel chuckled, his hand finding his son’s, their fingers intertwining. He looked up at the tapestry, a depiction of his parents sitting on the Night throne.

They walked towards the sitting room, the sound of their footsteps a gentle rhythm in the otherwise quiet castle. As they approached, Naomi was sitting on the window seat, her gaze drawn to the sprawling city of Tenebris below. A serene smile played on her lips, her pale hair catching the light streaming through the window.

Their son, upon spotting his mother, let out a joyful squeal and broke free from Rhamiel's grasp, running towards her as his wings flapped behind him. Naomi scooped him up, her laughter mingling with his.

"Look, little one," she said, pointing towards the city which was bustling with light, merchants setting up tables and a band warming up next to a dancing space. The decorations could be seen from the castle, "Melethel! See all those lights? Oh!” she gasped, “Is it not beautiful, all the decorations and music? They are celebrating the goddesses Aine and Macha today."

The boy, captivated by the twinkling lights, pointed excitedly towards the ceiling of the mountain, their sky. "Stars!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder.

Naomi chuckled. "Yes, my little stargazer," she said, "Those are the lights that shine for us, millions of light bugs that the goddesses have blessed us with."

Rhamiel stood in the doorway, watching the two of them, his heart overflowing with a warmth he never thought possible. This was his life now, filled with the laughter of his son, the love of his wife, and the quiet contentment of a life well-lived.

He had never envisioned himself as a father, never imagined settling down in the castle, fulfilling the expectations of his family. But looking at them, his heart felt full. He had found happiness not in the pursuit of power or glory, but in the simple joys of family, in the quiet moments of love and laughter.

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile, and stepped into the room. "Shall we join the festivities, mo ghaol? It’s the Summer Solstice, we should pay respect to the goddesses for their gifts." he asked, his voice gentle.

Naomi turned to him, her eyes sparkling. "We shall," she replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But first," she added, holding their son out to him, "I believe it's time for a little story."

Rhamiel took his son from Naomi's arms, his heart light as a feather. As he settled into a chair beside his wife, he looked over at the sidebar where their last dragon egg sat, nestled in a bed of straw inside a crate. Its blue-gold scales capturing the flickering light in the room. One day, that egg would pass down to his son and perhaps hatch.

He turned back to his family as Naomi handed him a small storybook that their son loved,  “The Littlest Dragon and the Lost Star.” Their son squealed with delight, his iridescent purple and blue eyes dancing as he hugged himself with excitement as Rhamiel chucked, turning the page, “There once was a small green dragon named Swiftfly who lived under the mountain with his amil and amille...”

Later that evening, the city of Tenebris under the mountain erupted in a vibrant celebration of the Summer Solstice. The streets were ablaze with lights, the air thick with the scent of roasting meats and sweet summer wine. Music filled the air; fiddles, lutes and harpsichords played along as the partygoers danced.

Rhamiel, Naomi, and their son joined the revelry, their laughter mingling with the joyous din of the crowd, their guard detail not far behind, ensuring the safety of the Royal family. The young child, mesmerized by the fire dancers and the acrobats, tugged at his father's hand, his eyes wide with wonder. They stopped and talked to the merchants selling their wares, Rhamiel finding Naomi a beautiful necklace and their son a small wooden dragon.

Their people smiled and bowed as they walked through Tenebris; welcomed and loved. Naomi and Rhamiel took a moment to dance to the music while their son was held by one of their guards, his eyes filled with wonder as he watched his mother and father move to the music.

As the night wore on, exhaustion finally caught up with the little family. Rhamiel and Naomi stopped at the statues of Aine and Macha, laying their offering of flowers and honey amongst the others. Rhamiel carried their son back to the castle, the boy already fast asleep in his arms, his wings flopping by his sides.

They walked down the hall, Naomi’s arm threaded through his. As they walked towards the royal chambers, Naomi whispered, “Let him sleep with us tonight, he will only be this little for such a short time.”

Rhamiel smiled and turned towards their rooms, “Perhaps we should give him siblings, mo ghaol?” Naomi smiled back at him and gently cupped his face in her hands, “I would never say no, not when we made the most perfect one.”  

She turned and walked over to her armoire, her maid quietly appearing to help her undress. She tucked her white wings in as the maid helped her into her nightgown, and she thanked her. The maid bowed and left the room. Rhamiel pulled off their son’s shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, carefully pulling his arms and wings around the fabric.

The little boy sighed and fussed as Rhamiel laid him in the bed, Naomi crawling in to pull their son close to her.  He tucked them in, watching as Naomi gently stroked their child’s dark hair. A profound sense of peace washed over him at the sight of them nestled together. He wanted to give her more children to fill their bed and their home with laughter and love.

Leaving them to sleep, Rhamiel walked along the wide corridors, his footsteps echoing in time to the distant music drifting up from the city. He walked along the hallway, passing by the throne room and the front doors towards the east of the castle. The open air of the hallway with its multiple terraces created a feeling of being outside, which was essential for his kind. 

He paused and looked down at his city; he carried full responsibility for this beautiful place. His latest discussions with the Kings of Tir Siorghlas would hopefully create more trade opportunities for his people; the mountain produced more than enough precious gems to trade with.

He turned and continued walking, two guards quietly following now as he stepped down the stairs into the dungeon; he always checked to ensure he was kept abreast of the prisoners once his family was asleep. As he walked the dungeon, a chilling sound pierced the night – the raucous laughter of the siren, a creature of ancient evil imprisoned deep within its depths.

"Silence!" Rhamiel growled, his voice echoing through the stone corridor. The siren was an irritating reminder of his father’s transgressions. It had come from beyond their borders; a ‘gift’ he had told Rhamiel. After it had killed a dozen soldiers with its glamour, they had caged it with a magickal binding seal, protecting anyone who had to go near the cell.

The laughter subsided, replaced by a low, pleading whine. "Release me, Rhamiel, oh Night Prince," the siren hissed, its voice a venomous caress. "I can offer you power, unimaginable power."

Rhamiel scoffed. "You offer only destruction and despair. You have taken too many lives. You will remain here, forgotten, until the end of your days."

He continued his walk, the siren's pleas fading behind him and the footsteps of his guards following him to the deeper level. As his feet stepped off the last stair, reaching the last level of the dungeon, he paused in front of a particular cell, a nagging doubt prickling at his mind. He couldn’t place that cell being occupied or being told a new prisoner had been brought to the castle.

“Who brought this prisoner in? Why was I not notified?” He turned to the two guards who both shrugged as they looked towards the cell.

“Our apologies sire, we do not know why that cell has an occupant.” The one guard bowed as he spoke. Rhamiel cleared his throat and frowned at them as he crossed his arms, his wings flexing behind his back. His irritation was showing; he mentally reminded himself to keep his temper at bay. He rolled his shoulders and relaxed his wings.

“Go and find out where this prisoner came from, NOW," he instructed as he turned to the cell. The guards quickly bowed and one of them walked away to find the master of the dungeons, while the other stood back, watching.

As Rhamiel peered through the thick iron bars, his breath caught in his throat. Inside, a woman sat on the floor, her long raven hair cascading around her like a dark cloak. Her eyes, the color of bruised plums, met his with a chilling intensity.

"My apologies," Rhamiel said, his voice cautious. "What… what crime brought you to this place?"

The woman smiled, a slow, predatory smile that sent shivers down his spine. "Crime?" she echoed, her voice a silken whisper. "Oh, I believe I was merely… misplaced."

Rhamiel frowned. "Misplaced? By whom?"

She shrugged, a careless gesture that seemed to ripple through the air. "A… misunderstanding," she explained, her voice laced with a dangerous amusement. "A rogue guard, you see. Overzealous. And… rather… forceful."

Rhamiel's temper flared. His guards should not be harming anyone, let alone imprisoning innocent women without his knowledge. "This is unacceptable," he declared, his voice firm. He fumbled with the lock, his hands trembling slightly.

As the door swung open, he felt a sharp pinch on his hand and watched as a drop of blood splashed on the floor inside the cell. The snap of a magickal binding broke across his fingers holding the door.

He looked up as he heard a low chuckle, a sound that seemed to slither from the very depths of the dungeon. He turned to the woman, a look of concern etched on his face; why was there a magickal blood binding on this cell?

The woman was no longer the same. Her eyes had turned inky black, swirling with a malevolent energy. Tendrils of darkness, like living shadows, began to seep from her fingers, reaching out towards him.

"I’ve been waiting for you and your blood, Night Prince. You seek power, Rhamiel," she hissed, her voice a venomous caress. "Power to command, to rule. But you are weak. Easily swayed, easily manipulated. The Kings of Tir Siorghlas… they do not fear you."

Rhamiel recoiled, fear gripping him; he knew belatedly what he had released. The darkness had consumed one of his ancestors, causing destruction and chaos until they had figured out how to remove the cursed being.

“Sire, step back!” the guard yelled as he stood in front of Rhamiel, his sword drawn, fear radiating off of him.

The Nightsinger’s dark tendrils drifted around Rhamiel, reaching around the guard’s neck as she pulled him to her in the cell. She clamped down on his artery, draining him quickly before he could scream. As the body slumped, she grinned and swirled around Rhamiel. Why had he not been warned that all this time, the darkness had been lying in wait? The Kings of Tir Siorghlas had worked with his great grandfather to vanquish the darkness; he had been told by his father that the darkness had been sent across the realm, dissolved to dust, never to be again.

He couldn’t understand why his father had lied to him- to not let him know of the blood magick binding the darkness to the cell all this time. His blood, for only the blood that was used for the spell to be created would be able to break it.

He tried to step back, to escape the encroaching darkness, but it was too late. The darkness, swirling and twisting, enveloped him, slithering down his throat, consuming him from within. The woman watched him with a triumphant smile, her eyes gleaming with an unholy light as she faded.

"Welcome," she whispered, her voice a chilling echo in the depths of the dungeon. "Welcome to the darkness, sweet puppet. You may call me the Nightsinger. I’m going to enjoy the fun we will have together. This time though, I’m not going to be vanquished so easily."

Rhamiel’s eyes snapped open, the inky black swirling to take over the soft brown as he looked across the dungeon towards the steps, towards the castle.

"You see, I have plans, Prince of the Night. And you’re going to make sure they’re accomplished. We have time before a new vessel will be needed. When she’s born, the real war begins.”

The darkness controlled his body, making him stand and walk up the stairs, out of the dungeon and down the hallway, towards his family. Inside his mind, Rhamiel screamed with all his might, struggling to take back control before it was too late. The guards came running to warn him of what was in the cell after having woken the dungeon master. The dungeon master was scrambling behind the guard, his robe haphazardly tied around his waist.

Before they could open their mouths, Rhamiel felt his arm raise, tendrils of darkness streaming out and enveloping their bodies. He watched in horror as it pulled back, their bodies nothing but husks inside their armour and clothes.

He struggled again to push the darkness out and heard her purr inside his brain, “Oh but you are strong, Rhamiel. This will be fun.”

His body continued walking down the hallway towards his chamber; Rhamiel tried with all of his might to push the evil out, to save his family before it was too late. Naomi woke to Rhamiel standing over them, his chest heaving as the darkness swirled around them. With a pained cry, Rhamiel was able to push it back just enough to scream,

“Run, Naomi!” as he fell to his knees, the insidious blackness squeezing his heart. Naomi flung herself out of the bed, holding little Taion tightly to her chest as she ran down the hallway screaming for help, her wings helping push her forward. She looked down at their son, his eyes open with fear, his little hand clinging onto her nightgown.

She looked behind her to see Rhamiel; his eyes dark, a feral grin on his face as he followed her. His steps were slow and measured, his arms hanging by his side as inky tendrils slowly swirled out of them.

Naomi turned and ran down a side corridor, praying they’d make it. She quickly stepped down the curling stairs, going deeper into the castle. As the stairs ended, they opened up into the grand library, the torches flickering softly, lighting the large space up with warm light.

She stopped as she scanned the library, trying to remember what the royal scribe had told her about Rhamiel’s family. She turned down one of the rows, quickly grabbing a book as she ran through the room towards the back. She pushed a chair aside and with her free hand, ran her fingers across the stones, whispering as she felt a click.

She felt her body drop with sheer relief as the small door opened. She shoved the book into the room ahead of her, watching as it slid across the stone floor. With Taion firmly pulled to her, she crawled forward into the small room, her wings brushing the doorway.

As she entered the room, she quickly pushed the stone door shut behind her. She leaned up against it, her breathing uneven, sweat glistening on her forehead as she rested her head back for a moment, her eyes closed.

The room had been shown to her when she had first arrived, the old scribe had cryptically pointed it out. He had muttered something about ‘the darkness that will befall Tenebris’, instructing her to go there if she was in danger. The room had everything they would need to stay safe for a small period of time.

She listened quietly to see if she could hear Rhamiel through the wall, praying that he hadn’t succumbed to it. The book sat beside her, waiting. She ran her hand over the cover in the dark, needing to know the full story and the hidden history of Rhamiel’s great grandfather’s fight against the evil he had unleashed.

“Amille, mama, I’m scared.” The small voice whispered in the dark room, breaking Naomi out of her thoughts. She felt a tear fall down her cheek as she snapped her fingers to light the torch she knew was across from them.

She smoothed back Taion’s hair from his face and carefully placed a kiss on his forehead as she rocked him in her arms, the soft torch light flickering over them.

They were doomed.