“Damn it, Tuck! Stop dropping your shoulder.” Balthazar Blackwing bellowed at me from the other side of the training room. I tumbled across the mat, striking out with my sword, hitting the back of one of my training partner’s knees. He collapsed to the ground, one among many I’ve fought against. But I could barely tell the difference between them as four others steadily came toward me. They were covered in head-to-toe padding, as though they were working with attack dogs rather than me.
It’d been like this for years now. Years of training for a position I never wanted but was born into.
I spun on my knees, shifting my weight, and effortlessly tossed my sword to the other hand as I swept my leg out, taking down another of the padded figures. I slashed my sword across his chest in a mock kill. The cotton from the padding tumbled out onto the floor in white puffs. Behind me I felt the air move as yet another figure came at me, his sword poised to strike my neck. I tilted bodily to the side, letting the sword sweep over my head. The man inside the helmet grunted as he tried to correct his positioning. I sprung to my feet and drew my weapon across his ribs, littering the floor with more stuffing. I side-stepped over the cotton to face off against the next opponent.
“Is this a game to you, Tucker? Because I can assure you, there are plenty of others who’d like to take your place.” Again Blackwing’s deep, booming voice carried across the gym. “Four Queens have Ascended. The fifth will Ascend in less than two weeks’ time. The trials are about to take place. How can you be ready if all you do is play?”
I’d been hearing about the Witch Queens all my life. With in Evermore there were five casts of witches: Death, Desire, Elements, Spell, and Essence. Every witch was born into one of those five casts yet only the most powerful rose to become a Queen. Each Queen fully possessed the powers of their cast and wielded them as easily as I did my swords, once they ascended. It would take all five Queens to over throw King Alataris, and it was a rare occurrence for them all to be born at once and survive to the age of Ascending.
As a Guardian marked by fate, it would be my job to protect them from King Alataris until the day they were strong enough to fight against him as one. The problem? Over the past thousand years there had been numerous times all five witches had ascended, but not one time had the Queens ever come close to over-throwing King Alataris, the High King of the witch court. They’d all died alongside their Guardians, allowing Alataris to remain a threat to the supernatural world of Evermore. Because above all else there was one thing Alataris wanted…power.
Around me others from The Sector, the black ops of our army, trained with dummies, beat on each other or practiced with weapons. But I was at the center of it all. I’m always at the center of it all. The prince who’d been marked at birth for a life he didn’t choose.
“Remember what we’ve talked about? You think you will last? Or do you need a history lesson once more?” Blackwing snapped. A history lesson? Oh no I’d had my fill of lessons.
Once as a child, only a year after arriving at my train facility, I wondered into the woods. Frustrated at being taken from my family, friends, and a life I’d loved. I sat on a log toying with a small fire I’d started. When Blackwing joined beside me I turned my back toward him. “I don’t understand why I have to be here. I want to go home.”
“Has no one ever told you the full story of the dreaded King Alataris?”
I shook my head while kicking at a stick on the ground. “No.”
“Well let me tell you now, boy.” He slapped his hand across his knee. The sound was muffled by his thick leather pants. He leaned his elbow on his thigh and faced me. “Long ago before you were even a though in your father’s mind, King Alataris sought to rule all the witches as his father once did.”
“The five witch casts were ruled by one King?” I couldn’t believe my ears. The casts had been so separated for as long as any history I’d ever read.
Blackwing nodded. “Oh yes, they lived in peace among each other. But Alataris was a greedy son and wanted all that power for his own. So he fooled all the casts into thinking his father had died so he would be crowned King. All the while he himself was siphoning power off of the five casts, weakening them.”
“King Alataris is a Siphon Witch?” I couldn’t hide the shock in my voice. “But I though siphon witches were good.”
“Like any other being in Evermore they can be good or evil. Just so happens Alataris is about as evil and greedy as they come.” Blackwing picked up a stick from the ground and poked at the small fire I’d made. “Do you want to know more?”
I turned toward him. “Yes.”
“When the elder witches of each cast finally realized what was happening it was too late. They’d lost so much of their power they couldn’t fight against him. Seeking a way to over throw Alataris they called on Hacate, the first witch to ever be. They pleaded for her to grant them the power to take down Alataris, but she could not. There was only one set of beings who could grant that kind of power. Do you know who they are?”
“The Fallen?” It was a guess, but all my life I’d heard that they ruled Evermore and every being in it. Some say they were the oldest Supernaturals to walk the earth, others said they were brothers of the devil, but not me. I though they were exactly what the name said, Fallen Angels.
Blackwing tucked me under the chin. “That’s right. But you see The Fallen couldn’t just grant power to whom ever needed it.”
“Why not? If it would get rid of Alataris?” I crossed my arms over my chest. Knowing that if he wasn’t so evil I could’ve been with my family all this time. Instead of training to fight against him.
“Life is about balance.” He waved his hand through the air, letting tiny sparks shoot from his finger tips in a golden arch. “And no one, not even the witches should be able to tilt the balance so greatly. But The Fallen took pity on the witches and granted them one spell. A very powerful spell. A spell that would effect Evermore and it’s inhabitants for millennium to come.”
I sat on edge, clinging to his every word. “What spell?”
“The spell of the Queens.” He wrapped his arm around me. “Now I can’t be sure what was said in the spell all those years ago but I can tell you this. Every now and then each of the casts produces a Queen. The one witch who can master the power in its cast. This is where it really gets interesting.” He leaned in closer. “When all five Queens ascend, or get their full power, at the same time. They have enough magic to fight against Alataris and hopefully one day will overthrow him.”
“But Blackwing, why haven’t they done that already? Haven’t we had all five Queens before?”
A shadow passed over his face and for a moment I swore I could see sadness in his crimson eyes. “Indeed we have my boy, and Alataris has claimed victory each time. But that doesn’t stop us from trying to take him down when ever they arrive. The trouble is no one knows when it’ll happen. Could be every fifty years or five hundred years. That’s why the trials always take place one week before the last Queen Ascends to her full power. There will be no going against Alataris with out all five possessing their powers. He knows it, Evermore knows it and the Queens know it. But I will tell you this, the cycle is doomed to repeat itself until the Queens claim victory.”
“But why? Can’t we just leave him to rule the witches?” I tilted my head waiting for his answer.
“Once Alataris found out about the Queens he knew that if he was able to get their power no one could stop him from taking over all of Evermore. And we must never let that happen, it would be a great tragedy with many lives lost. Besides the witches might be suppressed under Alataris but they have ways of protecting themselves. There’s even one Kingdom of witches, Hexia, he can’t touch. The elders and other powerful witches of the casts figured out a way to keep him out and keep themselves in. But in doing so they’ve trapped themselves from the outside world. They only travel from Evermore Academy and Hexia. They need our help, Tucker. All of Evermore does.”
“Is that why I’m here? Why I’m a Guardian?” I crossed my arms over my chest with a huff.
Blackwing squeezed me closer. “It is part of it, they bare the mark of the Queen on the front of their shoulder, and Guardians bare theirs on their necks. We’ve always had Guardians of each of the species but as time past Evermore realized the Queens would need help. Who better than our finest Guardians? That’s how we have Knights as well as Queens.”
“Then if I’m a Guardian why do I have to go to the trials and why does my father want me to rise above all the other Guardians to become a Knight?” I didn’t want to become a Knight or even be a Guardian. All I wanted was my nice warm bed and my mother to tuck me in before I slept.
“Because only the best Guardians will be chosen to be the Knights. They are meant to protect the Queens and help them in the fight against Alataris.” He released me from his tight hold and rose to his feet and offered me his hand. “Lets be off.”
Before I reached for his hand I asked him one more question. “If we need to beat Alataris then why only six Knights and five Queens? Why not a whole army?”
He leaned down catching my eye. “Because when the witches cast that spell of theirs there was only enough power for the eleven meant to fight him. Any others would face most certain death.”
“But-”
“No more buts. We’ve got any early morning ahead of us. Come boy.” Again he offered me his hand except this time I took it.
Ten years later here I was still in the process of training and still waiting for my moment to be rid of it all. Early mornings were never ending when it came to Blackwing. I gritted my teeth refusing to answer each of his remarks. Another padded figure charged toward me. I stepped forward, then planted one foot and kicked him square in the chest with the other. He flew back twenty feet and then slammed into the wall, leaving a body-sized dent where he impacted. He slid to the ground and lay in a heap.
“Sloppy, just sloppy. You think King Alataris will fall for that?” From the corner of my eye I could see Blackwing shaking his head. His bright red hair came loose from the leather tie at his neck and wide strands fell into his face, blocking out his crimson eyes. He stood above us all, watching the training room floor like it was an arena and we were all here for his entertainment. Perched on the observation deck he barked orders from on high, pushing us to our breaking points.
Two more men came at me, one from each side. I tried not to grow bored with this exercise. I shot forward at full speed toward the single pole in the middle of the gym. I didn’t hesitate as they chased after me. I put one step in front of the other and I sprinted up the pole. When I came close to the top I pushed away, flipping backwards to land just behind them. I drew my sword across each of their backs, letting more padding fall to the floor in cotton puffs.
“This isn’t a movie. Quit it with the fancy moves.” He slammed his fist against the railing. The metal vibrated from his hit, yet I continued to ignore him as best I could.
Which is it? Am I sloppy or fancy? For ten years I had followed his orders. For ten years I ate, slept, and drank being a Guardian with hopes of rising to being a Knight. It came so naturally to me, and yet with each of his cutting words I felt my breaking point closing in. I tossed my sword high in the air, letting it spin end over end, before catching the hilt side. When my eyes met his, he narrowed his gaze in challenge. In a split second I launched the blade at him, intentionally missing the side of his head by a hair. The sword embedded itself in the wall behind him and quivered from the impact. The other members of the Sector froze in place, the room going completely silent. I could feel their eyes darting from him to me and back again.
Though Blackwing was much older than me, his name still struck fear into the hearts of many. As the founding member of the Dark Wing Sector he was what humans might refer to as the commander of special operations. There wasn’t one thing happening within the Phoenix Clan he didn’t know about. Blackwing poked the end of the sword, making it waver back and forth. “Having a little fun, are we?”
I shrugged. “Just a little.” I hadn’t had fun since I ran that last race with my brothers a decade earlier.
“Need I remind you the Trials are only two days away?” He came closer to the edge, and leaned his elbows on the railing. Though I was big for a sixteen-year-old, standing over six feet tall and weighing close to two hundred pounds, Blackwing dwarfed me. He stood at least six inches taller than me and a good thirty pounds heavier. His arms were roughly the size of my head, yet deep down I knew I could take him, there and then if I had to. Part of me wanted to challenge him. The other part of me wanted nothing to do with this life.
“You’ve been reminding me for ten years. The clock has been like a countdown to something I’ve been training for all my life. So, no, you don’t need to remind me not to have fun. None of this has ever been fun.”
“You have a duty—”
“A duty to the world, to myself, and to honor the great Phoenix Clan.” I lifted my arm up, holding a fist to the sky like I’d been taught, and bellowed, “May the flames endure.”
The men around me returned the war cry. “And rise from the ashes.”
“And yet you toy with me, boy. Why?” Blackwing crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyeing me closely. For years we had these bouts, in which he didn’t know what to make of my behavior. I wasn’t a typical soldier and I questioned his authority whenever it grew tiresome. Which seemed to be more and more often. It was a dance we did: he pushed me, I pushed back. The secret between us was that we both loved the challenge we’d become for each other.
“Why? I don’t know. Maybe because someone has to.” I couldn’t stop the smirk from pulling at my lips.
In return a smile broke out over Blackwing’s face as he wrapped his hands around the railing. “Let’s see how you do with this next challenge then, shall we?” He heaved himself over the metal bar and landed in the middle of the training room, facing me. The blue mats hollowed under his feet.
He held his hands out, seeming to summon his daggers from thin air. The bright metal glowed from within, like lava ran through each of the blades. The hilts glinted gold and were wrapped with black leather. At the end of each of them a black wing shape was etched into the metal.
I held my palms out, feeling the power swirl from the mark on my neck and run across my shoulders and down to my fingers. It was a constant burning restlessness in my veins, always there, waiting for me to tap into it. Though as a child my mark would flare brightly when I tapped into my powers, it was the first thing Blackwing taught me how to control. If you give your enemies any sign you’re about to attack then you’re as good as dead. He was right. I learned to control the glow. Now all I felt was the gathering heat. My flaming swords erupted from my palms, each of them tailored to what I saw in my mind. Long, sharp, sleek blades perfectly balanced by the silver grip. A phoenix was etched into each handle, matching the black swirling phoenix on my neck.
The light from the swords brightened the room, illuminating the area around me. “You ready?”
Blackwing waved me forward. “Bring it, boy.”
We sprinted toward each other. I rushed forward, holding my blade above my head, and blocked his downward thrust with his knife. With the other sword I stopped his jab at my ribs. The metal hissed each time it collided. I spun to the side, forcing Blackwing to follow me. He side-stepped, meeting my move. I leapt back. The point of his knife barely missed my ribs as it took a good slice from my black T-shirt. I lunged forward and sliced my sword across the side of his body, making sure not to get skin.
Blackwing spun away. Sweat beaded his forehead and his chest heaved with each of his breaths. He plucked at the side of his shirt where I’d torn it open and left a large piece hanging. “You ripped my shirt.”
I glanced down at the gaping hole that ran across the fabric covering my stomach. “Now we’re even.” Others who’d been training stopped to watch the exchange between Blackwing and I. A chorus of light chuckles broke the rapt silence.
“Is that so?” He snapped his arm back and hurled his knife at my face. The blade spun end over end as he came at me. I turned to the side, watching it in slow motion. The second it passed my face I turned back toward him. But he’d shifted into his phoenix form. Black feathers covered him from head to toe. A six-foot-tall, pissed-off phoenix flew at me, with sharp black claws about to tear into me, aiming straight for my eyes.
I extinguished my swords as I fell backwards, letting the absolute fire go free. He thought he had tricks. Well, he wasn’t the only one. I might have only been sixteen but unlike the others my age I could shift. I phased from man to phoenix in a split second.
Now two six-foot phoenixes took up the space within the training room. The men rushed toward the walls, pinning themselves up against them to steer clear. I was weightless and free, my wings glided through the air, cutting it like the sharp end of a blade. I swirled aside, dodging Blackwing’s advance. The two of us spun around each other like tornados, a blur of his black feathers and my deep crimson ones, up toward the ceiling.
Heat warmed my chest and I let it seep through my body out toward my streaming tail feathers. They burst into an inferno and I pumped my wings harder, leaving a line of smoke and flames. I surrounded Blackwing with fire and smoke, blocking his vision of me. Once he was covered in streams of my flaming creations I took sight of him and dove forward. Like a hawk about to snag a fish from the water, I extended my talons and went straight for his throat. He had yet to spot me through the smoke. Suddenly I felt his feathered neck between my long, black talons. I dove for the floor, pinning him beneath me.
Blackwing morphed slowly, letting his bird features fall away as he shifted back into his man form. He wrapped his hands around my claws, pulling at them. I refused to budge. His chest heaved and his red eyes budged when I tightened my grip on him. His throat bobbed as he swallowed and sucked in a breath. “Tucker.”
I pulled the burning fire back into my chest, where it stayed a constant smoldering, ever restless, always taunting me. My feathers melted away, my wings receded back into arms, and my talons turned from sharp points back into my combat boots. I held my position over him with my boot firmly placed against his neck. “Blackwing.”
A wide smile broke out across his face. “Well done.”
I took a step back, releasing him from my grasp. For ten years I’d waited to hear those words. Ten years of relentless training, ten years of building a life that didn’t feel like my own. He rose to his feet and offered me his hand. I grasped it hard as he gripped mine and shook it.
Then he yanked me forward, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me in close. “I’m proud of you, son.”
I stood within the surround of his arms not know what to say or do, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. I’d just beaten the man who’d trained me my whole life, the one who was unbeatable. He turned from me and looked around the room. With a single motion he waved his arm in front of me. “I give you…one of the six Knights.” You’re so sure I’ll make it? I shook my head, how could he announce me as a Knight when the trials hadn’t even begun.
One by one each of the men pounded their fists to their chest the way they did when greeting my father, the King. Each of them bowed their heads to acknowledge the position I was born into, the position that would consume my life from then on, the position I never wanted. I smacked my fist to my chest, giving them the respect they’d shown me. “May the flames endure.”
For the first time Blackwing gave me an honest wide grin. “And rise from the ashes.” He sucked in a breath and clapped me on the back. “In two days you will report to the trials and become the leader of the Knights. I know it.”
He was so sure that was my destiny, but I didn’t want a destiny that was already planned for me. I wanted the freedom to choose my path. The mark on my neck made that impossible. “I will honor the Phoenix Clan anyway I can.”
Even if that means going to the Trials. How bad could it be?