Erin had never wanted anything to do with the three other clans that dominated the Fourth Realm. She had been okay with her father and her little brother Jack. But now everything has changed. 

Now she was facing the other three clans’ chieftains down in court as her father’s only heir. Because her little brother was gone, because the plague broke out, killing her people and the only way they could stop it is if they found the last storyteller. 

The fighting broke out again and Erin sighed with anger and frustration. They needed to stop the stupid fighting within themselves. They wouldn’t accomplish anything with the world fighting like this. 

Her father was useless here; he loved the fight, craved it. Erin had as well. She had jumped ahead not caring what happened to others. Then they had taken Jack as punishment for her callous actions. 

“Quiet!” Nobody heard her over the shouting. 

Erin straightened and slammed her sword into the ground making a sound like cracking thunder, “I said SHUT IT!” 

The hall quieted and Erin took a deep breath and sheathed her sword as she felt all eyes move to her father. Her father stood up and Erin shot a glare at him. “Sit down.” 

He did. 

Erin stood before her people’s leaders. They finally gave her their attention. 

Erin had always just been a princess to them, but now she needed them to see her as a leader. “We have no time left for bickering.” 

Immediately, commotion broke out again. 

Erin shouted, “Listen for once in your pathetic lives!” She drew her sword. “For once in your miserable existence of throwing parties, fighting over borders and acting like bloated pigs, listen.” 

The hall again fell silent. 

Erin glared at them, and she noticed with a little thrill that the four kings looked down as she met their eyes. “We have four peoples divided by your petty grudges. You fight, you drink, and then you fight while your people are dying. You all disgust me.” she turned to her father, “All of you.  

Stone fever is breaking out along our villages, and we need to stop it. We have to send someone to the Second Realm. We have to call a council.”  

Muttering. 

A council hadn’t been called since the elves invaded. 

“So, who will we send?” Erin glared them down. 

King Finn raised his hand, “I nominate Princess Erin, heir to the Stone Clan’s throne.” 

Erin almost choked. They couldn’t send her, she wasn’t- no. She raised her hand, “I nominate Lord Barr of my father’s court. Any other?” 

Erin’s father, Eric, stood, “All in favor of my daughter.” 

All three of them raised their hands. No. No. No. No. No. They couldn’t send her, she wasn’t a lady, she was a warrior for her father. 

* * * 

Alexandra heard the commotion even as Dale sparred with her. 

The Forth Realm calling a council. Stone fever breaking out and spreading like wildfire. 

No. Don’t think about that. Focus.  

Dale shoved her away and kicked her in the stomach. Alexandra coughed and winced in pain. She had asked him to go as hard as he could, that meant he wouldn’t hold back. 

Alexandra straightened and clicked her bracelets together. Metal spiraled out like dragon scales, fitting around her hand and forearms like gloves. 

Some people said fighting was about strength. They said it was about being faster than your opponent, stronger than everyone else. That wasn’t true. 

The fight was about taking what strength your opponent had and taking it for yourself, it was about taking a disadvantage of theirs and making it your sword, your dagger, your claws. It was about being smarter. 

Dale shoved his sword down and Alexandra grabbed the sword as it arced down to her. She pulled it hard and slammed her foot into Dale’s stomach as he stumbled forward. In one swift motion she was sitting on his chest, her claws inches from his throat. 

He laughed and put his head down on the sand, “Still fierce as ever Alex, can anyone beat you?” 

One. One person could beat her. One person could kill her. A boy she thought she had loved.  

She was good, but not good enough. 

Alex clicked her wrist together and her metal claws retracted back into her bracelets. 

The two mini reckoners had been a gift. Two bands of metal in her wrists that could spiral out metal shards that formed perfectly around her hands and listened to her needs. 

If she needed to slice something they would grow claws sharper than a pair of silver daggers. If she needed to simply get added strength to her hands it would spiral into a glove that goes up to her elbows and gives her a deadly grip. 

A gift from the closest thing she had ever had to a mother. 

Alexandra stood up and helped Dale pull himself to his feet. 

He suddenly straightened and lifted his arm to perform a sharp salute. 

Alexandra spun and copied the motion only instead of having her hand at an angle at her forehead she lifted it to her chest and made a fist. 

A sign of her rank. The queen’s champion and bodyguard. She was second only to the aristocracy and The General. Dale was a simple castle guard. 

The salute was pointed towards to women walking over to the sparring grounds. 

Alexandra knew these women well, they had taken her in after her father died. 

Her Majesty Queen Nancy, of all Ten Realms, and her general, founder of the Guardians Guild, savior of the Realms, Rachel Alery. 

Rachel, who mostly went by The General, or General, had raised Alexandra, trained her, and gave her a purpose. 

Alexandra bowed her head as the two approached. Frowning to herself. 

The General was wearing a full set of armor. Plated like dragon scales, it wrapped around her body fitting her form easily. At her waist hung Oathblood, her sword. Something was wrong. 

Alexandra clicked her bracelets, and they formed gloves on her hands easily turned into claws, with a thought. 

Queen Nancy extended a hand and beckoned to Alexandra, “Come child.” 

Alexandra quickly jogged up to them. “Yes?” 

Rachel sighed, “You’ve heard the rumors.” 

It was a statement not a question. Alex stayed quiet. 

Rachel continued as they walked from the sparring grounds. “The Forth Realm has called a council. Zantas has returned and with him he brought a disease that turns people to stone. Which means we need the storyteller home. His powers will be revealed soon, and once that is done, he will be hunted like a dog. We need you to find Peter Sniztel, protect him and bring him here.” 

A wave of terror washed through Alexandra. They wanted her to protect him. They wanted her to explain why he was abandoned as a baby, why he was different. 

Nathen would be hunting him, Nathen who had been so kind, she would have to fight him. 

“I see your panic.” The queen nodded, “This is a large responsibility. But you are the only one here who I trust to protect him.” 

    *                  *            * 

Jill sucked in a shallow breath. The stubs on her shoulder blades where her wings used to be seemed to quiver with excitement. 

Slowly she drew her arm back, lining up the arrow with the horse’s saddle right in between the man’s legs. 

Two seconds, three.  

She fired the arrow, and it sailed in a perfect ark hitting the saddle with a satisfying clunk. 

The man shrieked and the horse threw him off with a screech of terror. 

“Next time I won’t be so kind.” Jill dropped from her hiding place in the trees and knocked an arrow in her bow. “This village ahead is controlled by the Hunters of Shiverdale, what business do you have?” 

The man shook his head, “Safe passage through.” 

Jill nodded, “Drop your valuables and go. You have thirty seconds before I shoot.” 

The man threw her a money pouch and raced away. 

“The Hunters of Shiverdale, huh?” Brody stepped from the trees and nodded, “Good name for a bunch of teenagers trying to keep their village alive.” 

Jill threw him the bag, “That should be enough to get ten people passage to the Third Realm. I miss the days where I was just a thief on the streets with really good aim.” Jill felt her muscles tensing and relaxing around her shoulders, “I miss my wings.” 

Brody nodded, “Just be glad you’re alive Jill.” 

Her beautiful purple and blue wings had been infected with stone fever. She remembered well the heavy weight as the slowly turned gray and hard. To save her, they had sawed off her wings and as they hit the ground they had shattered. 

Jill was a pixie, but without her wings she was a short human with pointy ears. 

If you’re thinking of a magical person with wings, who’s tiny and throwing around sparkly dust and making bell noises, that’s a fairy. And by the way they’re stuck-up brats. 

Pixies are short but if you call one short, they’ll bite your ears off. They are cute and elflike, but if you call ‘em cute they’ll, again, bite your ears off. Clearly, unlike fairies, they actually have personalities. Pixies are headstrong little demons that will show you some sparkles and steal your change when you aren’t looking. They’re thieves, con artists, cheats and scoundrels, the life of the party.  

Most importantly pixies have no loyalty. Jill had no loyalty. Loyal got you killed, broke, or begging on the street. 

Loyalty got you stuck in a little dying village, shooting people for money. Loyalty got you five blood red earrings trailing down your left ear like tear drops. 

Jill’s earrings represented her rage, her passion, her hate, her older siblings. 

Her grip tightened on her bow, a bubble of rage finding its way into her stomach, burning her from the inside out. 

They had told her to stop thieving. But Ollie had been sick, what could she have done? Watch him slowly die? No. 

She had stolen the medicine they needed and given it to her older brother, in hopes of helping him, but instead he told Julian. 

Julian had thrown her into her room and called the city guard on her thieving friends. 

And then he had thrown her out. 

Her friends dead or in prison, she left the Second Realm and came to the First, to her dying village. 

Her blood red earrings were a reminder. You can’t trust anyone; they won’t help you. They’ll feed you to the wolves and say it’s for the best. 

A tear of blood, for everyone in her life who she had trusted with her life, a tear that she hadn’t shed, because they weren’t worth it. 

* * * 

Jack couldn’t see anything. Just black painful darkness that never left him. 

He heard only the sound of his own beating heart. 

He could taste the musty air around him. And he could smell something like rotting eggs. Sulfur. 

But he felt everything. He felt  

He felt the cold hard ground beneath him, sucking in his warmth and trading it for its own icy cold soul. He felt bruises all over his body from the ground. He felt the trail of cold sweat trailing down his back. He felt his body slowly giving out. He was sick, very sick, he didn’t get any food save for a very bland rock-hard stew that made him throw up. 

Dust coated his throat, and he did have enough water to wash it away. 

Sulfur wasn’t typically toxic, but slowly it was killing him. 

How long had he been in the mines? Two minutes? A day? A month? 

Two years. He had been locked up in here for two years. He was away from everything he loved, and all he could do was wait for the next meal. 

But at least this wasn’t Erin. At least she was safe. That made everything worth it, as long as his sister was okay. 

* * * 

“Watch it dork.”  Greta shoved past Finley.  

Finley stumbled on the steps and glared daggers at Greta’s brown frizzy head. 

Peter helped Finley up and called after Greta, “If you’re going to insult someone at least make it accurate. Calling Finley, a dork is like someone calling you pretty, completely inaccurate. In Finley’s case call her smart, in yours, well um, words I’m not supposed to say.” 

Greta turned around her face red, “What, Snitzel?” 

Peter turned to Finley, “What’s a word that means, ‘living embodiment of all things, greasy, ugly, annoying and dumb?’” 

Greta stormed down the stairs and grabbed Peter by his shirt. “I’m going to mess you up, if you don’t shut up.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, “Your breath in my face is the worst punishment I can imagine. Now, let me go, leave Finley alone and go back up the stairs like a good little dog.” 

Greta’s beefy fist tightened. She opened her mouth to say something, but a voice cut her off. 

“Is there a problem miss Walker?” 

Peter grinned and whispered, “Up the stairs like a good little dog. Wait that’s mean to the dogs.” 

Greta dropped his shirt and backed away up the stairs. “I get why you’re an orphan.” 

Peter waved to Mr. Jackson, “No, problem sir. We were just talking.” 

He was an orphan, but he didn’t care. His parents probably couldn’t take care of him. 

Finley smiled at Peter as they walked the rest of the way up the stairs to the museum. “Thank you.” 

“Course. Greta’s a brat.” Peter shrugged. 

Finley clutched her books to her chest and pushed up her thin glasses. “Nobody ever stands up to her.” 

Peter nodded, “It’s just because she’s tall and looks like she eats nails every day for breakfast.” 

“Am I a dork?” 

Peter shook his head, “Nah, you’re really smart, talented, and pretty, Greta’s just jealous that you’re going to change the world and she’s always just going to be a bully.” 

Finley looked up at him, “You think I’m pretty?” 

Peter nodded, “Yeah.” 

A flash of red. What was that?  

Peter swerved his head and paused. Finley continued on. 

Peter shook his head and finished climbing the last few stairs. 

The tour was long, boring and seemingly pointless. Peter had plugged in his headphones after a couple minutes of the old tour guide rambling on and on about a rusty plate of metal. 

He glanced around and walked to Mr. Jackson. 

Mr. Jackson raised an eyebrow and whispered, “Yes?” 

“Can I go try to find a bathroom?” 

“Do you need someone to come with you?” 

Peter shook his head, “I think I can manage.” 

He nodded and Peter was released from bondage. 

He had no intention of finding the bathroom. 

The museum was quiet away from his history class, almost no one roamed the hallways, the only noise coming from Peter’s boots hitting the smooth ground. 

He unplugged his earbuds from his phones and shoved them in his pocket, enjoying the quiet peace. 

His head as always was filled with questions, wonderings, comebacks for Greta’s insults. 

And then his mind went blank. He froze… 

And a footfall echoed through the hall. 

He spun around and met golden brown eyes. 

Peter spun around to see nothing. Nobody, was he being paranoid? 

“Peter.” 

Peter spun around to see a girl blocking the hallway. 

“We need to talk.” 

Peter took a step back the hair on his neck prickling, “I don’t know you. Sorry, stranger danger.” 

She shook her head, “Peter, we need to go, now. They’re coming.” 

Peter paused, “Who are you?” 

“I’m a friend.” 

“I don’t have friends and if I did, I think I would know them.” 

“Peter, please come with me right now, I don’t have time to explain right now, but you’re in danger.” The girl looked at him pleadingly with golden brown eyes. 

“Listen, I don’t know you. So, no. I’m not coming with you.” 

The girl straightened from her stalking position looking over Peter’s shoulder, sucking in a cold breath. 

“Hey, you’re smarter than you look Alex.”  

Peter spun around and froze to see a teenage boy standing on the other side of the hallway. 

He was tall with dull gray eyes and golden hair that fell down his eyes, almost hiding a scar on his forehead.

“Nate.”

“The kid is coming with me.”