Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Read online

  Chapter One

  Brokk

  Fifteen years later, The Academy

  The afternoon sun soaked into his neck as Brokk Foster raised the bow, drawing the string back, his arrow nocked. The bowstring grazed his cheek as his arm shook; he tried not to blink against the sweat rolling down his temple. The courtyard faded away in that second, his hawk-eyed teacher, Professor Iasan, standing to the side, his arms crossed, his face impassive. Brokk’s fellow classmates stood near, and the looming structure of the Academy was behind them.

  A strand of his golden hair tickled his forehead as he exhaled.

  It’s not real, just release the arrow. Just release it.

  At the opposite end of the range, a stuffed dummy was raised with an emblazoned red target where a heart would be.

  Not real, not real, not real.

  Muscles screaming, he tried to empty his charged mind, to convince himself that the undiluted fear that clutched his heart was unreasonable.

  With still shaking arms, the arrow flew, cutting through the air with a soft hiss. Laugher erupted behind him, making him cringe as he lowered the bow and saw the lodged feathered end in the ground, not even close to the dummy.

  “Enough!” Professor Iasan’s booming voice cut off his classmates’ jeers.

  Brokk turned, lifting his gaze to meet the incredulous look of his best friend, Memphis Carter. Memphis raised one eyebrow as his smooth voice filled Brokk’s consciousness, only for him to hear, “Well, what are you going to do this time?”

  Huffing, Brokk wrenched his gaze away. Sometimes his friend could be such an ass.

  Tactical training class was Brokk’s nemesis, and he met, not for the first time, Professor Iasan’s cutting accusations. “Foster! What do you call that?”

  More chuckles rippled out, and the tips of his ears burned. A minute passed, and then another as Brokk studied the fascinating details of his leather boots.

  “Well?”

  Raising his gaze to meet Professor Iasan’s, that familiar flicker of anger ignited in him. He was so tired of being trained for no acclaimed threat. The Academy had taken him in years ago, with golden promises of schooling him in the control of his abilities so he could have a shot at a normal life—that they all could.

  Over the years, the Academy had become a school woven from lies. The students here were regimented, honed, and molded into weapons. He did not sign up to be a soldier.

  Brokk felt his lips tug upward as he threw the bow at his feet. It clattered noisily, as he threw his hands out to his sides. “I’m done, Professor Iasan.”

  He brushed past Memphis, not meeting his gaze.

  Through the catcalls and hollers, Memphis’s voice cut through his mind, “Brokk...” Memphis’s tone only made him walk faster out of the courtyard, not looking back once.

  Passing under the stone archway, its chiseled carvings always struck him as unnerving and beautiful at the same time. It told the story of the Academy: how the Faes and the Strattons had built the foundations for their democratic government, how they had pulled Kiero out from under the shadow of war, how the Academy was—and had been for fifteen years—structured to present the world its golden warriors, fighting of any threat of abuse and injustice. The pupils here were some of the most gifted and were the strongest representation of what Kiero had to offer.

  Or most uncontrolled. Most needed to be caged.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with what the Academy stood for. Brokk was just as well learned in Kiero’s history as any other student: about the trade wars with the Shattered Isles, about how Roque’s father and his council continued for years to enslave Nei’s people and slaughter the desolates—people without or with very weak abilities. The scales of the world had been uneven for a very long time, and the Faes had fought for this freedom away from the past, which was bathed in blood.

  Of course, Brokk was honored to be a part of such a movement. He was grateful that Nei and Roque had taken him in. He had no recollection of his parents or what had happened for him to end up alone in the forest that surrounded the Academy so many years prior. Without the Faes, he would not have survived or would have been at the mercy of the raiders. Their world wasn’t perfect, but it was at ease.

  The raiders had proclaimed separate regency and had, somewhat, left their towns and cities alone. The Shattered Isles were under a peace agreement now with the Faes, but no longer accepted Nei as one of their own blood. The desolates were under the sworn oath of protection from the Academy, and the Academy continued to grow and flourish with the Faes’ dream.

  Brokk sighed, looking up past the archway to the open sky and the endlessness it provided. He should be grateful. He should take his instruction without question. He should be proud to be a student here and graduate to serve his country. He would be a government official, a warrior and protector of the peace.

  But he was not.

  There had been whisperings for the last couple of years of what exactly the seniors were instructed to do by Cesan Stratton.

  Brokk shivered, his eyebrows furrowed as those whispers pulled at the throes of his mind; creating chaos and fear, unleashing the students as weapons. Everything started as whispers in this place, but the knowledge of what Cesan might be doing, what he was brain washing into the hearts and minds of students had shattered Brokk’s flawless view of the world around him.

  He would not be carved into a fearmonger; he would not use his abilities to crack the frail bond of peace that had been accomplished within Kiero. He would not be a monster.

  His throat felt thick as he tore his gaze away and continued his walk back to the main building.

  Whether the rumors were true was a whole other problem. Cesan was not his favorite man and they rarely saw eye to eye, but was he an enemy?

  Brokk sighed, his dark thoughts whisking away any peace of mind he might have had for the day. A tolling bell rang out behind him, marking their lunch break, and breaking him free from his thoughts.

  By fire and flame, finally.

  The Academy was a sprawling map of concrete. The main building consisting of dorms in the center, a tall cylinder watchtower to the east, and encircling it was the constant placement of adjacent classroom buildings. No gates were needed, no security. Anyone mad enough to try to disrupt the students and teachers here wouldn’t make it far. Besides, the closest city was the Capital of Kiero, Sarthaven, and that was hours away.

  Brokk was following the well-worn path back up toward the building when a clear voice rang out behind him, “Brokk, wait up!”

  The blood in his very veins froze, and he stopped walking mid-stride. Emory Fae grabbed his arm, turning him to face her. A pale blush bloomed across her cheeks, her emerald eyes bright as for a moment he stopped worrying about Iasan and the Academy. But like every other day, he swallowed down his emotions and wolfishly grinned at his other best friend. “And what could you possibly want?”

  She wrinkled her nose, playfully punching him in the arm. “Oh come off it. Memphis caught me after class and mentioned you might be skulking around somewhere in this general direction.”

  “Of course he did,” Brokk breathed out, returning his attention back to his walk.

  Naturally, Emory wasn’t deterred one bit. “Was it Iasan again?”

  Both she and Memphis were privy to his opinion about their training teacher. Iasan was ruthless, a trained killer, and expected them to have no compassion, no mercy. It was dummies now they were practicing on, but when it wasn’t? When they killed without a second thought? He never wanted to lose his empathy or his intolerance for taking another life, even if he attained the skills.

  Emory’s mouth turned down in a grim line as she walked beside him. “I can talk to my dad again,” she offered.

  “That went so well last time.” A strangled chuckle came out of him. “No, I can deal with Iasan, just not today, Em.”

  Unclenching his fists at his side, he didn’t remark on Emory’s father, Roque Fae. Everywhere he
went, he oozed of authority and structure; of might and discipline. He was severe, a ruler in every right. He was a desolate and one of the most influential people in Kiero. The fact he was a desolate didn’t make him any less intimidating. He thought very highly of his instructors and of his government, and Brokk clearly remembered the last time Emory had gone to him about Iasan.

  “He is the best in his field, the best throughout the country. Brokk should be willing to challenge himself instead of limiting himself due to his heart.”

  Emory had relayed his message mockingly, but the words had cut through Brokk. This was their leader, the person everyone praised. The man everyone looked up to. The man Brokk never went to with his concerns again after that.

  Frowning, his doubts clawed at his mind as they climbed in comfortable silence, the melody of the forest creatures floating out to them. Heard, but unseen. It was soothing and melancholy, the soft music dripping with life and isolation. He knew those melodies fell on deaf ears, but he was always listening, his personal orchestra overlapping in beautiful harmonies, igniting him.

  In the ancient woods, that was the place he was truly free. The forest lines blurring as he ran, the moon’s light mapping his way, feeling the earth under his paws, as Brokk lost himself in his animal instinct. Those heartbreaking laments of the fellow creatures that could be found in the darkness tugged at him.

  Calling him to come back, to come home.

  To him, being a shapeshifter was a gift. That part of himself, of his ability, was part of his very core. The yearning for wildness, for freedom, for power. People had been afraid at first, thinking that he couldn’t control himself - that he would hurt someone. The wolf and man were one; each skin he wore was him. That part of himself he was always in control of.

  It was his other ability that he kept tucked close to his heart, locked in the darkest shards of his soul. The one that scared him, the one he didn’t understand. The one that was growing. Waiting for that trigger moment where it would explode from him, emblazoned and uncontrolled. The one he had told no one about.

  Swallowing hard, Brokk brought himself back to Emory’s crystal laugh, to her smile, to her gentle brushes of their fingers. He was drowning in the stormy seas of his fears, and she was his anchor. Had always been his anchor.

  She raised a delicate dark brow at him murmuring, “It would seem we have a visitor.”

  Snapping his attention forward, he stalled. “Do you want me to take care of this?”

  Emory rolled her eyes. “Brokk, I have known him since I was a little kid. He doesn’t scare me. You shouldn’t let him get under your skin.”

  Brokk took in Adair Stratton stalking toward them. He was gangly, tall, and thin. His dark gaze held only one person, and Brokk felt himself blush. Adair held such an intensity for Emory it was unsettling. The Faes and the Strattons were best friends, and that extended toward their children.

  Adair stopped, sneering at Brokk, and didn’t even acknowledge him. “Emory, we are to go see our parents. Immediately.” His voice was smooth and deep, like still water.

  A sly smirk tugged at the corners of Emory’s lips. “To discuss very important matters, I’m sure.”

  Adair nodded, tilting his head as he practically ravished her with his eyes. The hair on the back of Brokk’s neck stood on end, and he wanted to snarl, to protect Emory from Adair’s dark seducing gaze. Not a single bone in Brokk’s body trusted him. Not. One.

  Adair offered his arm to Emory, which she took with an apologetic look toward Brokk. “See you later, Brokk. Duty calls.”

  Feebly waving goodbye, Brokk bore his gaze into Adair’s back as they walked away: light and dark, oil and water mixing. Brokk caught a snippet of Adair’s voice as they walked - “Emory, honestly, what do you see in him?”

  This time a snarl did break through his lips, and Brokk shut his eyes, taking in deep breaths. Adair had a special talent to break his patience, preaching to Emory that she was above her friendship with Memphis and himself. That she was above them. Emory, of course, had always done what she wanted, ignoring Adair’s poisonous words. Ones Adair thought was lost to them.

  Yet, she always let him in, always answered his beck and call. Brokk couldn’t help but see past her façade and thought a part of her was spellbound by Adair and would bend to his will wholly.

  He hated it. Yet, he also tolerated their friendship with him for Emory.

  Soon, they were small figures in the distance, and Brokk continued his way up the path alone.

  ***

  “On my command... Now!”

  Professors Lien’s voice sliced through the tense excitement of the room. The auditorium was cavernous and filled with natural light, making every detail clear to the students. The obstacle course was grueling and complicated; laid out before him, the challenge was plain to see.

  Various tunnels and scaling walls spread in front of them, and at the opposite end of the room, Brokk counted the teachers: Professor Whilms—a burly man, his black goatee framing his smug features as fire danced from his palms. Professor Remre—her silver hair plaited back as the longswords glinted in her grasp. And in front of him, Professor Iasan stood in front of Memphis.

  Heart sinking into his stomach, Brokk pieced together that they were practicing hand-to-hand combat before they could reach their partner.

  Brokk looked to Memphis stationed across from him at the opposite end of the room. With a causal shrug, Brokk waggled his eyebrows at his friend and then chaos exploded.

  Every time he shapeshifted, it was like falling into piercing, icy water. His muscles tensed as he ran, and then, in an explosion of cracking bones, he bore his second skin, his golden fur rippling. His defined muscles propelled him, like a comet streaking across the night sky, full of flaring life, burning and devouring its path.

  Around him, the room exploded with a various number of elements: fire, water and wind bending to students will. To his left was Alby, his red hair and pale skin disappearing as he turned invisible. To his right, Jaxson multiplied himself as all the versions of him raced ahead, trying to finish the course first and reach his partner, Wyatt, who waited for him. Pleasure rippled through his body as Brokk scaled the towering wall in one leap, adrenaline pushing him faster, harder, better.

  Dodging and twisting from abilities being thrown at him, he missed the Professor’s assaults with ease. He galloped through a placed tunnel; the light of the auditorium being swallowed up in an instant. Snarling, he charged, flying out of the end to skitter to a stop. Professor Iasan stood between him and Memphis, glittering sword in his right hand, a small ball of flame dancing in his left. A low growl ripped through Brokk, and Professor Iasan tutted.

  “Now, Brokk, you must understand this isn’t personal. You are so full of talent. Now use it.”

  Fire swirled and consumed his world. All Brokk could see were roaring flames; all he could feel was heat. Smoke filled his nostrils, his lungs, and he was drowning. He was cornered, and he was suffocating. Blindly flinging himself forward, Brokk shifted back just as Professor Iasan parted the fire to his will, glittering steel cutting toward Brokk.

  He didn’t think; he just reacted. His muscles were pulled taut, and his fist slammed into flesh, Iasan’s jaw cracking, his head snapping back. Panting heavily, a strange ringing filled his ears. Iasan rubbed his jaw, his gaze honing back to his student, malice burning in them.

  “Enough, Iasan, enough!”

  Professor Lein’s voice rang out, her cry making everyone stop. Memphis was frozen behind Iasan, his usual pale skin ashen. She glared at Brokk.

  “Foster, come here now!”

  Heaving, he turned and stalked toward his furious teacher, her glowering gaze cutting through him with each step.

  “Foster, what are you thinking? You too, Iasan? Class dismissed!” she exclaimed.

  Her grey hair was piled high on her head, her stubborn gaze challenging any of the students to defy her. Ripples of whispers came to life as everyone collected their thin
gs and then filed out. Memphis shook his head slightly before turning away.

  Turning her attention back to them, Professor Lein nodded curtly, and they followed her out of the auditorium.

  The hallway was relatively quiet, considering it was just after lunch. Brokk groaned internally, knowing exactly where Lein was taking them. It was the very last person he wanted to see. Iasan shot him a smug look as they finally turned a corner to a pair of old oak doors, and she knocked twice, the rapt sounding twice as urgent from her anger.

  The door swung open, and Roque stood there, his dark eyebrows rising as he took the group in, his emerald eyes holding Brokk’s gaze last. His hair was disheveled, bruised skin underneath his eyes. His silver shirt and black plants were rumpled, and Brokk couldn’t remember the last time their leader looked so unkept. But the resemblance to Emory was stark; she held all her father’s physical traits with her mother’s wildness and kind heart. For that, Brokk was grateful.

  Roque snapped, “Lein! What is the matter of this visit? You’ve caught me at a bad time.”

  Lein sighed, shooting them another glare before answering Roque. “Maybe Foster should explain this to you. Iasan, I will deal with you.”

  Iasan paled slightly under Lein’s stern gaze and a flicker of gratification shot through Brokk. Smirking, he watched Lein lead Iasan out, his features dark. He wouldn’t be let off easy.

  The two professors took off in a low heated conversation, leaving Brokk alone under Roque’s stare. Roque hurriedly cleared his throat, blinking hard as he said, “Well, you might as well come in.”

  Resigning himself to the fact this would not be easy, Brokk stepped into the Faes’ office. He noticed immediately the office was a chaos of papers, bookshelves, and maps. Nei and Cesan sat at the round polished table in a heated argument, oblivious at first to their arrival.

  “Cesan, for the last time, I will not let you...”

  Roque slammed the door behind Brokk, making him jump. Nei’s words died in her mouth when she took in Brokk and her husband. She shot Cesan a warning look before standing.