Chapter 1
The problem was the darkness.
It lay heavily over the floors, coating the walls, draping the stairs as it crept through the halls. It slithered through the cracks in the floorboards, the threadbare tapestries on the walls, finding its way through even the heavyset doors that guarded the castle.
It was a lonely day, gray clouds overshadowing the valley, suffocating silence seeping through the walls. The wind blew through the hollow halls of Regis Castle, settling a chill across the stone floors. Druig shivered as he paced, his footsteps echoing across the empty hall, the only sound to be heard.
A creak sounded behind him and Druig spun, his hand on his sword, but there was no one there. The ceremony had him more on edge today than usual. Druig fiddled with his gloves, twisting the black fabric between his hands. The anticipation was killing him. He expected the door to be flung open at any moment, so he could finally be sworn in. But all he could hear was the faint murmur of voices as he paced, waiting for the moment.
“Ready?” A voice asked behind him.
Druig spun around, clasping his hand over his heart. “Sprite! You scared me,” he exclaimed.
“Sorry,” Sprite shrugged. Only three years younger than Druig, his cousin lounged on the couch, watching him from across the hall, her short auburn hair still shining even in the pale light. “Are you?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“You’re being sworn in,” there was a hint of jealousy in Sprite’s voice. “You’re becoming one of them.”
“It’ll be your turn soon enough,” Druig comforted.
“Not soon enough,” Sprite stared at the doors behind him longingly. “I want to get out there and fight.”
“You’ll have to let Ikaris have the spotlight for a few more years,” Druig joked. “Before you get out there and vanquish all of the Deviants.”
Sprite smiled. “I know,” she sighed. “Just—it never comes soon enough.”
“I remember the feeling,” Druig admitted. He still remembered the day that Ikaris was sworn in, the jealousy that seethed within him. I will be one of them, he reminded himself. I will be a Celestial, one of the protectors of our land, someone that Father will be proud of, someone like Ikaris. Ikaris, with his shining gold armor, as if he were the sun. He was eighteen, finally old enough to join the elite fighters, what he had dreamed of his whole life. Druig could still remember the longing that he had felt as he stared after the team, wishing he could fight side by side with Ikaris.
Sprite twirled a knife. “I just feel useless,” she admitted. “Can’t wait for the day I finally can bring my parents’ killers down.”
Druig nodded. “Me too,” he said. He caught sight of the etchings on the side of Sprite’s blade, carvings of humanoid figures. Deviants. They were monsters. Strange powers, dangerous killers. Everyday, more innocents fell prey to them. That’s why the Celestials—him and Ikaris and the rest of the army—were needed. But Druig didn’t need the stories—he knew it well enough already.
“Sir.” Druig turned to see a servant standing at the end of the hall. “They’re ready for you.”
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “I’ll be right there.” It was really happening. A part of him wondered if it was a dream and he would wake as his thirteen year old self, watching as Ikaris was sworn in, the white and gold cape draped across the floor. Ikaris looked powerful. Druig wished he could be the same, command the attention of everyone as he stepped into the room.
Arms wrapped around his shoulders as Sprite hugged him. “Have fun,” she said. “Good luck, cousin.” Druig watched as she turned, skipping down the hall. He watched her until she disappeared around the corner, her turquoise skirt seemingly swallowed by the dark wood paneling of the hallway as her footsteps faded away.
Staring at the doors, Druig suddenly felt unsure. The gold handle gleamed, the intricate carvings glinting faintly in the light. The dark wood was imposing, looming over him, images of Celestials and Deviants fighting. Are you worthy? It seemed to be asking him, as if it could peer into his soul and pick out his weaknesses one by one. Druig shivered. He didn’t know where the thought came from.
His hand wavered before he touched the handle, the metal cold beneath his hand. This was the moment he had been waiting for since he was young, yet he was afraid. He remembered when he was small, standing on his tiptoes, trying to peer through the keyhole of the door while Father spoke with Ikaris inside. This was Father’s room, the library, where secrets were whispered, where deals were made, where the Celestials reigned. For the first time, Druig was invited to be among them.
The door popped open with a soft hiss as Druig stepped inside, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The library stretched out before him, tall shelves emerging in the shadows around him as he walked. He followed the hushed sound of voices until the shelves opened up, candlelight flooding around him.
Druig squinted, throwing his hand up in surprise. He heard a low chuckle and his face burned as he gingerly lowered his hand. Twenty people were seated around the table. Celestials, his mind whispered in awe. Appearances ranged from each individual, some wizened and gray, others seemingly barely older than him. But all of them commanded respect, an air of power and ability surging from them, so much that Druig felt the urge to bow his head and obey.
“Ah, Druig,” Ikaris rose from his seat, his white and gold robes gleaming. “Join us.”
Their father sat at the head of the table, beside Ikaris, his red robes glowing in the candlelight as if they were alight. He didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge Druig or Ikaris.
Druig took a step forward, fearing he would collapse from his nerves, but to his surprise, he held himself strong. He could feel the eyes of the Celestials on him, but he raised his chin, taking another step forward until he stood beside Ikaris. Ikaris clapped him on the shoulder briefly, before turning to whisper something to Father. Druig twisted the soft fabric between his fingers. The robes he had prepared felt out of place. Black and red to Ikaris’ white and gold, he was a perfect shadow of his older brother.
“We gather here today to swear in Druig Aeternus, second son of Arishem Aeternus and my younger brother.” Ikaris smiled. “We accept him as the newest member of the Celestials, if he agrees.” Ikaris turned to him, extending a knife. Druig accepted it, hoping his hands weren’t shaking. He pressed the blade into his palm, wincing at the sharp sting as blood welled from the cut. He had waited forever for this moment and it was finally here.
“Do you promise to defend the kingdom and the people of this land?”
“I do.”
“Do you promise to fight the threats, especially those known as Deviants?”
“I do.”
“Do you promise that if necessary, you will hold the kingdom over all else?”
“I do.”
The last words rang out across the silent library and Druig felt a strange jolt of electricity run down his spine as he met the gazes of the audience, the Celestials—the other Celestials.
“Then,” Ikaris smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “Welcome to the Celestials, little brother.”
Druig sipped from his wine glass, grimacing at the bitter taste, hearing chatter and laughter behind him. Regis Castle was alight with celebration, warm aromas and sounds of joy floating by him. It seemed as if the entire country had turned out to see his becoming a Celestial. He stretched out his hand, his fingers brushing against the paper of a lit lantern as it floated by. He felt a giddiness, a lightness as if he was untethered from the earth, like he was going to float away.
“Congratulations.” Druig turned to see Sprite standing beside him, leaning against the railing, a glass of wine in one hand, a pink frosted cupcake in the other.
“Aren’t you too young for that?” Druig said amiably. In all honesty, he was too giddy to scold her.
Sprite rolled her eyes. “How does it feel?” she asked. “Nice necklace by the way.”
Druig beamed as he pulled the chain from under his robes. The gold C shone, a brilliant reminder of his promises, of the hopes and dreams of the land. “How’s the rest of the celebration?”
“It’s good.” Sprite took a bite of her cupcake, leaving a dollop of pink frosting on her nose. “Haven’t got the chance to enjoy your own party?”
Druig shrugged. “Busy with pleasantries.”
“I saw,” Sprite teased. “Who were half of those people?”
“I have no clue,” he shuddered. “I’ve been hugged by so many people in the last hour, I never want to be touched again.”
“Well that’s a disappointment.” Druig turned to see Ikaris standing behind them. “I can’t give my younger brother a congratulatory hug?”
“If you insist,” Druig sighed and Sprite snickered.
“I hope you’re not bothering him,” Ikaris scolded.
“She’s not,” Druig automatically replied.
“Well, enjoy,” Sprite pushed herself up. “If you need me, I’ll be in my room. Try one of the cupcakes.” She headed off into the crowd and Druig found himself wishing that he was still young enough to do that, to stray from the spotlight without a tether holding him back.
“Enjoying it?” Ikaris asked.
Druig nodded. “It’s more than I expected.” He glanced behind Ikaris, hoping, but knowing it wouldn’t happen. “Is Dad—”
“Sends his congratulations,” Ikaris looked at him sympathetically. “He would be here if he could, but he’s—”
“Busy, I know,” Druig sighed. The air suddenly felt much cooler around him, the glass in his hand heavier than before.
“He would be here if he could,” Ikaris comforted. “He is proud of you. As am I.”
That night, Druig stood on his balcony, staring at the darkening sky stretching above. Laughter had faded into the distance, only a few stragglers left in the square. Druig wondered if any of them even realized that he had left. Not that it mattered. The first stars were appearing, gleaming silver in the velvet blue. A cool breeze rustled his hair and Druig closed his eyes, drinking in the moment as he rested two fingers on the pendant that hung around his neck. A Celestial. He finally was one.
A cupcake sat on a plate beside him, as Sprite had made him promise he would try one, though he was reluctant to; it seemed so childish. It wasn’t something an elite soldier would do, it wasn’t something Father or Ikaris would do. He had a mission, a job to do.
“To hell with it,” Druig muttered. It was a day of celebration, him turning eighteen, becoming a Celestial. Sprite was right; he should enjoy his own party. A revenge mission could wait for one night; it had waited this long already.
The frosting was sweet but Druig couldn’t help but smile. It reminded him of summertime, honeyed days and treacle years when he and Ikaris would run through the meadows surrounding Regis Castle. They would hide for hours out in the trees, until Father finally came looking for them. He would lift them up into his arms, laughing, and telling them that their mother would be proud of them.
Druig felt cold. His smile faded as he shivered. The shadows around him seemed to grow as he put down his half-eaten cupcake, blue frosting shining from the faint light coming from his room. The darkness seemed to stretch out toward him, grasping with clawed hands and Druig gripped the railing, his knuckles turning white.
A flash of gold blazed through the valley below, burning bright in the darkness as if it were a star fallen to Earth, but it couldn’t be. Druig frowned, leaning forward precariously over the railing. He swore he could almost make out the shape of a girl, but she was gone before he could tell.