Boundless Magick
PROLOGUE
THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY KINGDOM OF ADEHYA
SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS
Aldred Kinsley paced around a circular stone table, its center aflame with a steel-blue spirit fire—the prophetic Flames of Eldrich. He crumpled a piece of parchment in his hand and glared at the fire. It usually pulsed calmly on its hearth, a quiet sign of the kingdom’s good fortune. Now, a crimson wisp flared at the heart of the blue blaze, its hue more vivid than Aldred’s dark red hair. Neon-white symbols seared along the fire’s base, spelling out the dreaded fate he had prayed would never come to pass.
A wave of heat rushed into him, and he stumbled backward. The Flames of Eldrich typically burned at a comfortable seventy degrees, no matter the season. The crimson wisp burned hotter, until the stone walls seemed to radiate fever. Even the cooling wards woven into Aldred’s clothing buckled under the wisp’s wrath. No spell could shield him from it.
With a frustrated grunt, he tugged open his dark-green doublet. He was desperate to cool his body and his nerves. He had summoned Silas, his most trusted advisor, hours ago. Wiccans could travel anywhere in the world with the turn of an Enchanted Key, which made Silas’ delay all the more concerning.
Perhaps the emperor had discovered the Flames of Eldrich’s oracle and apprehended Silas in his travels, demanding answers. If so, Silas would do his best to smooth things over. He had a knack for diplomacy that had won him many battles—and the emperor’s respect. The thought that his talent might also determine Adehya’s fate made Aldred’s gut clench with panic.
Then came the quick staccato of approaching footsteps.
Aldred halted mid-pace and swiveled to face the doorway.
A thin, dark-haired man swept into the room and bowed. Sweat dripped from his flushed face. His hair was mussed, his chemise crooked beneath a half-buttoned black doublet. These were not the marks of a man known for his impeccable appearance, but the telltale signs of one who had narrowly escaped a physical interrogation.
“Silas,” Aldred said, his throat tight.
“Forgive my delay, Sire,” Silas said, panting. His cheeks now rivaled the hue of the crimson flame invading the spirit fire. “My wife and I were celebrating our anniversary when you messaged. We were—” He arched a brow, sparing Aldred the intimate details behind his disheveled appearance. “Had I left any sooner…”
Ordinarily, Aldred would have burst out laughing and teased Silas mercilessly, but seeing his worst fears disproved left him heaving a sigh of relief instead. “I am pleased to see you.”
“Likewise, Sire. It is—holy heavens!” Silas yanked open his lapels and fanned himself. “It is stifling in here.”
The spirit fire crackled loudly, commanding attention.
Silas furrowed his brow as his black eyes traced the glowing symbols encircling the fire’s base. “Sire,” he said, his voice tinged with urgency, “we must act now. Should the emperor discover this threat before we craft a solution…”
Aldred cursed under his breath. Emperor Thibault had long coveted control of the Kingdom of Adehya. If the Flames of Eldrich’s oracle proved true—and worse than the crisis that had long ago plagued the realm under its wickedest king—Thibault would not hesitate to pursue his ambition. As if reigning over the International Wiccan Council and four continents did not grant him enough power!
“Do you have confirmation…about the oracle?” Silas asked.
Aldred uncurled his fist and handed Silas the crumpled parchment.
Silas smoothed out the parchment and read it over. “Nikolas reports that Abigail Stone has severed the magical bind you placed upon her at birth. Is this true?”
Aldred nodded, the flicker of a memory stirring—a newborn swaddled in prophecy. A child who could not have known the havoc that severing her bind would unleash. The universe’s balance was perilously fragile, but only the foulest acts could disturb the Flames of Eldrich. Fortunately, such wickedness was rare, for quenching it had always demanded a great sacrifice. Aldred shuddered to think how Abigail’s transgression might doom mankind if the prophecy ran its course.
“Sire,” Silas said, “you know what must be done.”
Aldred could not ignore Abigail’s crime. Delaying would not shield her from the consequences. For the sake of his fellow Wiccans—for the sake of the universe—he had to see her through this ordeal, whatever the cost.
He bowed his head. “Abigail has chosen her path. Now she must walk it through fire. Have Nikolas bring her to me at once.”
© 2013 Lowvee Cole. All rights reserved.
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