Prologue — "Dark Forces at Work"

An exclusive first look at World Beyond the Unknown

Author’s note.

Substack is a new corner of the internet for me. Kindly forgive any blunders, missteps, and false prophesies.

A World Beyond the Unknown is the first book of a series I’ve had bubbling in my cauldron for the better part of the last twenty years or so. It’s a story of adventure, of destiny, of the sisterhood of female friendships, of fairytale princesses who are more than they seem.

I began writing this story a little over a year ago, and shortly after, I learned the devastating news that my mother was diagnosed with ALS. For anyone who has lost a loved one to such a devastating disease, my heart goes out to you. You will understand Alora’s desperation to find a cure better than most. For those who’ve been fortunate not to know the wreckage such an illness leaves in its wake, I pray the knowledge of such never darkens your door.

⚠️ Trigger Warning: Descriptions of disease, ailment, and symptoms similar to and inspired by amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS). Formerly known as Lou Gehrig's disease, ALS is a neurological disorder that affects motor neurons, the nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord that control voluntary muscle movement and breathing.

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Thrævor

While the others grasped at threads of power, only one among them was truly capable of weaving them into something… more. The room was thick with heat, the air dense with the scent of burning wood and old parchment. Sweat beaded along brows, but none dared move to wipe it away. The chamber simmered with tension that boiled ever higher by the rhythmic tapping that reverberated through the air.

At the head of the table, the woman fixed her gaze into the depths of the hearth's mighty fire. Tall flames, awash in amber, orange, and deep crimson hues, danced savagely, reaching skyward as if attempting to devour the darkness. As she stared into the embers, the pointed tips of her manicured fingernails drummed against the wooden surface. A large blood-red ruby set in gold danced with every movement of her hand reflecting the ambient light of the flames in its sharp angles. Each tap seemed to echo her growing impatience. The steady clack, clack, clack accelerated slightly as the seconds ticked by.

Around her, the others who sat at the table shifted uncomfortably and exchanged glances. Still, her focus never wavered, and the tapping, interspersed with the occasional glint from her remarkable ring, continued its relentless beat.

After moments that felt like an eternity, the drum of her nails on the table ceased, and the woman turned from the flames to address the others. She moved to sweep a strand of her long white hair behind her shoulder before steepling her fingers in front of her. She looked to each of her companions in turn before she spoke.

"My sister was no friend to Thrævor, but her abilities were matched by none, and if we are to be victorious, we must harness that power for our own ends."

"Nira, no one has seen your sister in decades. She is dead or gone."

Nira eyed the man who spoke. Hadeon had always been like a father to her. Wisdom creased around his eyes, and his long beard looked more gray now than it ever used to. Still, Nira narrowed her eyes at him. A warning not to cross that invisible thread between what she would tolerate and what she would not.

"If Xina were dead, I would know. I would have felt it." Nira's tone left no room for argument.

"Perhaps," Hadeon relented. "It still doesn't change that we have no idea where she might be."

"A summoning spell should bring her to us." A different female voice floated melodically across the room. The dark-haired beauty sat at the far end of the table.

"A summoning spell wouldn't be powerful enough to work on me, let alone my sister, Scylla." Nira seethed. Sometimes, it felt as if she were the only one here who bothered to use even a drop of common sense. "However, Xina—troublesome as she is—is nothing if not meticulous. She’s kept a record of all her knowledge and every spell in her arsenal since we were children. Her grimoire is the key to unlocking her knowledge and her power."

A glint of interest flickered across Scylla’s expression, swirling the dark liquid in her goblet before taking a slow sip. "Rumors have spread amongst my spies in the east that the Queen of Shadows is dealing with deep magic, that she's gathering forces. Gathering knowledge." Scylla looked from Hadeon back to Nira before continuing, "Perhaps your sister's grimoire is now part of her collection."

"A locating spell for the book is our best course of action." Hadeon offered. "Xina cannot be found unless she wishes it, but the book can be located."

"My sister would have warded her grimoire against us ever finding it." Nira's hands tightened into fists. The fools acted as if she'd never tried to locate her sister's most prized possession.

She had.

And failed.

Many times.

Nira's patience waned thin. She trusted Hadeon as much as she could trust anyone, but Scylla and the others were another story. They were allies, of course. Those who fought for the redemption of Thrævor would all be allies in the war to come. They had little choice but to be if they wanted to succeed. But trusting her, or any of the others, would be foolish. And Nira was no fool.

"Then perhaps we'll have to send someone in our stead."

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💛 Up Next: Chapter One

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