Page 3 of The Edge of Darkness

Heartbroken and full of rage, Torin blindly ported herself and all those that were with her into the beyond.

When they tore through the skies and arrived on a new world, a world full of lush green foliage and a sky brimming with light, she was immediately confronted by its god-king. Karios was his name, and his world was called Gaia.

He manifested in the flesh where she landed, in the mountainous forest that stretched between present day Calledan and Vahrenhall—an area now known as The Elderwood. After consorting with the fates, Karios offered the newcomers sanctuary in the fae lands while he prepared a more permanent space for them.

At the time, the Ancient Fae lived as one across the entire landscape of Anbrya, and while Torin’s witches dwelled in The Elderwood with them, they shared bits of their culture with each other. The witches showed them how runes could be spelled with magic using incantations in their ancient language, and how sacrifices appeased the gods of their homeworld—something the Ancient Fae of Gaia were not accustomed to.

It would not be until later that the fae would go to war with each other to fight over territorial lines and the establishment of the five courts. Those who had dwelled with Torin’s creation would take claim over the highland territory, which bordered The Elderwood. There, they would integrate all they had learned from the witches’ way of life into their own court’s culture.

The wraiths—not keen to submit to anyone or abide by any law that wasn’t of their own making—didn’t linger, nor did they wait for Karios to prepare a place for them. Ever longing for the shadows, they sought out caves within the nearby mountains, where they could dwell in darkness, surrounded by the very things they loved and needed to survive.

Meanwhile, Karios held true to his word and prepared a small set of islands off the coast of the fae realm where the witches could begin anew. They were called “The Neveshir Isles.” On these isles, Torin would have a semi-free reign, and her creation could thrive. Karios would provide beings for the witches to procreate with, and in return, Torin would contribute Dionachs to protect and serve the chosen of Gaia. Torin would be bound in loyalty to Karios, respecting his reign over all others.

The goddess agreed to the terms, and although she wasn’t pleased that the place he’d prepared for her was nothing more than a stark, volcanic landscape seated high above the ocean, it was without threats, and offered a new start for her and her kind. After all, there was nowhere else for her to go, and her power was spent from the monumental task of transporting her creation off-world.

Sensing her bitterness, Karios explained that the isles were not given to her out of spite, but out of consideration for her kind’s well-being—a place of peace and solitude. The fae who had witnessed the witches’ arrival may have gotten along with them, but the same welcome was not guaranteed from the rest, or the humans.

So Torin settled into acceptance, bound to this new world under Karios’s rule, and in return, she was granted personal access to the god’s realm, which was separate from Gaia’s creation, unlike on Skotos, where the gods dwelled amongst the beings they crafted. On Gaia, the gods reigned above, overseeing the world through their wide lens.

Karios’s gesture of hospitality, and the fact that he allowed her to keep her own totem—or “talisman” as he called it—earned him her trust. Torin saw that he was not only immensely powerful, but he was also a respectable and decent deity—something she considered herself to be. It made it all the more easy for her to seek his help in guarding her father’s amulet. She released it to him for safekeeping, knowing that in his possession, it would be untouchable by any other god. And if the day ever came when her sister found a way to leave Skotos in search of it, it would remain beyond her corrupt reach.

She informed Karios of how their powers worked on Skotos, and how her sister had managed to bind their father’s to the amulet. She emphasized that her father’s power was dark and temperamental, and warned him to never let it fall into another’s hands. A power like that did not belong on Gaia. The best thing was for it to remain locked inside the amulet.

And so the amulet was tucked away, out of sight of the other gods, in the hidden pocket of space that was bound to Karios’s existence, where it became forgotten . . . until a few thousand years later, when the betrayer Lyceius rebelled against the god-king.

Karios contemplated multiple plans to safeguard his creation, and decided to intervene by manipulating a human bloodline that would eventually produce an heir capable of overthrowing Lyceius altogether. But the intricacies of that plan were tricky, and it would take time to come to fruition.

In the meantime, the human and fae realms needed a significant advantage against Lyceius. A power that no being on Gaia possessed.

And the amulet whispered a song of victory.

KARIOS

Karios looked down at the amulet—so small in his powerful hand, and yet, its otherworldly essence was staggering. It was a blackened stain against his palm, soaking up all the light that touched it.

He wondered about the power that might lie within it. If he could give it form—watch it manifest. What advantage could it provide mankind and the fae against Lyceius? Torin had only said that it was a dark and temperamental power, something Gaia had not seen.

If he prodded the goddess for more information, he risked her becoming suspicious and demanding its return. Of course, he could just deny her and her speculations, but he’d had no quarrel with the goddess in the time she’d been here, and the thought of another conflict with a deity made him rethink his tactics.

He supposed he could consult the fates first. They favored him and would advise him against it if they thought it was unwise . . . But on more than one occasion they had preferred to further their own agendas. And they had either failed to see Lyceius’s rebellion—which was unlikely—or they had turned a blind eye to it.

Karios needed a contingency plan that worked in his favor and his favor only. He needed to act. Alone. And this was an opportunity that had been burning a hole in his primordial pocket.

Without another moment of hesitation, he descended to the earth below, to the fae realm.

To the Mountain Court of Calledan.

There, unbeknownst to anyone, and unseen to the naked eye, he appeared in The Keep, in the private chamber of the High Lord and Lady, where the two lay undisturbed.

He paused near the bed, lingering in his final moments of contemplation.

In theory, if the amulet worked the same way as his gods’ talismans, Karios would only need to place it upon the one he wished to imbue with power, and command it to be done.

He rolled the round stone in the palm of his hand once, twice, before staring long and hard at it. It was made of pure obsidian, strung with a dark, silver chain that seemed all too delicate for the ominous token. A primal mist swirled within its confines. It looked as if it were hewn straight from the mountains amongst which he stood.

Like it belonged there.

Perhaps that was why he’d chosen this territory—this family.