Page 1 of Daughter of the Dark

PROLOGUE

The gods of Hanan Pacha were a covetous breed.

It was only in their nature because of the creator god, for Hanan Pacha was a serene realm filled with both the warmth of the sun and the brilliance of the stars. It carried within it light and dark, power and peace, life and death and endless wonder. Everything a god could possibly need. But it wasn’t enough for Auquis. He grew bored of his own company and began to crave distraction and exultation and praise.

To be adored like a child might a father.

Thus, he took that desire and manifested it into five children, gods that were each imbued with a power unique to them, created from pieces of his own flesh and blood. To further flaunt his prowess, he fashioned lesser beings from the land itself, filling the realm with language and thought and art and music, all of it in praise of their creator, Auquis, to serve and follow him until the end of their days.

But children rarely do as they’re expected.

The gods did not stay enamored with Auquis. As they grew, so too did their power and greed. Just like their father, they became restless with wanting, wondering if there might be more to have. Desperate for the same adoration Auquis received, they attempted to awe the lesser beings of the realm. They held competitions that pitted man and god against each other, stirring animosity and jealousy instead of deference, and their losses further frayed the ties that bound them.

Until one day, they came to a resolution: the gods would petition Auquis for the power to create their own realm. A mortal realm, with beings that would multiply and die, forever whispering the names of the gods on their tongues like prayers, so that they, too, might receive the worship they felt due. But Auquis refused. There could only be one creator.

With each circle of the sun, the gods’ resentment grew, until they had cast aside their differences and devised a plan. They would use their powers of death, light, water, earth, and blood to capture Auquis and tear his body apart until his seeds spread and fell and sprouted, birthing the land and beings he so denied them.

Auquis knew them better then they knew themselves—a supreme god is not so easily fooled. When they came to kill him, he unleashed his fury and grief at their betrayal and cast them down to the very mortal realm they had thought to create. Each god was forced to sacrifice their life to become the land they desperately craved.

From their tears surged lakes and rivers.

Their bones disintegrated into sand and loam.

Their hair transformed into the roots of plants and trees.

Their flesh bore living, breathing things.

As a final act of punishment, the lesser beings carried within them a kernel of the same gifts the gods possessed, but now distorted. A curse they would bear in their blood, that would tie them to the land for as long as they lived. The descendants would not speak the gods’ names without disdain. They would not sing the gods’ praises or create houses to worship them in or share stories of their might. They would only know the gods by their greed and failure.

Forever seeking entertainment, forever in pursuit of exultation, Auquis could not bear to damn his children for all of eternity. Woven deep within their blood was a twist of fate. A way to end the suffering for all. One mortal from each god would have the ability to break the curse and free their people. A daughter of the dark, the light, the water, the earth, and the blood. One daughter to save them all …

CHAPTER ONE

Solana knew that the rooftop underneath her belly was the closest she would ever get to Hanan Pacha.

It was said that only those who obeyed the Rule of Three—do not steal, do not lie, and do not be idle—would be granted the opportunity to bask in the essence of the upper realm where there was no pain or sorrow or fear, but Solana had broken two of those rules every single day of her life.

It would have been three, if she could afford to be idle.

As it was, she had been hired to dispatch another muki. She used the term hired loosely; they hadn’t been able to pay her modest fee, and Solana, out of the kindness of her heart and an insatiable craving for picarones, agreed to half her price and a batch of the doughy, sweet dessert. Now, she was lying on a hard and hot rooftop with her oldest friend beside her, waiting for the last rays of the sun to finally sink below the horizon, and for her target to show itself.

It was only from years of hunting that she knew exactly where the muki would appear. Everything she knew about them and hunting she had learned the hard way—firsthand experience.

Which was why, when the dagger at her hip warmed with warning, a once strange occurrence that had become familiar and exceedingly welcomed, Solana leaned closer to Sami and whispered into his ear, “It’s coming.”

Sami turned his head ever so slightly, one of his overgrown curls tickling her nose on the way. They were close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath against her cheek as he sought her ear. She closed her eyes against the intimacy and the ache of loneliness that accompanied it. Suddenly, the dying light of day was too bright, exposing Solana and the want within her for Sami to see.

But it was not want for Sami. It was a want that reveled in the dark, in the thrill of the hunt and the kill and the rewards it reaped. It was an insatiable craving for freedom.

The King’s Medallion was the only way in and out of Supay, and out of Supay was what Solana wanted most. The land was closely monitored by the Masters, King Killian’s gifted military, and only those in possession of the small silver coin were allowed to come and go as they pleased.

“Are you sure about this?” Sami asked for the umpteenth time.

She gritted her teeth. “I’m sure,” Solana said calmly. “But you’re more than welcome to go home if you aren’t.”

Sami sighed and faced forward once again. Solana’s eyes lingered on his profile for several heartbeats, hoping for him to take her offer and leave her once and for all, before turning back to the city with disappointment.

Below them, the streets of Qhilli were dark and quiet, most of its citizens behind closed doors. Only the foolish and the desperate wandered at night, and Solana was squarely in at least one category. Possibly both, if she was honest with herself. Sami was the foolish one, always insisting on accompanying her despite the danger, and never accepting the half of the pay she tried to give him after each job.