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Prologue

And so, God’s light withdrawn, we walk in darkness,

in the thick darkness of this plague.

Albert Camus

The electricity went out on the second night of the plague.

For most of the Phases across the Elemental realm, the sudden lack of light meant nothing. They were too sick to care. The illness provided its own twilight, sucking victims into the semi-conscious gloom of a disease quickly coming to be known as “the Fall.” Their world was already fading. Few of the patients could do more than blink listlessly against the new, external blackness that engulfed them.

For the people who weren’t sick yet or who were immune to the pestilence, the darkness made an already terrible situation worse. Their helplessness grew, as did the sense that chaos had swallowed the world.

Those who could think beyond the next breath of their loved ones saw the blackout as an omen. A dividing line. A curtain fell over their former way of life, and nothing would ever be the same. One act was over and now another had begun.

Kahn, of the Light House was not one of the Phases processing those inescapable, cataclysmic changes to his reality. In the moments before the darkness, he still clung to his old life with all the strength and determination that his House was known for.

The Light Phases were heroes or villains. Nothing in between. Just champions or maniacs. They didn’t surrender. They didn’t compromise. They didn’t give a fuck about fate or luck or terrible odds. They fought until they won or died.

Nothing in heaven or hell could’ve stopped Kahn, as he marched into the Cold Palace with his sister in his arms. “Freya!” He bellowed over the din. “Where the hell are you?”

Cots filled with plague victims blanketed the entire bottom floor of the normally serene palace. The Cold Kingdom existed in permanent winter, snow always falling and its turbulent sea forever dotted with icebergs. The castle itself was constructed of glowing blue ice, which never melted. The people who lived there weren’t much warmer than the environment, so this was possibly the most visitors the Cold Kingdom had ever received at one time.

Freya, of the Cold House was the foremost doctor in the realm and one of the few healers who wasn’t already sick themselves. If anyone could heal Livinia, it would be her. Kahn had to believe that. Had to.

And he wasn’t alone in his frantic hopes.

The barriers between the various Elemental kingdoms had all but failed under the unrelenting plague. No one had the strength or inclination to sustain most of them. So stricken Phases traveled to the Cold Palace from every House, desperate, dying, begging for help. One became ten, ten became dozens, dozens became hundreds. Like Kahn, they all wanted the impossible.

The Cold Kingdom held the biggest and most preeminent hospital in the realm. It was a safe haven for everyone, no matter their deeds or House, so it was open to all. The medical facilities had long since overflowed.

Now, the Cold Palace itself was filled with row upon row of cots, mattresses and piles of blankets. Everything that could’ve been used for a bed was turned into a resting spot for some sick Phase and the results were hardly up to Freya’s normal standard of care.

Kahn made his way through the crowded space, scanning for Freya. In his arms, Livinia gave a small, pained noise. Her head was resting against his shoulder, but he wasn’t sure she was conscious. She’d been fading in and out for several hours.

“I’ve got you, Livvy.” He murmured anyway. He ducked his face to kiss her golden hair, just as he had when she was a child. “I’ve got you.” He breathed in the familiar scent of her shampoo. “I won’t let you go.”

She seemed to settle again at that reassurance, but it was hard to be sure. Her whole body was ominously limp in his arms.

“You’re okay.” Kahn kept talking to her, not sure whether it was for her benefit or for his own. “You just need to hang on a little longer. We’re at the hospital.”

Technically, they were in the Cold Palace’s ballroom, which was the makeshift intake room for new arrivals. Kahn hesitated in the grand entryway, his eyes on the gilded fixtures. The juxtaposition of those fancy snowflake-shaped chandeliers lighting the sunken faces of dying Fall patients unexpectedly struck him as terrifying.

Nothing had ever really terrified Kahn before. He was a warrior. But this chaos wasn’t something he could fight. Deep down he suspected no one could. Deep down he knew his baby sister was about to die.

And it fucking terrified him.

Just for a moment, the horrors of the last twenty-four hours sucked him down. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Was it all a nightmare?

Since the beginning of time, the Phases held together the interconnected processes of nature. The Elemental Houses supported everything from Fire to Magnetism to Shadows. They were so powerful. So plentiful. They were almost impossible to kill. They lived for eons. They could perform incredible feats.

But this plague was spreading through their ranks, killing too many to count. Just a tiny little germ! And it was poised to wipe out everything. Not just the Elementals. Everything. Too much depended on the Phases. If the Elementals fell, they took the rest of the universe down too. Nothing could survive without them. Nothing.

This couldn’t be happening.

Certainly not to Livinia. To any of his little sisters. They couldn’t possibly be dying. The girls were too full of life. Too joyful and smart and mischievous.

His sisters were his world. He’d raised them after their parents died. Now they were getting sick, one by one. He could see the girls fading, right before his eyes. …And Livinia was failing fastest. Why was it happening? What should he do to stop it?