CHAPTER 1

LILLA

Groaning, I blink my eyes open. The ground shakes under my numb body. I am lying on my back, staring up at the sky.

With effort, I scramble to my hands and knees. My vision contracts to a pinpoint. A concussion hammers my head with near unbearable pain. Nausea and dizziness threaten to overwhelm my body.

Explosions mix with shouts of anger and agony, creating a chaotic cacophony.

Blood flows to my neck from the various cuts on my face, then to my back under my black shirt, stinging all the wounds. My vision blurs. I swipe a long strand of dark violet hair out of my eyes, trying to figure out how I got here.

There is no time for that! Moira yells in my mind. We are in the midst of a battle! Get up, now!

I push to my feet. Swaying, I take in the battlefield.

Fights rage around me like a churning maelstrom. The army of the Archgod of Chaos and Destruction surrounds black-clad Teryn warriors.

How are we going to win? I ask Moira. We are outnumbered a hundred to one.

Even now, more humongous dark fiends and rotting dark servants from all over the Seven Galaxies advance from among the thick, vine covered, and orange-brown trees of the Cathal jungle.

Don’t give up! Moira snarls, her voice strained and tired. You are the Sybil and the true Teryn! We never give up!

Thank you for the reminder, I snap back, as if I could forget. I wasn’t planning to give up.

I gather multiple threads of Fla’mma, T’erra and A’qua magic from my pulsing bright white magical orb. The familiar hot-and-cold-and-hot-again feeling envelops me as I layer them on my glowing right arm.

Around me, sounds of laser shots blend into nightmarish snarls and howls. The air smells of blood, rot, smoke, and disturbed soil of the jungle floor.

The worn Teryn warriors, many in their beastly battle forms, combat the nightmarish army, who has seemingly constant reinforcements.

The ground shakes again under my feet.

A thirty-foot-tall shadow passes over me, blocking out the orange sun for a few seconds.

We are running out of time, Moira yells.

I know.

Lifting a thick thread of Fla’mma from my arm, I shape it into an infernal spray and burn the pressing feline dark fiends. They shriek and draw back.

I curse under my breath, wishing I could use my Lume magic, but I have to preserve it.

A rustling sound comes from a nearby thicket.

I whirl toward another group of dark fiends that look a lot like A’ice wolves.

Without waiting, I wrap them in A’qua threads, freezing them the second the ribbons touch their rotting furs. They drop to the muddy ground among the twisted roots and vines, growling but staying put.

Black dots dance in my vision. I am dangerously close to overusing my magic. A consequence I never had to deal with before, nor do I dare to risk, as I still don’t know what overusing my Lumenian magic entails.

Do something! Moira yells.

Like what?! Maybe instead of complaining, you could offer some solutions?

Moira lets out a frustrated roar.

Not helping.

A group of dark fiends approach me from the left, stepping over their injured brethren. One of them, an insectoid, lunges at me.

I kick out. My foot hits its chitinous chest, propelling it backward. Then I grab the last magical ribbon I gathered, T’erra, and shove it into the ground—a magical fighting technique favored by my mage friend, Ragnald.

The ground opens up under the insectoid fiend’s feet, swallowing it up to its waist. It scrambles with four of its jointed arms but stays stuck.

More dark servants reach toward me with their emaciated arms but stay in place as if they are waiting. Then they part for an Acerbus-disguised dark figure, its face hidden under a black hood.

My heart jumps into my throat. I recognize the repulsive and powerful magical ripples emitting from the figure—the new Ankhar. Hiding behind the smoke disguise of Acerbus—the anti-element of my own magic, Lume.

“We meet again,” it says in a distorted voice. “How fortuitous.”