ZO

OF THE MARKED AGE

CHAPTER 1

*A DREAM*

The room was cold with desperation but had some beauty about it. It was the same as she remembered. The staircase that curved around the archway. The single chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Zooey noticed a distinct dent in the wall. A dent that her brothers had created years ago when destruction of property was merely a youthful indiscretion.

She walked up the staircase. Noticing every detail, mainly because she hadn’t before. Too many years spent roaming the halls chasing Orson and Holden and not paying attention to the marble fixtures. You really couldn’t expect a seven-year-old to do that, but her father never missed an opportunity to lecture about Old World architecture.

That’s why they came here in the first place. For the history, and not the riveting hide-and-seek opportunities. But now, those were just memories, and Zooey continued walking up the stairs to nowhere in particular.

As her hand gently guided her through the dim light, she thought she saw two shadows in the darkness. But they were gone in an instant, making her doubt that she even saw them at all. The stair rail was cool beneath her fingers. Suddenly it became warm. She brought her hand up to her face and saw the color. Red. And it dripped downwards creating soft riffs on the marble floor.    

Then a scream. So shrill and so familiar that Zooey turned suddenly and saw that the whole staircase was now flooded with blood. Following the scream was an echoing roar of a beast, and a fight that had not yet begun.

And what was left of the light went out.

*THE ROCK*

Zooey awoke with a violent start. Getting kicked in the face by a raging prison guard can do that to a girl.

“Morning, your Highness.”

Zooey shifted uncomfortably off the ground to an upright position and massaged her burning wrist. Her Twin Mark had a bright glow to it that was unusual, and she stared at it captivated. Trying to understand what it meant. With another kick she was jolted back to reality, and if her shackled legs and tight cramped cell weren’t enough to convince her of her current predicament her idiotic captor was.

“Bad dream?”

“Oh Stiles, you know how I would love to discuss dream therapy with you, but I’m starving, and I see you’ve brought me a lovely bowl of gruel. How thoughtful.”

He glared maliciously at her and dropped the bowl at her feet. Spilling half of its contents onto the ground.

“What a shame.” Zooey cocked her head to the side and gave him a smile. “Now you’ll have to get me some more.”

He violently grabbed her face with one hand and brought it an inch away from his own.

Stiles had a somewhat unorthodox flair for the dramatic. There was even talk throughout the prison that he had once killed a man with just his strength and an Old World copy of Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

“Say one more word, and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“But then who would provide all this comedy?”

He slapped her so hard across the face that she slammed into the wall of the cell.

Don’t encourage him.

Zooey stood up gingerly and wiped the blood off her chin. “But it’s just so easy.”

“Who are you talking to?” Stiles looked at her with angry vacant eyes.

“Don’t worry, it’s only the voices.”

Cute. He’s probably going to beat you to death.

“He couldn’t if he tried.” Zooey turned her attention back to Stiles. “This.” She pointed to her bruised face. “Is very good for my complexion. So really, the joke is on you.”

“You’re lucky I can’t kill you,” Stiles threatened.

“I love when men tell me that.”

He walked over to the small window in the room and pointed out. “That is a 300-foot drop. When I get the order, your Highness, I will relish throwing you off this cliff and watching you drown. Enjoy the gruel.” And with that, he slammed the door shut with the key to her freedom dangling from his belt.

Taken to this island prison nearly twelve months ago, Zooey had been living on gruel and threats for ten. She was five foot four inches to be exact with straight blonde hair and lively aqua eyes. Her eyes were her best feature, but they had grown so hardened since Aquas Tocque’s Great Purge that she feared they would never gain back the life they once had. Physically, Zooey knew that she could not take Stiles in a fight, but she was cunning and smart with a terribly volatile temper.

Are you ready? 

“Yes,” Zooey stated firmly as she went over to the window in the corner of her cell and looked out at the drop Stiles so delicately described.

The Rock was an Old World prison that she had read about in history books but had never once visited. It had been abandoned and never used in her time, but after the Great Purge, it was brought back for rebels, martyrs, and apparently unruly royals.

Zooey peered out over the deep blue water at her broken kingdom. Noticing how effortlessly the West Castle rose over the New World land of Nosto. This had once been a place that Old World people would come to visit. A landmark in their time. Zooey’s people had remade it into a more substantial fishing town. All of the glitz and glamour gone. But the Golden Bridge still stood above the rest with its history intact. It was of the Old World, but the Rogue Dragons that perched on each tower and blew fire in the mist were of hers.

*FIGHT*

Stiles had a pattern. Every morning he would wake Zooey with abuse and banter and casually throw some food at her. That would be the only human contact she would have for the rest of the day until dusk when he would repeat it all again.

This was a high-quality prison, so somehow it was found in their generous hearts to muster up two bowls of gruel a day. It was Zooey’s luck that her personal guard was specifically designated to watch over the more problematic prisoners. Not because he was particularly intelligent, but because of his massive size.

This was their first mistake.

“Sleeping, are we?” Stiles asked with a quick kick to Zooey’s shins. “But you haven’t even had your dinner yet.” He threw the bowl at her feet as usual, but Zooey made sure to ignore it.

“What’s wrong with you?” Stiles asked. Kicking her again just in case she forgot the first time.

Zooey moaned and tried to open her eyes but could only manage a dramatic flutter. She crossed her arms over her stomach and curled up into a ball with her legs tucked closely to her face.

In her travels, Zooey had picked up some excellent pointers from an Old World book titled The Actor At Work and found that physical theatricality was definitely her niche.

“I’m dying, Stiles.”

Then again, she had never performed professionally.

“Get off the floor,” he muttered.

“I can’t.” Zooey coughed and sputtered. “I need to go to the infirmary.”

To ensure that Stiles understood the exact severity of the situation, Zooey added a few extra convulses for good measure. That seemed to really get through to him.

“Fine.” Stiles picked Zooey up off the ground with one hand and went to grab the key from his belt. He unlocked the dragon scale shackles from her feet and held both of her hands behind her back. Stiles had specific instructions not to bind Zooey’s right wrist with any kind of restraint. It was not proven that this could damage her Twin Mark, but they couldn’t afford to take any chances. He was also given specific instructions to keep her alive at whatever cost necessary.

Mistake number two.

Zooey walked down the hallway with Stiles pushing behind her. He kept a firm grip on her wrists at all times, so she knew that even though she was out of her cell she was not free. Zooey had planned this part perfectly. She had made sure that she frequented the infirmary over the past six months to gain information about the layout of the prison. Stiles’ personal office was down the hall from the infirmary, and before he dropped Zooey off with the doctor, he would first visit his office. This seemed like an errant task to her, but Zooey realized that Stiles did this to promote his vanity. He received great pleasure from watching Zooey stare at her most prized possession hanging on the wall behind his desk like a hunting trophy.

This trophy was Zooey’s custom handmade belt holding two perfectly sized dragon scale daggers, and it was her only means of self-protection. Zooey kept this in mind, as well as the fact that her darling Stiles had just been recently promoted. He had been doing such a fine job torturing prisoners that they had felt it necessary to reward him with a master key. A master key that opened any door and any lock in the prison. A key that he had used just moments before when releasing Zooey from her less-than-ideal restraints. Stiles never gave Zooey’s strength a second thought. To him, she was just a small girl that couldn’t possibly defeat him. He boastfully gave up this pivotal information after a night of too much gambling and drinking with the warden.

Mistake number three.

Stiles led Zooey down the winding corridor to the infirmary but, of course, stopped at his office just as she had expected. He opened the door slowly and pushed Zooey inside. As he took one hand off her wrist to close the door, Zooey immediately took this opportunity to thrust back her leg and kick him straight in the groin. Zooey couldn’t personally attest to what that felt like, but it looked painful. As Stiles doubled over, he reflexively released her hands. Finally free, Zooey ran straight to her dangling daggers on the wall. As she jumped on the table and swiftly tore them down, an enormous force suddenly pulled her back.

Stiles had trained to become a Man of The Keep. As the highly illustrious guards of Nosto, The Keep was a competitive program that used aggressive training techniques with their men. If they survived, their men would be sworn in by an oath of loyalty and marked by a brand. A high honor, and one that gave them the power of increased physical strength and heightened healing. The Keep’s unofficial motto was: Survive, Protect, Kill. Stiles took it upon himself to only agree with the kill part and subsequently got kicked out of the program. But because of his superior training and his pride, he never used a weapon other than his bare hands. He also had developed extremely fast reflexes causing Zooey to only subdue him for a mere second.

He grabbed her foot forcing her to slip and smash down onto the desk, her belt dangling over the edge. She let no time elapse. It was life or death, and Zooey had never been one to give up a fight. Using all of her strength she kicked Stiles directly in the nose, reached over the desk, grabbed one of the daggers from its sheath, and with one graceful and sudden movement sliced his throat. He fell over backwards. Landing on the floor in a pool of blood. A look of sudden shock permanently etched on his once smug face.

Zooey stood up quickly. She knew she only had a few moments before the other guards came to investigate the noise, and she had one more stop to make. Pulling her belt off the table, she fastened it around her waist where it belonged. She bent down by Stiles and wiped her bloody knife on his shirt. She unbuckled his belt and slid off the ring that held the master key, now placing it onto her right wrist—where it would be safe. She stood up, thrust her knife back into its sheath, and looked down at the man who had single-handedly helped her escape by just being himself.

*AND FLIGHT*

I’m waiting.

I just killed a man. Can you give me a few seconds?

Zooey carefully ran down the winding corridors of the prison making sure to furtively duck into the well-placed shadows whenever she heard a noise. 

Mine’s been dead for thirty minutes.

Zooey gave an exasperated sigh. That’s great, but I’m trying not to get killed. 

She took a corner too fast and almost slipped on the stone floor.

We should have taken into consideration your inherent tardiness.

I’LL BE THERE SOON.

Zooey walked straight down the corridor to the end of the hall where the staircase to the underground cells began. All the while looking directly into the flustered eyes of the man who was guarding it.

“You’re not supposed to be —”

Without pause, she punched him in the face and descended down the staircase.

The hall was narrow and long with a dingy musk to it. It curved into an intricate labyrinth that seemed to go on forever. There was no light, which gave it an eerie and sinister quality. Fitting, since the prisoners they kept in these cells were the most dangerous.

Which turn do I take? Zooey stopped suddenly at four separate pathways.

Right. We’ve been over this.

Zooey walked down the right tunnel trying to find the cell number she was looking for. 221. There was a noise in the distance, and she sped up her pace. 210. 211. 212. 213. Dead end. Suddenly she heard a crash from behind.

“She went down that way.”

Zooey sprinted back. It wasn’t right. 

I meant my right.

You mean left?

Obviously.

Zooey turned into the farthest left tunnel frantically searching for 221. The cell numbers were even harder to make out in this hall, and Zooey was starting to see the shadow movements of flickering torchlights in the distance. 209. 208. 207. 206. They were getting smaller. She spun around on her heels and ran back. She could hear the loud steps of the guards running down the stone corridors. Moving progressively closer to her.

Zooey found herself back in front of the four corridors when an arrow shot past her ear. She glanced behind her and saw what looked like twenty guards almost on top of her.

“ILYA!” she screamed.

A huge roar erupted from the second right tunnel echoing throughout the entire underground. She didn’t look back and ran. Past 218, 219, 220, stopping at 221. She grabbed the master key from her wrist and opened the door. 

You’re late.

Ilya was regally sitting on the stone floor with his paws crossed over each other, staring at Zooey with his piercing aqua eyes.

“You gave me bad directions,” Zooey shot back.

He yawned and stretched his gorgeous white wings out. It was my job to give you directions. It was your job to decipher them.

A crash outside immediately jolted Zooey back to her current predicament. She went over to the dragon scale shackles that were on all four of his legs and began unlocking them. “You could have been a little more specific.”

Well, excuse me. I didn’t have much to work with. It’s not like I can go to the infirmary whenever I have a stomach ache.

Zooey looked over to the right and saw a maimed body in the corner. “Were you gnawing on your prison guard?”

I was bored.

She finished unlocking the last shackle and hoisted herself on top of Ilya’s back.

Are you ready?

Ilya’s bones were specifically designed for fighting, hunting, and riding, and Zooey fit on her Twin Dragon perfectly. “Let’s go.”

With a great roar, Ilya lifted them off the ground and flew forward. With the speed and agility he possessed, no one could stop them once they were in the air. The guard’s arrows were useless against the strength of Ilya’s scales, and the corridors were narrow with nowhere to hide. So sure of their victory before, they cowered now, and the ones that didn’t were dealt with by Ilya. A creature of the sky that had been kept captive underground for an entire year.

It was said that a dragon’s fire felt like being stabbed over and over again and that the searing pain was the only thing to consume the mind before inevitable death. Their screams confirmed that rumor.

Bursting out of the prison, Ilya and Zooey ascended over the island. The place that had once kept them prisoner was helpless against them now. As they soared past that Golden Bridge, they gave their final farewells to their brothers and sisters on the towers below.

And vanished into the night.

CHAPTER 2

Six Years Earlier

*DRAGON PLAY*

“You’re supposed to be in the air not loitering on the ground like an idiot.” Orson, lounging on Millennia’s back, was hovering ten feet above Holden and Zooey harboring a glare of pure agitation. Which was not an uncommon look for him. Millennia stretched out her beautiful golden wings and peered down at them with her piercing onyx eyes. She plunged, barely missing them with her razor-sharp claws. From the sky, Orson waited for the counterattack expectantly, but his opponents below refused to stir. Orson and Millennia were known as being the most lovable troublemakers in the West Kingdom, but the mischievous grins they wore now were not enough to engage Holden and Irex in their games. A fact that drove them both crazy.

Irex lifted his grey head off the ground long enough to glance up with large disinterested green eyes before resuming his napping position on the grass.

There was a saying that warned against aggravating a sleeping dragon, and Irex would rather rip out someone’s throat than have his sleeping patterns disturbed.

Holden was the same way, and, as he rested his head on his Twin’s scaled back, he stared up at his brother with disdain. “That’s very distracting.”

“Your point?” They plunged again. This time ensuring to nick Irex’s tail. Not enough to hurt him but enough to keep him annoyed.

Irex merely turned his head away from them in protest refusing to acknowledge their feeble attempt at subterfuge.

Holden observed his brother now flying in well-choreographed loops. “Who do you think you are, Pace Alden?”

“Please!” Orson replied. “Millennia is twice the size of Orion. Alden would have never stood a chance against us.”

Holden smiled. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

This was their family. As fast as Orson and Millennia stirred something up, Holden and Irex diffused it. Which made for fascinating dinner conversation.

Zooey was a mix of her brothers in personality, but in looks she resembled Holden. All of the seven Caine siblings were blessed in the genetic gene pool. Something that Orson and Zelda exploited, and Zooey and Holden ignored. Orson looked like an Old World movie star. He was a little taller than average, slight and fit, with dark brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes, which made him the most sought-after bachelor in the West Kingdom. A fact he loved. Holden was the same height as Orson but slightly bigger in build. He had his father’s green eyes, and his hair was shaggy and blonde like Zooey’s. He had an adorable aloofness about him that Orson could never possess. Zooey had spent most of her life playing the mediator between them. They both loved each other terribly as brothers do, but fighting was in their blood, and Zooey did her best to neutralize that.

Zooey sat next to Holden on the ground leaning up against Irex with her arms crossed on his back. She gave Orson and Millennia a warning look. “Why is it so hard for you two to relax?”

“Sis, this is the best advice I will ever give you. Don’t end up like those two. They’re boring. There is nothing worse than being boring.” Millennia swept down again making sure to kick a blow at Irex’s head with her foot. The dragon’s whole body tightened as he roared up at them. Orson laughed. “What did he say, Holden?” 

Holden put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Taking in the rare summer sun. “You don’t want to know.”

Orson grinned, finally giving in. “Fine. But you owe me a fight.”

Holden nodded. “I’ll add it to the list.”

Orson winked at his Twin mischievously. “Let’s go find some fun.”

Millennia agreed with an electrified roar.

“Don’t get into any trouble,” Zooey added with an air of caution.

“Impossible.” They jetted off into the sky with an indescribably jubilant energy. No one could make an exit quite like those two.

Holden opened his eyes and looked over at Zooey, “Weren’t you supposed to do something with Mom today?”

“Healing lessons,” she said with disgust.

“Ugh. I’d rather listen to Harrison talk about stars.”

Zooey laughed. “No one needs that headache.” She gently scratched Irex behind his ear. He was only eight months old, but he was almost full grown.

Holden and Irex were both fighters at heart and possessed a great level of morality and loyalty that was important in leaders. Zooey was sure that Holden would succeed her father as ruler of the West Kingdom one day. Even though he would never want to. 

“Are you excited for the Twin Ceremony?” he asked.

“Yes. I can think of no better way to spend my birthday than entertaining that pompous Prince from the South Kingdom as he steals our dragons.” 

“Just because we found the Twin Egg on our land does not make it ours, Zo.”

“Irex was found here, and he chose you.”

“Yes, but three years ago Millennia was found in the North Kingdom, and she chose Orson.”

Zooey smirked at her brother. “Orson arrived forty minutes late to his Twin Ceremony still reeking of Tequila. Millennia’s judgment can’t be trusted.”

Holden smiled at his younger sister. He wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but she was his favorite. Mainly because they were so close in age. Holden was only ten months older than Zooey, and they shared many of the same traits. Especially their stubbornness.

Holden shrugged. “Well, if it makes you feel any better that pompous Prince can’t possibly have a Twin because he’s a thousand years old.”

“He’s Zelda’s age!”

“Exactly,” Holden added. “The ceremony will be fun. We’ll sneak in booze—Wes will be there...”

Zooey once let it slip that she thought Holden’s best friend was attractive. Now, it was a constant annoyance, as he never let her forget it. “Of course, he’s a part of The Keep. That’s not really relevant though, is it?” She punched him in the arm for good measure.

“Hey, I’m just saying.” Holden put his hands up in protest. “Anyway, turning sixteen is fine. I kind of enjoyed it.”

“Yes, but only because Irex picked you two months after.”

At the sound of his name, Irex intensely stared into Zooey’s eyes. Which either meant, “I understand your concern” or “your comment is grating and unnecessary.” Zooey was certain it was the latter.

“Don’t worry, everything will work out.” After a moment of irate silence, Holden figured it might be better to try a different approach. “Would it help if I punched Orson?”

“Yes.”

*THE WEST CASTLE*

Zooey ran down the cobblestone pathway on the edge of the West Castle. The sheer size of it was monumental. The castle had been built gradually throughout time with sections added on by each royal family that ruled there. The construction was based around a two-hundred-and-ten-foot tower built by an Old World woman who chased fires and lost her husband to the sea. So the story goes.

Zooey loved the view from the top of the tower. It felt like she could see the whole world from there. Well, at least the West Kingdom.

The Caines had been the leaders of the West for the last century. With each generation, a new way of doing things was adopted by the royal family. Like the practice known in the Old World, an ailing King must proclaim one of his children as the heir to the throne. However, in this age, it did not have to be the first-born. The new ruler would be picked based on their ability to rule, not their right. King Eion Caine was his father’s youngest son, but his strength of mind and unwavering morality made him a far better choice than his brothers. It was this quality that made him beloved, not just in this kingdom, but in all four. This trait also helped with his immediate family, as it was impossible for Zooey and her siblings to stay mad at him for too long. Much to the dismay of their mother.

The West Castle stood as a beacon of hope in the kingdom. Just like the South Castle, North Castle, and East Castle stood in theirs. The Four Kingdoms of Nosto each ruled their lands separately but came together as one in times of crisis.

The First Four of their Kind had perfected this way of working together so that the needs of the people and the land were all represented. It was a system that had been developed by this land’s ancestors and had worked well throughout the years. The fall of the Old World was a bit of a myth, but Zooey’s favorite version was told by a folklore troubadour who had lived long ago—before The Four had even created the kingdoms. He sang songs of great battles that shifted the world. And, as he was hanging from a noose for stealing a candelabra, his last parting word was a name he had come across in his travels. A name that he swore was both our future and our past: Nosto. So the story goes.

Zooey skidded to a halt in front of the massive iron doors of the West Castle, guarded by six men from The Keep. Zooey made sure to walk as slowly as possible up the elegant marble staircase. These guards were so fiercely trained that they sometimes forgot who was an enemy and who was a part of the royal family. Zooey would not make that mistake again. She heard a distinct noise to the left and turned her head sharply.

Hiding in a hole in the ground he managed to make with his mind was Zooey’s baby brother, Aron. Accompanied by his Animal Companion, a gigantic Bernese Mountain Dog named Bear. Zooey widened her eyes at him but said nothing. Messing around with The Keep was Aron’s favorite pastime. He was only six, so elaborate excuses were made for him because he couldn’t possibly know right from wrong.

He did.

Hovering in the air above his makeshift fort were three very sturdy rocks. Zooey observed her brother cautiously, knowing all too well what this meant. Aron gave her an impish grin as his blonde shaggy hair fell into his devilish green eyes. He put his finger up to his lips as if to silence her, but she wouldn’t have said anything anyway.

Zooey walked straight through the iron doors not looking back for a second. She could hear as one of the rocks smashed into a guard’s skull.

“Ow. What the hell was that?”

Another crash. “Who’s there? What’s going on?”

Two more crashes. 

“We’re going to get you whoever you are!”

“You can’t hide from us!”

Zooey could hear Aron’s laughter echo throughout the castle as she sped up the spiraling staircase in the great hall.

As soon as she reached the top of the stairs, she quickly turned down the left corridor desperately trying to be on time. This part of the castle was reserved for the children’s rooms, and her mother always held healing lessons in Beth’s at the end of the hall. As she ran past the first room, she saw a flicker of light out of the corner of her eye. She stopped. Instantly regretting her decision.

Zelda was lying on her expensively imported chaise lounge draped in a gorgeous floor-length black dress. Her long blonde hair cascading in soft curls over her shoulders. The beautifully crafted fire necklace that the King had given her was open on the table as Zelda used the embers inside to create small balls of fire in her hand. After one was complete, she threw it across the room at the new drapes their mother had personally picked out for her.

“Mom is going to kill you.”

“They look better this way.” Zelda beamed as she watched the flames burn the weak material.

“She had them custom-made in the North Kingdom, Zelda.”

“There’s no accounting for taste.” She looked back at Zooey with her piercing blue eyes. “Run along, darling.”

Continuing down the corridor Zooey finally made it to the end of the hall. She burst into Beth’s room pushing the doors open dramatically.

“You’re late.”

Zooey’s mother, the Queen, was packing all of her healing herbs and spices as Beth was delicately wrapping a bandage around a guard of The Keep’s right knee. Her Animal Companion, a delicate Mourning Dove named Peck, rested gently on her shoulder.

“I’m only ten minutes late.”

Her mother regarded her incredulously. “Try an hour and ten.”

Zooey looked toward her tentatively. “Oops.”

Queen Ivy Caine shook her head with a knowing smile. She was extremely beautiful with dark brown hair and warm hazel eyes. Beth looked like a little carbon copy of her, and both were similar in temperament. Calm and collected like Holden. Zooey took after the wilder side of the family. Which in this case happened to be the forgetful side. She glanced at her mother apologetically. “Can we reschedule?”

For as much as Zooey disappointed her, Ivy could never stay angry. She was too much like her father.

“Zooey.” She walked over to her and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I love you, but you can barely take care of yourself. Let alone another person.”

Zooey nodded. “I know.”

Beth finished wrapping the bandage, and the Queen walked over to inspect the guard’s knee. The man had dislocated the bone, and, because of his heightened healing, it did not correctly set. Queen Ivy and Beth had reset more bones than they could count because of this pesky problem. Which made them feel that sometimes The Keep’s gifts actually did more harm than good.

The Queen inspected the work and nodded encouragingly. “Very well done, Sweet. We’ll resume your lessons tomorrow.” She turned to Zooey. “I have to make sure Zelda doesn’t burn the house down.”

Zooey grinned. “Good luck.”

As the Queen left with the guard, Beth ran over and hugged Zooey fiercely around the waist. She was two years older than Aron, but she seemed so much younger.

“What were you doing, Zooey?”

“Bothering Orson.” She bent down so that she was eye level with her younger sister.

Beth gazed at her with such alarm that she felt as if she had done something terribly wrong. “You shouldn’t do that—he gets so angry.”

Zooey laughed. “He brings it on himself.”

Beth’s smile rivaled the sun itself. She had the kindest heart of all of the Caine children. “I guess he does.

Peck suddenly stood on Beth’s shoulder and looked up with her deep black eyes.

“Peck says Daddy wants to see you.”

Zooey never truly understood how Animal Companions worked. It wasn’t like Twins that could telepathically communicate with each other. The Companion Connection was based on emotions and energy. It was such a strong and unique connection that once an animal bonded with a human they would then live and die together. 

“The library?” Zooey asked.

Peck cooed softly on Beth’s shoulder. “Of course.”

*THE KING*

The King loved Old World artifacts, and his library was filled with pieces of nostalgia that acted as a constant reminder of a time that their world could never recreate. His collection of literature was extensive, as he had spent countless years acquiring it. The first novel he ever read was 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, which he stole from his grandfather and conveniently never returned. The last book he found was just last Tuesday and it was called Dune. Apparently, it was what Old World people called Science Fiction. An odd concept that had always fascinated the King.

As Zooey walked into the library, she heard the distinct tones of her father’s classic rock streaming past the non-fiction section. Another piece of nostalgia the King treasured. Blasting Old World music was a standard occurrence in the West Castle. Yesterday it was the distinct riffs of Keith Richards, but today it was The Beatles. Or as the King liked to call them, “his closest friends.”

Coincidentally, when Zooey’s parents got married her wonderfully neurotic Uncle Nic, who was banished to the south of the West Kingdom for highly illegal llama trading, gave his brother and new wife an Old World hand-crank record player. There were only two known in existence. That, combined with Beggars Banquet on what was once called vinyl, was the best present her father had ever received. The King loved those passionate Old World musicians and had an unnatural obsession with one decade of music in particular. One that pandered greatly to distorted electric guitars.

As Zooey walked forward through the library, she caught a glimpse of her father standing in front of the large glass window that covered an entire wall of the room. He stood unmoving as Zooey’s oldest brother Harrison sat beside him. Staring out of the window in a kind of other-worldly trance. The King’s hand sat unmoving on his son’s shoulder as they both remained perfectly still. For the average person, this type of scene might be considered strange, but not to Zooey. Stoic trances scored by Lennon and McCartney were just another Wednesday at the West Castle.

Pulled back to their present reality, Harrison and the King began to move. Adjusting the library chairs so that they now sat facing each other. Their tones were hushed and urgent, and Zooey crept forward to hear them better.

“How many times have you seen this?” her father asked.

“Twice, so far. But it always stops at the same point.”

“He knows you can see.”

“How can you be sure it is him, Father?”

“I’ve only heard of one man that could command a room like that, Harrison. It has to be him.”

Harrison paused, taking a moment to stare out the window at nothing in particular. When he turned back to his father, he looked pale and shaken. “He talked of a revolution.”

The King’s voice became very grave. An unnatural tone coming from him. “This felt recent.”

“It had to be in the past month. I started getting the visions around two weeks ago.”

“If this persists, then, we must prepare.”

Zooey moved to the side of one of the bookshelves to try and get a better look but instead rammed into a nearby chair causing a cascade of Egyptian history books to fall around her. Abruptly pulled out of their conversation, her father and brother turned directly to her.

“I was looking for Kafka! I’m in an existential kind of mood.”

The King fixed her with a bemused smile as Harrison shook his head with immense agitation. Strangely, not an uncommon look for him. He stood up and looked down at his father. “We’ll finish this later.”

Harrison was tall and lanky with his mother’s brown hair and hazel eyes. He had a habit of considering himself better than everyone else, which gave off the impression he was some kind of pseudo-intellectual. He wasn’t. Harrison was in fact gifted with extreme reason. This he equated with his heavy distaste for nonsense. A truth his siblings absolutely adored him for. Orson and Aron even had a running game where they would purposefully steal Harrison’s glasses and hide them around the castle. The poor boy had gone through ten pairs in the past month.

As he walked past Zooey, he managed to contort his face into his standard disapproving glare. He effortlessly went to the bookshelf, grabbed The Metamorphosis, and shoved it in her hands. Then exited the library in a dramatic huff. Zooey smiled and glanced over at her father. Annoying Harrison was the best possible pastime. 

“Zooey, come here, I have a surprise for you.”

She quickly walked over and sat down beside her father. He reached down next to his chair and brought up a gorgeously carved wooden box.

“But it’s not my birthday for two more weeks!” she said as she grabbed it from his hands.

Her father laughed. “I know. Don’t tell your mother.”

She carefully opened the top of the box and looked inside. It was a beautiful black leather braided belt with two dagger sheaths on either side. The daggers rested beside the belt in the box and were beautifully crafted. The handles were white with gold detailing, and the blades themselves were a gorgeous shade of deep blue that Zooey had only seen once before.

“Dragon scales,” she said.

“Not just any. These were made specifically from Prospero’s fallen scales.”

Zooey stared up at the King in awe. It was known that Twin Dragons often shed the scales that had been loosened in battle. Eventually, the scales would grow back stronger than before, and the old ones were collected and used in armor and weaponry. Prospero was her father’s Twin and one of the strongest dragons in all of Nosto. Zooey reached over and hugged her father tightly.

“Sixteen is a big year. I figured you would need these in case Zelda got out of hand.”

Zooey beamed widely. Unable to take her eyes off her new gift.

The King stood up from his chair and looked down at his daughter. “Happy Birthday, Zo.”

Although he was smiling, Zooey could hear the twinge of sadness that slowly crept into his voice. No one else would have caught this, but Zooey knew her father well. As he left, she thought back to the hushed tones and hurried whispers of their secrets. Her father spoke in riddles and Harrison hardly spoke at all, so she would never know what truly transpired between them.

She stood up, grasping the box tightly in her hands. As she gazed out of the glass window, she saw Orson and Holden with their Twins fighting and flying in the sky. She didn’t know why, but she felt empty. Like a part of her was missing.

Then a sudden burst of pain erupted on her right wrist. So vivid that she dropped the wooden box, which fell to the ground with a loud crash. She looked down at her right wrist and saw it. Distinct and burning white in her flesh. The off-center two moons connected by their backs with an eight-point star set directly below them. This had appeared on Orson, Holden, and the King before them. It was called the Mark of the Twin, and in an instant, it was gone.

*ILYA*

Zooey peered down at the crowded stadium below her. Internally panicking from afar. It was the Twin Ceremony. A fact that the burning mark on her wrist wouldn’t let her forget. She pulled down her sleeve instinctively making sure it was hidden. Two weeks had passed since that moment in the library when the mark had appeared. At first, Zooey thought she had imagined it. That she was compensating out of an inherent need, but then it came back. Burning her wrist at the most inopportune moments. She had ruined five dinner plates and one of Zelda’s cocktail dresses because of its ill-fated timing. Luckily, she pulled it off as absent-mindedness, which could never be doubted, but by the second week, the mark did not disappear.

She knew it had to be a secret. The mark only appeared on men, so this was impossible. There were few rules surrounding a Twin Ceremony, but the one thing that seemed to be constant throughout the years was that only men received a potential Twin Mark. It made sense. Dragon riding was incredibly dangerous, and it was a Twin’s duty to protect the land and fight to the death if need be. Not something a cautious father would pick for his teenage daughter. For centuries it seemed nature took this into consideration, as it was only young men that received the mark. Until now.

Zooey looked over at her father and mother sitting next to her. They always loved an excuse to host a Twin Ceremony since they were so rare. They even kept a running tally with the other royal families on who would throw the most each year. The prize was a celebratory cow.

The year Millennia picked Orson the North Kingdom won, but this year King Eion would be the automatic winner since he would have hosted two. It was just eight months ago that the last Twin Ceremony was held here, and Eion was overjoyed that one of his sons was chosen by a West Dragon. Twins ran in the Caine family, but it was still a nerve-wracking honor, nonetheless.

Zooey peered down at the middle of the arena. Staring at the massive white egg that shone bright in the sun, resting in a bed of grass waiting for its moment. It was beautiful, incandescent almost, with the Mark of the Twin shining brightly in a striking aqua hue. There was a kind of controversy that surrounded this egg. It was found alongside another in a mountain range fifty miles south of here. One of these eggs had hatched eight months ago. Its green Twin Mark glowing brightly against the grey to signal its readiness. However, the other egg did not stir, and the people of Nosto had been waiting for it to make up its mind for months. Now, it was ready, and the glaring trumpets below signaled the start of the ceremony. 

Zooey took this time to sneak out of the room unnoticed. Leaving her family captivated by the activity below. As she walked down the long hallway, she threw a large black cloak over herself to make sure none of the guards would recognize her. She knew this stadium like the back of her hand. Her father took great pride in teaching his children about the Old World, and any building that was still standing from that time was used as a history lesson. Her father had raved consistently about an artifact that was found in this exact stadium ages ago. It apparently had centered on an Old World sport that had been beloved by the people. The engraving on the bottom was so old that it had faded through the years, but the golden poles with their thirty flags still stood. Her father thought it was beautiful, but Zooey thought it looked more like a torture device. She walked around a corner and crashed straight into her brother Holden. The hood of her cloak falling back to reveal her long blonde hair.

“Running away?” he asked.

“I just need some fresh air. I’ll be back soo —” She stopped following Holden’s eyes to her right wrist where her sleeve had pulled up exposing the mark. She looked up at him quickly.

“Please don’t tell.”

Holden stared at her for a moment. He knew if he told his father this would be the end for Zooey. The King had seen many allies die because of the reckless nature of Twins and would never allow her to choose this fate freely. Zooey’s heart stopped as she waited for her brother’s answer.

A smile crossed his lips as he gave her a wink. “Good luck.”

She pulled her cloak back over her head and flew down the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest as she reached the area where the potential Twins gathered.

There were about twenty boys. All of them sharing the same mark Zooey had. Most beamed with excitement while others twitched with nerves. One had even vomited on a guard before getting himself thrown out of the arena. It was clear that potential Twins came in all forms and sizes. Zooey knew that better than anyone.

The guards checked each wrist before ushering the potential Twins onto the field. It had become popular for young boys to burn homemade Twin Marks on their right wrist to try and sneak their way into a ceremony. This usually ended with a black eye and a night in prison.

“Show me your wrist, boy.”

Zooey turned her head from the guard and pulled up her sleeve. He examined the mark for authenticity and then nodded. She walked forward. The crowd erupted in cheers as each potential Twin walked onto the field. Zooey felt her stomach churn as she got in line. The egg stood before them. Gleaming in its greatness.

The first crack echoed throughout the stadium as soon as the last person lined up with the rest of the potential Twins. It was now so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Another crack. Zooey’s heart stopped. Another. This seemed to go on forever as twenty-one pairs of eyes fixated on it anxiously. And then the egg shattered causing bits of shell to shower each person.

Curled in the bottom half of the egg was the most beautiful creature Zooey had ever seen. He was covered in stark white fur and about the size of a baby horse. He opened his eyes, slowly adjusting to the sun, and then took his first step forward. He struggled, getting used to his legs, all the while completely ignoring the fact that everyone was fixated on only him.

A loud sneeze came from Zooey’s left and echoed throughout the stadium. The dragon abruptly looked up and straight into the eyes of a frightened boy. Zooey watched as the creature walked straight up to him and stared into his soul. It seemed that the dragon thought the sneeze had overshadowed his shining moment and wanted to make sure the boy realized his error. The action reminded Zooey of something Irex would do, and she snorted despite herself.

The dragon turned his gaze sharply to her, and she stopped suddenly nervous. He walked over slowly, looking at her with his intense aqua eyes. This was unusual for a Twin Ceremony. During Holden’s, Irex took the time to stop at each candidate before choosing him. Millennia had even picked a different Twin before changing her mind to Orson. But this dragon was different, Zooey could feel that. As he stood before her staring into her eyes, she made a point to match his intensity as she stared back into his.

Can I eat him?

“No.” Zooey grinned. “Welcome to our world.”

In record time for a Twin Ceremony, the dragon stood on his hind legs, opened his wings, and let out a loud roar signaling his choice. The crowd erupted in stunned cheers, as the rest of the potential Twins were quickly ushered off the field, sadly watching as their marks slowly faded into nonexistence. Zooey gazed at the remarkable dragon before her, as the bright white Twin Mark burned into a soft reddish brown. Etched permanently on her wrist. One of the guards came over to her and pulled her right hand into the air to show the world their new Twin. As the hood of her cloak fell back and her long blonde hair blew gently behind her in the wind, a silence fell over the crowd.

And realization struck.

Not a single person moved from shock, but Zooey could do nothing except look at her Twin. For he was all she cared about in this moment.

“What’s your name?”

His eyes sparkled at the question, and she knew then. This was what she’d been missing.

Ilya.

CHAPTER 3

*A DREAM AGAIN*

It was the same staircase. The same corridor. The same chandelier, but there was no blood. Zooey glanced down at her clean hand and examined it. A figment of her imagination that’s all it was. She placed her hand back on the marble stair rail and continued climbing up to nowhere. Then, abruptly, she reached the top. She gazed down the long hall before her with a sense of despair. Pain really. She turned to go back the way she came, but the stairs were now gone. Vanished into thin air. She continued, down the hall.

It was plain and bare, with simple light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. And long. It went on forever. The sparse amount of illumination the candles provided was not enough to guide her. So, she walked blindly, hoping she would reach something, anything. Then there it was. The two large wooden doors Zooey remembered so fondly. The doors that opened to all of her childhood adventures, and it seemed as if they had appeared because she had willed them to.

Zooey went to open the doors, but they were locked. She pressed down on the handles trying to loosen whatever it was that kept her there.

She knocked on the door. “Hello?”

Then she heard it again, the shrill screaming. But this time it came distinctly from behind the doors. She banged on them fiercely.

“Hello?” Another scream resounded around her, but this time it hit her right in the gut. She knew this scream. She knew who this was. She tried desperately to open the door, feebly trying to move it with her own strength, but it would not budge. Another scream bounced off the walls. In such pain that she felt like she was being tortured herself, and she yelled through the walls.

“HOLDEN!”

*IN HIDING*

Zooey awoke in a panicked sweat. She looked around trying to place where she was. Then she remembered. The prison, the escape, everything that had transpired the night before. She turned to Ilya, who was nestled beside her on the grass still sleeping. They had taken shelter in a secluded area that Zooey had hidden in countless times before. The Caines had been extremely fond of playing a mock version of the 21 Old World Wars as children. It was a slightly more strategic game of hide and seek, and, for tactical purposes, they used the whole city as their personal playground. This specific patch of land was small and surrounded by many well-placed trees. It was to the left of the West Castle’s main path and had convenient acoustics so that anyone who hid there would know what was transpiring below. Many a battle was won with Zooey’s uncanny ability to administer a thorough sneak attack.

They had decided on this place months ago. It was their plan, simple. When Zooey and Ilya finally escaped the prison, they would fly here for shelter. They would then wait until the next day, at nightfall, to sneak into the West Castle for supplies. It was dangerous. The castle was crawling with guards from The Keep that had changed allegiance once Aquas Tocque came to power, but Zooey had grown very fond of her boot collection, and she wanted to say goodbye to her home one last time.

Zooey tried to lift Ilya’s great-scaled wing off her, but it wouldn’t move. He was a decent size for his kind. Not as large as some dragons, which he considered a strength. Lithe and strong, his body was exceptionally durable—with scales harder than diamonds used as his own indestructible armor. Soft-feathered spikes ran down Ilya’s head and tail, stopping at his back for the convenience of riding. They were his favorite feature besides his retractable claws and razor-sharp teeth. In an Old World book, Zooey had once come across a picture of what people imagined dragons to look like. This particular one was massive, about six times the size of Ilya. When Zooey showed her Twin what she had found he merely scoffed and stated, it’s not realistic at all. Although Ilya hadn’t reached the scope of Irex he still was the size of a full-grown dragon, which was similar in build to a large horse. But, unlike those lowly creatures as Ilya so fondly put it, he was a superior being. With the gift of flight and a glorious ten-foot wingspan.

Eventually, Zooey gave up trying to move this superior being and nudged her Twin in the wing.

Ilya opened one big aqua eye at her. Leave me alone. I’m sleeping.

“You are not.” She nudged him again.

Both eyes opened. Well, it’s very hard when you’re thrashing and kicking in your sleep. You almost took out my eye.

Zooey glared incredulously at him. “Are we being a bit dramatic?”

Ilya rested his head back down onto the tall green grass. Was it the same dream?

“Yes.”

A distinct memory came to Zooey. A few months after Ilya had chosen her as his Twin, Orson, Millennia, Holden, and Irex had brought them to this exact place. The great oak tree that stood in the middle of this patch of land was burned with a gigantic Twin Mark on its trunk, but instead of the one star that usually completed the image there were three. One for each of them. This, they said, was their bond, and it was now her turn to join them. That was almost six years ago, and Zooey could still see the mark forever burned in the tree standing before her now.

“It was Holden.”

What was?

“The scream.”

Ilya gazed up at her with the weight of the world in his eyes. Holden’s dead.

She looked back at him. “I know.”

They rarely talked of the Great Purge. It all began when Aquas Tocque, an unknown man with strong, magnetic energy, decided that he wanted complete power. And he got it. Now instead of Four Kingdoms, there was one. Tocque’s Kingdom. And because of this man, Zooey’s family was scattered and broken. All she knew was that Orson was in hiding and Zelda was a traitor. The rest were dead. Ilya was all she had left, and she promised herself that she would do everything in her power to make sure he was safe. Breaking out of the prison was the first step. The second was finding safety, and she knew that her Uncle Nic in the south of the West Kingdom could provide them with that.

I’m hungry.

“Go find a rabbit.”

Ilya scowled.

A crack vibrated throughout the trees, causing them both to stand up abruptly. Zooey’s hands flew straight to her daggers while Ilya crouched ready to attack. A voice rose up from below them.

“We’re getting close. How much gold do you think we’ll get for this one, boys?”

Zooey and Ilya relaxed. It was just some of Tocque’s mindless sycophants that turned people in for profit. They couldn’t tell their head from their ass.

“Well, he’s wearing a vest so he’s probably rich.”

“And he’s got papers. Definitely a rebel.”

“Yeah, and he’s foreign!”

“Yeah!”

Zooey couldn’t physically tell how many of them there were, but it sounded to be about three.

“What kind of rebel papers are these?”

The next voice was dripping with sarcasm, so it had to be that of the poor manhandled foreigner. “They’re maps.” He sounded of European descent, though Zooey was only slightly adept at deciphering Old World speech patterns.

“I’m a cartographer. Not a rebel, and I'm very important so please refrain from poking me with that stick.”

A loud crack sounded. Seemingly the foreigner had been hit over the head with the aforementioned stick. Boastful laughter and a pained groan followed.

Zooey gave Ilya an excited look.

He blinked back at her. We are in hiding.

The first man spoke again with even more malice, “It doesn’t matter what these are. We’re still going to kill you.”

“I was actually planning on taking a quiet vacation to the sea, but I guess murder might fit into my lovely holiday schedule. I should warn that quaint little inn though. They have a strict no-cancellation policy.”

The sound of knuckles on flesh was sickening as Zooey listened to the beginning of the beating below. She turned to Ilya and gave him a significant grin.

No.

*RYE*

“Three on one? Now that’s hardly fair.” Zooey never turned her back on a fight. Especially one that was so unevenly matched. She stood in the middle of the road in front of them, watching as the three oafish buffoons punched the poor boy in the stomach. They stopped suddenly, all three of them gaping at her dumbfounded.

“Now.” Zooey grabbed her daggers from their sheaths with a seasoned expertise. “Put him down.”

One of the oafs stepped forward, allowing his cohorts to support the weight of the boy, and fixated on her with an unnerving smile.

“I know who you are.”

“Yeah, who’s that?” Zooey answered mockingly. Enticing criminals was never a wise thing, but she really couldn’t help herself.

“You’re one of the royals.” He took a dramatic pause to let that sink in. “I thought all of you were dead.”

“Guess not.”

At that, the other two oafs glanced up at her and smirked. Suddenly realizing their new appealing situation. The bloodied young man between them raised his head too.

He looked like he was about Zooey’s age and was attractive despite his bruises. Blood ran from his brown hair into his animated green eyes as he glanced up at her, trying to think his way out of their current situation. “Don’t be ridiculous this is my nursemaid Franny. You’re shorter than I remember.”

One of the oafs punched him in the stomach again. He started violently coughing trying to regain his breath.

The first oaf took out a large Bowie knife from his belt and advanced toward Zooey menacingly. “Tocque is gonna give us so much gold for turning you in.”

“Don’t take another step,” she warned.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Ilya burst through the trees with a deafening roar and landed right behind Zooey. He wrapped his tail around his Twin protectively and thrust his giant wings out to each side.

“You were saying?”

Fear was such an interesting thing to see on a person’s face. Zooey was certain one of them actually peed himself.

“Now,” she said calmly as she walked forward. “You can die, or you can all run back the way you came as fast as you can. If you tell anyone about us, I will personally cut out all three of your tongues, and then we will kill you. If you do anything other than run that way —” She pointed behind them. “We will kill you.” Zooey stopped right in front of the first oaf and looked straight into his eyes. “Give me your knife.” He handed it over to her without hesitation. She smiled at him. “Good boy. Now run.”

Lightning would have been slower.

Zooey walked over to the wounded young man and offered him her hand.

“You all right?”

“That was quite an entrance.”

“Yeah well, we like a good show.”

He used her hand as leverage as he picked himself off the ground. He was tall. Much taller than Zooey had expected. Granted, you can’t tell much about a man’s stature when he’s huddled on the ground bleeding.

He bent down to pick up the strewn papers that littered the dirt path. His large burlap knapsack sat idly by. “They caught me last night. Apparently making a fire in the woods is code for ‘I’m a rebel leader.’” He chuckled lightly to himself and started rolling up the papers in his hands. “They caught me off guard. I’m usually much more prepared, but I’ve been getting these headaches, and it’s really messed with my equilibrium. Hold this!” He pushed the already rolled-up papers in Zooey’s arms.

Ilya padded over softly and sat down by them. Intrigue getting the best of him.

“And I’m not a foreigner!” He pointed fiercely at her almost dropping everything. “Well, not really.” He struggled to pick up the last paper on the ground but couldn’t seem to manage. Ilya picked it up with his teeth and offered it to him.

“I came over on a boat, not that you’re asking. I was five.” He paused. “Around five. Anyway, I don’t remember much besides the boat, and the waves, and the crying. My crying.” He glanced up again. “I was five.” He rolled up the last paper. “I’m from a farm north of the East Kingdom. Pigs and the like. But I’ve always been a fan of maps and took up cartography as a sort of hobby. Who knew I would be sent clear across Nosto to check the accuracy of our land maps? They are shit! I got lost fourteen times. But the good news is I made notes.” He abruptly reopened the map he had just finished rolling, which was covered in small intricate lines and scribbles. He grinned pleasantly at Zooey and then turned to Ilya. “Hello, there!”

They stood very still. No one should be this happy after almost being beaten to death.

“I’m Rye Connolly.” He picked up his knapsack and stuck out his hand for Zooey to shake. “Very pleased to meet you.”

*VISITING THE PAST*

Sneaking into the West Castle was something Zooey had not prepared for until nightfall. It would have been much more convenient with the shadows hiding them from sight but now, since they had acquired Rye, the plan had to be readjusted.

They walked down the main path to the West Castle and found shelter in a small patch of trees off the side of the road. Zooey knew this area well and therefore had an indispensable advantage.

The patch of land was small but concealed, and Zooey could easily see the towering West Castle that stood not more than a half-mile in front of her. She looked at it closely, examining the patterns of The Keep. The main entrance was too well-guarded for Zooey to enter in the daylight. Without the element of surprise on her side, she needed to be a bit craftier. There was an entrance on the right side of the castle that was completely hidden from sight. It was a small, cramped, secret tunnel that entered into one of the pantries in the kitchen. This is where she would start.

Rye sat on the grass methodically organizing his maps and rearranging his knapsack for convenience. His possessions were sprawled out in front of him and were few and far between. There was a compass, a loaf of bread, a couple of matches, and some clothes. Ilya resumed his napping position on the grass and lazily watched Rye fiddle with his compass.

Zooey turned around and walked over to them. Throwing the stolen Bowie knife at Rye’s feet. “I’ll give it a few minutes.”

I’m coming with you.

Zooey looked sternly at her Twin. “You are not. I can’t risk you being seen.”

“I can go with you.” Rye gingerly picked up the knife in front of him as if it was going to come to life and stab him. “Is this mine?”

“You need something to defend yourself.”

“I tend to rely on my unmatched wit.”

That’s worked well for you so far.

“I’m very useful.” Rye nodded eagerly to the two of them. “Especially in these sorts of covert situations.”

Silence played gently through the air as they stared at him.

I’m not sure useful is the correct term.

“You know.” Zooey looked at Rye trying to find the most inoffensive way to phrase her thoughts. “That may be true, but it might be better if it was just one person. I know my way around, and someone needs to stay with Ilya.”

Great leave me with this lunatic. That sounds fun.

Rye turned to Ilya then looked back at Zooey confused. “Did he say something? I still can’t figure out when you guys are communicating.”

“He said he can’t wait to spend some quality time with you.”

I did not.

“So lovely. We just met and we are meshing so well.” He reached out to pet Ilya, who carefully moved to the side to avoid him.

Don’t touch me.

Rye looked to Zooey, who nodded encouragingly. “He’s shy.”

Zooey sat down beside them, as Rye went back to organizing his belongings. “Why didn’t you kill them?”

Zooey was taken aback by the question. “What?”

“The men who captured me. Why didn’t you kill them?”

“It wasn’t necessary.”

“But it would have been easier.”

“Well, why were you out in the woods by yourself?” Zooey countered feebly. “You don’t really seem like a wilderness sort of guy.”

“If you really want to know...” Rye began slowly. “It was because I was going to study with a cartographer in the West who could look over my work.”

Such a popular profession. Who knew?

Zooey narrowed her eyes. “A cartographer in the woods?”

“He enjoyed the simpler life.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I got there, and he was dead.”

No one spoke for a while as the wind blew cold against their skin. This was their world now.

Rye broke the silence. He was the type who couldn’t go too long without speaking. Both a virtue and a curse.

“But now you get the extreme pleasure of traveling with me. So, I guess it worked out in your favor.”

Zooey and Ilya stared at him.

“Traveling with me? With us? Are you traveling with us?”

No.

“Of course, I am. You don’t know how to get there.”

“How do you know? You don’t even know where we’re going.” Zooey looked to her Twin. “We know how to get there.” She paused. “I think.” She turned to Rye. “Well, we can figure it out.”

Rye nodded knowingly at Zooey and Ilya. “I have maps. I’m invaluable.”

“Why do you want to come with us?” Zooey forcefully asked.

Rye shrugged. “I owe you.”

“This is ridiculous.” Zooey stood up and turned to Ilya. “I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.” She turned and pointed to Rye. “Don’t follow me either.”

“You need me.”

Zooey turned around. “I really don’t.”

“You seem like the type of girl who is focused on survival. Now, I’ve traveled across this land, and I know what I’m doing. Let me come with you.” Rye paused and then looked up at her. “I have nowhere else to go.”

Zooey had a hard enough time taking care of herself and Ilya let alone another person, but she knew there was nothing worse in this life than being alone. After a long pause, she conceded. “Fine.”

Rye rubbed his hands together excitedly. “We are going to make so many wonderful memories.”

Can I eat him?

Zooey nodded. “Give it a few days.”

*WES*

Zooey reached the edge of the West Castle and waited patiently. She watched as the Men of The Keep patrolled around the perimeter, marching in groups of six. It seemed that since Aquas Tocque had risen to power he had doubled the amount of security around the castles. In case any wayward royals were foolish enough to return. Zooey liked a challenge and was sure that news of her escape hadn’t reached Tocque yet. A clear advantage for her. As she looked at the guards’ faces her heart sank. She knew half of these men. Some even watched her grow up and defended her father and the kingdom as both friends and allies. As Men of The Keep, they had sworn to protect and were branded on the back of their neck by the Roman numeral II to signify that they belonged to the West. This was similar in each kingdom, II marked the Men of The Keep for the West Kingdom, I marked the East, III marked the North, and IV marked the South. In the Four Kingdoms, The Keep did not swear allegiance to any particular ruler of Nosto. They stayed with the castle, and their duty was to protect the land. They were not allowed to leave their station. Once they were designated to a specific kingdom this was their permanent home, and if they left, they were considered a traitor and killed once found.

Zooey looked up at her old home. It had been a full year since she had last been here. Vivid memories of that day flooded her mind. The Great Purge had begun, and news of Tocque’s uprising in the East had reached them only two weeks before. The royal families of the East and North had been slaughtered while Zelda, who lived with her husband Xavier in the South, had created a new allegiance. As cowards do. Holden and Orson had gone in advance to help in the East, and the only mention of them was that Orson had escaped a terrible raid and was in hiding.

Flashes of images played before Zooey’s eyes. The sound of her father and Prospero being shot down. Her mother with her neck broken in the foyer. Harrison with a knife in his back, and Beth’s screams. All the while the Men of The Keep, sworn protectors of the West Castle, watched.

And Zooey could never forgive them.

Now she watched them quietly as they walked past the hidden entrance on the side of the castle. It was time. Once they walked past her, she would have only a few minutes to spare, and she needed to make them count. She dashed out from behind the trees where she had been hiding and ran to the entrance. Crouching behind a bush, she pushed it aside to reveal a small opening at the bottom. She crawled in headfirst and struggled to fit her whole body inside. This was her little brother Aron’s favorite hiding spot. Which made sense. He was small and could comfortably fit inside without the overwhelming claustrophobia that now hit Zooey.

She made sure to breathe quietly as she crawled on her hands and knees through the tunnel. She turned a corner and saw a small light flickering at the end. She was almost there. As soon as Zooey reached the ray of light she paused, knowing full well there was a strategically placed barrel in front of the opening. She waited and listened to make sure no one was there. Slowly she moved the barrel to the left making the least amount of noise possible. As soon as the slit was wide enough to crawl through, she gently lifted her body out of the tunnel and onto the flour-caked pantry floor.

The room was the same as she remembered like she had never left, but now was not a time for lost memories. She quickly picked up a burlap sack from the shelf and stuffed it with as much food as she could carry. She only grabbed the essentials. Some cracked grain bread, nuts, and cheese preserved in wax. Her father had taught her how to hunt, so meat wouldn’t be an issue, and her mother had made sure that she knew the difference between healing and edible plants. This was just extra.

As soon as her bag was full of supplies, she carefully peered around the corner into the main kitchen. It was empty. She walked briskly into the hallway and swiftly made her way through the castle.

When her family lived here, The Keep was primarily stationed outside and rarely made their rounds in the castle itself. She was glad to see that this tactic remained the same. She made her way through the great hall and paused briefly, looking up at the spiral staircase on the other side of the room. Her plan was risky, but she needed to make it up those stairs. She heard a small noise behind her and turned sharply around, but no one was there. She took another moment to breathe while placing one hand on her dagger, just in case.

She sprinted across the room, not looking back, not looking at anything besides the stairs in front of her. She turned down the left corridor and walked past each room until she finally reached hers. She opened the door and suddenly stopped as the wind was knocked out of her.

It was exactly the same. Like nothing had happened. Her bed stood anchored in the middle of the room. Her desk in the corner covered in the Old World books she had borrowed from her father. As if everything was okay, and no one had died, and nothing had happened. She shook her head violently trying to get the images out of her mind. She wouldn’t let herself think of the past. Not now when there was still so much at stake. She rushed over to her closet and quickly opened it. Her clothes littered the floor. A scene her mother would have loathed. She reached for her large leather pack and transferred the food from the sack into it. She then stuffed it full of clothes for her journey.

Zooey’s style was simple and chic. Which really didn’t matter now since she was a fugitive. Her wardrobe consisted of sleek pants and shirts that she mainly accompanied with long-sleeve coats and knee-high leather boots. She finished and quickly left making sure to grab the most precious item her father had given her before he died. An Old World copy of The Catcher in the Rye.

Zooey ran down the hallway. Fighting the urge to stop. She descended the stairs and advanced through the great hall. But instead of returning to the kitchen, she decided to make one last stop and dashed down the left corridor. Her mother had a walk-in closet of healing herbs, and Zooey figured it would be wise to stock up in case anything happened. She went into the cramped space and grabbed the closest herbs in sight. They ranged from cures for the stomach flu, headaches, small cuts, and bruises, to serious head trauma and even amnesia. She threw whatever she could find into her bag and exited back into the hallway. She walked down quietly and began to turn into the great hall but stopped as she heard marching feet coming closer to her. She backed up slowly, but the sounds kept echoing toward her. She then heard a voice.

“Check the halls. If you find her, kill her.”

They knew.

An arm reached out and grabbed her from the left, roughly pulling her back into the herb closet. Another hand quickly covered her mouth so she couldn’t scream as the door was tightly closed. The closet was small and only made for one person at a time. Firmly pressed up against her captor, she finally looked up and into the striking blue eyes of her brother’s best friend.

“Wes!”

“Are you crazy?”

“Quite possibly.”

The sound of marching feet turned and entered the hallway. Wes looked down at Zooey warningly. They stopped in front of the closet door. The knob slowly turned.

“This is Corporal Wes Ahrens. I am searching this area. There is only room for one, Sir.”

The knob stopped moving.

“Who assigned you to this area, Corporal?”

“Lieutenant Walters, Sir.”

There was a long pause. “Are you finding anything?”

Zooey looked up at Wes. He had to tell the truth—it was his duty. As a member of The Keep, it didn’t matter who she was. She was an enemy of the castle now, and he couldn’t protect her. As much as he wanted to.

“No.”

“Good work, Corporal. Return to your station once you’re finished.”

Zooey watched Wes abandon everything he had ever stood for as the steps faded softly in the distance. She angrily smacked him in the chest. “Are you crazy?”

He had this adorable half-grin that could make even the coldest-hearted person smile. “Let’s get you out of here. He grabbed Zooey by the hand and led her into the hallway. The black branded II on his neck shining prominently in the dim light as he guided her to safety.

*HIS PROMISE*

Wes knew these grounds better than all of the Caine children combined, and that was saying something. He was an overachiever and made it his business to know everything about the West Castle. This made it easy for him to sneak Zooey out through one of the unguarded back doors and into the security of the wilderness. They took a seldom-used dirt path, which eventually intersected with the main road, leading them directly to Ilya and Rye.

Zooey looked up at Wes. He was two years older than her, which would put him in his mid-twenties. He was extremely fit from all of his Keep training and very attractive. He had black hair, but his best features were his gorgeous blue eyes and his smile. He had come to the West Castle two years before Zooey’s Twin Ceremony. She didn’t know much about his past since he kept his memories well hidden. All she knew was that he went into The Keep at the ripe age of thirteen, and the rest was history.

“Shouldn’t you be going back soon?” Zooey asked him.

“I’m not going back.”

She stopped in the middle of the road. “What?”

He turned around and looked at her. “I’m not going back.” He continued walking.

“They’ll kill you.”

“They’ll have to catch me first.”

Zooey ran up to him. “Wes, stop.” She grabbed his arm. “Wes, stop!” She pulled him around to face her. “Why are you doing this?”

He stared at her with enormous intensity. “Zooey, I wasn’t there when your family was killed.”

“I know.”

“I was supposed to protect them.”

“I know.”

He grabbed both of her shoulders. Making sure she caught everything he said. “I couldn’t save your brother. I couldn’t save anyone. Because I wasn’t there. Because I was on assignment in the North Kingdom, and nobody here did anything. They stood and watched your family die for the sake of honor. Betrayal was not what I signed up for.” He let her go and started walking again.

She followed after him. “What are you going to do, Wes?”

“Well, I’m going to protect you, Princess.”

She stopped. “I don’t need protecting.”

He turned around to face her. “I know.”

As he walked away, she yelled after him, “You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“I don’t care.”

CHAPTER 4

*THE JOURNEY*

“Does that look like a right?” Rye turned the map he was holding to the side and scanned it from a different angle. “Or is that a left?” He showed it to Ilya, who happened to be walking beside him. “What do you think I meant by this squiggle?”

Ilya had spent a day and a half traveling with Rye, and Zooey was shocked that he hadn’t eaten him yet. Prison, it seemed, had changed him. Instead, Ilya looked over at the map and back to Rye’s expectant face. Your imbecile squiggles mean nothing to me.

“He says he thinks it’s a left.” Zooey glared, annoyed at her unhelpful Twin.

Rye looked back at the map concerned. “Are you certain?”

Wes walked up to Rye’s right side and examined it. “Looks like a right to me.”

All three of them stared at the map as Zooey watched them amused.

“How sad. Two men and a dragon and no one can figure out directions.” She grabbed the map for herself and examined it. “It’s straight.” She pushed it back into Rye’s hand.

All three looked at her, and then back down at the map.

“Oh yeah, it does look straight, doesn’t it?” Rye turned it to the side.

Wes pointed to one of the lines. “But you see this curve? It does kind of look like a right.”

“It really does.”

“An honest mistake.”

“And that curve.” Rye pointed out another area of the map to Wes. “Kind of looks like a left.”

“You know, it really does.”

Zooey shook her head at Ilya.

Don’t look at me. I knew it was straight.

It was said that traveling with company was the greatest thing in the world. Now, that theory was being greatly tested as Zooey, Ilya, and their two companions continued their journey to the south of the West Kingdom.

Rye had made this trip before during the onslaught of the Great Purge and had discovered a seldom-used dirt path that conveniently hid him from any unwanted attacks. This was the road they took now.

Ilya moved his wings in agitation as they continued walking. I need to hunt.

“You can hunt on the ground,” Zooey answered.

What’s the fun in that?

She looked over exasperated. Ilya, if we could fly, we would. It’s a lot easier than walking and takes less time, but it’s too risky.

Ilya huffed, turning away from her.

Wes looked at Zooey and gestured toward the dragon. “What’s up with him?”

“He’s having a fit because he’s not allowed to fly.”

Ilya shot her an agitated look.

“Well, you are!”

“Don’t worry, friend.” Rye awkwardly stroked Ilya on his great white wing. “I will fly you to safety.”

Wes had spent many years around dragons at the West Castle, and he preemptively took Rye’s hand off Ilya for fear of what might happen. “This is for your own good.”

I’m going. Goodbye. Ilya walked off quickly, making sure that his dissatisfaction was well known.

“Fine go!” Zooey yelled after him.

“Bring us back some food,” Rye added.

Zooey glared over at him.

“Well, if he’s going anyway.”

“How much longer until we reach the building?” Wes turned toward the setting sun, worried that they might not make it to shelter in time.

“About twenty minutes, I’d say,” Rye stated. “Although the last time I was here I was high on some sort of floral drug that had been administered to me through a lovely green tea mixture, so it’s quite possible I made the whole thing up.”

Wes turned to Zooey. “I should be more shocked.”

Zooey gave him a sly smile. She was sure that Rye made up half of the crazy things he said in an attempt to sound more interesting, but she couldn’t help but like that about him.

They continued walking down the dirt path in silence, fatigued greatly from their journey that day. Zooey was not used to walking these long hours and hadn’t traveled this far since the last time she went to see her Uncle Nic. Even then, they traveled on the shorter more mainstream roads in Nosto, not these out-of-the-way dirt paths that Rye loved so much. Zooey’s father had told her stories about these large main roads that covered a great portion of their land with stone. Apparently, they were used for transportation in the Old World. Something about Ford and automatic stick shift came to mind. Silly Old World trivia that her father spent hours obsessing over.

“See, I wasn’t hallucinating!” Rye pointed up at a small quaint building to their right. Definitely, Old World, which would have had Zooey’s father in absolute childlike excitement. It was decrepit from old age but still had this simple beauty about it. They veered off the path and up the stairs.

“What’s this place called?” Wes asked.

“When I stayed here the caretaker called it Bautista or something,” Rye replied. “Although he kind of mumbled, and I’m pretty sure he was the one who slipped me the drugs.”

They walked through one of the stone archways that lined the front of the building. The doors were already open as Zooey, Wes, and Rye walked inside.

You’re late.

Ilya was sitting on the stone floor surrounded by a few dead rabbits. His paws crossed over each other regally as he watched them with his piercing aqua eyes.

Zooey crossed her arms and matched his aqua eyes with hers. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

I’ve killed your rabbits. Make them into a stew.

Zooey looked over to Wes and Rye. “Can either of you cook?”

Rye nodded. “I once made a quiche.”

*BAUTISTA*

After a few minutes staring at the dead animals, it was mutually decided that they would use the old stone fireplace to their advantage. As the rabbits roasted on their makeshift skewers, the three of them ate some of the cracked grain bread and cheese that Zooey had stolen from the West Castle. Ilya was fine with the raw meat and sat contentedly gnawing on the bones of his prey. Zooey leaned up against his scaled-back and watched the flames dance in the fireplace. This was the first time that there was any sense of calm since she had escaped the prison. She soaked it in knowing that it wouldn’t last long. Wes and Rye were sitting opposite them comparing their weaponry. Well, Wes was. Rye sported a glazed look in his eye while he held his Bowie knife in his hands. Wes was trying to explain to him the importance of knowing your weapon, which seemed as boring to Rye as cartography lessons were to everyone else. Wes held his well-made Spartan-style sword in front of him. As a Man of the Keep, he possessed superior strength and had been trained to kill a man with his bare hands. However, now that he was an enemy of the land, he didn’t mind having the extra protection. Just in case.

Rye poked himself with the tip of his knife, and Wes stared concerned for a while before taking the knife away, “for his own good.”

Rye touched the temples of his head and winced in pain.

“Another headache?” Zooey asked.

“There are millions of tiny step dancers performing the Highland Fling on my parietal lobe.”

Wes nodded in amusement. “Vivid.”

Zooey took a moment to scrounge for the headache herbs in her bag. Her mother used to give them to Harrison when he felt ill, so she knew it would definitely work for Rye.

“Uncle Nic is going to love you. He’s a big fan of performance art.” Zooey opened the herb jar and took out a single leaf. “Here, chew on this.” She handed it to Rye, who looked at her like she was trying to poison him.

“I swear! It will help!”

He took it, cautiously looked it over, and then, after a prolonged moment, began chewing.

“The man who accepts spiked green tea from random caretakers questions a medicinal herb? Ridiculous.” Zooey shook her head and closed the jar.

Rye spoke through his mouthful of leaf. “Where is that wily old man anyway?” He glanced around the room then finally stared at the pile of bones that Ilya was licking. “Steve, is that you?”

Ilya stopped suddenly. Diverting his attention from the juicy bone in front of him to Rye’s unassuming eyes. You’re next.

Wes got up and sat over near Zooey. He casually grabbed a piece of bread from her and gestured over toward Rye. “You know, it’s a wonder he’s still alive. I thought he would have been eaten days ago.”

Zooey looked over at Wes. “That’s what I’ve been saying!”

They paused. Caught in a moment of surreal happiness.

“Guys, why is he staring at me?”

*A LAST DREAM*

The fire dwindled slowly. The flames flickering in and out as the soft glow of the fireplace lightly lit the room. Zooey was sitting upright against Ilya’s side dozing in and out of consciousness. Ilya was curled around Zooey with his tail across her lap. His great head resting gently on his paws. Zooey looked across the room at Rye, who had fallen asleep on his side. His knapsack tucked against his chest and held tightly under both arms. Wes was sleeping a few feet away from her. His sword placed protectively against him. Zooey gazed back at the fireplace thinking about how calm all three of them seemed. Zooey’s eyelids closed as she slowly drifted off. The flames flickered and died as the last ember vanished from sight...

She was in the same room. With the staircase that curved around the archway and the single chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Zooey walked up the staircase and noticed the distinct dent in the wall. She continued walking. The stair rail cool beneath her fingers. She heard the first scream. Long and painful, but she didn’t stop. She kept walking.

She reached the top of the staircase and walked forward down the long hallway in front of her. It remained the same, plain, and bare, with the simple light fixtures that hung from the ceiling. Then she reached them. The two wooden doors.

Zooey went to open them, but again they were locked. She tried the handles to no avail.

She knocked on the door. “Hello?”

There was a second scream. A shrill yell of pain that came directly from behind the doors. She banged fiercely as the third scream resounded off the walls. She tried moving the door, but like before it did not budge. The fourth scream erupted around her, and then there was silence.

“Holden?” she asked as she stared up at the two massive doors.

A click sounded, and Zooey glanced down at the door handles in her hands. She pushed them down, and this time they moved. The doors creaked as she tentatively moved them forward, opening into a room. The walls were lined with Old World books and ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Zooey remembered this place from years ago when her parents had taken them on a trip to the East Kingdom. At that time the room had been filled with tables, but those had since been removed. The only thing visible was a man tied to a single chair. His blood dripping slowly to the ground.

Zooey walked forward. “Holden?” She could tell that he was talking to someone, but everything was hidden in shadows. She walked closer when something jerked in the corner of her eye, and she turned quickly.

“Irex!” She ran over to the dragon that was shackled down to the floor, but he looked past her. She had never seen the great dragon in any vulnerable state, but now, his eyes were full of defeat. Zooey moved away and back to the chair. Now, she knew for certain that this was her brother.

He sat tied to the chair, his face beaten and bruised. “Holden!” Zooey shook him, but like Irex, he looked past her. As if she wasn’t even there. She stayed in front of her brother as the shadow suddenly emerged in the light. “Tell me what you know.”

Zooey turned suddenly and looked straight into the face of Aquas Tocque.

“I don’t know anything,” Holden responded.

“Yes, you do.” Tocque cocked his head to the side looking at Holden as if he was some kind of rare experiment.

“Just kill me already, it will save you some time.”

“You’re too valuable to kill.” His smile was unusually inviting. It seemed that if Tocque were not in the process of torturing Holden, they would have been fast friends. “Right now, at least.”

Holden looked up into Tocque’s face calmly. “You won’t get what you want.”

“Now, you see that’s what I like to hear. Some honesty. No matter how misguided it is.” Tocque bent down so he was at eye level with Holden. “Honesty attracts confidence. Don’t you think?”

He waited for a reply that would never come, and the corners of his mouth moved up into that same inviting smile. “Well?” Tocque’s crazed, cold eyes stared straight into her brother’s as Holden’s whole body violently tensed. “See how honest I’m being with you?”

Holden gripped the arms of the chair, digging into them with his nails. The wood was already scarred so Zooey was certain this had happened before. Irex let out a pained roar in response. Ramming against his shackled legs. Trying to break free. Holden couldn’t keep the pain in anymore, and he screamed. Painful, strained, and unlike anything Zooey had ever heard before.

Then it was over. Before it had even begun. And Zooey’s brother stopped screaming and breathlessly looked up at her. Desperate and straight into her eyes.

“Help me.”

Zooey awoke violently clutching her burning Twin Mark. She looked down at her wrist as it glowed brightly and pulsed with pain. She tried to catch her breath but couldn’t seem to ease her racing heart.

Zo.

She looked over to see Ilya staring at her. His eyes piercing, and she knew it was true.

Holden’s alive.

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