Illuminate: Upper YA Paranormal Romance
Copyright © 2019 Sarah Addison-Fox
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PART ONE
Chapter 1.
Chapter 2.
Chapter 3.
Chapter 4.
Chapter 5.
Chapter 6.
Chapter 7.
Chapter 8.
Chapter 9.
Chapter 10.
Chapter 11.
Chapter 12.
Chapter 13.
PART TWO
Chapter 1.
Chapter 2.
Chapter 3.
Chapter 4.
Chapter 5.
Chapter 6.
Chapter 7.
Chapter 8.
About the Author
"The cavernous gloom of Tartaros now hides ancient Kronos (Cronus) and his allies [the Titanes] within it."
Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound
“The people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.”
Matthew 4:16 New International Version (NIV)
PART ONE
Chapter 1.
Deep within one of the many lush Lathrean forests, hidden in the branches of a stout tree, Tarquin stalked his prey with all the efficiency of the skilled hunter he was. But the girl he hunted was eluding him. One minute he had her in his sights; the next, she’d disappeared in the temple ruins.
Hail began to drop from the darkened skies, bringing his mood down even further. Lucius Tartarean would be furious if he returned without a confirmed kill.
His eyes narrowed as he scanned the area. There. In between a hedge and a stout tree trunk destroyed by lightning, a girl clad in leather with hair almost crimson slipped away. His back muscles trembled as he raised the arrow again, his forehead creased, his heart pounding a steady rhythm as he waited for her to appear again. I can do this. I have to do this.
Why? He didn’t know. He never knew. That wasn’t important. He had a job to do, and no matter how much each kill tore at his insides, the alternative was worse.
The hail pounded down around him, sliding off the leaves, the branches and his tension-filled shoulders. A shiver travelled the length of him, and he clenched his teeth together to stay focussed through the distraction the weather brought. The slightest creak directly below him gave her away. In a flash, he released the arrow just as she sprang, cat-like, out of reach.
He cursed again and nocked another arrow, aiming for the splash of brilliant red as she ducked behind the tree he perched in.
Her voice was silken as she called to him. “Tarquin? Please. You don’t need to kill me. I’m not your enemy.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. She knew his name? How was that possible? He forced the softness of her voice from his mind and released an arrow without even bothering to check.
When was the last time he’d heard someone speak his name with an ounce of kindness? He scolded himself, shaking off the hail as is landed on his hair and bounced down his face.
Her voice came from underneath him again. This time, she used a pleading tone that jangled his nerves even further. “I need to talk to you. Don’t you have questions?”
He released a half-hearted growl. “Stay where you are.”
Her voice cracked a little as she raised it to compete with the hail. “I just want to talk to you. Bring your bow if you like. There’s shelter in the ruins. Let me explain why you were sent to kill me.”
Tarquin’s body tensed as he scrambled to think. He didn’t need to know. He didn’t want to know why he needed her dead.
Do I?
He shook his head fiercely sending frozen water flying in all directions. “Stop talking.”
Her laugh, low and curiously musical, startled him. “Why? Because you’re afraid of me? You know I’m here alone. And you know I have no weapons.”
He considered for a moment, fingers growing stiff with the cold. His linen shirt and pants were now sodden, clinging to his shivering body.
As though she was aware of his discomfort, she called to him, her words and voice enticing. “Please.”
Why should he want to talk to her? She’d just as likely attack him the moment he joined her on the grass.
Slit his throat for his gullibility. That’s what I’d do.
But he was at a disadvantage. She could use the weather, and she might run. Whatever her reason for badgering him to come down, if he stayed up here, he might not get another chance.
She’d spotted him hidden in the trees, where she shouldn’t have been able to see him. She’d zig-zagged towards him. Rather than running away, she’d actively approached him and wanted to talk to him.
Why? Another question rose to the surface before he was reminded of who had sent him here and for what purpose.
Which was the better choice? Return as a failure or try another tactic?
Perhaps if he let her get far away enough from him, he’d forget her face and be able to do as he was supposed to?
He deliberated with himself, examining the possible outcomes for returning without a confirmed kill.
His jaw began to hurt as one of the few memories he possessed surfaced.
There was no option. He had to shoot her or suffer the consequences of failure.
“Tarquin? You don’t have to keep doing this. Just surviving. Never remembering anything but what Tartarean allows you to. You don’t have to keep following his orders.”
His heart shuddered in his chest. A chill crept down his spine that he knew had little to do with the frigid air.
Remembering what he allows me to?
He swallowed the odd statement and pushed it down with all the other questions he’d learned to stop asking himself. If he allowed the thoughts that were swimming in his head to build, he’d wind up on the wrong side of Tartarean again.
His voice was tight with fear, his back tingling from where the scars still hadn’t healed. “I have my orders, and I will carry them out.”
Her frustration was audible even over the hail. “I’m sure you do. But you can kill me on the ground after I tell you why you can’t remember where you came from. But you won’t want to. I can promise you that.”
Something stirred inside him at her words. A solitary moment of clarity struck him as he stared down into the shadows where she hid.
She was alone. He knew because he’d watched her arrive. Watched her picking through the broken mortar of the old temple as though searching for something.
Or someone.
Had Tartarean sent her as a test? Why was she here anyway? The ruins were off limits because…why? He couldn’t recall, and it didn’t matter. Did it?
With a despondent sigh, Tarquin lowered his bow. “Back away from the tree and raise your hands. If you move, I shoot.”
She stepped out from the protection, a half smile on her face. She raised her hands and slowly backed away. “I understand.”
Tarquin shouldered the bow, and with his thoughts even more muddled than usual, he began to quickly descend the slippery branches.
It was a risk to trust her even for a moment. Stupid even.
But the pressure growing in his chest, and the questions her words were causing to rise the surface, told him she may just hold some of the answers that stole what little sleep he managed to find each night.
***
From beneath the tree, Merrin assessed the boy she’d been called to track. He was older than she realised. Judging by the lines creasing his eyes and mouth, he had a year or more on her eighteen. His jaw was square, and she thought his hair dark, if it were dry, might curl where it met his collar. He was lean, taller than her, and under the simple clothing now saturated, his muscles appeared sinewy rather than bulky.
A blush tracked over her cheeks before she pointed to the ruins and raised her voice a notch. “This way.”
His lips twitched, his hands hung by the sides, posture unsure as he nodded.
Her forehead crinkled as she stepped away from him. She felt him near rather than heard him, his footfalls lost in the noise the hail made as it fell from the grey skies.
The ruins were the perfect place to help him and he’d be far less likely to shoot now they were face to face. As soon as they were inside, she released a nervous breath and brushed the hail off her clothing.
His eyes darted about the darkened space before lingering on her face. “Well?”
Merrin cleared her throat, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She frowned at him as she tried to put into words what needed to be said.
But nothing seemed to be working right. The more she looked into his eyes, the more she found little made sense.
Heat crept over her chilled cheeks. Desperate for a remedy to her irrational malady, she stepped back, as though placing distance between them might help.
She’d never had such difficulty before. The words usually flowed unbidden. Released easily, as though springing from a well inside her.
But not with him. For some reason, she simply couldn’t think straight. Her frown grew, and she dropped her gaze, determined to find a way to communicate what needed to be said.
Her eyes on the dusty stones beneath her feet, she somehow found the courage to tell him of his identity.
“You were sent to kill me because I’m one of the remaining luminaries.”
She dared a look at him and was rewarded with a cross between a scoff and a sneer. “Luminaries? That’s a myth for children.”
Her ire rose, even though she’d known to expect it. For some reason, it rankled her that he doubted what was right in front of him.
“You shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss what you don’t understand.”
His smirk disappeared, and the look he sent her way was enough to convince her that he was growing weary.
She swallowed, surer of herself now. “Luminaries are real. But we’re also in danger of dying out.”
He stiffened slightly. “Why?”
The question encouraged her, and she managed the tiniest of smiles. “The Tartarean’s followers hunt us. They want to extinguish the light we bring to the world. You work for their leader.”
Something flashed in his eyes, doubt, anger and something else she couldn’t place. “And you expect me to believe all of this?”
Her heart began to thump in her chest at the question. She relaxed the tension from her shoulders as she stepped closer to him. “No. I don’t expect that. Which is why I need to show you.”
She extended her fingers, holding her palm out. “Take my hand.”
His expression shifted as he shook his head and backed away. “Are you mad? I was supposed to kill you. I’m not holding your hand.”
Disappointment curled in on her, she lifted her chin a fraction. Without giving her intentions away, she grabbed his hand and held fast.
His eyes widened, his mouth slackened, and the light hidden in his eyes grew with a roaring sound that, even after witnessing illuminations before, stole her breath.
***
Tarquin was flying. Disorientated. Light blinded him and flowed through him, around him and over him, simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.
Heat flowed through him, washing over his frozen body; fire blazed through his veins, bringing an awareness of something. Something so beautiful, so mesmerising, so enchanting, he wanted to drop to his knees in wonder.
Something loosened inside him. A memory of being pulled away from warmth, from love. From home.
Then came dread and pain. Something crept inside his head, clawing at him, taunting him—a word repeatedly said, days without sleep. He recalled being force-fed something vile that caused cold to flicker through his veins until his thoughts were no longer his alone.
Control. They sought to contain and control something inside him. Something they valued but, at the same time, were afraid of.
A weight around his hand anchored him, something real to cling to in the shattering pain that surged through him.
The shape of the girl still clamped on to him glowed, the energy white hot, pouring from her as it merged with the presence that burned at him. Whispers came from all around him, whispers somehow familiar.
Truth. They whispered the truth. Of who he was. Of who he’d been and could be again.
In a flash, as though lightning had infused the air then dissipated, he found himself back in the remains of the temple.
He staggered back, doubling over, blinded by the white still before his eyes.
What had they whispered? That he was light hidden in the dark? That he’d been stolen and held in invisible chains by a master who called himself Tartarean?
He choked on the thoughts, stomach roiling with the agony of what he’d experienced. A sob baring more resemblance to an animal’s cry burst from his throat, and for a moment he thought he’d die from the truth he’d been shown.
The touch on his arm, firm but comforting, brought him back to himself long enough to make out her blurry face.
He focussed on her in an attempt to right himself from the spinning that still rocked him. Her eyebrows knitted together over eyes so blue, so clear, he thought he saw stars reflected in them. “You’re confused. I know. I’m here to help.”
Tarquin stumbled to his feet and allowed her to lead him to where two stone blocks created a seat of sorts.
He rubbed at his eyes, still flashing spots from the brilliance of the light. She settled in beside him. Her voice filled with patience and kindness. “It’s a lot to take in. When the light shines, it’s unbearably painful.”
He nodded weakly, his strength almost gone as he focussed on her words. “Tartarean,” he spat.
Her lips pursed. “You see why I needed to show you? They filled you with their lies and washed away your memories of who you are.”
Tarquin pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, hoping the lights would stop. “I can’t remember everything. I remember some, but not all.”
The girl patted his arm gently; her hand lingered on his damp clothing before she sighed. “It takes time. The longer you’ve been with the Tartarean, the longer it takes to clean away the lies. If you were held in the caves, closest to Tartarean himself, it’s even harder.”
His heart doubled its speed as he forced himself to listen, her voice calming, soothing, in the midst of his pain.
“We can help you find your memories. But it won’t be easy, and it won’t happen immediately.”
Tarquin tilted his head so he could examine her more closely. The light in her eyes seemed to increase as she met his gaze. “It will get better.”
Eyes still burning from the brilliance, he found himself nodding almost eagerly.
Her smile lit something inside him, her words a pleasing balm on his fractured mind. “Everything will be just fine, Tarquin. Your memories will return, and you’ll be safe.”
Tarquin’s lips cracked into a shallow smile. “What’s your name?”<
br />
Her smile became less certain, but she gave him one nonetheless. “Merrin.”
His throat was thick as he offered a shaking hand. “Tarquin. But you already knew that. How?”
Her fingers laced with his as she shook his hand. “That part can wait. We should go.”
Tarquin drew himself to standing, his knees weak, his head still filled with colours and light that seemed to whisper to him.
As he followed her outside, into the hail, an odd thought penetrated the confusing tangle his thoughts were in.
What am I?
Chapter 2.
Merrin’s heart constricted as she observed the confusion creeping over Tarquin’s features.
He’d not mentioned it or complained, but he was trembling from shock, from cold, and from the knowledge he’d been used. His face hard as he matched her steps over frozen ground.
She knew he wasn’t ready to face the council of elders inside Evanswood. None of her charges had been this soon, but they needed to find shelter. There was only one place that was safe for him to regain some of his strength and find enough memory to spur him on.
The more she considered it, the more she realised it was too early to show him his kin. Too much, too soon…
The hail had stopped, but dark clouds perched in the angry skies, ready to unleash more foul weather. Even the seasons seemed to be affected by the darkness spreading across Lathrea. She almost snorted a laugh at the fanciful thought. Of course, that wasn’t true. But it felt as if it were.
Tarquin glanced sidelong at her as they carried onward. “I remember being taken. The faces are blurred, but I remember how it felt.”
Merrin nodded glumly. “It starts that way; in time you’ll remember your family.”
He stopped moving, a hopeful expression on his face. “My family? They’re alive?”
Guilt mingled with her own sorrow as she shook her head. “It’s usual for Tartarean to remove memories of the ones they take. It’s better to think of them as dead.”
A lie. It was never better.
His pallor seemed to worsen, his fists clenched at his sides. “They don’t even know I’m gone?”