Fated Loss Read online

  

  Copyright © 2017 by Claudia Caren

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover design by Damonza.com

  Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Fated Loss/Claudia Caren. -- 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-0-9991593-0-9 (Paperback)

  For my family,

  who encouraged me to follow my dreams.

  

  CONTENTS

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ROSE

  Chapter 1

  3/25

  Everything seems perfect. Only I know something is wrong. I have an ominous feeling, but there is just no proof.

  I should be happy, though. Turning fourteen will change my life. For better or worse, I'll be attending Ether this year. When I was younger, I couldn't wait to join the magic training academy. Now that it's almost time, I dread it. I'm the Savior from the prophecy, the only one who can control all three types of magic—water, fire, and nature. But I can't even create a spark of fire. Failing the courses at Ether would reveal how bad I am at something everyone needs me to be good at. And as heir to Astella, there is even more pressure.

  So much is expected of me. What if I can't keep the promises I'm supposed to keep?

  “ROSE!” Skylar yelled from downstairs.

  My writing hand jolted, and the pen made a long slash of ink appear on the paper. “Yeah, what is it?”

  “Come down. It's time for your party.”

  “All right, give me a minute.”

  Let's hope nothing goes wrong today. — Rose Kristal

  I got up from my bed and caught sight of my messy hair in the mirror. I reached for a small box of black bobby pins, but I accidentally knocked it behind my dresser instead. Ever since this morning, I must have caught a disease for clumsiness, or maybe it was because of my jumpy mood.

  I opened my dresser drawer, got out a different box of pins, and fished one out. Even though this brown pin doesn't blend in with my black hair, it will have to do. I tried to pry open the tip, but the clip kept slipping from my clammy hands. After a few seconds, I gave up and decided that my hair looked better flowing down my back.

  My outfit was fine, my family was waiting for me, but there was something missing—my smile.

  “I am just being ridiculous,” I muttered. “What could go wrong?”

  I strolled down the stairs and to the side door of the throne room, pausing to freeze a smile on my face. But when I entered the room, my smile came naturally—for a minute. The room was as elaborate as normal, but now it was specifically decorated for me. Bouquets of roses adorned the walls, and a large banner with my name hung from one side of the room to the next.

  I walked over to the two gilded thrones at the end of the long hall.

  “Happy birthday!” Mom got up from her seat and wrapped me in a hug. The scent of her favorite lavender perfume filled my nose.

  “Thanks for the diary,” I said after she released me.

  “You're welcome, Rose,” Dad replied. But then he leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “Though keep it away from Skylar.”

  “Keep what away from me?” Skylar popped out from behind Dad's chair, trying to scare me as always.

  I ruffled her hair. “Little sis that trick is getting old.”

  Skylar tilted her head back and groaned. “Don't call me little sis!”

  I chuckled. Skylar may think she is all grown up, but she will always be my little eight-year-old sister.

  I glanced at my watch. “Where is everybody else?”

  My fingers started to tingle. Strange, where was everyone? They should have been here half an hour ago.

  The doors of the throne room's main entrance swung open behind me. I turned around expecting to see my friends, but instead a stranger stood at the doorway. She was dressed in blood-red from head to toe. Even her wings and jagged shoulder-length hair was the color of cherry jello.

  “Who are you?” Dad called out.

  “There's only one thing you need to know—I am here to take the throne,” she said. Her voice was raspy and sounded like the hissing of a fire.

  From behind Mom, Skylar broke into a nervous laugh. Even though this was probably the most inappropriate time to laugh, Skylar was right. This must be a joke. To be crowned a king or queen, you have to be of royal blood or do something extraordinary like saving the kingdom. But the unnamed guest was deadly serious. The look on her sharp, chiseled face was murderous.

  “Is there anything else we can do for you?” Father asked calmly, but his voice was clipped.

  She marched a few steps forward. Her boots made a sharp clacking sound against the stone floor. “Surrender.”

  “No.”

  The intruder splayed her hands. Black, inky tendrils of smoke curled from her fingers and drifted toward the entrances. When the vapor touched the side door and main door, they swung shut by themselves. I heard the locks click. Then the handles melted, fusing the doors together.

  A fireball appeared in the Faery's hands, and she lobbed it at us. We scrambled out of the way, but the tapestry of my family wasn't so fortunate. Fire caught on the bottom of the tapestry then quickly spread until the whole thing was in flames.

  The insane woman threw a fireball at me, and I flew up and out of reach. I might not even live till tomorrow. But this shouldn't surprise me. I knew beforehand something bad was coming—I just hoped I was wrong.

  “Guards!” Dad bellowed.

  Surely someone would hear all this racket and come running, but nobody did.

  “I put a spell on your castle. There will be no knight in shining armor to save the day this time,” she said.

  She formed a large pane of fire and floated it toward me. I shielded my face with my hands and tried to get away from the intense heat. I quickly flew sideways, but the block of fire elongated to stop me from escaping. I tried the other direction, but the same thing happened.

  The wall of flames moved closer, pushing me back. But I forgot about the burning tapestry behind me. Only until I felt something sizzling on my back, I realized that sparks had landed on my wings, burning the edges and creating a few holes. I wobbled then plummeted to the floor, landing hard on my hands and knees.
>
  “Rose!” Skylar flew toward me, but another veil of fire blocked her path.

  Even though the flames died out, my wings felt like they were still burning. But that was the least of my problems. The air was getting thick with smoke that made me choke with every breath. Sweat ran down my face due to the ninety-plus degree room, my heart raced, my vision danced, but most of all—I was scared.

  “I order you to stop,” Dad said.

  But it was useless since she was more of a threat than all of us combined, and we were defenseless. Mom was a nature faery, and Dad was a water faery, both things we didn't have around. And my fire powers were almost nonexistent.

  Another blast of heat headed my way. I rolled across the warm marble floor but not in time. As the fireball passed, it blistered the back of my bare arm. I wondered if she had something personal against me since she seemed especially intent on trying to kill me.

  She spread her arms wide and prepared to make her final move. But then the door handle of the side entrance started to rattle, followed by shouts and loud banging. After a hard shove, the melted lock gave way with a loud crack, and twenty guards burst through the door.

  They froze for a second. Their eyes swept over the ruined thrones, fallen chandelier, and her. Then the guards sprang into action, and I backed up from the scuffle. They had a hard time, but they overpowered the trouble maker.

  Two guards grabbed her by the arms, and the others stood in a close line behind her. The king approached the captive.

  Dad stared into those cold green eyes. “We are stronger than you think.”

  She didn't hang her head but stared right back. The corners of her mouth twitched as if suppressing a smile. She closed her eyes and began to mutter under her breath. Dark tendrils of smoke materialized and swirled around her.

  Dad backed up and motioned for the guards to do the same. But before they could, she let out a piercing, high-pitched scream. The fog ring exploded around her and spread outwards. The line of dark ink raced toward me.

  I dropped down low and covered my head. Strong, cold wind rushed over my back. Then everything became still. I couldn't even hear the flames crackling anymore.

  I looked up again and saw that the fire was gone, my family was fine, but all the guards were on the ground—motionless. A lump formed in my throat. Poor Sean. He will never see his father again.

  “But not strong enough,” the fire Faery said.

  Cold smoke poured from her fingers again and wrapped around me. Everything started to dim and sway. But before I lost consciousness, I had time to think, yup happy birthday to me. Then I blacked out.

  ROSE

  Chapter 2

  Two years later.

  My eyes snapped open, and I sat up wide awake. My heart thrashed in my chest as I wildly scanned the dark bedroom, searching for something or someone lurking in the inky black shadows. But everything in my room looked normal.

  I picked my blankets off of the floor and lay back in bed. My heart, however, didn't want to settle down. It's just another nightmare, I told myself. Think about your birthday instead. But that depressed me, not cheered me up, since my sixteenth birthday seemed to bring more trouble than good.

  The dream started three days ago. I should've gotten used to waking up in the dead of night and drenched in a cold sweat, but it was still irritating to try unsuccessfully for hours to fall back asleep. What's even more frustrating was that I can't even remember the dream that keeps me awake. I would try to recall the exact details. Sometimes I got so close to the answer, but it would always slip away before I could grasp it. It was beyond infuriating. Though for a nightmare I can't even remember a second after I wake up, why does it make me tremble?

  Maybe because it seems so real even though I don't know what happened. But that was ridiculous! If dreams could be real, then the size of my closet would make sense as well.

  I have a huge closet, and I mean a huge walk-in closet. It was about twenty feet long and ten feet wide, but the math didn't add up. My room was right next to Skylar's, and we shared one wall. But my closet was also on that wall. When I go out into the hallway and face the two doorways, there should have been a huge gap between the doors just for the closet, but there wasn't. It was like the closet never existed.

  It's magic, the lunatic part of me thought. I am being stupid. I pulled the quilt up to my chin and tried to close my eyes. After tossing and turning for most of the night, I finally managed to fall back asleep only to wake up to the alarm clock blaring an hour later.

  “Monday. Time for school,” I groaned.

  I dragged myself out of bed, got ready for the day, and went down to the breakfast nook. Looks like I'm not the only one who's exhausted. Skylar was half asleep at the table. Her hazelnut-brown hair was messily braided down one side, and the end of it was in her bowl of milk.

  “Good morning,” I said. “Your hair is in your food.”

  She let out a yawn and fished out her braid. “Yeah, morning.”

  I fixed myself breakfast and took the seat across from her. Skylar blearily stared at me for a few seconds then seemed to remember something.

  “Happy birthday,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  An awkward silence descended. I considered making small talk but decided against it. There wasn't anything we could talk about, and we don't like the same things. For example, today Skylar was wearing a hoodie and ripped jeans while I was wearing a jacket and more polished jeans. Plus, we have a huge age difference. She was six years younger than me, so I couldn't relate to her on a lot of things, and she couldn't relate to me.

  I had finished my cereal and went to put the bowl in the sink when Gramma and Gramp entered the kitchen.

  “Good mor—” I stopped, taken aback by their expression.

  Usually, Gramma and Gramp were lively and cheerful, but today they looked sorrowful like something horrible has happened.

  “Happy birthday, Rose,” Gramma said, but there wasn't a hint of happy in her voice.

  “Thanks. Is anything wrong?”

  Gramp oddly stared at my hands instead of looking at me in the eyes. “No, but we need you to be extra careful this week.”

  I hid my hands behind my back. Thanks to the nightmares, I unknowingly chewed on my nails while I slept. But they didn't look that bad.

  “Why are these few days special?” I asked.

  “Just watch out ok,” Gramma said, almost pleading.

  I slowly backed away. My grandparents were really starting to freak me out.

  The clock on the wall showed it was almost seven-thirty. My bus should be here any minute.

  I gave them a reassuring smile. “I'm always careful.”

  I ran out the door and down our street just as the big, yellow Jefferson High school bus pulled up at the stop.

  It's just another normal week, but what are Gramma and Gramp so worried about?

  ROSE

  Chapter 3

  The day flew by as usual. First I had math, history, and so on until the last class of the day—English.

  “So students,” Mr. Henderson said, “for this semester's writing portfolio you have to compose a memoir of your earlier years. For example: how was elementary school, who were your friends, and so forth. The readers/me should learn a life lesson from your memoir. Three to six page essay, and due by Friday.”

  I bit down on my tongue. Looks like this is going to be my first ever F grade in the history of my life. How can I write the memoir if I remember absolutely nothing before last year? I don't even remember my parents. The only thing I knew about them was that they died in a car crash when I was fourteen. But I had that knowledge only because Gramma and Gramp told me. I didn't even know Skylar was my sister until Gramp introduced us. It was as if someone erased all my memories before fourteen, or I had a severe head injury.

  My feet dragged as I walked out of English class and back to my locker. I was surprised to find that Angelea was
there waiting for me. There was only a fifty-fifty chance I will get to talk to her.

  Angelea was wearing the same outfit she always wore, dark jeans with a slightly frayed shirt and well-worn boots. But one thing never got old—her hair. It was as white as freshly fallen snow. And I never got tired of wondering how her natural hair could be like that.

  “I didn't see you at all since Wednesday. Is there anything wrong?” I asked.

  She picked at a loose string on her shirt. “If there is, I can take care of it, so don't worry. But I can see you're stressed.”

  Something was off. But Angelea was more of a secretive person, and pushing her wouldn't help. So I didn't.

  “Well,” I answered, “I have thirty-five equations for math homework, a science project to complete, and an English memoir about my childhood which I can't remember anything about.”

  “I can't believe I am saying this, but make something up,” Angelea said.

  (I already told her about my amnesia problem. Good thing she doesn't judge.)

  “Yeah, I think I might have to.”

  I spun the dial on the lock and opened my locker. A history textbook and few notebooks slid off a stack of papers, folders, and other junk. I moved my foot just in time to avoid getting it crushed by the large five-pound textbook.

  “Here, let me help,” Angelea said.

  We picked up the stuff scattered on the floor and cleared out all the trash. The funny thing was I don't remember my locker being nearly this filthy yesterday. I definitely don't remember leaving a week-old tuna sandwich in there. Yuck.

  After a few minutes, everything was back in shape and clean. I was about to slide a workbook back onto the top shelf when it hit something halfway in. I took the book out and saw a small object clinging in the upper left corner of my locker. I reached in, and my fingers wrapped around a small leather bound book. It seemed to be really stuck like someone glued it, but after a few hard tugs, I yanked the book free. Strangely, there was no trace of glue or other sticky substances.