After breaking his fast, Griff hurried to school, his nose wrinkling at the putrid smell perfuming the air. Most likely an experiment gone wrong. It happened, and while the labs did their best to contain the results, sometimes things escaped.

As he entered the classroom, he noticed only half the students were present. He slid into a seat beside Jorge and, after a glance around, asked, “Where is everyone?”

“Dunno. But I saw a bunch of people heading for the pier on my way in,” Jorge replied.

“Are we expecting a ship or someone important?” The usual reason why people hurried to the docks, though Griff had heard of no visiting dignitary that would justify an exodus, and quite frankly, the only cargo that ever excited him involved the mighty horses that came from across the world. One day he’d own a Volaqu and fly across the beach like the wind.

“Haven’t heard of anything arriving, but my mum was muttering about bad omens this morning.” Jorge rolled his eyes. “Dad told her to stop being so superstitious.”

Their teacher, Lucin, entered. The slender man would give them their lessons on history, geography, and world politics. Boring! It would be followed by an hour of calisthenics and weapons training—Griff’s favorite part of the day—then their midday meal, after which it would be the time for the hair-pulling math, literature, and to end their day, science.

More than once, Griff complained to his father about the last because, unlike some of his peers, Griff had no interest in how things worked whether they be living or mechanical. His father usually offered him a stern look and said, “Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t understand it.”

And so, Griff suffered.

“It would seem we’re missing a few classmates,” Lucin, stated. He might have said more, only the floor trembled slightly.

No one paid it much mind. After all, the Research Facility for the Advancement of Science and Technology often did things that resulted in explosions—which Griff thought more interesting than learning the difference between gear and pulley systems.

“Seems like our scientists are at it early today,” Lucin said with a chuckle. As their teacher opened his mouth again, a stronger vibration shook the classroom, rattling desks and chairs, even knocking a few drawings off the wall.

“Everyone, remain calm,” Lucin shouted as the students began to murmur and squirm in their seats. They might have listened if the shaking had not continued.

One of the boys near the front, his expression pale and worried, rose. “I think I’m going to go find my mother.”

No one made fun of Pietro as he exited, mostly because several others followed suit. Such a long-lasting tremor was unheard of.

Lucin blew out a loud sigh. “It would seem we won’t get much done today. Class dismissed.”

Griff whooped alongside Jorge as they raced from their class into a hall that shook and made navigating difficult for some. While they found it amusing trying to walk, staggering like young drunks, the adults they passed appeared quite worried. Could have had to do with the cracks that began appearing in the concrete walls.

“Let’s get outside,” Griff suggested as he noticed a rather large crevice that appeared in the ceiling.

“Last one there has to kiss a girl,” Jorge yelled, running off.

Griff, however, didn’t immediately follow, taking a moment to aid a young woman who stumbled and dropped a folder of papers. It took but a moment to help her gather them, long enough for Jorge to have run outside. Griff soon followed, he and other students spilling into the large courtyard abutting the school, a massive edifice that held dozens of classrooms, one for each age group of learners from toddler to young adult.

The shaking continued and screams could be heard, but more worrisome was the clang of the fire bells. Griff couldn’t help but feel perturbed, a reaction not apparently shared by his friend.

Jorge grinned from the center of the yard and taunted, “Who you gonna kiss, loser?”

Before Griff could reply, the ground heaved and cracked. A crevice split open under Jorge’s feet and his friend plummeted into the hole.

A wide-eyed Griff froze in shock, but only for a second.

“Jorge!” he yelled as he ran for the edge of the wide chasm.

The ground continued to shake, the trembling growing stronger, the violent force of it sending him to his knees. Despite the bruising, and his tummy clenching fear, Griff crawled to the edge of the hole in the pavement and peered down into a bottomless abyss. No sign of Jorge.

“Griff!” The yell had him lifting his head to see Father standing on the far side of the school’s courtyard, looking frantic.

“I’m here.” Griff stood, but it took some careful balancing to navigate the heaving ground while skirting the hole before he could reach his father.

Father grabbed him close in a hug. “Thank the gears in the mighty clock tower you’re safe.”

“What’s happening?” Griff asked.

“Something went wrong in the lab.”

“Did something explode?”

“Of sorts,” his father muttered, leading him away from the school.

“Where’s Uncle Basil?” Not his real uncle, but his father’s best friend. Basil was the lead scientist for one of the labs, something to do with experimental development, whatever that meant.

“Don’t worry about your uncle. You have to leave.”

“What?” His father’s statement made no sense.

“We’re evacuating Sitnalta.”

“But why?” Griff asked as his father, who had a firm grip on his forearm as he began walking in the direction of the pier.

“As a precaution. Something has gone awry and until we can fix the unfortunate result, we feel it best to remove as many people as we can to avoid casualties.”

Lots of big words, but Griff only understood one thing.

“You’re making me leave?” Griff huffed, trying not to pout. A boy his age shouldn’t whine.

“Only until we get the situation under control. Think of it as an adventure at sea.”

“I’d rather stay with you.” Not entirely true. Griff enjoyed sailing. The sea breeze on his face. The undulation of the boat as it tunneled through waves. The power and beauty of the ocean.

“I’d prefer to know you’re safe. I have enough to worry about without adding you to that list,” his father snapped. A rarity that underscored the severity of the situation.

Griff kept his mouth shut as he followed his father to the pier, trying to forget seeing Jorge fall, ignoring the screams of people as buildings cracked and, in some cases, collapsed. The rotten stench in the air intensified, mixed with the increasing aroma of smoke. Something burned.

Their flight to the docks didn’t prove unimpeded. Several city dwellers tried to stop Griff’s father, shouting at him.

“Are we going to die?”

“What are you doing?”

“Fix this!”

Father didn’t take his usual time answering their questions. Even more shocking, at Father’s signal, soldiers formed a bubble around them, a wedge that drove through those standing in their path.

The docks were pure chaos, the likes of which Griff had never seen. People, their arms full of belongings and children, pushed and shoved, clamoring to be allowed to board the tethered ships. Already some ships had set sail, their decks crowded with passengers. Others attempted to cast off only to have people grab the mooring ropes, screaming to be allowed on board.

The Kalypsi, Father’s personal ship, remained at the dock. Griff craned to look, and he could see a few familiar faces peering over its rail, including Kreed, who’d not been to class this morning. Unlike the other moored vessels with streams of people boarding, soldiers stood at the bottom of the Kalypsi’s gangplank, weapons in hand, preventing anyone from gaining access. A restriction that didn’t apply to Griff.

At the sight of Griff’s father, the soldiers pushed those crowding the dock, creating a hole for them to pass. A passage meant only for Griff. Father didn’t join him on the pathway to the boat.

“Please come,” Griff asked, his voice small and pitiful. A good thing none of his peers heard or he’d have been mocked.

Father shook his head. “You know I must remain and see how we can fix this unfortunate incident.”

Griff couldn’t help a tremble of his lower lip. “But—”

“No crying.” A stern admonishment by his father. “You must be strong. Everything will be fine. Here.” His father unbuckled his sheath with the sword Griff admired. “Keep this safe for me.”

“When will I see you again?”

“Soon.”

A lie, as it turned out.

Griff stood at the rail, watching his father stride back into the shaking city, then watching as the crew sailed the Kalypsi into the crowded bay, waiting for their chance to slip through the narrow inlet.

Saw as the mountain that shadowed Sitnalta appeared to explode, spewing smoke and lava, bright red gobs that landed like bombs on the buildings—and even a few boats.

A horrified Griff witnessed a large schooner, its decks teeming with people, catch fire and begin to list. The nightmare only increased as streams of molten rock started to run down the mountainside.

The volcano, long dormant, had woken.

Soon, he could see nothing as smoke, stinking and thick with ash, rolled over the city and into the bay. As it reached them, people began to cough, including Griff.

“Cover your faces! Don’t breathe it in,” screamed the first mate as he tugged his shirt over his mouth and nose.

Griff copied him, the fabric somewhat filtering the poisoned air. The world took on an eerie cast, with visibility restricted to the area around him, but the noise…

The groan of heaving stone and concrete, the wails and screams, the hum of the engine propelling them since there lacked a wind for the sails.

The Kalypsi emerged from the bay and kept going. The further they travelled, the more the smog lessened. The more Griff could see.

See his home enveloped in darkness.

His last sight of it.

His last memory.

The start of a hard, new life as a refugee with nowhere to go.

Verlora died that day, as did his father.

Chapter 1 – Avera

Present day.

Avera was dying.

Just ask her poor heaving guts and spinning head. Her entire world had become topsy-turvy. She could only lie prone and hope she passed quickly to end the misery.

As if to compound her agony, a rather large man kept appearing in her slitted-eye view, pushing into her hands tankards of water, cruelly offering bowls of broth and bread. None of which remained in her stomach for long.

The misery wouldn’t end.

And then suddenly, Avera woke and realized she could open her eyes and that her stomach had decided it would no longer clench and spew. She might just live.

Or not. As Avera recovered, she noticed she’d woken in a strange bed that gently rocked, narrow of width and covered in a coarse woolen blanket. She had no recollection of how she’d gotten there.

Despite the weakness in her limbs, Avera pushed herself into a sitting position and almost smacked her head on the bunk above.

Where am I?

Last she recalled, she’d been at the far end of the pier in Seaserpent Bay, scouting out an old chapel used by sailors. She’d run into the captain of a recently docked vessel. A captain who’d refused to give her passage but then done something to her. She recalled a foul-smelling rag being placed over her face, closing her eyes, and then the misery of puking everything she’d ever eaten—plus a few things she didn’t recall ever putting in her mouth.

A glance around revealed little, but enough. She was in a cabin, a small one with two bunks and a trunk under a porthole. She still wore her clothing and had her locket but lacked her sword.

A few things occurred to her in that moment.

She had been kidnapped.

By pirates.

Which meant she was currently sailing on a boat.

She rose to her feet, wavering as dizziness beset her. She had to wonder why the grumpy captain had abducted her.

Time to find out.

Avera took a quick peek out the window to confirm they were indeed at sea before she made her way to the door. She tugged the handle, but the door didn’t yield. She’d been locked in.

Unacceptable. She pounded with a fist and hollered, “Let me out, you scurvy pirate! How dare you kidnap me!”

It took a moment before the captain replied from the other side of the locked portal. “Now, now, little queen. I’d have thought you’d be happy. After all, you practically begged me for passage on my ship.”

“As a passenger, not a prisoner,” she yelled.

“Does the how matter?”

It did because in one scenario she wasn’t a prisoner locked in a room. Alone, she should add. “Where are Gustav and Josslyn?” Her Grand Rook and his sister, the duchess, escaped the capital with Avera and had been her loyal companions since.

“Back in Seaserpent Bay, I imagine.”

“You left them behind?” she exclaimed.

“I didn’t need the extra mouths to feed. Although I would have made an exception for your steed. Alas, I had to choose between you and the horse. Congratulations, you won.”

“Why did you take me?”

“Because I like interesting things.”

“I’m a person, not a thing,” she growled, almost losing her balance as the ship tilted. Her stomach lurched, apparently not yet fully recovered.

“Very well. You’re an interesting woman. One who might prove useful.”

“Useful for what?” Her heart stopped before she exclaimed, “You better not be ransoming me to Benoit.” Benoit being the man who’d stolen her throne by orchestrating her family’s murder and then framing Avera for the crime.

“I don’t sell people.” Was his sharp rebuke.

“You just abduct them.”

“I only did what you wanted while avoiding the unnecessary arguing. And before you ask why we would have sparred, you would have wanted to bring your friends and your horses. Demanded a cabin fit for your station and a host of other annoying things. By taking you, I’ve established you’re here by my grace. As such, you will be nice if you wish any amenities on this voyage.”

“Be nice?” she huffed. “I will eviscerate you.” And she’d take pleasure in wiping the arrogance from the pirate captain’s face.

“No thanks. I’d rather keep my guts in my body.”

The ship rolled and she teetered into the bunk. Her throat tightened as bile rose. “You are insufferable.”

“Not according to my crew.”

“You—you—” She might have said more but the nausea that took her didn’t leave her breath for speaking, just vomiting. So much vomiting.

And moaning.

And lying in the bunk as she resumed dying.

Food was brought and left along with jugs of water. Not that she had the appetite to eat. She did try to drink, only to heave it back up almost immediately. Blame the storm that wouldn’t stop swaying the vessel. She’d never known a person could be so ill.

Days passed before the seasickness eased. Hopefully for good this time.

It took her a moment before she could sit up. The dizziness closed her eyes.

Weakness infused every inch of her battered body. Her poor chest hurt. Her throat ached, the flesh of it raw. Before, when she’d been landbound, she thought sailing sounded marvelous.

Turned out it was more like torture.

She drank a glass of water and waited to see if it would stay down. When it did she followed it with a hunk of bread which had been left on a plate on the floor. A bit dry, but she washed it down with more water and felt a bit stronger.

It took a few deep breaths before she could stand. A glance through the porthole showed water as far as she could see. So still at sea, but at least the ship had stopped rocking violently.

Her first step almost dumped her back on the bunk as her weak limbs initially refused to cooperate. She gritted her jaw. She would not return to that bed, not until she got some answers.

When she reached the door, she expected it to still be locked. It opened, and in her surprise, she almost fell. She held on to the door for a moment, breathing. Bit by bit her strength returned, and the dizziness subsided.

Still, Avera remained weak, and it showed in her slow steps as she exited her cabin into a narrow hall. She headed for the daylight she could see and held in a groan at the sight of the three steps she’d have to climb.

Just three. It might as well have been a hundred. She panted heavily by the time she managed to totter onto the sunny deck. The fresh air that hit her skin and filled her lungs did much to revive. With her eyes closed, she inhaled deeply, each breath filling her with strength. When she felt less disoriented, she blinked at the bright sunlight magnified by the water all around. Not a speck of land in any direction, meaning she wouldn’t be escaping the ship anytime soon.

She took stock of her surroundings. The deck of wooden planking extended the length of the ship. Tall masts, hung with sails, jutted into the blue sky. Atop one was what she’d heard termed a bird’s nest, where apparently sailors kept watch for trouble.

A waist-high rail ran the circumference of the ship. Metal rings were embedded every few yards. She noticed more of those rings on the jutting structure in the center of the deck that held the steps going belowdecks. It rose well above her head and a squint showed a window, the glare of sun on it making it impossible to see inside. Had to be the bridge, which she’d also heard called the helm.

Sailors roamed the deck, busy with tasks, but not so busy they couldn’t give her curious glances. None spoke to her.

Avera pivoted to see if she could spot the captain, but no one of his large size and annoying nature appeared. Her gaze returned to the window. Did the captain stand behind it, watching?

Upon seeing a stocky woman slopping a bucket of dirty water over the side, Avera approached and ventured a soft, “Excuse me, can you tell me where we’re going?”

“To Saarpira.”

The isle of pirates long known for its lawlessness. The destination wasn’t exactly surprising, given who’d abducted her. “How long until we get there?”

“A week or more, at least. The storm blew us off track.” The woman wandered off with her empty bucket and Avera leaned against the railing.

Despite how she’d gotten aboard, it occurred to her that rather than be mad, she should be pleased. If she ended up in Saarpira, then she still had a chance of making her way to Verlora and completing the quest she’d been given.

If she could escape her captor.

As she inhaled more of reviving salty air, her gaze took in the sails, unfurled canvas that stretched taut as the wind filled them. They were emblazoned with a large emblem. One she recognized, but to be sure, she called out to a grizzled seaman coiling rope. “What symbol is that?” She pointed to the sail.

“That there is a griffon, just like our captain.”

Her heart stuttered. “Wait, are you saying the captain is called Griffon?”

“Aye, milady. Seems fitting given they’re both mighty beasts.”

The sailor must have thought Avera odd for she began laughing. Laughing and feeling better than she had in days. Perhaps not everything was lost. After all, she’d found the legendary beast that Opal, the guardian of Fraegus Spire, had indicated would be crucial for her quest. Apparently, if she wanted to save her country from Zhos—a powerful, murderous entity attempting to break free from his enchanted prison—she had to find the Griffon. It might have helped if Avera had known she was looking for a man, and not an animal.

Even more helpful if Opal would have mentioned just how annoying he’d be.

Speaking of the irritating man, he suddenly appeared, walking back from the bow, his long-legged strut and wide shoulders making her gaze linger inappropriately. Of all the men to admire… It only increased her ire.

“You!” she huffed, planting her hands on her hips.

“I see you’ve finally decided to stop lying abed,” he replied with a smirk.

“Don’t mock me,” she snapped.

“Hardly mocking. More like amazed. I’ve never seen or heard of someone puking so much before, and that says a lot, seeing as how I’ve drunk copiously with sailors of all stripes.” He passed her and headed up the steps towards the bridge.

Avera trotted after him. “What are you planning to do with me?” she asked as she shadowed the captain. The so-called Griffon chose to speak to the sailor handling the helm instead of replying.

The captain remained as handsome as ever, a tall and rather wide man with dark hair and a swarthy complexion—features the Verlorian people were known for. He moved to a map on the wall where another of his crew listened as he pointed and traced a route with his finger. The commanding display only increased his attractiveness, much to Avera’s annoyance.

She sidled close enough to see where he indicated. “Is it true you’re taking me to Saarpira?”

“Yup.”

“Despite knowing I want to go to Verlora.” The destination given to her by Opal who’d tasked Avera with retrieving the five stolen stones needed to keep Zhos in prison. An impossible quest to start with, and now this captain seemed determined to make it harder.

“I ain’t going there. Not today. Not ever.” Understandable, considering the continent was known to be impassable. It was said that those who went to investigate never returned.

But Avera didn’t have a choice. She either found a way to Verlora, or an ancient foe would escape its prison and destroy the world. Not that Griffon believed it when she told him.

“If you won’t take me, then I’ll find someone in Saarpira who will,” she tartly replied.

“Not likely, so don’t waste your time trying.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” Avera huffed.

“Pirates are about profit and there isn’t any in Verlora. Nothing but death awaits there, so yes, I can state with assurance that you won’t find anyone who will agree to take you.”

The finality in his tone deflated. So much for her previous optimism. “In that case, I demand you return me to Seaserpent Bay at once.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be arrested as a traitor?”

A reminder that her throne had been stolen from her by Benoit, her late mother’s husband. A man who’d not only plotted and had her entire family killed, but also machinated to the point where he made Avera an outcast in her own country. The past weeks had been hard. Between the assassination of her mother, the former queen, to her brief stint as monarch, to discovering an ancient evil stirring, and now the kidnapping, Avera couldn’t seem to catch a break.

“In that case, there is no other choice. You must transport me to Verlora.”

He snorted and finally cast her a glance. “Never.”

“But you must. I have to go there,” she insisted.

“How many times do you have to be told Verlora is a death sentence for all who visit?”

“When was the last time someone went?” she asked as she followed him from the bridge back to the main deck.

“A while.”

“Then perhaps things have changed.”

He whirled so abruptly she slammed into his chest. His very wide and solid chest. He didn’t try and catch her as she bounced off it and landed on her rump.

She glared up at him. “I hate you.”

He arched a brow. “I don’t care.”

“Why won’t you tell me why you’ve really abducted me?” While he’d given her a reason before she found it less than satisfactory.

“Who says I need to have a reason? But since you won’t stop nattering, as far as I’m concerned you are a commodity. The question being, who will pay the most to acquire the last of the Voxspira line? I hear the Emperor of Merisu is looking for a new consort. Marrying Daerva’s disgraced queen might appeal to him, especially since he’s been looking to expand his territory.”

“You mean conquer Daerva,” Avera huffed as she rose to her feet.

“I thought you wanted Benoit removed from the throne?”

“Not by having a foreign country invade,” she muttered. Never mind the fact she’d toyed with the idea of hiring mercenaries to help her oust the pretender.

“What happens won’t be up to you, little queen. As of now, you are my property and I will decide what happens to you. Although, keep annoying me and I might simply decide to feed you to a kraken.”

“Krakens aren’t real,” was her surly reply.

“Said by someone who’s obviously never sailed the Eastern Seas.”

“Wait, you’re saying they exist? You’ve seen them?” her curious nature couldn’t help but ask. After all, in the past few weeks she’d seen many a thing she’d once thought impossible.

“Aye, and I don’t recommend it. Even the babies are deadly.”

“You survived,” she pointed out.

“Barely.” He walked away, and she didn’t think twice to follow.

“What would it take to convince you to take me to Verlora?”

“Nothing will ever make me return,” came his flat reply.

“When we spoke before, at the chapel”—before he’d kidnapped her and established himself as the bane of her quest—“you asked if the stones I’m after could have caused the problems in Verlora. Don’t you want to find out if that’s the case?”

“No.”

“What if it fixes things, though? Makes Verlora safe again,” she asked as he descended the steps and went to the last door at the end of the hall. She caught the panel of wood before he could slam it in her face. “You can’t ignore me.”

“I will when you speak nonsense,” he snapped, whirling on her. “How exactly do you think you could fix Verlora when no one else, even some incredibly gifted scientists, couldn’t?”

“Opal said—”

“I don’t know or care who Opal is or what she’s managed to convince you of. Verlora is lost and nothing can change that.”

“If you believe that then what’s the harm in dumping me there?”

“I won’t risk my crew getting close and that’s final.”

With that, he slammed the door in her face.

Avera pursed her lips.

That didn’t go well. However, he wasn’t the only one who could be persistent.