Every storm leaves scars. Some never heal.
The House of David has fallen—fractured, betrayed, and cast into the shadows of a world teetering on the brink of ruin. But amid the wreckage, Tennin Aiden Yeager stands with the last of his allies, determined to stop Seditio from finishing what they started.
As a new threat emerges in the form of Mary Denau, a chaos-seeker with a dark obsession, old enemies and unlikely allies collide in a final confrontation that will decide the fate of both the living and the damned. And when a mysterious child with blood tied to the relics enters the fray, every choice becomes a gamble between redemption and destruction.
Sweet Fall, the breathtaking finale of A Series of Four Seasons, delivers a raw, emotional climax where healing hurts, redemption cuts, and survival comes at a cost.
The seasons are ending. Only the strongest will see the dawn.
Every storm leaves scars. Some never heal.
The House of David has fallen—fractured, betrayed, and cast into the shadows of a world teetering on the brink of ruin. But amid the wreckage, Tennin Aiden Yeager stands with the last of his allies, determined to stop Seditio from finishing what they started.
As a new threat emerges in the form of Mary Denau, a chaos-seeker with a dark obsession, old enemies and unlikely allies collide in a final confrontation that will decide the fate of both the living and the damned. And when a mysterious child with blood tied to the relics enters the fray, every choice becomes a gamble between redemption and destruction.
Sweet Fall, the breathtaking finale of A Series of Four Seasons, delivers a raw, emotional climax where healing hurts, redemption cuts, and survival comes at a cost.
The seasons are ending. Only the strongest will see the dawn.
Aiden
Sitting on the cliff near our safehouse in Madeira, my legs dangling over the edge, I can almost feel calm. The setting sun paints the sky in brilliant oranges and reds above the sea. Below me, water crashes in foamy waves into the sheer rock face.
My carving knife gets stuck in my small hunk of wood, and I grunt as I yank it out. Eventually, it’ll be a horse figurine, but it’s still a long way off. I won’t give it to anyone. Hell, I probably won’t even keep it. Carving is something I’ve done ever since I was a kid. To keep my hands busy, I guess.
Like almost everything these days, the blade in my hand reminds me of Eden. Back on the Gate, before it was destroyed, before he’d been killed, back when I was just an Acolyte, I’d been carving in my room when Eden barged drunkenly through the door. The usual.
“What the hell are you doing?” he’d asked in his trademark caustic way. His grin was goofy and gentle.
He didn’t mean anything by it, but I bristled. My hobby wasn’t a secret, really, but it was something I kept to myself. In a group that didn’t allow for much personal time, whittling was just for me.
“None of your business,” I spat.
He ignored me and leaned closer. “Is that a little wooden sword?”
It was half-shaped and still needed a lot of refinement before I could call it complete, but, yes, it was vaguely sword-shaped. I shrugged.
“Got anything else?” he asked with a genuine curiosity. “Show me.”
I sighed and opened a drawer, pulling out a few finished pieces. Back then, I carved mostly Series 4 weapon replicas. Eden, of course, got hung up on a little scythe I’d made, small enough to fit on a key ring. He picked it up, stared at it for a good ten seconds, then pocketed it.
“Hey!” I protested.
“It’s the price of my silence,” Eden said before shifting his weight and continuing, “plus I think it’s cool. I can have it, yeah?”
“Really?” I prompted. I didn’t get many compliments—on my carvings or anything else. Not many people knew they existed, but still.
Eden grinned. “Really.” Then he’d just turned and walked out the door.
The memory tastes like glass. Eden’s absence hurts. Sadness tinges even the happy memories.
When gravel shifts behind me, I pocket the knife and wood before turning.
“Cain was looking for you,” Eiji utters.
I nod and carefully stand, wiping the rust-red soil from my palms onto my jeans. Behind Eiji, the jagged cliffs of Madeira drop into the sea. He watches me with a bemused smile. I nod and carefully stand, wiping the rust-red soil from my palms onto my jeans. Behind Eiji, the jagged cliffs of Madeira drop into the sea. He watches me with a bemused smile.
“What?” I query.
“You don’t have to hide it, you know.”
“Hide what?”
“Your carvings,” he says, shrugging.
“You know about those?” I probed. When had he seen me?
“Yeah, Eden told me.”
God. Dammit. So much for the price of silence.
“When?”
Eiji tilts his head. “Dunno. Ages ago. You must have still been an Acolyte. He came up to me in a hallway and said, ‘Look what Aiden carved!’ and shoved this wooden scythe in my face. Then he said, ‘Shit, I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Promise you won’t tell Aiden you know. I’ll kill you twice if you do.’” Eiji laughs.
I shake my head. Eden had kept the secret for five minutes, if that. I can sense Eiji’s smile following me as I set off to look for Cain.
Sunlight slips in like burning embers through narrow gaps in the stone walls, dust drifting lazily in the glow. My bootsteps resonate through the stone corridor. A detached clang of steel meets my ears—probably trainees getting worked over by instructors—but my focus stays locked ahead on the shadowed figure waiting patiently under a dancing lamp. Cain stares at his phone intently, scowling even more than usual.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Cain nods at my approach, motioning me forward. With a deep and unshaken voice, he tells me, “Seditio breached the vault in Alexandria. My failsafe triggered.”
My chest tightens. Alexandria was such a well-kept secret even the Tennins weren’t aware of it. For Seditio to have breached it… it means nothing is untouchable. No place is sacred.
Cain told us a few weeks ago, after the House was forced into hiding, that he’d taken care of Alexandria.
I lean against the edge of the table, the metal cool beneath my palms. The room smells like dust and old paper, like it’s been holding its breath for too long. “I thought you cleared Alexandria already,” I say. “Didn’t you move everything important?”
Cain steeples his fingers and bites his lower lip. “I moved what I could, but taking everything would have required full excavation teams. I had to leave behind Alexander the Great’s remains, ancient Egyptian artifacts, and other pieces buried too deep to reach. I’m sure there are sealed passages I never knew about—who knows what’s down there. We can only hope my cave collapse deterred Seditio, but knowing Orion and Judah, I think they’ll keep looking until they find something.”
I clench my jaw. The last thing we need is for Seditio to grow even more powerful. What would Eden have done? He isn’t here anymore, so I shove the thought away. “So, you didn’t actually clear the library?”
He stares at me, searching for a challenge. “I did what I could with the knowledge I had. I never envisioned Seditio growing this strong.” His glare sharpens. “We’ve already lost so much ground—if Seditio pushes us another inch, I fear it’ll crush us.”
My fingers curl into fists. Eden wouldn’t have watched and waited. We have to take the fight to them. “What do you need?”
“Assemble a strike team. Extract the remaining artifacts before Seditio moves in. Destroy anything you can’t take.”
Wow. Cain advocating for the destruction of artifacts? I never thought I’d see the day. “That’s not very subtle,” I say dryly.
“Subtlety’s lost.” His voice drops, low and cold, the kind of quiet that makes people lean in without realizing they’re holding their breath. His eyes harden. “Seditio has won the battle, but we can’t lose the war. Expect no mercy. Give none in return.”
“Fine,” I mutter. “Tell me about the artifacts.”
“That’s need-to-know,” Cain argues. “Take the usual precautions.”
I shake my head, unsatisfied. “I need to know.” Cain raises an eyebrow, and I push further. “Look, you’re the only one with this knowledge, Cain. And that was fine when we had file backups and failsafes and mechanisms for ensuring the next generation gained the knowledge they needed, but that’s gone now. We need to think about the future. If you die, all that knowledge dies with you. Then where would the world be?”
Cain leans back in his chair and considers. “You want to be my successor?” The disbelief in his voice brings color to my cheeks. I feel like a child getting scolded by their teacher.
“I know you’d rather have Eden,” I say, looking at the ground where a beetle scuttles along the floor.
At the mention of Eden, Cain’s posture goes rigid before he softens. “Very well. Expect a series of debriefings. Don’t tell the others.”
I nod. “I’d like you to tell me about Alexander before I go.”
Cain’s lips tighten. “Fine,” he says after a long pause. “Everything you’d heard Alexander the Great—it’s mostly true. My predecessors thought he had some sort of bacteria in his blood. Or maybe in battle he was exposed to something. Either way, something strange happened after he died. His body wouldn’t decompose. His flesh remained young, healthy. We know very little about the bacteria causing this, though there are theories. It’s even possible he’s actually alive and in some self-sustaining coma. Needless to say, whatever this bacteria’s capabilities are, it is imperative that Seditio not gain control of it.”
Cain slides a thick envelope across the table, cutting off my questions before I can ask them. “Coordinates and intel. Move at first light.”
“What if they're already inside?”
A grim look settles over his face. “Do what Eden would.” His voice dips lower. “You carry his legacy now.”
I swallow the bile threatening to rise. “Understood.”
Cain dismisses me with a curt nod—his version of gratitude. Silence fills the space as I turn sharply and stride out.
I follow a spiral stairway down into the courtyard. Outside, the late afternoon sun bleeds red across the sky. Seagulls shriek warnings as they circle overhead.
Eiji lies stretched out on the courtyard’s cracked tiles. With his head propped on his arms, he watches the sky. Typical.
“Busy?” I ask bluntly.
He squints at me. “Yes. I’m deciding if that cloud looks like an angry rabbit or just a really ugly chicken. It’s critical.”
I kneel beside him. “Cain wants us in Alexandria. Seditio’s hunting relics.”
Eiji sits up, suddenly serious. “Sounds messy.”
“It probably will be,” I say quietly. “We leave in the morning.”
Rising slowly, he brushes dirt and grass off his pants. “I guess relaxing can wait. I’ll grab gear. And snacks. Can't fight evil on an empty stomach.”
Breathlessly, Abigail joins us in the courtyard, clutching a stack of papers to her chest. “I'm coming too.” She brandishes the stack like weapons. “Cain didn’t want me involved, but I did it anyway. I took the initiative to learn more about the vault and its secrets. Blueprints, secret tunnels—knowledge only the House of David has. And I brought cases for the relics.
Eiji eyes her skeptically. “This isn't a research trip. Seditio won't play nice.”
Abigail’s observation stays firm. “Thanks, Eiji. I’ll just fold that keen observation into my ten years of combat experience and see how I do. We can't let them touch that library again, and we don’t have the numbers for you to say no.” It’s hard to dismiss the determination shining in her eyes.
“Fine,” I say, nodding. “Let’s get moving.”
After hours of preparation that feel like minutes, we head for Alexandria under cover of twilight. An Acolyte drives, silent and focused, hands steady on the wheel. The truck rumbles along dusty, deserted roads, headlights slicing through the growing darkness. Abigail pores over her notes beside me, and Eiji lounges in the back, inspecting the supplies. I scan Cain’s briefing again, the words sinking in slower than I’d like. It’s a complete list of every relic in the library and the items’ effects. Cain’s highlighted the artifacts he thinks might remain. Looking over the list, I can’t find much left that would give Seditio a game-breaking advantage. Alexander’s body is our priority.
I fill in the team, and they nod along. The plan’s straightforward: scout first, infiltrate second. As Cain mentioned, it’ll take a full excavation to dig out those artifacts, so we have some time. At least, that’s what I tell myself. But as the ruins loom closer, foreboding, a familiar unease settles over me. It won’t be so simple. I can feel it.
***
We stop beside a broken fence just outside the city, its jagged edges barely visible against the night sky. Our truck doors are the loudest sound here. The wind howls softly, carrying the scent of old stone and dry earth. Abigail begins laying out our approach, but her voice suddenly cuts off, when something rustles behind a collapsed stack of concrete slabs and twisted rebar.. Eiji freezes, hand hovering over his weapon. Motioning them back, I step forward carefully.
Muffled sobbing drifts through the gloom. Behind the crate, two kids cower—a slender Italian boy, around thirteen, dirt-streaked face sharp with anxiety and a protective instinct, and a smaller girl clutching him tightly. She has striking dark skin, unnaturally white hair, and eyes so vividly turquoise they seem to glow. The boy reminds me of myself—the person I was before I met Eden. Skinny, dirty, and unkempt. It feels like fate, meeting these two on my very first mission after his death. I take a step toward them, and they both stumble backward.
“Stay back!” the boy warns in Italian, voice thick with fear.
Though Eiji is our language expert, everyone in the House has to learn at least a few. I raise my hands slowly, showing empty palms. “We’re not here to hurt you.” The Italian sounds skewed coming from my throat, but I think I get the general idea across.
The boy’s grip tightens on the girl. Her frightened eyes stab me deeply.
“Please,” the boy says in an accented, desperate English. “We've been running all night. She needs help.”
I glance at Abigail and Eiji and find their faces equally torn. Eiji lowers his weapon cautiously, offering a weak smile. “Running from who?”
The boy shakes his head, distrust etched into his features. “They did things to her—bad things.” His arms and legs twitch fiercely. “I won't let them take her again.”
The girl whimpers, pressing closer to him and clutching his torn jacket. Poor kids. They might be victims of trafficking, but something doesn’t sit right. Their clothes are too clean for the grime on their skin. The boy keeps glancing up, like he’s tracking something above them, and he’s constantly looking over his shoulder, tense and alert. And the girl—her shock-white hair doesn’t look dyed. It looks unnatural, like it was grown that way.
“What's your name?” I ask, keeping my voice even.
“Elliott,” he answers warily, tightening his hold. “This is Dallis.”
Dallis stares at me silently, eyes impossibly wide and glowing faintly in the dim night. The signs of endured trauma are unmistakable. Her hair, stark white despite her age, isn’t just strange—it’s a warning. I’ve heard of cases like this before. Marie Antoinette’s hair was said to have turned white the night before her execution. Shock that violent has a way of etching itself into the body. I see it in her tense posture, the way her shoulders never quite relax, and in those haunted eyes that look right through me.
No, not human trafficking. Experimentation. The realization lands hard, a cold weight in my gut. The unnatural white hair, the way the boy keeps glancing over his shoulder, the vacant, almost programmed expressions—they aren’t just scared. They’re altered.
We suspected Seditio was experimenting on humans, but until now, we had nothing solid. No proof. Just rumors.
Now I’m looking at it.
Abigail steps closer, voice gentle but urgent. “Listen, we have a mission—an important one. Can you two find somewhere safe to hole up? We’ll come back for you.”
Elliott’s jaw tightens, a flicker of defiance flashing in his eyes. He takes a step forward, hands trembling at his sides, like he’s holding himself back from grabbing me. “There is nowhere safe. They’ll find us. Please, don’t leave us. You’re our only chance.”
Our mission’s objective is clear, simple: artifacts first, no complications. The restraints of our orders crawl across my skin. Even if we were at full strength, deviating from the mission to protect these two would be a stretch—and we’re far from full strength. But Dallis’ terrified eyes drag back into memories I'd rather forget—of Eden finding me broken and abandoned.
Eiji shifts uncomfortably, clearly waiting for my decision. Abigail’s eyes dart toward the shadows stretching across the sand-blown ruins. In the distance, the crumbled outskirts of Alexandria rise like ghosts, half-swallowed by the night. Broken columns and shattered stone whisper of a history too old to care about what comes next. Time isn’t on our side.
“We’re not equipped for this,” I force out. “You need to keep moving.”
Elliott’s face crumbles. “Please!”
Before anyone can argue further, a sound cuts through the tense air. I recognize the noise—boots scuffling in dirt and loose rocks, hurried and harsh. My instincts flare instantly. “Move, now!”
The pair run, desperate to get anywhere else, while Eiji, Abigail, and I slip into the jagged hollow of a collapsed stone wall, half-swallowed by sand and shadow. We do not have the luxury of taking them with us. If we are spotted, it will turn into a firefight, and the entire mission could fall apart before it even begins.
Elliott and Dallis dart through a broken alleyway that spills out toward a slightly busier street on the outskirts. I feel a twinge of hope that they might actually make it.
But nothing is ever that easy.
A man rounds the corner. He is hunched, older, wearing layered robes with arms full of plastic crates. He crashes straight into them. Elliott stumbles, tries to slip past, muttering apologies in rushed Italian. The man’s startled shout carries into the street and the Seditio goon close in.
Seditio’s men are masked, swift, and brutal. They push the man against the wall and shoot him in the throat before he has a chance to call out. He gurgles, eyes wide with shock. Elliott thrashes wildly as they seize him. Dallis' cry pierces the night, echoing painfully. The children are quickly silenced, first by the soldiers’ gloved hands, then by soaked rags pressed over their noses and mouths. Both kids are limp in seconds.
Eiji raises his weapon, but I grip his arm, shaking my head sharply. Too many, too dangerous—we're exposed here.
Even though Elliott’s desperate pleas shredded my heart, I allow Seditio to take both children. The second they’re gone, the guilt sears me like acid. Would Eden have left them? No, he would have charged in, damn the consequences. He’d be disappointed to see me let children suffer in service of a mission.
I’ve failed him.
The House of David versus Seditio. But each side has suffered its share of losses and wants the fight over. So when a child with a special blood ability comes along, it’s going to be a fight to the death – but whose death…
This is the fourth book in the series, so it was initially a little difficult to understand the roles of the characters within the story and to each other, but the main theme that stuck out to me was redemption. While certain things became clearer later, some of the weapons and their abilities never came through. I found the idea behind the relics and the bacteria in Alexander the Great’s body that allowed for regeneration intriguing. Then added to the mix were those whose blood had special abilities.
You have Aiden on one side, who is conflicted about being able to lead yet still show compassion. And you have Mary on the other, who is hellbent on destruction and whatever chaos and physical destruction she can cause. But she is conflicted too, and is starting to make decisions very contrary to her evil nature. And in the middle is Dallis, a young girl with blood that has regenerative properties. There are quite a few characters in the story, but the author has been able to convey each unique identity well, and you become invested in each one.
The writing style seemed to change right after the beginning of the book. It was very (almost too much) descriptive and airy in a way, and then as soon as it changed to the present, the writing became a lot more to the point. The action sequences were well detailed, and the quieter moments held gravity.
What a pity this story had so many proofing errors, though. They ranged from things like missing or doubled-up quotation marks, to commas missing before direct address, to missing words in sentences or sentences being repeated right after each other. A character’s name changed spelling throughout, and at one stage, a character had a dress on that suddenly changed into pants.
This will appeal to fans of clever fantasy stories that don’t hold back on the action. There is a trigger warning for this as there is physical torture, and some of it happens to children, so take that into account. But overall, a great read…