Llyris Fildarae is an outcast tainted by a sliver of magic in a world terrified of the supernatural. Loathed and distrusted, she uses her ability to control a magical Unnamed to survive.
Caedric Carpera is desperate to save his son from a deadly illness. He enlists Llyris to locate a lost tome containing secrets capable of healing him, but its location is a mystery thatâs already claimed lives. Thrust into a hostile world, Llyris and her companions risk everything to find the relic and return before the childâs sickness prevails.
But who is the enigmatic old man who appeared out of nowhere to set them on this dangerous expedition? And what does he really want?
Only a perilous mission to an untamed land can save the boy and reveal the truth.
Except some truths are too shocking to be exposed.
Llyris Fildarae is an outcast tainted by a sliver of magic in a world terrified of the supernatural. Loathed and distrusted, she uses her ability to control a magical Unnamed to survive.
Caedric Carpera is desperate to save his son from a deadly illness. He enlists Llyris to locate a lost tome containing secrets capable of healing him, but its location is a mystery thatâs already claimed lives. Thrust into a hostile world, Llyris and her companions risk everything to find the relic and return before the childâs sickness prevails.
But who is the enigmatic old man who appeared out of nowhere to set them on this dangerous expedition? And what does he really want?
Only a perilous mission to an untamed land can save the boy and reveal the truth.
Except some truths are too shocking to be exposed.
The tang of blood in his throat excited him, threatened to choke him. Heâd tasted it before, but only his own, or the juice of a beast slaughtered to provide sustenance.
Never the blood of a human.
Zero jumped over a fallen log, stumbled, righted himself, then slowed to glance over his shoulder. It wouldnât be long before someone pursued him; magiks were forbidden to hurt humans, never mind what heâd done to his handler. He wasnât sure how it happened. One minute heâd been following a scent on the wind, using his unique abilities to find the herbs the healers needed to concoct their medicines. The next his incisors pierced Maritaâs throat, her voice shrieking his name in the crisp morning air.
âZero! Zero!â
And then the screeching stopped, drowned by the blood filling her windpipe. He recalled stepping away, surveying what he had done, and remembered hating her for calling him by the label humans called him to make fun of him, to cause him to feel less than them. It wasnât the name his own tribe might have given him, if such a thing existed, as some insisted. He didnât know if others of his kind lived somewhere in a bigger world, but it didnât matter. Heâd stood over her for an indeterminate time, desperate and salivating, before heâd bent over and ripped a chunk of flesh from her leg.
She screamed againâor made a sound approximating a scream given her weakness and her throat being full of her own bloodâand Zero realized he needed to leave, no matter how agreeable his tongue found the fresh meat. Somehow, someone would hear her, then theyâd hunt him down and kill him.
Zero didnât want to die.
How long had he been running? How many fallen trees had he jumped and hills had he climbed? How many bushes plucked at his fur? His own blood burned in his veins, the effort of maintaining his form during such exertion making it thick and viscous. He looked up at the sun hanging lower in the sky than when his teeth tore open the artery in Maritaâs neck, sending blood spurting into the air and splashing his face. At least an hour had gone by, more likely several, and heâd maintained a brisk pace. He moved twice as fast as any human as a wolf; even if they found a way to track him, theyâd take a while to catch up.
He slowed, stopped, feet scuffling in the forest's detritus spread across the ground. His breath heaved in and out of his lungs. Sweat plastered fur to his body at the base of his neck, under his arms, down the middle of his spine as his heart beat hard in his ears. He listened to its rhythm, aching for it to calm him. Part of him wished he was a magik with the ability to travel through timeâdid such a thing exist? Heâd return to that moment and stop himself. Another part wished he didnât need to flee. Her flesh had thrilled his mouth, its sinewy texture rough on his tongue, the flavor of the blood tangy and sharp.
Zero sucked a string of saliva between his lips and focused on slowing his breathing. Gradually, it came under control, allowing him to turn his attention to other matters. He lowered himself to the ground, kneeling amongst the ferns and foliage gathered around the bottom of a trunk thicker than three of him, taller than dozens. But the tree didnât matter, it merely gave him a place to lean while he concentrated on transforming, nothing more.
His eyes slid closed, and he clamped his lids tight to block out the sunlight filtering through the high boughs, trying to force its way to his mind. Colors and patterns swam in his darkened vision. He scrutinized them until he found the one he wanted, then fixated on it, forcing the silhouette to hold its shape.
The silhouette of a wolf.
Its paws beat unseen ground as it ran in place in his field of perception, as though it craved to flee from him as he had fled Maritaâs weeping body as life left it for good. But no matter how hard it tried, he held it. The effort tightened the sinews in his neck and his back pressed against rough tree bark; he ignored it, focusing his attention on the tiny, wispy form as it changed colors, struggled against his hold, and finally transformed.
It jerked, the running paws coming to a sudden stop. The imaginary beast straightened, rising on its hind legs like a grizzly threatening to attack. A wave of relief washed through Zero, for this wasnât an act of aggression but the next step in his unbecoming.
Heâd always preferred being in his animal form; it felt more natural but took an immense amount of effort to remain so during daylight. Under moonlight was a different matter.
But the moon wouldnât be shining in the sky for hours yet, and the exertion of his flight had left him drained. So he leaned against the trunk of the tree, watched the wispy beast standing behind his closed lids. It stretched to its full height, its canine hind legs straightening as his own mimicked what his hooded eyes saw. The animalâs shaggy mane shortened and his own receded into his skin.
The wolf canted its head toward the sky to howl, snout outlined against a smear of yellow as it shrank, its teeth diminishing along with it. He rubbed his tongue over his incisors behind his real lips as the sharp points designed for rending flesh turned flat and dull. His heart sank with it; he inhaled a deep breath through his nose, found it bereft of the intricate bouquet heâd gotten used to, and opened his eyes.
The sun made him squint as his human pupils grew accustomed to the brightness and his brain acclimated to seeing differently than his wolfâs eyes did. When the light no longer threatened to blind him, he opened them fully, prepared himself for the greens and browns of the forest, the blue of the sky. Color was the one thing he regretted giving up whenever he shifted from man to wolf.
He pressed against the tree, its rough bark biting at his flesh and causing pain where thick fur had protected him a minute prior. He levered himself to stand. Desiccated pine needles and bits of moss stuck to the skin of his bare ass; he brushed them away and shivered at the change of temperature after having gone from hirsute animal to naked man. He glanced at himself, wishing heâd thought to grab Maritaâs pack before he fled. Then heâd have clothes to keep him warm, and boots to protect his feet from twigs and stones.
âNo matter,â he muttered, and stepped from the tree.
The sole of his right foot found a sharp stone, making him jump and whimper deep in his throat. He reached down and wiped at it to ensure the rock hadnât stuck. His palm came away bloody.
The crimson smear enthralled him, took his mind to the blood pumping from Maritaâs throat. The wound heâd made with his teeth.
Why?
In their years together, heâd never contemplated how she might taste, or considered overpowering her and escaping. Now, having done so, it was obvious he could have accomplished it whenever heâd wanted. Marita was small, weak. All she had over him was control, the capacity to force him into whatever she wanted him to do. An ability she and others had taken advantage of over and over while he denied his own power. Was this why heâd killed her? Was enough finally enough? He didnât recall making any such decision. One instant he was scenting herbs, the next blood filled his mouth.
Blood.
He drew the tip of his tongue across his palm, expecting the flavor to excite him the way Maritaâs had. It didnât. Not only was it his own, but the sweat and dirt on his hand tainted the sweetness, left him disappointed, sad.
He wondered if heâd miss her.
He realized he did. Missed her pack filled with his clothes. Missed her calming words and gentle touch that always helped him shift back. He missed her unique scent made up of perspiration and breath and woman. He missed the flavor of herâŚ
Zero shook his head and stepped away from the tree again, careful to avoid the vampiric stone hidden among the ferns. He achieved one more step before stopping, his mouth open and his eyes fixed on a spot ahead of him.
The air shimmered, twinkling and dancing the way the sun shines on a lake. Zero stared, mesmerized by the anomaly, curious what should cause such a wonder. A hole appeared in the center of the wavering iridescence, small at first, then widening. Through it, he saw trees, but not the ones he should be seeing. These belonged somewhere else, and the realization made him understand.
A traveler.
Recognition had begun taking hold when the opening expanded enough for a man to jump through. At least, what he thought a man. He towered over Zero and the other people who followed him through, his form encased in metal as sunlight glinted on the long sword he brandished in his right hand. The fellow may have yelled, or snarled, or bellowed, but the sudden rushing of wind in his ears hid it from Zero as his body instinctively began to shift.
No time to change or to flee.
Zero cast his gaze past the metal behemoth and settled on the girl whoâd followed him and the other men through, those less armored and weaponed than the first. His attention locked on her, and hers on him. Her bright eyes widened as she must have realized what he concluded at the same moment.
A connection existed between them. Like he and Marita.
Thereâs only supposed to be one.
Zero perceived a patch of hair pushing through his skin, but it was too late. The armored giant reached him, blade flashing, as blood spattered in the air for the second time that day.
***
Help me.
Llyris Fildarae heard the words in her head, not with her ears, and knew at once they came from the young shifter about to become fodder for Rein Shrikenâs sword. Her muscles tightened and her breath caught in her throat. How was it possible for him to contact her thus? He should have had a connection with his handler and no one else, and each handler only had one magik with which they connected. She must have imagined it.
Please help me.
The words sounded as if heâd whispered directly in her ear.
âI canât,â she spoke aloud, unaware she had.
âDid you say something, miss?â Ilkari Vasuk asked from where he stood behind her and to the right, forgotten.
She shook her head. âNo,â she breathed and said no more, unable to speak or look away as Rein Shrikenâs sword split the shape-shifter in two from shoulder to groin. She jerked with it, like sheâd taken some of the impact herself.
The voice went silent.
âOh,â she exclaimed, pushing her hand into her pocket and gripping the candle she found in its depths.
Though they lacked the ability to communicate on any tangible level, her bond with Flayre always calmed her when she needed it. Did it do the same for the tiny magical creature? Sheâd likely never know, but now she wished sheâd been able to offer such relief for this unnamed young fellow. How sad for him to die alone, with no contact with his handler or anyone else besides the man wielding the sword to end his existence.
But he had contact with me.
A gust of wind shook tree branches and touched the cheek of Llyris Fildarae, sending a shiver along her spine as she watched Rein Shriken standing over his kill. The knight glared at him like an animal unworthy of the life heâd lost. Bits of coarse hair stuck out from the youthful manâs skin, and Llyris wondered how the encounter might have gone if theyâd come upon him in wolf form. Perhaps it would have lasted longer, but she doubted heâd have provided much challenge for the duchyâs champion. She may have recently met him, but his reputation preceded him.
The young man jerked, the unexpected movement startling her as he struggled to roll over. It didnât affect Rein the same way. He raised his sword, droplets of blood rolling along its silver length, then swung it down, the steel whistling as it arced through the air, separating the manâs head from his body. Llyris spun away, turning her gaze from the sight, the brutality sickening her.
âItâs whatâs necessary to make sure a jick is dead, right, Jai?â Rein said over his shoulder.
âYou know best, my friend,â the other knight said in his high-pitched voice, so uncharacteristic of his physical stature. âNobody has dispatched more of them than you.â
Llyris bowed her head, looked at her feet. What had happened when she and the young shifter gazed upon each other? Some connection. But she had never seen him before in her life. How could it be?
âAre you all right?â
She raised her chin to find Ilkari Vasuk, Reinâs squireâa man in his mid-fifties with graying hair, entirely too old to be an attendantâhad moved to stand in front of her a few strides away, a concerned look on his features. Llyris got the impression he wanted to move closer, perhaps put his hand on her shoulder, but resisted. Sheâd known him for the same two hours as sheâd known Rein and Jai after arriving at the baronâs for her latestâher secondâassignment from the handlersâ guild.
âYes,â she said, then paused. âYes, Iâm fine.â
He took a step nearer to her. âItâs difficult to watch, isnât it?â
She shrugged, playing it nonchalant despite the urge to weep welling up inside her. He offered her a smile for comfort, but it came out lopsided and sad. The sound of boots trampling ferns pulled them from each other.
âHere,â Rein said, extending the bloody sword as he strode by. âClean this for me, Ilkari. Then gather the beastâs head. It will be worth a reward, I should think.â
âOf course,â the squire replied, accepting the weapon.
âHow long before youâre ready to return us, girl?â
Llyris looked up from her feet into the fighterâs face, still mostly covered by his helmet. The nose piece extended down, leaving two shining blue eyes peering out at her. A moment later, he lifted his hands to the side of his head and pulled the helm up and off.
Light-brown locks spilled from under, flowing past his shoulders. A few strands stuck to his forehead, plastered to it by sweat from wearing the armor for so long, but it didnât detract from the effect his countenance exerted upon her. She stared at his face: high cheek bones, chiseled jaw, piercing eyes. Sheâd heard stories of the handsomeness of Rein Shriken, but hadnât experienced it until now. Breath caught in her chest.
He paused, seeming to give her a chance to experience him, before he spoke again.
âWell? Do you need much time to prepare?â
She shook her head, cleared her throat, and stumbled back a step.
âNo,â she said, her voice coming out but a squeak, so she made a second attempt. âNo, not long.â
âGood. I ache to change into more comfortable attire. Let me know when you are ready, girl.â
âBut,â she said, then hesitated, unsure if she should speak the words threatening on her tongue. âWhat about him? And his handler?â
Rein stopped and faced her, the scowl disturbing his features doing little to detract from his comeliness.
âScavengers can have him,â he said and spat on the loamy ground. âAnd the woman is not my concern. Someone else will take care of her. There is no money in retrieving a dead handler.â
He spun on his heel and headed toward Jai, who held out a towel for him. Rein took it, thanked his friend, and wiped sweat from his brow, then went a few more paces before sitting himself on the trunk of a fallen tree. He sat hunched over, elbows resting on knees before looking up at her.
âWell?â
She started, then glanced away as she dug into her pocket, fingers searching for the smooth surface of Flayre. When she found the tiny creature, she pulled her out and held her up in front of her eyes, letting Rein notice her working on his request.
When the magical being slept, she appeared no different from a candle to the inexperienced eye. Her sleek skin and rounded shape seemed made of wax of such a dark purple as to be one shade from black. But as Llyris grasped her, she sensed her warmth, the gentle movement of her soft hide as she drew breath. She raised her hand closer to her mouth, parted her lips.
Truthfully, she didnât know if Flayre was female or male. She decided on her name and to refer to her in the feminine after nothing more than a feeling.
âFlayre,â she whispered, her air brushing over the creature.
The creature stirred, a quiver rolling along her wax-like flesh. Then the purple cylinder rolled over, bent at the middle, and sat up. Llyris took her with her free hand and held her out in front of her. Besides the movement, nothing else suggested the object contained life. It drew no breaths and possessed no eyes to open. But Llyris knew different. Not only did life lurk within, but significant power as well, power she controlled. Such was the role of the handler of magiks.
She turned to where Rein sat waiting, Jai standing close beside him. They watched the squire fish a canvas sack from his belt and stalk through the ferns toward the dead shifter. He grabbed the severed head by the hair and lifted it while shaking the satchel open with the other hand. The squireâs lip curled as he struggled to stuff the trophy into the bag, blood dripping from the ragged wound, and Llyris thought she noticed him wrestling to control his rising gorge. Her stomach roiled along with his and she recalled the pleading expression on the young manâs face before Rein had struck, the begging words in her mind. Might she have stopped the deadly attack? She didnât think so but, if she had, what result would it have brought? Stepping between a knight and the punishment to a magik for slaying his handler would have earned her no accolades and more likely expulsion from the guild, at the least.
She wondered again about the sudden and unexpected link sheâd noticed with him, and hearing his words in her head. A glance at Flayre held in her hand made her realize she felt the same thing now.
âReady?â Jai inquired in his high-pitched voice.
Llyris nodded. Instead of going to them, she waited for them to come to her.
The knights arrived first, sour looks on both of their faces. Ilkari came a few seconds later, Reinâs sword belt slung over his shoulder and weighing him down.
âI hate this part,â Rein said.
Jai spat on the ground. âIt always upsets my stomach.â
âKeep your eyes open. And look at your feet,â Llyris advised. âIâve been told it helps.â
âDoes it affect you in this way, too?â Ilkari asked. He wore an expression similar to the othersâ. âYou must have done this many times.â
She shook her head and shrugged, unsure what message to send. âIt used to, but not anymore. Flayre takes care of me.â
âFlayre,â Jai repeated with a laugh. âI canât believe you named a jick. Theyâre called Unnamed for a reason.â
She opened her mouth to respond, then thought better of it. Instead, she rubbed a finger along the side of the small creature, letting it know of their readiness. It stirred against her palm, lengthened.
âGet ready,â she told the others. âHere we go.â
Llyris closed her eyes and directed her energy toward the living thing in her hand as she pictured their destination: the courtyard outside the baronâs keep. She held it in her mind, sharing it with Flayre. A simple trip, as theyâd taken it several times before, though this counted as the first time theyâd brought the others with them.
One of them gasped, and she assumed it to be Ilkari. Surely great warriors like Jai Aryn and Rein Shriken were neither startled nor impressed by a thing as insignificant as this. Still, she couldnât help herself. She opened her eyelid a crack to peer at them and found them staring at her hand. If they were traveling somewhere they hadnât seen before, transporting based on memory or scent, as theyâd done to find the man-wolf, she wouldnât have dared spare a shred of her concentration. But the baronâs keep was familiar enough to Flayre she could have taken them on her own if she didnât require a handler.
They stared at the wispy entity wavering over top of the cylinder. It appeared much like a flame, but dark and emitting no light. It flickered and curled like flame, or a twist of smoke, dancing as though tethered in place and desirous of escape. So close to the truth.
âGo,â Llyris spoke aloud. She neednât have spoken but sometimes enjoyed adding theatrics for the other people involved. She hoped her display might impress Rein.
The world swam around them, colors and shapes smearing and melding. Jai grabbed Reinâs shoulder, steadying himself or offering support. Ilkari lurched but found his footing again as the tunnel opened up before them. She peered along its length, saw the courtyard beyond. Approximately twenty paces separated them from their goal rather than the many leagues which actually lay between them.
âAll right,â she said as she started out, Flayre held in front of her. âFollow me.â
She didnât need to lead any more than sheâd needed to coax the tiny magical being into action with a spoken word, but she enjoyed feeling necessary.
Llyris led them along the path, the space under their feet white as Flayreâs magic obscured the world outside them. She went a few paces, moving confidently as she had done so dozensâmore likely hundredsâof times before, then glanced over her shoulder to make sure they followed. The men did, but not in a straight line. They walked like sailors navigating the deck of a ship tossed by a violent storm, lurching one way then the other. Drunk sailors. She stifled a smile and choked down the giggle threatening in her gullet, then offered her free hand to Rein, who was doing his best to lead the party of three.
âHere, let me help,â she said.
The renowned fighter looked at her offering for a second before taking her fingers in his own gauntlet-encased hand. The touch grounded him, steadying his steps, and those of Jai following, hand on shoulder. They left poor Ilkari to find his own way. Llyris sympathized with him, but she possessed no more limbs to offer.
They progressed more quickly toward the open end of the gauzy tunnel and, a moment later, passed out of it into sunlight in the courtyard. Rein yanked his hand away, cleared his throat.
âWasnât so bad, was it, Jai?â
The other knight shook his head, but his complexion showed a slight green tint. A few seconds later, Ilkari stumbled out, dropping to his knees with a clatter.
âCareful, man,â Rein said, bending to grab his sword belt from his squire. âYou know better.â
âSo sorry, master.â
Llyris wanted to say something, offer words to comfort the squire. After all, the others made it through more easily than him because of her help. She didnât, though; she didnât want Rein to think ill of her. Why it mattered, she wasnât sure. After this, sheâd likely never see him again.
Flayre flickered and danced at the end of the purple cylinder until Llyris pulled her close and blew on her the way one did when extinguishing a candle. The magical creature straightened, then melted into the cylinder, the wavering tunnel closing up as it did. Before it disappeared, Llyris glimpsed red blood spattered on green ferns and her stomach clenched.
âIâll never get used to being near jicks,â Rein commented as he angled to head toward the keep. âI donât know how you handlers do it.â
âOh, theyâre not so different from us,â she started, then realized the fighter no longer listened to her. Jai had also turned to follow his friend, leaving only the squire close enough to hear. He shrugged and offered an apologetic expression, then trailed after them, laboring under the weight of the sack containing the wolf-manâs head in the other hand. She considered it might be the gravity of his cargo which slowed him, rather than its mass.
The trio got a few paces before a tall fellow in a gleaming uniform stepped out from the crowd and into Reinâs path, two other men dressed in similar fashion with less gaudy decorations a pace to the rear of him.
âRein Shriken,â the obviously important man declared. âBaron Sylleth requires your attendance.â
âI have recently returned from a foray and need time to cleanse myself. Tell Sylleth I will call on him after I have bathed. Tell him I have a gift for him.â
Though she stood behind him, unable to see his face, Llyris heard the fighterâs sneer in his tone; she noticed the similar set tilting the other manâs mouth.
âYouâve mistaken my words for a request,â the man said. The other fellows with him contorted their faces into stern expressions, but she doubted Rein cared about them.
âWhat is this all about?â Jai demanded.
The well-dressed soldier neither answered nor diverted their attention from the subject of his invitation. Llyris watched the knight shift from one foot to the other, then raise a hand and run his fingers through his hair. Despite having spent a few hours enclosed in his helmet, his locks looked none the worse for wear, in her opinion. Perhaps touching it thus convinced him of the same thing, for he relented.
âFine,â he said, starting out again and pushing past the messenger and his small entourage. âBut this had better be important. Come on, Jai.â
The other knight followed along behind his friend, leaving Llyris and Ilkari to watch them go. She looked to the squire, who shrugged at her a second timeâhis most common gesture, she thoughtâbefore he set off after his charge, the severed head banging against his leg in his hurry.
Llyris watched them for a minute before realizing the messenger and his men hadnât left. In fact, the gaudily decorated man had redirected his gaze toward her and stood watching her with one eyebrow raised, as though he couldnât figure her out. A second later, he spoke, and she understood.
âYou, too, handler. The baron has requested your presence, as well.â
She didnât mean for her eyes to widen or her mouth to fill with nervous saliva, but both happened without her consent.
âMe?â she asked before gulping the mouthful of spittle threatening to spill out of her lips and down her chin.
âYou.â The man turned sideways and gestured with a sweep of his arm, the sarcastic tone of the action and his demeanor unmistakable.
Llyris nodded and shivered, trying to suppress the dread building up inside her.
What could the baron want of her?
Set in a dark fantasy world in which magic runs so wild special users are trained to handle it. One character is Llyris, a handler who is drawn into an adventure that may decide the fate of the world. The Book of Shadow is the first book in the world of the Unnamed, a well-built world filled with dark secrets and engaging points of view. Though, one flaw I would have to point out are the weak background and supporting characters who feel forgettable most of the time.
The reader spends most of the story seeing the world through Llyrisâs eyes, and they see a dark world that sees her as troublesome and untrustworthy which causes a lack of confidence in her abilities. As a handler she forms a connection with a magical creature known as the Unnamed, allowing her to control that creatureâs magic. She possesses mixed feelings regarding her charge, part of her worries what could happen if she loses control while she appears to care about the Unnamed, even giving them a name. Her fear is not just from losing control of the Unnamed, itâs from the world around her. Like in many fantasy series the world around her is fearful of magic and willing to harm those who control it. This fear goes as far as affecting her ability to truly trust her companions. In a way, Llyris is a relatable character, trying to navigate a dark world that feels like itâs going to crush her at any moment. She feels like she needs to do anything to prove her worth to the world at large.
Overall, the world told through Llyrisâs point of view creates an engaging world that makes the reader want to go back for more. I do hope future books in the series create more strong characters as they tell their stories in the world of the Unnamed, as well as tell readers to find their inner strength in a difficult world.