The kid lifted his chin. “So, what’s the holdup, voidblood? You said you could land a punch on me before I burn you to ash.” His palms crackled with faint arcs of electricity, bright against the sandstone walls.
I forced myself to keep my feet planted. Adrenaline sped through my veins, and I felt every ragged breath in my chest. I’d initiated this so-called “bet” to avoid outright humiliation, but there was no turning back now. Even from behind, I could sense Lotrick’s impatience and Rosie’s concern.
Carlyle’s lip curled. “Afraid already? Come on, you worm. Show me your best shot.”
I spared a glance at Lotrick and saw the frustrated glare in his eyes. He clearly wanted me to surrender rather than escalate, but I couldn’t bring myself to grovel any more than I already had. Licking the brat’s shoes wasn’t an option, so I decided to gamble on my random heightened reflexes I was experiencing in Fern’s body.
‘Erik . . . be careful,’ Fern said, resigned to the fact that I decided we would fight.
Carlyle flicked his wrist, sending a sharp bolt of energy streaking through the air. My muscles coiled, and I dove sideways behind a fruit stall. The stall’s owner yelped, scrambled away, and left her baskets of orange fruit rolling across the ground.
“Stop dodging, you piece of trash!” Carlyle shouted, stepping around the scattered fruit. He aimed another crackling bolt at me. This one sizzled past my shoulder, close enough that my hair stood on end.
‘We can’t keep this up forever,’ Fern said. ‘He’s going to hit us eventually. What’s your plan?’
Hold on! Let me think, I shot back. My body was responding with speed I never possessed on Earth. I didn’t feel the exhaustion from quick movements either.
Fern’s body had muscles, sure, but he shouldn’t be able to move this fast.
If I time my move right, maybe I can close the distance and land that single punch, I said to Fern.
I ducked behind the stall, but Carlyle lunged around it, thrusting out his hand with a flourish of glowing threads. He must’ve shifted to a different element, because a swirling cone of water blasted from his fingertips. I barely jumped back in time. The water splashed across the pavement, drenching my legs and leaving a deep chill on my skin.
He smirked. “Not so tough now, are you? That’s right—kneel in that puddle, where you belong.”
Anger prickled under my skin, but I forced myself to remain calm. I needed to exploit a small window when he wasn’t expecting me to lunge.
“You know you don’t have to destroy half the city to prove you’re stronger.”
Carlyle’s brow twitched in annoyance. “I’ll do what I want.”
He moved his fingers again and this time they lit on fire.
Three elements? Like Lotrick? I wondered.
Fire sprang forth in a swirling arc toward me like a runaway wheel. I felt blood rush to my legs, and I dove aside with unnatural agility. The flame whooshed into the stall where I was, and I rolled back onto my feet, panting.
Rosie watched, fists balled. “Carlyle, you’re going too far! This is—”
He snapped his gaze at her. “Shut your mouth, Rosie. You’re not in charge of me.”
The swirling crowd parted further, giving him an open line of fire—literally. My heart hammered as I realized I was running out of space to dodge. The wide street wasn’t infinite, and the fruit stall was half burned. If a city guard appeared, it’d be bad for me, not him.
‘Erik, maybe we can apologize again,’ Fern pleaded. ‘Say you forfeit the bet. He might—’
He might humiliate us more, I thought bitterly. We’re committed now. At least, I am.
Taking one shaky breath, I feinted left. Carlyle tracked me, conjuring another burst of water. The second I saw the watery orb forming, I darted right. Electricity crackled between his fingers, but he hesitated that split second, not sure which element to unleash. That was my opening. I sprinted at him, determined to get in close.
“You worthless—” he began.
I ducked under his outstretched arm. The moment his guard dropped, I drove my fist toward his side with less force than he deserved. My knuckles connected with something shockingly hard—almost like hitting dense rubber. Carlyle had empowered himself with that glow Fern had mentioned: a mageblood’s source. The impact sent him stumbling, but he stayed on his feet.
Carlyle glared at me, fury in his eyes. “You think that was enough to end our bet? You’re insane!” He lunged with a bright, crackling hand, aiming at my chest. I twisted away, but the lightning clipped my shoulder. Agony lanced through me, and I nearly lost my footing.
Lotrick took a step forward from the sidelines. “Enough. The bet is over. Fern won fair and square. The impact of the punch was never decided on in the bet,” he growled, but Carlyle shot him a withering glare.
“It’s my right,” Carlyle hissed. “He challenged me.” He inhaled sharply, focusing as bright red lines glowed along his arms. Flames flickered anew. He raised both hands. “I’ve had enough of you. One good blast should end this. I won’t even ask you to clean my shoe.”
Time seemed to slow. My heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the city noise. People around us gasped, some shouted for a guard, and others encouraged Carlyle to go all out. He was pulling together a huge mass of flame, swirling in a twisting funnel. I steadied my stance. If that thing hit me head-on, I was done.
He hurled the wheel of fire at me. My legs coiled, and my body felt like every nerve woke up and became electrified. I shot myself forward, slicing under the flame’s arc.
The heat still singed my cheek, but I didn’t flinch. My fists clenched, and I sprang up, driving my right hand straight at Carlyle’s jaw.
Wham.
A burst of pain flooded my knuckles, but it was overshadowed by the satisfying jolt as Carlyle staggered back. His eyes rolled for a split second before he tumbled onto the cobblestones. Silence descended on the crowd. Some ran away; others started to whisper the word demon.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Carlyle’s two friends dashed in, shouting curses. One tried to prop him up; the other turned on me with a furious glare. “You’ll regret this, you worthless dog!” They picked up Carlyle and carried him away.
I felt my body shake, every muscle trembling from that last surge of speed. By now, the crowd of remaining onlookers began to close in around us. Fear prickled my skin. What if I just signed my own death warrant?
‘We need to get out of here,’ Fern whispered.
Before I could retreat, glowing threads flashed in the air. Pain enveloped me as something coiled around my arms and torso. It was the same burning sensation I remembered from last night. I tried to scream, but my lungs seized.
Through blurry vision, I saw Lotrick standing with one hand raised. The golden threads spun from his fingertips, binding me in place. My nerves felt on fire, as if I were being branded a thousand times. Rosie gasped, her face pale.
“Lotrick!” she snapped. “Put him down!”
He ignored her, staring at me with cold intensity.
“It’s all right. Everyone, I have this handled,” he said to the surrounding crowd. “I am Lotrick Landaluce of the Landaluce family. There is no need for alarm. I will take responsibility for my brother’s actions.”
The gathering crowd murmured among themselves and eventually dispersed. Lotrick dragged me with the strings still wrapped around me into a nearby alleyway where he and Rosie stood over me.
“Carlyle’s an idiot, but he’s right about one thing. This isn’t normal. Fern wouldn’t fight back like this. Not in a million years.” His grip tightened, sending another wave of agony through me.
I tried to speak, but no words came out. I heard Fern’s voice in my mind, screaming in fear.
“You’re not Fern,” Lotrick said quietly, his golden eyes blazing. “I felt it this morning. The way you acted, the way you looked at me. Something else is inside my brother’s body.”
The threads slackened, and I gasped for air. My limbs shook as I fell to my knees. Rosie stepped closer, her pink eyes wide. “Lotrick . . . that can’t be possible. He has the same face, same brand.”
Lotrick frowned. “I know my brother, Rosie. This isn’t him. Now,” he said, addressing me, “tell me exactly who you are, or I’ll tighten these threads until you can’t breathe.”
I wanted to point out that choking me would also hurt Fern. Instead, I sucked in air, wincing with every breath. “Wait . . . give me a second. I’ll explain.”
Lotrick crossed his arms, keeping the threads floating threateningly at his sides. His magic glowed so brightly it left afterimages on my retinas. Rosie stood by him, looking torn between curiosity and alarm.
“All right,” I said, voice trembling. “This is all going to sound insane, but my name is Erik. I’m not Fern, but your brother is in here. I swear. He’s . . . We’re sharing this body.”
Rosie glanced over at the battered fruit stall, then at me. “How is that possible?”
Lotrick narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Tell us, Erik. Where is Fern?”
I forced another gulp of air. “He’s in my head—like a passenger. I don’t know how or why. I’m not even from this world. I showed up last night after walking through a portal, next thing I knew I was in Fern’s body. It’s not something I wanted. Please, you have to believe me.”
Lotrick studied my face like I was a peculiar specimen. He twitched a finger, and the golden threads disappeared. My skin still felt raw, but the pain faded. “Prove it. Say something Fern would know that I wouldn’t.”
. . . Fern, help me, I urged silently.
At first, I got nothing but a tense dread. Then Fern spoke up with a single phrase:
Lightcutter.
“Lightcutter,” I repeated out loud. “Does that ring a bell?”
Lotrick blinked. “So it’s true,” he murmured. “Only Fern and I know about that name. But how could a stranger from another world know it?” A flicker of relief crossed his face, then a scowl. “This is insane.”
Rosie rubbed her arms. “So . . . you’re possessing him? That’s creepy.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to possess him. If I could leave and go back to my real body, I would. But until I figure out how, I swear I mean you no harm—or your brother.”
Lotrick ran a hand through his hair. “So, what’s your plan?”
I wiped sweat from my forehead. “Plan? I . . . I want to find my actual brother, Noah. He’s the reason I stepped through the portal in the first place. And, obviously, I want to return Fern’s body to him.” I paused, looking up at Lotrick. “But right now, I just need to survive.”
“That’s an understatement,” Rosie muttered. “You were put in a voidblood body. Your chances of being able to even leave your home are slim to none.”
Lotrick nodded. “We don’t have much time. I’m leaving for the Celestium Arcanum tomorrow. You won’t have an ally by your side after I leave.” He hesitated. “You might get sold to slavers at the docks, or to a traveling caravan, or worse.”
“Wait, you’re my ally?”
“I’m Fern’s ally. I want my brother to have his body back. So I will help you help him. Starting with getting you out of here.”
Lotrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. “I was going to tell Fern about this tonight and instruct him on what to do, but since you have taken over, I might as well tell you about it. I found this several weeks ago. I have been doing research into it, and it seems like this is the best place for Fern . . . er . . . you to go for any chance at freedom. Read this ad. It’s from a publication called The Threaded Trumpet. You need to see it.”
He handed it to me, and I read the ominous headline:
THE THREADED TRUMPET, VOL. 9630
WANTED: ABLE-BODIED VOIDBLOODS
Reward: 5,000 Fabriks
The Cinders—our beloved princeguard’s army of monster-mauling, demon-speaking misfits—needs fresh recruits! Tired of that worthless voidblood eating up your rations? Bring them in for a tidy sum of Fabriks . . .
I skimmed the rest, and it only got more horrendous: lines about shipping voidbloods to some harsh region called Ash, forcing them into a “mercenary group” ironically known as the Cinders.
Ash? Those voices said that before, I thought to myself.
“Is this a joke?” I asked, my stomach twisting with disgust.
Lotrick shook his head. “No. It’s a real decree, repeated every year. Anyone who captures a voidblood of the right age can turn them in for money. They’re then shipped off to Ash for training or death—whatever happens first. But from what I hear, it’s better than rotting here as a whipped slave.”
I stared at him, horror creeping in. “So your solution is to . . . hand me over to the Cinders?”
Lotrick frowned. “It’s not exactly handing you over. It’s signing you up so you can leave Corello so you don’t waste away here. And so Mother doesn’t sell you to someone worse. The monarchy might treat you as disposable, but at least you’ll be able to live and maybe find a way to get your body back and Fern back in his. You’ll board a transport tonight if you choose. Either you stay here and rot, and maybe play it safe with Mother. Or you go to Ash. I have told Fern many times—I wish he was able to live freely. Even if it was just a little bit better than his current life. Well, now here is his chance. And yours.”
I squeezed the parchment in my hand, trying to calm my churning gut. “You’re telling me the best outcome is forced service in some lethal region?”
He glared. “You want to be a safer slave here, or do you want a chance at freedom there? I can’t protect you from Mother once I’m gone.”
I shivered, then nodded. “All right. If it’s our only shot, I’ll do it.”
Lotrick cracked a dry smile. “Perfect,” he said before turning toward Rosie. “You should go home now. And Rosie? Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”
She crossed her arms, clearly unhappy with Lotrick dismissing her. “I won’t.”
Lotrick nodded once, and Rosie gave me one last uncertain look before she hurried out of the alley. My heart still pounded from the fight, but the immediate threat had subsided.
Lotrick took back the Threaded Trumpet notice and tucked it safely away. “I’ll find a guard I trust to handle your ‘recruitment.’ We will leave at midnight. Until then, just avoid causing more scenes.”
I gave a weary nod, not sure what else to say. He gave me a final once-over, then turned on his heel.
I took a shaky step out of the alley and followed him back to our home. The street was returning to normal—people picking up fruit from the ground, the burned stall smoldering. Carlyle was gone. Guards hadn’t come yet, or maybe they’d decided not to bother. A worthless voidblood wasn’t worth their attention.
As I moved on behind Lotrick, my gaze snagged on a poster flapping against a nearby wall. It showed a crude drawing of a man with short, dark hair and an intense stare that looked oddly familiar. Beneath it, in stylized text, I managed to make out:
NOAH STARBRINGER RETURNS FROM FIVE-YEAR EXPEDITION
My heart jerked. “That’s . . . that’s Noah,” I whispered. The same name, the same shape of face, though the image was more stylized and he looked older. It was like he had been in this world longer than I had.
How is that possible? I wondered. And why the hell did he keep his own body?
‘So your brother really is here,’ Fern said softly. ‘And he’s Noah Starbringer? That’s . . . interesting.’
Why? Why’s that interesting?
‘Noah Starbringer is the strongest mageblood in all of Stylos. He is ranked in the top ten mages of the World Mages’ Association. He’s really your brother?’ Fern asked.
I looked at the poster closer.
“Hurry up Fer—Erik!” Lotrick shouted. I jerked my head away and ran after him.
Noah’s a mageblood? What the hell is going on?
In the mood for something cozy, spicy, and otherworldly? Join Dr. Ryst Nova in the Andromeda Galaxy, 700 years from now. Ryst survives an attempt on her life, but now she's hearing voices she can't explain and dreaming of a man she's never met. When she goes looking for him, what does she uncover, and could she set in motion a string of events that will break reality itself? Find out in .
What to Expect:
- Female & male leads.
- LGBT leads & cast.
- Neurodifferent and nonverbal characters.
- Slow burn romance that turns NSFW spicy.
- Telepathy, Tantra, & psychic phenomenon.
- Seven book series. For the stand-alone Comedy Space Operas, start in .
- For the WLW Psychological Thriller Romances, go to .