Whispers of the Crown

Copyright Copyright © 2023 by Jacki C. Golden This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. Cover Design: Bee (@bittersagedesigns) Website: www.bittersagedesigns.com Editing by: Morgana Stewart & Sam Bryce Power Map design by Abigail Hair ISBN: 978-90-9036938-9 Dedication To you, dear reader, may you never forget to dream. Author's Note This book contains adult language, violence and gore. It may be considered offensive or disturbing to some readers. Triggers: Reference to sexual assault, gore, violence/murder, sexually explicit scenes, depression, suicidal thoughts, parent loss, mention of car accident, adoption, grief. Chapter one Clia The whispers of the wind dance around my head, letting strands of my thick light brown hair hit my face as I walk through a maze of trees. I sigh at the smell of nature filling my nostrils and lean my back onto the majestic willow tree next to me. My eyes follow the birds flying past me before they are landing on a pine tree a little further away from where I’m standing. I curl my lips up into a faint smile, wondering what it must feel like to be a bird. To spread your wings and fly wherever it is you want to go. To feel carefree. The twittering birds leave their nest a few seconds later, taking my wishes and dreams with them. I push myself up from the tree before following the slim path leading deeper into the forest, away from the usual gravelly road I’d take. I would typically turn back around and walk back through the same streets I came from. I’d smile politely at the people crossing my path only to end up in my bed, staring up at the ceiling for hours. But today seems different. Today, for the first time since my parents death, I feel like I want to walk further down the path. I feel a calling, as if I would find an answer to all my unasked questions deep in the woods. The twigs snap beneath my feet and suddenly a beautiful clearing appears in front of me. I gasp at its ethereal view, the scent of flowers filling my nose, more delightful than any perfume I’ve ever worn. A few fallen trees that could serve as seats cross the pathway leading further up, almost as if the space is asking me to take a break and enjoy its pristine sight. The grass seems greener here, the flowers are thriving in vigor, and the stillness makes me feel as if I just entered another world. A prickling sensation scattered across my skin, the silence shifting from comfortable to eerie, my heartbeat increasing its pace as an invisible presence presses against my back. I turn my head before taking another step, looking behind me to make sure I’m alone. As I step closer into the clearing, the air around me grows warmer. Branches and bark cover the soil beneath my feet, yet the path I walk on is as clear as day. I take a deep breath, calming myself, and chuckle, I should definitely stop watching all those horror movies by myself. But a sudden snap of a twig makes me turn on my heels and take in my surroundings. I see a dark shadow moving right in front of me. Oh hell no. Goosebumps cover my body at the sound of invisible feet hitting the half-dry ground and I impulsively take a few steps backwards. “Hello?” I call out, but the echo of my voice is the only thing that answers. “Is anybody there?” I keep walking backwards, hoping I can make my way out of this maze of trees in the worst case scenario. Every single one of my steps sounds louder than the one before and I continue my slow pace towards the way I came, the hair on my neck rising, my heart nearly jumping out of my throat. I nearly take off on a run when I hear another rustling of leaves coming from behind me. “Clia,” a soft raspy voice whispers. I freeze. For a moment I think I’ve just imagined my name carried by the wind. “Clia,” the voice repeats, louder this time, as if the owner of it just took a few steps in my direction. I think about the footsteps I heard a minute ago. A shiver runs down my spine and suddenly the voice sounds again, except mere inches away. I turn my head to watch the frame of a woman appear in front of me and I instantly close my eyes, thinking my mind is playing tricks on me. You definitely should stop watching all those horror movies. It wouldn’t be the first time my mind has played tricks on me. Count down from five to zero, just like Mom taught you. And once you open your eyes, you’ll see that you’re alone. I count down again. This time with my mother’s words in my mind, remembering a time her voice could make the monsters in my room vanish into thin air and, later on in life, erase the ones in my mind. But when I open my eyes, and the shape becomes clearer, I gasp involuntarily. Not because I stand alone in the forest, in the middle of nowhere, facing a stranger that somehow knows my name, but because of the way that stranger looks. The first thing I notice are her iridescent eyes. The color of her irises are barely noticeable—a milky curtain hovers over them. The second thing I notice is the shade of her skin. I’ve never seen a breathing person as pale as the woman before me, and I