Sun Serpent

Sun Serpent by Geneva Monroe Copyright © 2023 by Geneva Monroe ISBN: 978-1-960352-00-2 Published by Purple Phoenix Press LLC All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. Published by Purple Phoenix Press Book Cover by JV Arts Illustrations by Natalia Barashkova, k_yu, Igor Vitkovsky, Morphart Creation, T Studio Author Portrait Photography by C.D. Redman Content Warning Sun Serpent is a work of adult fantasy and not intended for minors. It contains scenes that may be distressing to some people, incIuding strong language, violence, death, themes of grief and loss, attempted assault, and sexual content. Contents Map of Venterra Playlist Dedication 1. Cal 2. Elyria 3. Cal 4. Cal 5. Cal 6. Elyria 7. Cal 8. Elyria 9. Elyria 10. Cal 11. Elyria 12. Cal 13. Elyria 14. Elyria 15. Cal 16. Cal 17. Elyria 18. Elyria 19. Elyria 20. Elyria 21. Elyria 22. Elyria 23. Elyria 24. Elyria 25. Cal 26. Cal 27. Elyria 28. Elyria 29. Elyria 30. Cal 31. Cal 32. Elyria 33. Elyria 34. Cal 35. Cal 36. Elyria 37. Cal 38. Elyria 39. Cal 40. Elyria Author's Note Acknowledgments About Author This book is dedicated to everyone who said, “So write it already.” I did it. Chapter One Small motes of dust hung suspended in the beams of moonlight that cut through the smothering darkness of my bedchamber. I twirled my index finger, sending out a small spiral of air. The floating bits spun in a delicate, glittering cyclone before disappearing into the ether. I groaned and rolled onto my back, letting my fingers drum an impatient rhythm against my sternum. Every night was the same, hours laying in the dark waiting for a sleep that never took me. Countless minutes wasted staring at the barely visible painted ceiling and failing to quiet the thoughts rattling in my head. A prickling feeling of awareness ran down my arm, followed by another at the back of my neck. I knew this feeling. I was not alone. With a start, I sat up and trained my eyes on a shadow that slunk along on the far side of the chamber. Quick and soundless, it passed momentarily through a stream of light. Then it was gone, disappearing once more into the darkness of the room. I sliced my arm out. A powerful blade of hard air rocketed out from my palm. The edges glowed faintly as it flew towards the vanishing assassin. With a loud crack, the mahogany wardrobe burst violently apart, sending an explosion of dust and wood fragments raining down. Sparks crackled between my fingers in anticipation. I narrowed my eyes and scanned the darkness. Nothing. No stranger in the night. No snap of a crossbow. Just scattered bits of silk and tattered velvet strewn across the marble floor. A mannequin wearing my royal parade regalia lay on the ground, broken in two. I was a paranoid fool. Centuries of training and battle experience, and here I was jumping at shadows. Pathetic. I scrubbed a hand over my face. This paranoia was nothing but phantom thoughts born from my unconscious need for conflict. Innesvale had been at peace for over a hundred years. There was no logical reason for alarm. There was no looming threat, and no one was coming to assassinate the royal family in the middle of the night. No, this was boredom. Sliding out of my bed, I let the satin sheets pool on the marble at my feet, and walked to the balcony. I was bored with this city; bored with all its beautiful distractions and the sycophants. Waving my hands, a gust of air pushed the balcony doors wide. I stepped into the embrace of the humid summer air. The ocean breeze flowed over me, shifting the hair that hung low over my brow. Every tedious second in this palace was ticking down to the cold bite of a crown. My father’s growing frailty increased daily, and very soon, I would be forced to claim my birthright. I let out a long and frustrated sigh. Being stuck in the dark abyss of monotony wasn’t living. It was just existing, and I was craving what it felt like to be alive. How long had it been since I’d felt my heart truly race or my blood sing with adrenaline? Too long. I braced myself against the railing and soaked in the sound of the water rushing beside the balcony, letting the taste of the salt in the air calm my nerves. And then a scuff echoed in the silence. That was undeniably a scraping noise, the whisper of a shoe against stone somewhere in the apartment behind me. Reflexively, the muscles in my back tensed. I spun around just in time to see a green-black blade arcing at me. I threw my arm up to defend myself. A long, wickedly jagged blade carved a trail across my forearm. I hissed at the sharp pain that burned down from my elbow. Dark veins spread out from the cut, mixing with small rivulets of blood. Light reflected off the surface of the dagger. It looked like it was made of a dark, smoky crystal. I had an entire armory at my disposal, and I’d never seen anything like it before. What that cursed weapon was, was a question for later. I had to focus on my attacker, who was disappearing once more into the darkness of the room. This very foolish assassin needed to be taught a lesson. I licked my lips as the pump of blood heightened my senses. Each exhalation of air they took vibrated