Empowering, p.1
Empowering, page 1
part #3 of Balance Bringer Chronicles Series
Contents
Foreword
Other Works by Debra Kristi
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
From the Author
Meet the Author
Empowering: The Balance Bringer
Sneak Peek
Acknowledgments
Empowering: The Balance Bringer (The Balance Bringer Chronicles, Book Three)
Copyright © 2019 by Debra Kristi
All rights reserved. Published by Ghost Girl Publishing, LLC. www.GhostGirlPublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019908228
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-942191-22-3 / eBook ISBN: 978-1-942191-21-6
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-942191-23-0
Cover design by Bewitching Book Covers
Book layout by Under Wraps Publishing Services
Professional editing by Eden Plantz
Maps by Renflowergrapx
Empowering: The Balance Bringer, 1st ed.
Visit the author: http://www.debrakristi.com/
Foreword
Welcome adventurer,
Quick. Before you begin. Did you read books one and two, Becoming: The Balance Bringer and Awakening: The Balance Bringer? If not, please turn around and read those books first! In this series, order matters. Grab book one here: http://www.debrakristi.com/all-books/balance-bringer-series/
Happy reading!
Other Works by Debra Kristi
The Balance Bringer Chronicles
Becoming: The Balance Bringer
Awakening: The Balance Bringer
Moorigad Dragon Collection
The Moorigad Dragon, Part One Moorigad Collection
Reap Not the Dragon, Part Two Moorigad Collection
Plight of the Dragon, Part Three Moorigad Collection
Moorigad, Parts One–Three
Cursed Angel Collection
Blood Promise: Watchtower 7
For Christy,
Still stunned that you had to go and die before you would be willing to work with me. But here we are, soul twin and writing partner. You wouldn’t stop pushing, and now look where we are! Books, books, books under our belt.
“In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.”
Dante Alighieri
I said goodbye to Dohlan with the toss of a ring, healed my brother with a few drops of my blood, and alienated Jaden with a kiss. Or, in truth, several kisses. I’ve been busy.
Since I chose to sleep on the terrace last night, I am awakened by the sunrise. When the morning rays hit the spray of falling water from the cliff above, the light shatters into the most brilliant of rainbows. Surrounding flowers wake from their night’s slumber by spreading their petals wide. Their fragrance, a natural alternative to the smell of coffee in the morn, is both arousing and invigorating.
The world rises in melodic chorus as the nightlife trades shifts with daylight seekers. Blooming pops of color and cheerful bird song warm a smile in my soul, giving my mind and body a needed zap even as I have chosen to remain placid in my place.
Wish I could exhibit the same level of animation as the nature viewed from the terrace.
I should be excited, anxious even, because the end of our arduous journey is in sight. Sort of. In roughly twenty-four hours, we’ll set off on what should be the final leg of our adventure—our trip to find the mystic. She has plagued me since she first appeared on my computer screen back in California. I expect her to answer the questions of what I am and what I am meant to do, as well as explain and fix my sisterly connections.
“I am excited,” I assure myself and push away the memory of the conversation I had with Jaden last night. The interaction where he said he’d be taking a step back from us, suggesting I require time to figure out what and who I want in my life. As if there might be a chance I prefer Dohlan.
No. No way. No.
I bite my lip, and my heart flutters.
Still, Jaden suspects there’s a chance I am refusing to face my feelings regarding Dohlan. Hinting my emotions run deeper than I will allow myself to comprehend. After everything that has happened between Dohlan and myself, I can’t blame Jaden for his apprehension. And if he discerns the slightest inkling that I prefer Dohlan, then the space between us is wedged.
At the thought, my heart is replaced with a sodden sandbag.
I sigh and glance to my left and to my right, taking in the small collection of enigma loops magically suspended in the air around me. They never cease to amaze me. Similar to the spiderweb design of dreamcatchers, enigma loops serve a comparable purpose. They work as a barrier between me and the real monsters that manage to gain access to my dreams.
“How does he do that?” My words are a mere whisper, even as my curiosity is ample. After everything I have put Jaden through, he continues to tend to my wellbeing—setting the enigma loops as protection from dream-invading monsters, like Dohlan.
Only…Dohlan isn’t a monster.
My eyes burst wide, and I choke on my breath.
That wasn’t my thought. That wasn’t my willing thought.
“You’re up early.”
My shoulders stiffen.
I twist in my seat to find my brother, Ryland, standing in the doorway. He’s holding two steaming mugs of morning goodness. He steps out onto the terrace and takes a seat beside me, hands me one of the mugs. I cup my hands around its warmth and inhale the rising steam. Aromas promising of berries and oranges tickle my nose. I take a sip.
Liquid spirit glides through my system.
Although, I am awake, I’m not eagerly seeking conversation. Too many jumbled thoughts still play in my head. Ry has always had excellent instincts, though, and appearing to understand, he doesn’t try to engage. Instead, we sit in silence and absorb the beauty of our location.
After five or more minutes of quiet have passed, Ry elbow nudges me. “Nice wardrobe upgrade.” With a slight arch of the brow and a tilt of the head, he motions to the clothing I obtained at the cottage. The cottage Kaia shared with Dohlan. The cottage where Dohlan took me and…and…
Oh for the love of God and Gaea, I want to hate Dohlan. Why can’t I hate him?
I inhale deep and, with my exhale, banish thoughts of Dohlan. “Kaia’s,” I reply.
“I thought it looked familiar. You collect the new threads at the cottage?”
“Yep.” I stare out at the water and avoid noting my brother’s expression. Because…if I do…I know what I’ll see. Conflict regarding Kaia and Kaia’s hidden cottage, which will lead to conflict regarding her relationship with Dohlan, which in turn, will busy my brain with thoughts and memories of the blond, blue-eyed, god-like guy again. And I don’t want to think about Dohlan, now or ever.
And…now I am.
I drop my head.
“I couldn’t help but notice you’re also sporting a new look,” I say, attempting to switch gears on the conversation and distract myself from the golden god and his ring of trouble. The ring I tossed in the river last night.
Dohlan. Dohlan. Dohlan. If I let him, he will destroy everything I hold dear.
“Well, we are at my place,” Ry says with an upswing in his tone. “I find it helpful to have a change or two on hand for when I manage to spend time here.”
“Because that occurs so often.” Sarcasm slithers through my words.
“It’s been known to happen. When you were young, I used to visit more frequently and for longer periods.”
My back straightens, and I turn toward him.
“Sometimes, Zarah and I would get to enjoy an entire week, maybe even a month, before I would have to return to the outer world.” Ry takes a sip of his drink and contemplates the river below. “Once you were old enough to remember our sessions, that is.”
“Wait,” I interrupt him. “You worked with me when I was little? Like…how little?”
“Two. Three. Three and a half, maybe.” He shrugs. “We worked most days back then. Until you became old enough to retain your memories of me as you grew. That’s when I had to bow out of the scene. For a while, anyway. If I had stayed, your smart little noggin might have put together that I wasn’t aging…” he taps the side of my skull with his
“A few years?” I balk. You mean a decade.”
“Time is all relative.” He smirks.
“Says you. You weren’t the one going through the horrible school years.”
“True enough.” Humor lights his face. “But I did get to watch you endure junior high, albeit from afar. I decided to join you for high school in order to keep a closer eye on you and your possible awakening. Of course, going undercover as a full-time student complicated getting back here to Zarah. On occasion, I’d manage a long weekend, but most of my visits were maxed at a two-day round trip.”
“A two-day round trip. How is that possible? It took us forever to get here?”
“We were forced to return to Hiddenkel through a different door. Remember?” His brows raise.
As if I could forget the night at the mine, with the blocked passageway and encroaching slithering of inky shadows. I half nod, my chest squeezing tight. So many years apart…like my entire life worth of years…and yet my brother and his fiancé have managed to make a worlds-apart relationship work.
Something inside me tingles. Ry and Zarah deserve to be together. An official bond, like the wedding they had planned ages ago. I want that to happen, which means I must bring an end to this big bad here in Hiddenkel, putting a forever stop to Dreya and her influences. Only then will these twin flames agree to finally tie the knot. In a time of peace, surrounded by family.
There will be no peace as long as Dreya and I both exist. Her hatred of me is unrelenting. A hatred that stems from her animosity for my parents. My mother, for the fact that she is an immortal warrior who married a Fae. A Fae king, no less. But my aunt’s repugnance for my father runs deeper, and I have yet to understand the reason and full extent of it all. Yet, those reasons aren’t solid enough for me. I get the sense I am missing an important part of the puzzle. I bite the inside of my lip.
“As fun as it has been, we should get busy gathering our gear.” Ry pulls himself to a stand.
“I thought you took care of that last night.” I peer at him.
“Some things, yes. But I’ve been preparing for this day for a long time, and since there are no guarantees we’ll be able to return here, I have a few items I’d like to take with us.” He steps toward the door to the great room. “Come on.” He motions to me, leans against the edge of the door frame, and peers inside. “Jaden, Yuromo, you guys come too.”
Too? As in, they’ve been listening to our conversation?
The scuffs and scoots from within the home mark the pushing of chairs away from the dinner table. I stand and shift to the side to better observe everyone. The remains of a partially devoured mini feast sit upon the table.
It appears I wasn’t the only one stirring at sunrise. Everyone was awake. I was simply too absorbed in my thoughts to recognize the clang of cutlery and conversation. Either that or the glass doors provide amazing insulation.
“Um…” Zarah slips over to Jaden and wraps her hands around his arm. “I need Jaden to stay behind and help me.”
Jaden flashes a meek smile my direction and then averts his gaze to the surface of the table.
Ry’s brows raise, and he studies both Zarah and Jaden for a split second. Then, with a remised shrug, he turns and heads toward the outdoor spiral staircase. “Come on, ladies,” he says, waving his hand for us to follow.
My gaze wanders to Zarah’s hands upon Jaden’s arm. Oh, the things she must experience when she touches him. No doubt, she’s privy to a lot of my life because of my interesting connection with him. My cheeks warm.
I turn away and trail Ry to the end of the terrace. Yuromo joins us, and she and I exchange pleasantries before making our way to the spacious deck on the lowest level. The mid-sky-appearing waterfall cascades along the backside of the house and creates a soft barrier between us and the river.
Ahead, on our left, between the home and the liquid cascade, runs a passageway to nowhere, dead ending in a wall of rock. Splitting from the deck, and dodging through the fall of water, is a narrow vessel-landing extension.
No boat is tethered to the edge, but it is my understanding that I can expect to find one there within the next twenty-four hours. At least, that was my assumption when Zarah said we would be traveling by water and pointed toward the river.
At the back of the landing, Ry shoves open the hidden door I spotted earlier. The door resists before giving way with a puff of dust and a loud kureeek.
Stepping into the room is like stepping into a hermetically sealed vault. The smell of must or mold is unexpectantly absent, and the air is thin, as if it is only now finding its way into the space.
“Grab that, will you?” Ry points to an oil lantern sitting atop a wooden barrel beside the door.
I hand him the lantern, and with a strike and ignite, there is instant light. Albeit, barely enough illumination to clarify we’re standing inside a storage space. The place can’t be much larger than my bedroom back in California, but it’s crammed tight.
Amongst the shadows are a plethora of items reminding me of home. Boxes exploding with tools. Bins of batteries and flashlights. A pile of quick-lighting fireplace logs, jugs of water, a container of lighters and flint, a pile of blankets, and more. There’s even a portable generator. The hidden place is a survivalist’s hoard.
Ry hands the burning lantern back to me and gets busy shoving boxes away from the side wall, exposing a hidden door. I’d sensed its presence, much like I had spied the main door, despite the camouflage, the first time I stepped foot onto the lower deck. My newly discovered connection with nature has made me hyperaware of many things obscured to others.
“What is all this stuff?” Yuromo picks up a lighter and inspects its many sides.
“Things from another world.” I snatch the lighter from her grasp, roll my thumb across the spark wheel, and press the ignition button, sparking the flame. “See.” I lift the lighter to her view. Her eyes widen. Releasing the button and extinguishing the flame, I toss the lighter back into the container from which it came.
“Magic,” she whispers and grabs another lighter, tries to recreate my actions to start a tiny fire.
Ry presses into the stone door. It slips back and swings to the side, exposing a hallway. The first few feet are visible. Beyond that, darkness. Ry cranks something on the side wall multiple times, and illumination brightens another area beyond the passage.
Overhead lights in the newly exposed storage space burn in power-saving mode, highlighting row after row of sheet-draped shelves. In a blink, Ry covers the expanse of the hall and heads down the closest aisle. One by one, he tears away sheets, exposing a broad stockpile of weapon.
Leave it to Ry to have his own version of the Batcave. The excessive mass of metal leaves the air practically tasting metallic.
“I did it!” Mo exclaims from behind me. I glance back and smile. It’s brief. In a snap, my attention returns to Ry and his stash of armaments.
The weapon’s closet is roughly half the size of my old school gymnasium and is filled with shelves. Nothing but shelves. Shelves clustered with weapons. There are shelves pushed up against each of the four walls, with several rows of shelves running through the middle of the room. It’s like a weapons shopping mart.
I follow Ry down the aisle and study each new surprise he uncovers. My body tingles, and my head sways. It’s as if I am moving through an alternative universe…or a video game…and I can’t stop staring. So many weapons. There’s more than enough stuff to make any survivalist jealous.
