PROLOGUE

Malachi stood at the base of the mountain staring into the chasm of hell. Black clouds billowed over the blood that boiled in the land of the centaurs’ grave. Thunder rolled as the lightning streaked across the sky in fury. The sun became black as sackcloth. The void grew, and the blood turned to tar that smelled of rotting flesh. Onyx silhouettes, writhing from its depths, crawled to the rim; the ground below their feet withered and died. The slick, obsidian army absorbed any colors of life that surrounded them and the growing chasm boiled with glee. Malachi turned his eyes toward the heavens and cried out to the Creator of all for mercy.
           
The first seven from the abyss were leaders and each wielded a sword. The queen of the demons held jeweled eyes of iced blue, but the others had eyes that were as black as the sun. She turned to the east and commanded her cadre to call on their warriors, for they must slay the remaining keepers. She had already killed the prince, and the queen of this realm had died of despair.
           
The demons sniffed the air, searching for their prey. The sword of the beast fell on the land, and the animals of the kingdom cried out in pain. He and his warriors made their way westward, searching for the one who kept the beasts whole. The sword of the sky pierced the heavens, and a foul wind disfigured all the winged creatures. The warriors followed the hunters of the beast keeper, for sky keeper was his mate. The sword of the fields pierced the earth, and all of the plant life turned to dust. The demons hunted the field keeper to the north. The sword of the waters pierced the fissure, and the rivers and streams turned to pitch. The demons made their way north as well, for they knew that the keeper of the water would be close. The sword of the mountains pierced its base, and the lands shook until the heart of Kailmeyra shattered.
           
The ice-eyed demon laughed in sadistic pleasure. “Where is the light that unlocks the power of love? Where is your faith?”
           
Malachi knelt at the base of the mountain, giving the last of his energy stores to the land. The queen of the demons rejoiced as the sixth sword pierced his heart.
           
A blue sheet of energy in the core of the mountain surrounded Malachi in comfort. The last of the ancients stood, trying to renew strength from this vision that had plagued him for five centuries. The Alfar had control over their thoughts, for their life source depended on positive emotions. However, visions were wild and uncontrolled, and he was the only one in the land to possess this gift. He gleaned just enough energy to keep himself alive. If he were selfish and took too much, the land would suffer. He walked out of the blue field and sat close to its edge. Taking a deep breath, he consoled himself that visions weren’t absolute. Prophecies only came true if everyone involved kept their path and did not falter in intent. Still, this was the only vision that never wavered. He quieted his mind once more and turned his thoughts towards positive currents.
           
I need to speak with you.
           
He ignored the request, concentrating on the power of the blue energy that hummed through the cavern. 
           
I command you to answer. There is an urgent matter that must be tended.
           
Malachi sighed and kept his thoughts on a tight leash.
           
Yes, my queen?
           
I must know. Will they make it back?
           
I will not manipulate the future.
           
Will you defy me, last of the ancients? He could sense her despair. She had come to him with this request every day for the past month.

My queen, do not anguish. You must have faith; they will return, and the land will flourish once more. He allowed his intent of compassion and faith to run with his thoughts, but she would not keep her heart open and did not hear them.
           
Can you assure they will not perish?
           
His frustration grew. Lera, you know better than that.

He is Kailmeyra’s last hope, she pleaded.

I know, my queen, I know. The queen had no idea how prophetic her statement was. If they did not make it back, the land would give way.

CHAPTER ONE: BEGINNINGS

“I need a picture of the three musketeers. Noh, Hol, Kate, come on over here and sit,” Holly’s mom ordered.
           
I sighed, trying to ignore the ache in my chest, and we piled onto Kate’s bed. Smiling a little too wide, I sat between my only friends since fifth grade. Several flashes fed the already throbbing headache.
           
The frat boys, who had volunteered earlier in the day, made short work of bringing in boxes. They left an invitation to some meet-and-greet for Saturday night, which Holly’s dad surreptitiously pocketed. I didn’t rat him out. Besides, he was fighting a losing battle. Holly was too beautiful for anyone not to notice. The only comfort was that she never went anywhere without Kate, who was pretty in her own right but also held a healthy dose of common sense. They looked out for each other, and I knew they’d be all right. The sun was heading west, and if I didn’t leave soon I’d freeze on the way home.
           
“Call me, you.” I hugged them both one last time.
           
Kate’s mom put her arm around my shoulder and murmured in my ear. “Nora, honey, don’t make yourself a stranger.”
           
“I promise, I won’t.” My voice broke as the ache intensified.
           
“Take care, you,” Holly hollered down the hall. I just held my hand up and waved, not looking back. The tears welled, but mercifully, some last vestige of survivor’s pride kicked in.
           
I took one last look around the beautiful campus and realized that this wasn’t the life I was destined to have. Trying to ignore the college students welcoming each other back, I quickened my step. All of these people were like Kate and Hol … I didn’t belong here … I really didn’t belong anywhere … I didn’t have a place of my own.
           
The Cataloochie Mountain was the official name of the place I called home, but it would always be Edna’s mountain to me. It was my sanctuary, my healing land, and I was thankful—even though my heart cried I didn’t belong there either. Sighing, I looked at the Appalachian range that stood against the afternoon sky. Fear that my father’s abandonment had somehow altered my destiny often brought sleepless nights. I broached the subject almost every fall; Edna’s answer was always the same. Patience, little one; to everything there is a season.
           
The ache that I had successfully repressed grew until it filled my entire chest. My feet picked up the pace again, and I focused on the ground. Today was not about me; it was about giving Kate and Hol a great send off. Leave them smiling. I would indulge in tears on the sad ride back to nowhere.
           
Suddenly, it felt like I hit a brick wall. Warm hands gripped my waist, keeping me from falling, and I realized I had run into a wall of a man. Trying to see through the tears, I shook my head as a gust of wind whipped the hair across my face. His broad shoulders didn’t seem as if they would fit through a doorframe. Our eyes locked. I had never seen more strange or beautiful eyes. They were like faceted emeralds, brilliant and pure. The ache spilled over to tears. He was like everything else here—too good for me. His incredibly green eyes flashed as his grip tightened. Unknown emotions swirled and screamed with a power that grew. The crown of my head became warm, cascading down my skull, heating the length of my spine.
           
“Wha…?” my question fell away as the inferno running down my back lashed out, coiling through me. A sheet of fire wrapped around my heart. I tried to make sense of it—for the first time, I truly felt … alive.
           
His gaze became vulnerable, confused. He whispered in a strange language, his voice questioning. A low hum vibrated the ground beneath my feet. The energy encasing my chest grew, and the campus washed round me in pure, radiant light. Hot, dry winds whipped and eddied, circling us like a tornado in the sun. My hands involuntarily found their way to his chest. His heart raced, his breath became ragged. As my heart found his tempo, the energy flaming through me exploded, flooding the campus in light.
           
The world came back in sharp relief. The crowd swarming the grounds milled about as if nothing had happened.
           
“I’m so sorry,” I muttered, taking a step back.
           
He hesitated, but his hands fell away. I walked blindly, getting lost in a sea of students. A still, small voice wisped through my heart—I should stay. Glancing back, I couldn’t see him. The students parted for a moment. He was still rooted in the same spot, just under an old dogwood tree. His eyes narrowed in concentration. As he started toward me, an older man suddenly stood in his way. He pushed past him, but I turned and ran, not stopping until I found the sanctuary of the Jeep.
           
My hands shook as I tried to buckle the seatbelt. Honestly, I never felt so much before at once. It was as if tender new emotions were being assaulted by the very nature of humanity. Conflict swirled with the unknown and warred with confusion and fear.
           
What just happened? Memories raced as I sped toward the highway, desperately searching for an explanation. Nothing came.
           
The late afternoon breeze cooling the August sky seemed different. The smell was the same woodsy scent that was uniquely the mountains, but the air felt different—like fresh ozone after a spring rain. I shivered, suddenly regretting the impulse to leave the top off the Jeep.
           
Surely if something had happened, someone else would have noticed. What if it was all a figment of my imagination? Was he even real?
           
Dense trees surrounded the entrance to the gravel drive, and I pulled off the road for a moment, not yet ready to face Edna. Resting my head on the seat, I admired the day’s last light filtering through the canopy.
           
Something within me had changed. In an instant, my life felt different. It was as if my senses had spent their entire existence encased in slumber and they now were set free. My eyes wandered to the lush green life that grew dark in the muted light. The still small voice that beckoned me to stay now became insistent—it was crucial that I keep quiet. No one must know. Green eyes and warm hands embraced my memory one last time before I locked them away. Taking a moment to clear my mind, I found my focus, and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires echoed in the silence. 
           
The farmhouse was a two-story structure that had weathered the storm of time. Edna’s small frame stood on the old porch. I pulled to the side where gravel gave way to grass. I loved this place like no other; Edna made this home.
           
“Did the girlies get settled in?” she chimed. Her clear Appalachian voice sang with the mountain’s flavor so rich and deep, it was like a bluegrass lullaby.
           
“Yep. I’m gonna give Kate and Hol a call and let them know I made it home.” I zipped past her, avoiding her gaze.
           
“See you made it home in one piece.” Holly never answered with a standard hello.
           
“Yep.”
           
“Did you get the bag of goodies in the back of your Jeep? Mom put it there while we were unloading the truck.” Judy had personally enhanced my wardrobe all through high school. I didn’t mind getting size four J Crew anything, even if they were too long in length. A thought occurred to me—Holly’s dorm faced the student lot. Maybe they were watching ... maybe they had seen him.
           
“Not yet, but be sure and tell her how much I appreciate it, all right? Hey … you coming home for the festival?” I asked instead, instinct changing my mind. She giggled.
           
“You know, I have class. What about you, Kate?”
           
“Sorry, that’s microbiology night,” Kate hollered in the background.
           
We always vowed that once we got to college we wouldn’t be able to make it back home for church functions. I didn’t mind going, but it cramped Holly’s style and sent Kate’s homework schedule into a tailspin.
           
“You and Kate take care.”
           
“Call me, you,” she automatically replied.
           
I hung up the phone and ran upstairs, needing a few minutes to myself.
           
The Carolina lily that lived under my bedroom windowsill slumped over, wilting from neglect. I threw some water in its pot as I came back from the bathroom. Judge Alan had gotten it for Edna a few years ago, and when I wanted a puppy she challenged me to keep the plant alive first. The blooms were rare in that the long velvet petals were lavender with a crimson center instead of the ever-popular white—at least from what I remember. It bloomed once two years ago. Luckily, I lost interest in pets.
           
Edna stood at the bottom of the stairs blocking my way, determination written across her sun-weathered face. “Nora, honey, you could’ve gone with them … I’ll be all right.”
           
She would never know how much I wanted that to be true. But Edna was already having trouble with the upkeep on the farm, and the last six months had taken its toll on her. Even the simplest of chores seemed difficult, and several times I caught her napping in the afternoon. She chalked it up to old age, but I feared it went deeper.
           
“Ed, we’ve been through this. It’s cheaper to go to community college, and the grant from the state covers tuition. I just can’t pass that up.” I focused on the peeling paint of the old doorframe.
           
“You should go live in the dorms with your friends and get the whole college experience, Sunny. I could have helped.” Compassion swam in her warm, cloudy blue eyes. I sighed, trying to find patience for a conversation we’d replayed a million times.
           
“I don’t want to give up my job at the hardware store. Mr. Vernor’s been great, and I’ll work there on my off days … its perfect,” I lied.
           
It wasn’t her fault my father decided to leave his burden on her doorstep.
           
“No offense, but can we drop it?” I tried to say it as kindly as I could, but really … enough was enough.
           
She started to say something, but exhaled in defeat. I quickly hugged her before she changed her mind.
           
My stomach growled as the smell of vegetable soup floated through the house. Edna kicked off her garden shoes while I went and washed my hands. The kitchen was warm, and the yellowing wallpaper hung as proudly as it had since the early seventies.
           
“Sunny, did you put on make-up this morning?” Her question surprised me.
           
“No….”
           
“Your skin seems lighter, like it has a sheen to it.”
           
“I used that new lotion you bought me. Maybe that’s it.”
           
“Maybe …”
           
“How’s Judge Alan?” I asked, changing the subject. We went to the stove, filled a bowl, and sat down at the old farm table.
           
“He’s fine … he sends his love … more tea?” She kept her eyes down.
           
“What did you need to see him about?”
           
“It concerns the land … that’s all.” She patted the back of my hand.
           
I relaxed under her touch. I loved those hands. They were the testament of a woman that knew how to bring joy to this dismal world—a caregiver. Aged and weathered by the sun and hard work, yet they remained silky soft. Her skin seemed so thin it was like paper, but her nails were always painted. Even though Arthur died years ago, her wedding ring still adorned her finger.
           
We walked out on the porch and watched the stars as I told her about my day. Staying true to that still, small voice, I didn’t share the stranger with green eyes.
           
“Well I swan … look over there. Do you see them?” Edna whispered.  I followed her finger scanning the fence, not sure what I was looking for.
           
“See what?” I whispered back.
           
“Look there, below the roof line … under the light.”
           
Seven small birds sat perched on the fence, just below the barn’s floodlight. Their cobalt heads gleamed; their bright orange breasts matched the ring around their eyes. Canary yellow feathers interspersed with bright green, fanning down their backs. They honestly looked like they belonged in the rainforest … and I could’ve sworn they were staring at us.
           
“I’ve never seen them before. What are they?” I murmured; Edna smiled.
           
“Those, my dear, are painted buntings. They’re on the endangered species list now, but when I was your age they were everywhere. Some even used to live in the barn.” Her mood turned wistful.
           
Stifling a yawn, I muttered, “I’m hitting the hay … night Ed.”
           
The birds flew into the forest.
           
“Don’t forget the new feed in the morning,” she called out as the screen door closed. I waved that I’d heard her.
           
As I lay in bed, the tree just out my window swayed with the night breeze, and thin clouds blanketed the crescent moon. Time had distanced the experiences of the afternoon, making the memory surreal. Whatever happened today, something was definitely different. My emotions were now close to the surface, not buried where they should be. Broad shoulders blazed through my mind. I didn’t know who he was or even if he was real, but my heart ached at the thought of never seeing him again. I hid my face in my pillow, resenting the tears that fell. I wasn’t usually this emotional … survivors learn early that tears are a luxury for the protected. Running through my list of things to be grateful for settled my heart, and my eyes grew heavy. 

That night, I dreamt of a place of my own and emerald green eyes.