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Restless Dreams of Darkness










The Darkest Sword


The Darkest Sword



Copyright © 2021 Samantha Kroese

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 in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN:  (Paperback) 9798723509665

Imprint: Independently published

Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

Cover created by EerilyFair Designs:


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Rurik drew his long black talons along the bloodied water in the basin before him. Black magic like tendrils leaked through the water at his coaxing. Seeing the future was a tiresome process that took too much patience. But Rurik was nothing if not patient. He had spent centuries perfecting this spell. Shaping his world toward apocalypse. Watching the rise and fall of his tyrant puppets as they brought ruin and despair upon the world.

The black smoke curled up from the water and caressed his scaled skin like the touch of a forbidden lover. He let out a pleased hiss at the feel of the darkness and surrendered to it as it came upon him. He grunted and jerked at the power of it as it filled him then he opened his blackened eyes to stare once again into the pool of water. Something was stopping his apocalypse. The world should have fallen to it already.

“What is it? Show me,” he whispered as he buried his hands in the water. The water turned black and roiled for a moment before it cleared into calm again. A toddler boy came into view. A fancy crib, babe swaddled in expensive cloth. Hair the color of ashes, eyes pure white but not blinded. Rurik gasped as he felt the magic flowing through the child. This. This child was the catalyst. The bringer of the apocalypse. He tore his gaze away from the peaceful child and studied the surroundings. He memorized the room so he could use it for his travel spell later.

Just as he was about to pull out of the spell, it yanked him out of that room and his vision blurred with speed as it raced across the world. Through the twisted and dying lands of the fae-creatures. Rurik somehow managed not to cringe with his disgust, not wanting to disrupt the vision. Miniature fairies surrounded a tiny, frightened child, another young boy. The darkness that filled Rurik allowed him to see what the fae could not. The child they had stolen to replace their own had brilliant, feathered wings hidden from their sight. A celestial. So, they had passed their magic on somehow to the child before they had passed from this world.

Rurik yanked his hands out of the bowl, disrupting the spell. The confines of his large library surrounded him once more and the darkness faded from him. So. He had found both the destroyer of their world and the savior of it in one spell. He whirled around, his robes flying around his thin frame as he stalked to the runes carved into his floor. He didn’t like the fates interrupting his plans. These weren’t the first he had destroyed to change destiny.

As he summoned magic to fill the runes of the portal stand, he considered which he should deal with first. He decided on the first child and opened the portal to the bedroom he’d seen in his dream. He stepped through shadows and out through the darkness in the corners of the night-filled room. Even after centuries of terrible things happening, the humans still didn’t understand how to protect against the magical beings destroying their world.

It was as he’d seen in the vision. No sign of the little boy’s parents as the toddler slept in a crib far too large for him. Beyond the odd color of his hair and eyes, the boy didn’t seem remarkable at all. A normal human child to most. But the magic Rurik could feel thrumming through the baby made his skin crawl. He couldn’t allow that power to be released into this world.

He gingerly picked up a pillow in his talons. Sacrifices had to be made. He looked around the room once more, then struck swiftly. The babe didn’t even wake before it was over.

Rurik replaced the pillow then stood there for a moment to make certain the child was indeed dead. With a grimace of distaste, he turned away from the cradle and started gliding back to the shadows and his escape. Just as he was about to step through the shadows, he heard a gasp behind him. He whirled. Impossible, he was certain the child had died.

The toddler sat up, gasping for breath, his pure white eyes now had golden irises and he stared into Rurik’s eyes with a knowing beyond his age.

Rurik glanced around in alarm then dove for the crib, grabbing the todder and putting a hand over his mouth before the child could wail an alarm. An immortal? Here? In a plain human settlement? How had that happened? That complicated things. Immortals could be slain but they always revived. He strode to the shadows, commanded them to open, and passed through before the parents of the child could figure out where their child had gone.

Instead of passing through to his tower, he stepped out of the shadows into a dark castle. The black stone reflected the blood red light of the lanterns but hid Rurik well as he raced down the hall with the child. He had to improvise. This child

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