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Restless Dreams of Darkness







An assassin of Dakaal novel



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) 9798703504598

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 https://www.eerilyfairbookcovers.com/

First printed edition 2021.


Thank you to my dear friends who continue to help and support me. Thank you to my editor. Thank you to everyone who gives this book a chance. I hope you all enjoy these characters as much as I do. And thank you to the wonderful community of writers on Twitter.

Although he would be horrified that I write about demons, dragons, and vampires; I would like to dedicate this book to my father. We lost him in 2020. His hard work and love for his family continue to inspire that in my characters and in my real life.


The bones hanging from the trees rattled as though in warning, as the chill wind whipped through the branches of the dead trees. Snow drifted between the gravestones and the wrought iron fence around the ancient graveyard. Kiril tripped over a fallen stone and fell on her hands and knees, her blond hair falling into her face. She gasped in horror and looked behind her for her pursuer.

"There she is! We have the witch now!" The gruff hunter called, as he slipped out from behind a tree and waved his companions forward.

Kiril scrambled to her feet, but she stumbled over the hem of her long, tattered nightgown. She couldn't let them capture her. She dove behind a gravestone as an arrow whizzed past her shoulder.

"You might as well come out, my lady. This is the end for you! Come out and we will make your death quick and painless." They used the younger one to call to her. The one that had been almost kind. They weren't truly capable of kindness. Not when they saw her as a monster.

Kiril crawled forward on her hands and knees around the crumbling headstones. In the center of the graveyard stood a strange statue. A man in dark armor sat on a giant throne made of bone with both hands gripping a broadsword as big as he was. Wrapped around the side of the throne was the most intricately detailed dragon's head that she'd ever seen. Startled by the lifelike statue, she retreated and sat as quietly as possible behind a stone.

Kiril's skin started to tingle like a thousand little needles made from ice. Her magic came to life, singing in her veins, warning her of the illusion just a fraction of a second before it was broken.

The statue’s eyes opened and glowed the brightest ice blue Kiril had ever seen. The dragon's matching eyes also opened, and smoke rose from the dragon's nostrils.

As soon as the Hunters started to surround her, ice shot up from the ground and encased their legs. They screamed as the hoarfrost crept up their bodies and melted flesh from bone. Within moments their bare skeletons crumpled at the feet of the man who now stood before her.

Kiril cowered against the tombstone. Never had she seen such horrific ice magic.

Only Night Creatures had glowing eyes of blue like the ones staring at her from the man’s otherwise harsh face. Night Creatures, the undead horde, monsters created from twisted magic. They were reviled by most of the world as disgusting creatures that devoured everything in their path. Without warning, he stabbed his mighty sword into the ground before her and leaned on it, his eyes narrowed as he studied her. The dragon behind the throne sat up, towering above them, clearly awaiting a signal from the man.

"Who are you?" Kiril whispered. She felt a vague sense of recognition but could not place it.

The man tilted his head, his long dark hair whipping around in the cold wind. Though he looked like any other young male elf, tall and handsome, his eyes and the skeletons around him betrayed that illusion. "I am Niyx," he said to her, as if that would answer all her questions. His commanding voice matched his physical appearance. He loomed over her and his stance alone told her that he was not used to being questioned. When she still looked confused, however, he bared his long fangs at her before responding, "I am Lord of the Night. This is my domain. Why do you trespass here?"

Kiril curled up and hugged herself. She forced herself to slow her breathing and her racing heart as she considered his words. If Niyx had wanted her dead, he would have killed her when he killed the others. Lord of the Night? That made him the leader of the Night Creatures. Lord of this enchanted forest. More importantly, the most dangerous predator in this cursed place of magic and death. She assessed the man before her and answered honestly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to trespass. I was running from them. They held me captive in the manor beyond your forest."

"Why?" Niyx continued to lean on his sword, his cold gaze never leaving her face. Whether he was bored or simply curious, she could not quite tell.

Determined to face her fate with dignity, Kiril tugged at her tattered sleeves and brushed snow from her bangs so she could see better. "I am an oracle. They wished to use my magic. When I told them something they didn't want to believe, they called me a witch, threw me out, and sent the hunters to kill me."

"You have the magic to foresee the future?" Niyx stood

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