D Fischer [Fischer - Reborn

REBORN

RISE

OF THE

REALMS

- One -

D. FISCHER

REBORN (RISE OF THE REALMS: BOOK ONE)

COPYRIGHT D. Fischer, 2017

ISBN-13:

978-1981943524

ISBN-10:

1981943528

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 PRIOR WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHER, EXCEPT IN THE CASE OF BREIF QUOTATIONS EMBODIED IN CRITICAL REVIEWS AND CERTAIN THER NONCOMMERCIAL USES PERMITED BY COPYRIGHT LAW.

Everything in this book is fictional. It is not based on true events, persons, or creatures that go bump in the night, no matter how much we wish it were

A N ote of T hanks

Id love to just take a moment and thank all the underdogs out there that have to fight for what they want. Strength comes within - it starts with you - and just because you have to work harder for it, doesnt mean youre not meant to have it.

Fight for whats yours and dont let anyone stand in your way.

Dream big. You lack nothing.

Contents

PROLOGUE

KATRIANE DUPONT

EARTH REALM

THE PAST

The frigid winter air seeps into my bones, freezing them down to the marrow. The skin on my cheeks resist against it, shriveling and burning with each subtle, chilly breeze. Even with the layers I wearthe coat, a long sleeve shirt, hat, and mittensI might as well be wearing nothing at all.

I shiver as I glance around, my muscles quaking against the cloth thats only job is to keep me warm. Absentmindedly, my numb mitten-covered fingers twirl the ladle, sloshing the contents inside my simmering pot as my head swivels at every subtle noise within the forest. My paranoia has the better of me. The closer I get to finishing my potion, the more my mind concocts its own brew of fear-laced emotions.

I glance back at my boiling pot. As each bubble reaches the surface, a few stray drops splatter into the air and splash against the side of the cast-iron cauldron. The fire licks up its sides, desperately trying to consume the cauldron itself, considering it a challenge. The snow melts around my makeshift fire pit, creating a cold puddle at my feet. The frigid liquid seeps through my tennis shoes and soaks my socks. As the bubbles rise from the bottom and free themselves once it hits the top, the crackling noise of the flames and the popping of each bubble echoes in the quiet winter night. The full moon is the only thing that lights my vision aside from the fire, a beacon aiding me in my quest in this thick blanket of trees.

Im about to do something forbidden, something I know I shouldnt. This could be my demise, my destruction. The chilly air isnt the only thing that makes my muscles quiver, knocking my knees together. I could be punished and cease to exist. Im aware of the consequences my actions could, or will, have.

I take a deep breath, fog leaving my nostrils on the exhale, and let go of the handle. The wooden ladle clinks against the cast iron as I bend to the ground and reach inside my brown, leather satchel. I was given this satchel during my Right, the ceremony that brought me into my rightful place as a witch.

My mother gave it to me during the celebration following that ceremony. Such a look of joy had crossed her face as I unwrapped it from its box. It was perfect, smooth; I had run my fingers along the pristinely knit hems and the embedded half-moon circle with a line down the middlemy covens crescent.

But now, the edges fray and stains from previous potions mar the once smooth leather surface, and a tear is beginning to form in the middle of the strap. I refuse to be rid of it, though. This is the gift that was given to me, my first gift as a rightful witch. Its the symbol of my place among this world, no longer the girl I used to be, but of the witch I must become.

I flip open the flap and grip my hand around the last ingredient. The bottle is smooth and slick against my mitten-covered fingers. Standing up straight, I close my eyes, taking another deep breath while trying to subside my quaking. This is it. No turning back.

My phone buzzes inside my fluffy winter coat and I jump from the abrupt noise, almost dropping the vial. The breath leaves my lungs in a rush, flooding me with relief, grateful for the distraction before a concerned frown pinches my eyebrows together.

Its after midnight. Who would call me at this hour?

Fishing it from my pocket, I see my mothers name appear on my screen. My phone chirps at me, pleading with me to answer the video chat. Hesitating for just a moment, I swipe the screen to accept the call and my mothers moving face comes onto the screen, along with the white sheets of the bed she lay in behind it.

I suck in a breath, the sight of her not for the faint of heart. My chest aches, seeing her in such a condition.

Her face is sunken in, her chocolate-colored eyes hallow inside their sockets. Those eyes used to be filled with such warmth, but now are stained with blood shedding tears as they plead with me. She coughs before she can mutter her greeting, Katriane, dont do it.

I feign innocence, though my voice shakes, giving away my lie before I have time to voice the entire sentence. I dont know what youre talking about.

Her sunken eyes narrow, the skin pulling too tight around their lids. Her once slightly aged and wrinkled skin now appears paper thin. Ive seen what youre about to do, Katriane. You mustnt... its forbidden.

I sigh loudly and glance around, avoiding those eyes that will haunt me for the rest of my life if I dont follow through with my plan. I dont look for anything in particular, but I cant keep looking at my mother and the reminder that the fated weight of the witches now rest upon my shoulders. Watching the blood dribble down a mothers cheek to her jawbone would break any childs heart. Ill do anything to make it stop.

My mother, Janine, is the psychic of our coven. I should have known shed see what Im about to do. This wasnt exactly a planned mission, but deep down in my bones, I knew it was necessary. Forbidden or not.

Demi-Lune, my coven, is suffering at the hands of an incurable illness. Weve just learned that this illness is taking out witches from every coven. We dont know where it comes from, how we got it, or how to cure it. We only know that it brings the blackest of deaths. The virusor whatever it isis eating the hosts body from the inside out. The vital organs inside the infected bodies are bleeding, sucking the blood from their necessary veins like the vampires that plague Earth. Weve tried everythinga trusted, real human doctor, potions, pleading with Erlinebut nothing has worked.

My mother barks out another cough and my attention zones back to the tiny screen. I watch as she pulls the napkin from her mouth. Blood soaks the soft tissue before it leaves the sight of the camera.

You cannot summon Erline. Dealing with Mother Naturethe Feealways comes with a price.

Erline is the Fee in charge of this realmof Earths realm. Many call her Mother Nature and believe her to be a mythical creature, needing a face and name to blame the one who causes mayhem and destruction. But shes reala Fee, or Faery as some may call them. There are many Fee, each controlling their own realm, like its their Godly right. But my only plea is for the one who controls this realm... the one who made us, and the one who should hold some ounce of mercy for her daughters.

I lower my voice just above a mumble. I know they do, but someone has to do it or youll die. The coven, the witchestheyll all die.

She shakes her head, her unwashed, greasy hair unmoving. Dont you think Erline knows that? She would have done something by now if she were capable, she pauses. Katriane, if you summon her, itll have severe consequences.