Wilde's Fire (Darkness Falls #1) by Krystal Wade

sit.
    “It is. This is one of our many military bases. Most of this structure is underground. The only portion of the main building above ground is this courtyard where we sit. We come out here to remind ourselves why we fight.”
    “Why do you fight?”
    “Survival.” He pauses, then points at the wall. “If you look closely, you will see combat scenes carved into the walls. After harsh battles, some of us come out here and draw out the memories. It is a tool we use to heal our hearts.”
    Sadness fills Arland’s words … a sadness I hope I never have to comprehend. I walk over to the walls—run my hands across them as I did inside and inspect some of the distressed art. One in particular stands out more than the others do. A stake impales a woman, driven through her chest and into the ground. A child with a sword in his hand sits, curled at her feet. A dead monster lies next to them. My hands shake. The person who experienced his mother’s tragic death in such a dreadful way is the one who must have drawn this.
    Arland stands next to me, leaning into the wall. He touches it with his own hand, closes his eyes, and mutters something inaudible—not to me, but to the wall.
    “This was my mother,” is all he says, before returning to the bench.
    There’s a part of me that wants to wrap my arms around him, caress his face, and tell him everything will be okay, but I’m sure that would be strange to him. To me, not so much, considering we’ve done that for each other so many times before, in my dreams. It’s safer not to do or say anything, so I follow him back to the seat and fold my hands in my lap. “I’m sorry.”
    Arland’s gaze returns to the courtyard. “There is a layer of magic protecting us from the enemy stumbling upon the base, but, unfortunately, there is not enough to protect our entire civilization.”
    “Magic?” I ask, careful not to reveal my disbelief.
    “This might be difficult for you to accept, but please know I will
never
lie to you. You are Encardia’s only hope of surviving this war.”
    Arland pauses and watches me, as if he’s waiting for me to say something, but I remain silent. I don’t know what else to do. As much as I’d like to tell him he’s wrong, I cannot. I’m here, I’ve seen the monsters and the man from my dreams firsthand—running away is hardly an option.
    “Many years ago, you and your family lived in this land. Six months before you were born, a Seer gave your mother and father a prophecy. It instructed them to protect you by using old magic to take you out of our world, immediately after your birth, for you would be the Light to end the Darkness seeking to destroy our kind.”
    “Me? Light?” War is not for me. Light and Darkness, prophecies and magic—none of this makes sense. I’m sitting on a bench next to a man I’ve dreamed of for years, he’s touched me, he’s telling me I’m some kind of savior—it’s all too unreal.
    “Yes,” he says, watching my knees bounce up and down.
    I cross my ankles, trying to control my nerves. “But, how?”
    “Through old magic.”
    “What is old magic?”
    “Something people of this world have long since forgotten how to use.” He turns his head toward the sky.
    “So a Seer said I’d save this world, but I couldn’t live here—and my parents just did what they were told? No questions asked?”
    “I am sure they had plenty of questions,” he says, sitting like a statue—the total opposite of me.
    “So why did they do it? Why did they leave?”
    “When a Seer gives a prophecy as clear as yours, people listen. We lived in a time of great peace, but they had to protect you, even though it was hard for them to fathom, taking their child out of the only world they ever knew.”
    I look around the courtyard. Nothing I see has life. Everything reeks of death and misery. It’s hard to imagine peace ever existed here.
    “If my prophecy was clear, did it say where I’d learn this old magic?”
    “Not