Morgan Rhodes

Some people ask if I knew exactly how the story was going to end as I started it. Nope! I sure didn’t! I learned a lot as I wrote each draft, about the world, the characters, the magic, the mythology. This is an excellent example of how the series could have gone in a VERY different direction halfway through the series than it actually did.

Oh, and this is obviously before any proofreading or copyedits, so it’s pretty raw, but I hope you enjoy this peek behind the scenes!

Note: in this original draft, Felix working against them from the get-go. He’s lucky he was so darn fun to write or he would have gotten the ax! Literally and figuratively! 😂

***

Original Last Chapter of the first draft of FALLING KINGDOMS #3: Gathering Darkness

They approached the gates set into the north face of the stone wall. It was almost amusing how much the compound resembled a very small and very poor version of the City of Gold. This was the City of Dirt.

           The chieftain had lived high enough here, though, compared to the majority of Paelsians. Thanks to the hefty wine tax on every bottle produced that had gone directly to him, this wasn’t surprising.

           But the chief was dead now. This Paelsia was an orphan, ruled by default by the King of Blood.

           Jonas didn’t waste any time. He shoved open the gates and went inside, a path he’d walked months ago when he’d been granted audience with the chief.

           “Is it true you were involved with the chief’s daughter?” Lysandra asked. “She danced with snakes, didn’t she?”

           “Very well, too.”

           “I’ll take that as a yes.”

           “Who told you that?”

           “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

           It must have been Brion. Jonas almost smiled at the memory. Laelia Basilius had been a shallow girl, but it hadn’t been completely unpleasant to work his way into her good graces—and her bed—so she’d introduce Jonas to her important and influential father.

           “She had her uses.”

           She gave him a sour look. “I wonder if she feels the same about you now.”

           “Last I heard, she thought we were betrothed.” At Lysandra’s look of shock, he laughed. “We’re not.”

           “Let’s hope your paths never cross again in case there’s a wedding to attend.”

           “That is definitely something to avoid at all costs. Besides, I’m not interested in her as part of my future. I have more important things to accomplish. Where do you think we should do it?” At her sharp look, he couldn’t help but grin. “The ritual.”

           He hadn’t been able to coax a smile from her today, which didn’t surprise him that much. It had been a difficult journey from Limeros as they tried very hard to beat Felix to this location. They hadn’t seen any sign of him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t close.

           Lysandra scanned the area. There were dirt paths leading off to a labyrinth of small cottages and Chief Basilius’s large villa in the center. “How about that clearing?”

           The clearing was the location of the chief’s bonfires, feasts, and nightly entertainment. When Jonas had been here last there had been several very beautiful topless dancers entertaining the chief.

           “Why are you grinning?” Lysandra asked.

           “Just dealing with a few memories.”

           “Deal with this.” She handed him her dagger. “I cleaned it especially for you.”

           “You’re not volunteering this time.”

           “You’re so good at making yourself bleed, why would I want to get in the way? Why? Do you want me to do it this time?”

           “No.” Jonas took the blade from her, found a spot on his forearm this time, and sliced. This was the fifth time he’d done this so it was a familiar pain.

           He crouched down and with the blood that welled from the cut, he drew the spiral symbol for air on the parched ground. “Let’s hope it works this time.”

           Lysandra gave him a tense look as a breeze picked up, circling around them in a whirlwind that made their breath catch. Jonas used a new piece of cloth to bind his wound, his gaze tracking around the area.

           “Jonas, over there.” Her voice was tight. She pointed at a spot where the bonfire had once been, now only a scorched circle in the center of the clearing.

           Something was there, the sunlight glinting off of it. A crystal.

           A moonstone.

           His chest tight, Jonas pulled another cloth out of his pocket and approached the crystal, bending over and picking it up without the surface of it touching his skin.

           “It didn’t bother Felix,” Lysandra said.

           “I’d rather not take any chances.”

           “That’s it, isn’t it?”

           “Unless there’s another crystal about to appear out of absolutely nowhere after I bleed on the ground, yes, this is it.”

           He wouldn’t risk this one. He had to get it somewhere safe until he could make contact with Cleo. She probably wondered where he’d disappeared after claiming the Earth crystal. He hadn’t realized he’d be dealing with a traitor like Felix.

           Still, one crystal was better than no crystals at all.

           Lysandra clutched his arm. “Jonas…”

           He glanced at her with surprise. “What?”

           “We have company.”

           He turned slowly, his heart sinking, to see that she was absolutely right. Of course, he expected to see that Felix had caught up to them.

           Felix was definitely there. But behind him were at least twenty guards in red uniforms.

           And King Gaius himself.

           “You were right, Felix,” the king said. “Here he is, the infamous Jonas Agallon, the murderer of my beloved wife and queen.”

           “Oh, your highness,” Jonas said, sounding a great deal more confident than he currently felt, “everyone knows that was a lie. Aron Lagaris killed your wife. He was your kingsliege, if I’m not mistaken, wasn’t he? Sounds like someone who took orders extremely well.”

           “I must admit, I’m not entirely sure what to do with you.” The king’s gaze shifted to Lysandra. “Or you. Shall I take you to my dungeon again and risk some last minute escape that disappoints a crowd thirsting for a show of blood? Or shall I kill you here and be done with it?”

           “Deal with me however you want,” Jonas said. “But let Lysandra go.”

           “Not a chance. She will die at your side, rebel.”

           “Sorry, Jonas,” Felix said, shrugging. “You gave me no choice.”

           “Really. No choice at all other than this?”

           “The cost of a raven to send a message from Limeros to Auranos was steep, but I believe it was worth it in the end. If I hadn’t, the king and his men never would have arrived in time.”

           “That would be a shame.”

           Jonas wasn’t sure what to do, how to maneuver his way out of this. He could handle a few guards, certainly, especially with Lysandra at his back. But twenty or more? And there was only one entrance into the compound unless they wanted to scale the twenty foot walls, and that entrance was currently blocked by a small army.

           “The crystal,” King Gaius said. “Hand it over.”

           “That’s not going to happen.”

           The king looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face showed signs of strain. He appeared much older than the last time Jonas saw him.

           “Felix,” he said.

           “Yes, your majesty.”

           “Where is the Earth crystal?”

           “I have it in a safe place.”

           “Why isn’t it here as we agreed?”

           “I want an assurance that you’ll pay me.”

           “Don’t insult me, boy. Of course I’ll pay you. You’ve delivered to me the means to claim two crystals and also apprehend Jonas Agallon, you will be paid very well indeed. Now tell me where the Earth crystal is.”

           Jonas eyed Lysandra. Her attention was totally focused on Felix. He knew that she liked the mercenary despite everything that had happened, that she thought she saw something more in him than Jonas did. Jonas had thought he’d seen a true friend in Felix, in the beginning. But he’d been fooled. He refused to be fooled again.

           “Can you use it?” Lysandra said to him under her breath.

           He glanced down at the piece of moonstone he’d wrapped in the protective cloth. There was a strange shadow within it, much like the Earth crystal. A strand of darkness that swirled around and around. “Felix couldn’t do more with the other crystal than the most minor magic. It won’t help us here today.”

           “Then we’re dead, simple as that.” She reached down to take his hand in hers, finally giving him a shaky grin although her eyes shone with emotion. “It’s been good to fight at your side, Jonas. It started a little rough between us, I know, but I mean that. You’ve become so important to me…I hope you know that.”

           “No, Lys. Don’t talk like that. We’re not giving up yet.”

           “Maybe I’m more of a realist than you are. There’s no way out of this.”

           “Let me make this very clear, Felix.” The king’s voice was brittle, angry and impatient. “Tell me where you hid the crystal and I won’t have to take you back to my dungeon and torture the information out of you.”

           Felix’s brows shot up. “You’d do that?”

           “Oh, yes. I would do that. Do not challenge me, boy. I have not had a pleasant week, to say the least. I came out here, leaving the sanctity and safety of the palace for this wasteland that I despise, so I could claim what you promised. I will not leave here with only one crystal in my possession.”

           He flicked a finger at a guard, who pointed his sword at Felix’s throat.

           “Huh,” Felix said. “Will you look at that, Agallon? I guess you were right after all.”

           “Idiot,” Jonas growled. “Nice of you to finally realize it.”

           “I do have a theory about the crystals, though.”

           Were they really having a conversation right now, moments before the king unleashed his guards to slaughter them all?

           “Oh? And what’s that?”

           “One crystal doesn’t work too well on its own. But two, on the other hand—” He fished into his pocket and pulled out the piece of obsidian. “That might work better.”

           King Gaius inhaled sharply at the sight of it. “You lied to me.”

           “Yeah, I really did. Jonas, catch.” Felix tossed the crystal at Jonas and he caught it in his bare left hand.

           “Damn it. Fine, I’ll try.” Jonas discarded the cloth so he could hold the piece of moonstone in his other hand. “All right, anything would be good here. Anything at all.”

           He had no idea what to do now to harness the magic. He was no sorcerer. He’d only started to believe in magic in recent weeks.

           However, there was that whispered rumor in his family that an ancestor had once been an exiled Watcher.

           Jonas gasped as something stabbed at him through his hands. “What—?”

           The crystals began to glow like hot coals. He tried to drop them when the burning pain intensified.

           “Jonas, what’s happening?” Lysandra gasped. “What are you doing?”

           “I don’t know. I’m not trying to do anything!”

           A band of light began to snake out of the crystal and wind around his arms, tightening like boa constrictors. The bands of light wrapped around his chest, his throat, swirling like a tornado all around him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. There was only the searing pain and the sensation that he was being torn apart.

           He realized he was screaming a moment before the pain ceased.

           He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His body ached, as if he’d been struck by lightning and then mauled by a pack of wolves. He was surprised that blood didn’t drip from every part of his body.

           The crystals were gone. Someone must have taken them while he suffered. He pushed against the cracked ground to get back up to his feet, casting a worried look toward Lysandra. She stared at him with shock rather than the concern he expected for what he’d just endured.

           Then he glanced toward the guards, the king, and Felix.

           Instead of surging forward and killing him where he stood, each of them, one by one, sank to their knees until only King Gaius and Felix remained standing.

           “What are you doing, your majesty?” Felix growled, but he didn’t move his gaze away from Jonas. “Kneel.”

           Stunned, Jonas watched as the king did exactly that, lowering himself to his knees, his jaw tight, his expression one of utter and absolute shock.

           “What is going on here?” Jonas managed.

           “The crystals,” Lysandra said, her voice strained. “Jonas…your hands...”

           His hands? He looked down at his hands. On his left palm was what appeared to be the brand of a spiral. On the other, a circle within a circle.

           The symbols began to glow.

           “You’re a god now, Jonas,” Lysandra whispered. “The god of Earth and Air. And even the King of Blood kneels before you.”

**

The earth quaked beneath the palace. Fire roared into being, creating blazing walls all though the crumbling throne room.

He couldn’t breathe. He was drowning, choking, falling.

Then the blast wave hit him, throwing him backward. He felt the crush of marble as he hit a column hard enough to shatter bone.

It was over.

And all that remained was darkness.

 #  #  #  #  #

#  #  #  #  #

 “Is he going to open his eyes?”

Jonas groaned as he felt the tip of a boot press against his chest, rolling him onto his back.

“We should ask him.”

“Good idea. Jonas, are you going to open your eyes?”

Did he still have eyes? A body?

It seemed impossible.

But coaxed by the strangely familiar voices, he wrenched open one eyelid, then the other, then shielded his face from the bright sunlight with the back of his hand as he stared up in disbelief.

“There you are,” Brion said, with a grin.

Brion?

Lysandra stood next to him, her arms cross over her chest. She was frowning. “He doesn’t look too good.”

“Does he ever?”

“Do you want an honest answer to that question?”

“No, don’t be honest with me. Lie. I prefer lies when it comes to how ridiculously good looking Jonas is.”

“Not nearly as good looking as his big brother.” Tomas moved into Jonas’s eye line.

Tomas…

Jonas stared up at his older brother, stunned.

“True,” Lysandra agreed.

“Are we really discussing looks at a time like this?” Brion said with annoyance. “How incredibly vain.”

“You’re not half bad, yourself,” Lysandra told him. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Brion brightened immediately. “I love you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please stop.”

“I’m dreaming,” Jonas murmured as he took in the sight of the three.

“Not dreaming,” Brion said.

“Actually, you’re dead,” Lysandra said brightly. “Well…mostly, anyway.”

Jonas just stared at her as Brion offered him a hand. He took it, utterly stunned, and allowed his old friend to help him to his feet.

“Mostly?” he repeated.

“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Brion said. “It seems like you have a choice.”

“Which is?”

“Stay here with us...” Brion gestured behind him, which looked like an open green field that stretched far into the horizon. “Or go back and suffer with the living for another sixty or so years. I mean, if you don’t get yourself killed again before your time. What is this, the third time?”

“He’s always been accident prone,” Tomas said.

“Wait,” Lysandra said, that frown still on her face. “Why do you think he has a choice? I didn’t think there was a choice.”

“There’s no choice,” Tomas said, shaking his head.

“I don’t understand what the hell’s going on,” Jonas protested. “You...the three of you...you’re dead. I lost you.” His throat thickened and his eyes began to sting. “But you’re here. Right in front of me.” He poked Brion in his chest.

Brion glared at him. “Ow.”

“You feel real and alive.”

“We are real,” Tomas assured him. “But alive...well, that’s another thing.”

“All I know for sure is that I messed up. Again.” Jonas shook his head, memories of what happened in the throne room coming back at him like a flight of arrows, each slicing into his very core. “I acted rashly. I didn’t think. I thought I was helping.”

“Our hero,” Brion drawled.

“You were always so hard on yourself,” Lysandra said. “Personally, I think you should stay, but if it’s not going to happen...”

“Stay here...” Jonas looked around. “Is this the everafter?”

“It’s not the darklands,” Brion said. “I can only imagine that that would be much, uh, darker. Right?”

Tomas clasped his hand on Jonas’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m proud of you, kid.”

“What? Proud? Proud of what?”

“Does it have to only be one thing?” His brother grinned. “But you gotta go back. It’s not your time.”

“We’ll wait for you,” Lysandra told him.

“You...you will?”

“Of course,” Brion agreed. “You think it’s over? Not even close. There’s a whole world of adventure waiting for all of us when you come back.”

Jonas still couldn’t believe any of this was real. “Promise?”

“Promise. Besides, I’m going to need way more time with Lys so I can convince her that I’m the right man for her. I think I’ve started making a really good impression. Right, Lys?”

Lys glared at him. “Sure. Whatever you want to believe.”

“Exactly,”  he said, grinning. “Anyway, Jonas, try not to be too much of a hero in the future. That way leads to pain.”

“Yeah,” Jonas grinned back at him. “You can say that again—”

And then they were gone.

And the pain returned, like the Forbidden Mountains themselves had crashed down on top of him.

The throne room was in ruin. Light from the sky shone down onto them, brightening the ruin that had once been the golden palace. He tried to turn his head to see who was there, who was hurt or dead, but the pain made him scream.

“Hold still,” Lucia snarled. “You have a broken neck.”

“Broken—”

“Be quiet so I can try to help you.” The next moment, a burning sensation made him yelp as it sank deep into his throat, his neck, his spine. So intense he thought he might pass out from it.

When the bright white light of pain passed and he could see again, the pain was gone. Lucia looked down at him.

“You healed me,” he said weakly.

“Of course I did.”

“I was dead.”

“I hear you’ve been dead a lot.”

“I think this is my third time. Or second and a half, anyway.”

“Maybe you’re the legendary Phoenix.” She surprised him by smiling down at him. “But I wouldn't want that to go to your head.”

What a ridiculous thought. Not all legends were true.

***

Note from Morgan:

I originally planned to kill Jonas and have him rejoin his friends in the everafter with the promise that there were many adventures ahead, that this was not the end. But I ultimately decided that there had been enough loss in the books, enough grief, and I didn’t want the shadow of such a death to fall over our characters’ victory and the promise of a brighter future.

Once I made that decision, reuniting Jonas with Lys, Brion & Tomas, while it brought a tear to my eye and felt like lovely closure, only proved to be an unnecessary distraction to the ending, one that messed with the pacing. They say to “kill your darlings” in writing, but this time I killed the scene rather than the character! You’re welcome, Mr. Agallon!

This is first draft so I would have fleshed it out more re: description, but you can still see what I was going for!

           The crowd had gone utterly silent. Quiet enough that Cleo could hear the wooden floor slats creak. Enzo reached for his sword.

           “Don’t let me interrupt your...festivities,” the familiar voice of Magnus cut through the silence of the tavern. “I am simply seeking my runaway wife. As you were.”

           There was another long moment of utter stillness before the noise rose up again, just as it had been before.

           Cleo waited, her heart pounding hard, as she watched the prince in the long black cloak approach her, his attention never leaving her face for a moment.

           “And here you are,” he said. “I was told by a man outside that you were seen coming in here. He told me this a moment before he vomited far too close to my boots.”

           “Here I am,” she agreed. “Care for a drink?”

           “I’m not sure that’s a very good idea. I believe I’d like to keep my mind sharp tonight.”

           “As you wish.” She sipped from her goblet.

         Magnus eyed Enzo, now a bit unsteady on his feet. “I see that the princess has managed to corrupt you in a rather shamefully short amount of time.”

           Enzo leaned heavily against a nearby wall. “Your highness, I don’t think—”

           “Clearly there was a rather large lack of thinking here. Your only job is to keep the princess safe and yet I arrive to find you publicly pining away for your lost love.”

           Enzo opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but Magnus raised his hand.

           “You’re dismissed for the night. Go...drink as much as you see fit. Find another willing girl to help take your mind off Nerissa, I’m sure there are plenty of them under this very roof. Do whatever you wish as long as it’s out of my sight.”

           Enzo’s eyes flicked to Cleo with uncertainty for a moment before he bowed deeply, nearly losing his balance. “Yes, your majesty.”

           Cleo watched him disappear into the crowd before she turned a glare on Magnus.

           “That was rude,” she said.

           “Your point?”

           “Enzo has earned respect.”

           “Not tonight he hasn’t.” Magnus crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, what to do about you.”

           “I would strongly suggest you don’t try to order me around.”

           “If I did, I certainly wouldn’t expect you to listen.”

           “Good.” Cleo turned her back on Magnus and went to take a seat at a nearby table.

           Magnus sat down across from her. He watched her so intently that she began to feel extremely self conscious.

           As she raised her goblet to her lips, she noticed the blue-green line twisting around her wrist, and inwardly grimaced at the sight.

           “I know you’re concerned about me,” she said.

           His expression darkened. “Concerned? About the fact that you resist any help to rid you of your little problem that threatens to destroy you from the inside out, all because you wish to hold onto this magic and not let it be taken from you? Not at all.” He eyed a nearby table where the four people seated were laughing wildly while a fifth had passed out cold, face down. “What are they doing?”

           Cleo forced herself to look where he indicated. “Playing a game.”

           “What kind of game?”

            “A game of secrets. Very common in taverns, especially on days of celebration.”

           “The rules?”

           “Player one will guess player two’s secret. Player two will take a drink if the secret is true. If not, Player One will have to take two drinks. Clearly, the loser will no longer be conscious if the game is played long enough”

           “How completely idiotic. Let’s play.” Magnus called the tavern owner over and ordered several bottles of Paelsian wine.

           “I thought you didn’t want to drink tonight,” she said with surprise.

           “I always want to drink. It’s my curse.”

           “Really,” she said. “I thought your curse is the ring on your finger, the one you wear equally because it was your final gift from your father and because you fear death.”

           Magnus’s eyes widened a fraction, but then he tipped his goblet toward her and took a drink.

           “Well done. My turn now,” he said. “Let’s see, so many questions. So many secrets. Where shall I begin? I assume that one cannot lie during this game?”

           “It would be the gravest sin against the goddess.”

           “In a kingdom where she has become no more than a golden effigy, I don’t take that with much gravity.”

           “I promise I won’t lie if you promise the same.”

           “I do. All right. You stopped Valia from trying to remove Taran’s Kindred not because you give a fig about Taran, but because you were afraid she might be successful.”

           “That is not exactly a yes or no question.”

           “I thought we were dealing in secrets, not absolutes. Drink or don’t drink.”

           Cleo’s knuckles whitened on her goblet as she took a small sip, now annoyed that he’d come here to ruin her chance to forget her problems for a night. Magnus Damora was the embodiment of every problem she’d ever had.

           If only she hadn’t fallen in love with him, this would all be so much easier.

           “My turn. You are still in love with Lucia,” she asked simply.

           Magnus barked out a laugh, as if taken by sheer surprise by the question. “Drink up, princess. Two drinks, yes? Such a misplaced fantasy ended a long time ago for me.”

           The two gulps of wine sliding down her throat felt like sweet relief, a worry she had held onto silently and secretly for so long, now finally falling away.

           Magnus studied her. “You continue to harbor romantic feelings for Jonas Agallon.”

           She groaned. “Your jealousy is not an appealing attribute.”

           “Drink or not drink?”

           “Not,” she said.

           “Good.” He raised his goblet and took two sips from it. Magnus was silent for a moment. “Theon was your first love and you will forever mourn his loss.”

           Her grin disappeared. She took a drink.

           “Knowing what you know now, how you feel now,” she began, “you would still kill him?”

           He took a drink, his expression now grim. “You would not be the strong woman you are today had Theon lived,” Magnus said. “He would have protected you, shielded you, coddled you. Perhaps you might have come to resent him for it.”

           Cleo considered this for a moment before she took a sip of wine. “Despite all the horrors he was responsible for, you miss your father terribly, possibly even more than you miss your mother.”

           Magnus’s gaze turned cold as he took a drink. “You would sacrifice everything to keep this deadly magic inside of you.”

           She gaped at him. “You honestly think that?”

           “Drink or not drink?”

           “You were right, this game is stupid.” And she’d now officially had enough to drink that her mind had started to go blurry at the edges.

           She stood up from the table, ready to find Enzo and return to the palace.

           Magnus stood up as well, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “You think I want to remove this magic from you because I want to take away your power. That I want you to be weak and helpless. But you’re wrong.”

           Cleo spread her hands. “What am I without it, Magnus? I’m a seventeen year old girl, with no family, no throne. I don’t even have the magic of a common witch at my disposal. I’m barely strong enough to lift a full sized sword.”

           “And don’t forget, your archery skills are laughable at best.”

           She glared at him for the reminder. “Without this magic I am just a girl.”

           “Just a girl,” he repeated, shaking his head. “You are most definitely a girl. But you are also the most powerful creature I’ve ever known in my life. Strong and capable and smart and stubborn and frustrating and incredible and utterly, painfully perfect to me. I love you more than any damn thing in this entire world. And I will save you with or without your help. Do you understand me?”

           As if the air had been pulled from her lungs, all she could do is look at him, seeking any sign of deception in his serious brown eyes, but finding nothing but sincerity, worry, and pain.

           “I’d like to make a toast,” a voice boomed out from the other side of the tavern. “To the prince and princess. Once they were sworn enemies, but now…well, I really don’t know what they are.”

           Magnus’s face had paled, and any vulnerability in his expression had frozen away in moments to that of a frozen mask. She turned to look at the one who’d given the toast, her blood turning cold at the sight.

           Kurtis Cirillo stood upon the table at the far side of the tavern, raising his goblet in the air, his narrowed gaze fixed on the two of them.

           “It is sad, though,” Kurtis continued, “that the golden princess has managed to betray all Auranian citizens with her weak and cowardly choices. Do you blame her though? Forced to marry her enemy? What horrors must she have had to endure at the hands of the Prince of Blood and his father? Do you think Magnus Damora will be any less ruthless than King Gaius? Do you think he will allow celebrations like this to continue? You’re fooling yourselves if you think this. And yet they both drink with you tonight, pretending to be the same as you. But they are not nor will they ever be. They are royals with priviledge and power. And you are most definitely not.”

           The crowd now began to argue, both with Kurtis and with each other.

           Kurtis cast a wide grin in Cleo and Magnus’s direction, before he jumped down from the table and disappeared into the crowd.

           “Magnus—” Cleo began.

           “Stay here.”