Sneak Peek
An early look at The Illuminated — Book II

Her raven-colored hair danced with the breeze of an endless night, caressing her shoulders. She slipped out of her nude flats, then pulled down one strap of her purple-lace dress, followed by the other. The fabric cascaded down her body like a fallen curtain, pooling at her ankles. Her clothing, charmed with Sirens’ magic, disintegrated into the air like remnants of stardust. Nerissa stood naked at the edge of Nyxara, wearing nothing but a smile and shameless confidence in her moon-kissed form.

Every realm in existence had its power source, and Nyxara was the Underworld’s. It flowed between Nosferia and Shadowvale, guiding travelers along its path. It branched out through all of Dimmeterra like veins pumping blood to sustain life. And much to their delight, Sirens discovered centuries ago that this river—this conduit—responded to them in the most unique way.

As she dipped her toe into the shallow shoreline, Nerissa gasped—magic surged through her, pure and euphoric.

Moving slowly, she submerged herself in the water. As her body slipped beneath the surface, her form shifted—becoming a smoky silhouette that moved in rhythm with the currents. Her eyes, usually a seductive shade of purple, now held a golden glow as she looked toward Shadowvale.

She wouldn’t have made the journey to the city of soul summoners for just anyone. But for her favorite Nosferian? She’d make the exception.

For most, it was a three-day journey. But in her mystical form, Nerissa could move faster—half the time, so long as other passing Sirens stayed out of her way. The currents carried her through expanses of tall grass and between huddled trees. The river pulsed and sparkled, mirroring the night sky above.

Upon reaching Shadowvale, Nyxara poured into a canal that swept through every part of the city. The lower district was home to untethered Shadovians living in humble dwellings made of peeled plaster and splintered wood. Homes pressed tightly against one another unless separated by an alleyway market. Their small, brittle paddle boats were tied off with frayed ropes. Every building, every tent, was held together by patchwork and hard work.

As she neared the Shadovian palace, the surrounding landscape began to change—paddle boats turned into elegant ships, frayed ropes into sturdy docks, and humble abodes into towering stone homes. Their wealth and refinement were illuminated by the quiet flicker of decorative lanterns.

The surrounding markets sold more than food and handmade clothing; here, one could find jewels, magical relics, and delicacies from distant realms.

The river—once narrow—expanded into a wide berth to accommodate passing ships before narrowing again into a smaller pathway leading directly to the palace. It circled the looming structure like a moat, but just below the surface was a hidden opening where the water trickled inward—becoming the palace bathhouse.

Nerissa found her way in—like she had many times before—occasionally appeasing her boredom with the guilty pleasure of palace gossip. And when she found the bathhouse empty? Well, that made it almost too easy.

As she lifted herself from the mystic inlet, her liquid form reshaped into her goddess-like human body.

Admiring her naked form in the pool’s reflection, she bit her lip, wondering what kind of clothing would serve her best. Her choices often doubled as a temptress’s weapon—a provocative shield.

“Ah.” She snapped her fingers. “I know.”

Nerissa’s fingers traced the lines of her curves, allowing magic to wrap caramel-colored silk—the color of her skin—around her form. With a plunging neckline, the fabric draped in a way that accentuated the sway of her hips. From a distance, anyone glancing her way might assume she was naked—and that was no accident. If she were a black widow, this dress was the web.

Sashaying through the marbled space, she slipped through a door into a palace corridor, where a guard stood at his post. His eyes widened the moment she stepped out of the room he’d assumed was empty.

“How did you…?” His question died as Nerissa stepped closer, her eyes glowing softly as she pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shhh,” she soothed, her finger trailing from his lips to his chest. The guard, so enamored with the alluring woman before him, felt no urge to protest.

“You are so delicious,” she murmured with a grin. Her eyes flashed with a wicked spell. “Tell me. Where can I find Fabian?”

“Fabian?” he asked, unable to blink.

“Yes. Captain of the Royal Guard,” she replied, her voice lyrical. “I just need to ask him something. It will only take a moment.”

“He’s in the war room,” the guard answered, his eyes hazy with desire.

“Would you mind taking me there?” Nerissa asked. “I’d hate for someone to stop me. But if they see me with a strong, handsome guard on my arm… well, I assume I wouldn’t be questioned. Right?”

“I suppose I could say you’re meant for the king. He’s been known to entertain beautiful women.”

“Entertain how?” Nerissa asked, curious. She always loved a bit of scandal.

The guard hesitated. “In exchange for… pleasurable favors, he’s been known to offer luxuries from the elite district—houses, boats, jewelry.”

“Interesting,” Nerissa hummed, her eyes shimmering with delight. She tucked the information away like a prize.

A sudden crash echoed from a nearby hallway—shattering glass and clattering cutlery bouncing off the palace walls. A servant must have dropped a tray.

The noise broke the guard’s focus, his gaze shifting toward the sound—away from Nerissa’s alluring stare.

She acted quickly. Her hand slid to his cheek, the touch reeling him back into her snare.

“Focus on me, stud. I need you—desperately.”

“You need me—desperately,” the guard repeated.

“Yes. Now, show me where this war room is.”

The guard nodded, turning away from the clatter of the kitchen mishap and leading her down the hallway.

Pitiful, she thought. One dropped tray, and his focus slips.

Still—it had been all too easy to pull him back under.

They walked, arm in arm, down the corridor, passing only a few castle servants along the way—none paid them any mind. After all, no one questioned a palace guard.

After two sharp turns and a few more steps, they arrived at a set of tall wooden doors, arched and lined with steel.

“He’s in there, meeting with the king,” said the guard.

Nerissa eyed the door, considering. Fabian knew of her—her attachment to Weston, the games she liked to play. He might be annoyed, but she doubted he’d make a fuss about her being somewhere she didn’t belong.

Still, best not to risk revealing her trade secret—how easily she frolicked through the palace halls unnoticed.

“One last favor,” she purred, batting her lashes.

“Yes?”

“Would you be a dear and ask Fabian if he delivered a recent package to the king? Tell him Weston Vanish is requesting confirmation. It’s a book of some kind, and I’m only here to ensure it was successfully delivered. Then, I’ll be on my way.”

“Of course,” said the guard.

“Fabulous.”

As he knocked on the door, Nerissa slipped to the side, cautiously positioning herself behind a decorative wall hanging. The palace halls were lined with them—one on either side of the war room doors.

“Come in,” said the king, as the guard cautiously opened the door. “What is it?”

“I have a message for Sir Fabian Dankworth, Your Majesty.”

A beat of awkward silence followed. The guard’s eyes flicked briefly in Nerissa’s direction, and she silently cursed his idiocy.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” said Fabian. “Let’s hear it.”

“It’s from Weston Vanish, sir.”

“Weston? I didn’t expect him back so soon.”

“He would like to know if you delivered a package—a book of some kind—to the king.” The guard glanced at the king, then lowered his gaze.

“Hm,” Fabian murmured, surprised. “Yes. Let him know the book has been delivered—and that I appreciate his diligence. Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Then you may leave,” said the king.

“Yes, Your Highness.” The guard nodded and closed the door.

He blinked once, twice, three times—shaking his head, staring at the closed doors. Why wasn’t he at his post? Either way, he was grateful the king hadn’t questioned it.

Nerissa’s magic was fading, so she moved swiftly, capturing his attention for one last performance.

“Darling?”

The guard looked at her, his gaze drifting farther south to the cleavage peeking through the neckline of her dress.

“Tsk, tsk. You naughty boy.”

His eyes snapped back to hers, transfixed in a flash of purple enchantment.

“You may return to your post. I’ll be leaving shortly.”

And then—just for fun—Nerissa leaned in, letting her lips graze his in a subtle, provocative kiss.

“I must return to my post,” the guard echoed, like a perfect soldier.

His boots turned in the right direction, shuffling away from the aquatic temptress.

Nerissa smiled, pleased with herself. She smoothed the wrinkles from her dress, taking one last look at the palace she had, once again, managed to slip into.

Her task was complete, and she was far more interested in enjoying her reward—access to Weston’s home—by taking a long nap in his Nosfer-scented bed.

But as she started to leave, Fabian’s voice rose behind the door, just loud enough for her to hear. Nerissa hesitated, then leaned in close to listen.

“Your Highness, I must ask—what purpose do you have for a book on Ether stones?”

“Ah! Brilliant purpose, Fabian. Dreams unimaginable,” said the king, his voice bursting with childlike enthusiasm. “We are securing more Nosferians through human transitions, growing our army to face any potential threats.

“However, the outer realms still have protections in place. We can’t access realms beyond our borders without becoming powerless the moment we cross their thresholds.

“But think of this—what if that were no longer the case? What if, in addition to a growing army, we created one that could transcend every realm without interference?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m not certain I understand, sir. I thought growing our army was merely a preventative measure in case the outer realms refused to surrender control of the human realm. Why would we need access to their realms? If they stay where they are, wouldn’t that be enough?

“I’m certain many—especially the smaller realms—would rather keep to themselves than risk provoking conflict.”

“My good man,” said the king, chuckling. “You’re thinking too small, Fabian. This isn’t just about controlling the human realm. The human realm is only the beginning.”

“But, sir,” Fabian protested, “we already have control. Many of the realm leaders fear us—because of the Shadovians and what they’re capable of.”

“Thanks to me, yes. They fear Shadovians in death—but with immortal lifespans, they’ve long forgotten to fear us in life.

“There are so many untapped resources in the outer realms. The human realm, with its expansive technologies, acts as a gateway to every portal. The witches with their Ether stones. Imperio. Elementalis. Think of everything we stand to gain.

“If we control the realms, we control their people—and most importantly, their magic. It would guarantee that Dimmeterra never has to fight another war. We’d never need to ask for anything again.

“We’d simply take it.

“And as for the humans...well, I know you agree with me—making them immortal is making them better. It’s a gift, really.”

“I see,” Fabian murmured. “And how do you intend to translate the text?”

Nerissa pressed her ear against the door.

“I have men scouting the city—searching for any Shadovian tethered to a witch. We’re bound to find someone capable of translating it through their connection.”

“And once we know the location of the Ether stones? What then?”

“Well, that’s where our royal emissary, Weston Vanish, will come into play.”

Nerissa’s ears twitched, her eyes widening.

“He already has the ability to transcend realms without issue—something I’ll admit I’m quite envious of. He’ll make the first trip, acquire enough stones to supply a small group, and then lead them back to obtain more. If Strega Terra is capable of supplying every witch with their own Ether stone, surely supplying an army wouldn't be an issue.”

“Your Majesty, with all due respect,” Fabian said, his voice brittle and cautious, “I’m not sure Weston will agree to that.”

The king laughed—loud and maniacal—as if Fabian had just told the most hilarious joke.

“Fabian, you know as well as I do, Weston will have no choice. We’ve bent him to our will before—and I’ve learned a few new tricks since then to ensure his loyalty.

“Weston Vanish will cooperate. I assure you. Worry not.”

Nerissa leaned away from the door, twisting her mouth in thought—intrigued.

Weston would certainly hate this development.

And while she couldn’t care less about the fate of humans—filthy creatures—she knew others who would.

Moving carefully so as not to alert any heightened senses inside, she slipped away from the door and gallivanted toward the bathhouse.

If nothing else, she did love being the bearer of juicy gossip.


Loved this? Start the series → The Vanish Act