Down from the tower dead.., p.1

Down from the Tower (Deadly Endings Book 1), page 1

 

Down from the Tower (Deadly Endings Book 1)
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Down from the Tower (Deadly Endings Book 1)


  Down from the Tower

  Deadly Endings Book 1

  H.N. DeFore

  Contents

  Title Page

  Map of Mystica

  Dedication

  Triggers

  Part 1:

  Prologue

  5 Months Later

  1 Rapunzel

  2 Zarev

  3 Rapunzel

  4 Zarev

  5 Zarev

  6 Rapunzel

  7 Zarev

  8 Rapunzel

  9 Zarev

  10 Rapunzel

  Part 2:

  11 Rapunzel

  12 Zarev

  13 Rapunzel

  14 Zarev

  15 Rapunzel

  16 Rapunzel

  17 Rapunzel

  18 Zarev

  Part 3:

  19 Rapunzel

  20 Zarev

  21 Rapunzel

  22 Rapunzel

  23 Rapunzel

  24 Zarev

  25 Rapunzel

  26 Zarev

  27 Rapunzel

  28 Rapunzel

  29 Zarev

  Part 4:

  30 Zarev

  31 Rapunzel

  32 Zarev

  33 Rapunzel

  34 Raymundo

  Up Next

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U. S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.If you would like to use material from the book )other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at author.hndefore@gmail.com. Thank you for supporting the authors rights.

  First edition. Summer 2024

  DOWN FROM THE TOWER

  Copyright © 2024 H. N. DeFore.

  Written by H. N. DeFore

  Cover Design by bookishaveril on IG

  Interior Map by sometimes_I_do_art_23 on IG

  Editing in progress by Heather Knight-Burton

  Map of Mystica

  Dedication

  If you wish the dark would fuck you as much physically as it does mentally, you’re looking for a Shadow Daddy.

  And Zarev’s got you covered.

  Triggers

  Even in the world of fantasy, your triggers can be tested. Always take care of yourself, or feel free to disregard this page if you do not have any triggers when reading.

  DOWN FROM THE TOWER includes the following potential triggers for readers:

  On page discussion of child loss

  On page death and violence

  On page torture and murder

  Explicit content and sex

  Bondage with unusual tools (See magical hair)

  Breath play

  Light stalking

  Double and triple penetration with shadow play

  Shadow daddy.

  This is an MF (male/female) romance.

  Part 1:

  Kingdom of Gold

  Prologue

  Trapped beneath stone so cold, only here can power hold. From the stone will blades arise, to reap the soul’s last surprise. From the darkness can come light, to reap the soul’s final goodbye.

  ~ Shadow Man

  “I’m betting the Mad Queen is getting ready to chop off more heads.”

  Looking down at my friend's little sister, I can’t help wondering when she became such a cynic. Her musings drag me from the fog in my brain, bringing me back to the present where the rhyme is little more than distant memory. I’ve never figured out the meaning of it, even if I’m trapped here in the middle of it right now. The person who shared it with me never came back, and it’s one of my forever questions about what I am. Of what all four of us are.

  Listening to Elsie share gossip from the tavern doesn’t help, not when every rumor is tainted with lies and tricks.

  Leaning back against the exterior wall of the tavern, I eye the moon. Nothing’s passed by for quite some time, so any of the Queen’s lurkers can’t be that close by tonight. With everything going on, she needs to keep her supporters closer than ever.

  “Do you think she’ll send the Flowerborne?” Elsie goes on, trying and failing to take the cigar from her brother. She’s far too young and she only pouts at him when he holds it out of reach.

  I huff, blocking out the teens' antics. I’m trying to glean something from the whispers that pass through the tavern nightly, listening for news of the Mad Queen. Anything to hint at what to do next.

  Her actions cursed us to this life, and the shadow man left us to rot in it. I still don’t understand why out of the thousands she’s killed on her path to power, we were chosen for this existence.

  There’s enough dissent in Mystica. The kingdoms are largely divided, and walled-off domains like Tressa and Thornton Palace do nothing for the civilians suffering and dying in places like Sherwood. The tavern might be a haven among hell, but the danger is out there just beyond the trees. If we could find a way to end her reign…

  “You’re stewing,” Raymundo says, piping up finally to add to the chat. He’s busy twirling his stone-tipped arrows, the ones fashioned from the stone that killed us. His bow is slung over his back, and as his fingers twist I vaguely catch the outline of the clovers scarred into his palms, mirroring the spades on the backs of my hands.

  I shoot Ray a look, hoping he lets it be. I’m struggling with what I have to deal with next, and journeying to the southernmost kingdom in Mystica isn’t high on my to-do list.

  “She never sends them down to the ground,” Raymundo says, eyeing me as he tugs at the hood. He’s hiding, as he always does, in the doorway to the tavern. Elsie glares up at him, but he’s already dropped the smoke and snuffed it out with his boot. “What do you think they are looking for now? Even the flyers are upset with changes in the wind.”

  “They can’t be looking for us,” I grumble, watching the figures. The flyers float like butterflies but are unnaturally large, and when the moonlight catches their wings just right you can see the impression of hearts creating a pattern in the sky. “Queenie doesn’t care about the Reapers anymore.”

  “You can’t call a murderous Queen Queenie,” Elsie says, looking between us. “Ray, tell him to be serious!”

  My longtime friend glances at me, and the weight of our conversation returns. Before Elsie came out here hoping I’d sneak her a smoke, we were discussing the latest issue amongst the kingdoms.

  Ray clears his throat, looking down at his sister. She’s going to be a handful later on. “Elsie, go inside. We need to talk.”

  “I came out here because it’s so hot inside,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes. “And I lost the game tonight, so I’ve got dish duty.”

  “Yes you did,” Ray replies, a soft fondness entering his voice that’s reserved only for his family. “Go on, get back in there before Genevieve comes looking for you. We don’t want Ma getting worried either.”

  She shoots us a look, tugging at the shawl thrown over her shoulders before huffing and going back inside. The door to The Missing Shoe bangs shut behind her, and Ray blows out a breath before turning to me.

  “I heard Midas is planning to meet with Arthur of Camelot again,” Ray says, raising a brow. “He’s going back more and more frequently.”

  “If you think the Golden King is going to strike a deal with Camelot, you’re delusional.”

  But Ray doesn’t look like he’s joking. He’s always been the most rational of us four, even if he cracks just as many jokes to try and make things more comfortable for the rest of us. “You know there hasn’t been a single spirit that called from the Golden Kingdom since before we became Reapers. Really, thirty something years and not a single person has died? We both know that’s bullshit. So what does that mean for Tressa?”

  I quirk a brow, staring out at the sky again. The butterfly is gone, and I doubt we’ll see it again. No one is sure what the Queen is looking for, much less what she’ll do when she finds it. It’s not us, and it sure isn't the kingdom of Tressa if they are searching over here.

  “It’s unusual,” Raymundo mutters. “Aren’t spirits supposed to pass on? Why is Midas keeping everyone trapped?”

  “You’re obsessing,” I tell him, looking out over the clearing. A few happy drunks teeter on their feet, content with the safety that the tavern provides. “Tressa isn’t even in your territory.”

  “Have you ever checked the Golden Kingdom?” he continues, annoyed. “No one gets over the wall without approval from the King. And we both know he would never give a Reaper that.”

  I roll my eyes, rolling waves of shadow over my fingertips. Unimpressed, he uses the same magic to make mine disappear.

  Staring down at my hands, I try to swallow down the resentment for the scars. She must’ve used a cursed blade when she cut the spades into my flesh, because they’ve never healed. It’s one of the things that ties the four of us together as Hell Brothers.

  “And we wouldn’t want that,” I reply sarcastically, pressing a shoulder to the wall. “Midas is just a different form of madness. I hear he keeps a princess locked in the tower.”

  “Yes,” he replies, “the magic one. I

ve heard they use her as a bartering chip between Kingdoms.”

  I scoff. “Don’t take the rumors as truth. We know you can’t do that in Mystica.”

  Silence settles between us, and Raymundo fidgets with an arrow. I know what he’s going to bring up before he ever does.

  “You have to see what’s over the wall. It could throw everything off balance if Midas can in any way manipulate spirits.”

  “You’re giving him too much credit,” I argue back. “He’s hungry for blood but not sophisticated enough to hold souls in his kingdom. When I’ve reached the wall before, it always feels like there’s nothing on the side. No dead, no loitering, nothing. The people of Tressa either never die, or they disappear before they do.”

  “Still, we have to do something about that, don’t we? The Mad Queen already thinks she has the right to do what she wants with spirits. Midas cannot become the same sort of monster.”

  I sigh. “I’ll give it a few more months. See if there’s anything to Arthur traveling down to Tressa. Maybe the dead get carted off on ships so we never sense them.”

  He’s unimpressed, and I can’t say I blame him. “Be serious, Zarev. We know that’s not what’s happening. This is part of the job, ensuring the spirits can pass on in peace.”

  “It’s a job I didn’t sign up for,” I reply, scratching at my throat. The need to go and hunt something is strong, and I resist it as my ears twitch, memories of years past cascading over me.

  I’m not him anymore. That version of me died beneath a prison of stone.

  “Still, we have to help keep balance. The lands are dying as the Mad Queen keeps advancing. I heard rumors that someone saw Griffins flying into Wonderland last month.”

  “You and your rumors, friend.” I shake my head, leaning back to glare at him. “The lands are dying, and death is calling. We can’t stop the Queen’s terror while we’re distracted by ghosts.”

  He sighs. “There’s nothing for us to stop. That’s not a destiny we can follow anymore. We’re just playing the long game now, biding time until there’s some way to unseat the Mad Queen. Maybe if we could still get through Wonderland it would be easy, but she knows we’ll go for the kill if we cross the border. She will do everything in her power to keep us out of the Red Woods and Wonderland. She’ll try to send us back to the dead where we were supposed to go.”

  I clench my hand, watching as the shadows leak from between my fingers. “And life stole us back. It’s not going to be simple to get into Tressa. The wall is impenetrable, even when I fly. There’s a few times the barrier seems weak, maybe when the golden touch is failing. I’ll wait and watch. If the dead still don’t rise I’ll go over the wall.”

  He gives me a pointed look. “And take care of what’s on the other side. It could be messy, but no one has the right to keep souls trapped here. Even if the rumors of the princess are real, she could be a dangerous threat just like Midas and his wife.”

  My brow twitches. I don’t do much killing, that’s something the others prefer to do. It’s a last resort for me, and killing some princess isn’t high on my list of things to do. I’d rather let Tressa be, There’s too many other problems across the land.

  “We’re Reapers, mate,” Raymundo says, and I’d like to wipe the smug look off of his face. “Death incarnate.”

  “You’re taking this very literally today.”

  Ray chuckles. “No other way to take it. There’s no fix to being Death. We were Reaped, and now we’re the Reapers.”

  I sigh, looking away from him. He’s going to keep yapping until he convinces me to go to Tressa. Lucius can’t leave Thornton Palace, and Ban is lost in the wind again.

  There’s no way out. The longer things are out of balance, the worse it’ll be. It’s bad enough we’ve waited this long to do something about it, but the magic is still fairly new as far as magic goes. We weren’t born into it, we were made.

  And I don’t see any of the others jumping to go behind the golden wall.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. If nothing problematic happens with the Red Woods, or Wonderland, or anywhere else, I’ll head over the wall. I don’t know how long it’ll take me to come back over, so the three of you are on your own.”

  “We can handle ourselves, mate. After all, Tressa falls in your domain. Unless you think we should try to contact Ban?”

  I scoff. Ban will kill that princess, and maybe the Queen of Tressa too, without even trying to find the root of the problem. “No, I’ll do it. The girl might not need to die.”

  “Keep thinking that.”

  Shaking my head, I stare off into the night. My instincts call to me to run through the woods, but that part of me is forever gone.

  Now I’m just a Grim Reaper, set to prey on some helpless princess locked in a tower.

  5 Months Later

  1 Rapunzel

  All that glitters stands to ruin my life.

  My fingers run through the long strands of my hair as I stare out the window, admiring the newly added bars. They obscure the scenery, making the bay in the distance look that much further out of reach. The sun is out, kissing the earth with hot rays of gold as the day gets going.

  Briefly, I try to peer around the tower towards the gardens below. How I miss the grass and dirt, how I dream they’d be now as an adult instead of a child. I remember the roses and trees and even that one really big flower that mother loved to care for. The gardens feel like a dream now, something I vaguely remember but can’t touch any longer. It pulls my eyes from the far corner of the land that I can see back towards the water, and the only view I ever have anymore. Sail ships are my life since I cannot see the other side of Tressa and the formidable wall most days.

  Eyeing the sails, my heart sinks when I note the green flag blowing gently in the breeze. My least favorite guest is in port, and if I know anything about the King, he’ll want me to appear for a private audience.

  My throat bobs, hands clenching at the golden locks of hair. My instinct is to rip them out, but they’ll just grow back as strong as before and the pain would be for nothing. I’d be punished if I put a wedge in the way of the royals plans.

  Not just any royals. My parents.

  “Your highness,” a timid voice says, and I peer from the window towards the door. It’s locked and double barred when I’m in my chambers, which is more often than not.

  It isn’t for my protection. It’s the only way to guarantee that I’ll stay put. The last time I got out, the King grabbed my hair too hard and pulled for such a long time that pieces ripped from my scalp. He used the cursed tresses to tie up my hands and feet and wail on me.

  Because my hair is cursed with his so-called gift. He can touch it with either hand, never having to worry about killing me with the golden touch. I’m the only person in existence he can get away with that with. My skin is another matter, something he won’t test.

  I purse my lips, eyeing the handmaid that’s waiting in the doorway. Guards know better than to walk in here without permission. I’m the golden gift to Tressa, and no one would dare earn the King’s ire for trying to harm me. “Anastasia.”

  She lets out a little gasp when my voice echoes around the room. I know there’s color smudged on my cheeks and fingertips, making me unpresentable to any guests in the castle. The port is full, and I know the King and Queen only request me when they want to share my power with guests.

  I’ll be returned to my chambers after, like a tool back in its shed. The bars are in place to keep me from risking my life on the rooftops to get a breath of fresh air.

  Anastasia tugs the worn remnants of her purple maid’s skirt to one side as my cat pads into the room, his striped back a unique blend that’s tinted pink and purple. I grin at him, bending to pat his fuzzy middle as Anastasia continues to fret.

  She’s the less annoying of the two sisters. Anastasia is resigned to her life as a maid, but Priscilla is determined to flirt with any guard that looks her way even if it’s unsuccessful. I might not get out often but when I do I get the joy of witnessing that every so often. From what I understand the two girls were orphaned long ago when their mother died on a mission for the King and Queen. At least that’s the story that Anastasia likes to whisper, claiming she was lost outside of Tressa where few dare to go.

 

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