The Keeper Saga: Wynter's War, Charmed, and The One (The Boxed Set Book 2) Read online

  The Keeper Saga

  Boxed Set 2

  K.R. Thompson

  Magic Quill Press

  Contents

  Copyright

  Wynter’s War (Book 4)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Charmed (Book 5)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  The One (Book 6 - A Retelling of Hidden Moon)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  The Keeper Saga Continues…

  Other Books by K.R. Thompson

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2016 K.R. Thompson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without written permission of the publisher. Inquiries can be made by writing to Magic Quill Press, PO Box 614, Montcalm, WV 24757.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical or ethnic events/traditions, locales, real people, living or dead, are used fictitiously and are a product of the author’s imagination.

  Chapter 1

  WYNTER STARED AT what remained of the school’s library. The books were still intact. For that, she was happy and thankful beyond words, even though she knew she would not be there to care for them any longer. She had grown far too weak from bringing the boy back to life. She would have to leave and find a way to regain some of her strength before she could return—and hope nothing would happen in her absence. The last thing she wanted was for war to break out without her being there to stop it.

  The town was filled with humans, but it was also full of magical creatures, and until now, she had been the strongest of them all—the only one to keep them in check—until now.

  She sighed, trying not to concentrate on what the future might hold. If this room was any indication, things were already happening and there wasn’t much she could do to stop it. Her endless, blue eyes took in the wall behind her desk.

  It was demolished.

  The beautiful engravings that she had etched into the walls to guard her secret room had been hacked away, exposing the fluffy, pink insulation beneath. Luckily, she had taken her magic away in time and the secret room no longer existed.

  She ran a finger along a deep gouge in a board nearby, recognizing the pattern a sharp blade had left behind. A Woodsburl’s ax. The one responsible for this destruction had been searching for her. No, she thought, shaking her head. She wasn’t what he had been seeking. It had been her book—and the secrets it held.

  A wry smile quirked at the corner of her lips as she thought of the girl who now possessed her book. Out of everyone in the entire world, Nikki was one of two souls whom she trusted to keep it safe. She would protect it, even though she had never been asked to do so.

  Wynter’s eyes closed as she remembered the reason for the book’s existence so many years before—and its maker.

  He was the only other person she would have trusted to guard it.

  THE TWO SISTERS sat together in the cave as the storm did its worst. Even to the untrained eye, they both knew no one would mistake the two of them for being helpless. Upon a quick look, one might think them as two young women, who had simply ducked into the cave for shelter. But a longer glance would have revealed the opal-skin and the bottomless eyes that marked them both as fairies. The enormous chunks of hail crashing through the trees would never have harmed them had they been standing outside. The reason for their presence inside the cave hadn’t been to escape the storm, but rather a place for Wynter to confront her sister for her horrible deeds.

  They sat across from one another, each carefully eyeing the other. For two siblings that had once been close, the rift between them had deepened. A mutual trust had been broken and Wynter knew it would never be healed. Zue had found anger and hatred for the humans that grew with each passing moment. The only thing Wynter had found was disappointment in her sibling.

  “You should never have killed everyone on that wagon train,” Wynter said, “There was nothing to gain from taking the lives of so many.”

  “But you are so wrong, sister dear,” came the reply, followed by a sarcastic smile that showed lots of pointed teeth, “The fear of the humans is worth everything. It’s in their blood, you see. Fear makes it sweeter. You would understand had you been there.”

  “You should not follow this path, Zue,” Wynter advised, watching the anger build in her fiery-headed sister. “Nothing good will come of it. I will not take part in this. There are only four of us. If the humans should ever find out, they will hunt each of us down until we are no more.”

  “I have nothing to fear from humans.” Zue’s black eyes met hers in defiance. “And I’ll do as I wish. You will not stop me. Besides, Aeolith and Frollock would understand. They do not love the humans as you do.”

  Wynter shook her head sadly. “You are right. I cannot stop you. I don’t know what our sisters would do—and I am not your keeper. Your way is not my own. I cannot watch you kill, so I must bid you farewell.”

  As the two parted ways, Wynter knew if they were ever to meet again, she would have to be ready—for the anger and hatred in Zue’s heart had changed her sister.

  Wynter left the cave and went deeper into the forest, seeking solitude. She had no desire to encounter Zue again, though she knew she would miss her.

  There were only four of them left. Only four Spriteblood in all of the earth.

  The thought replayed itself through her mind over and over for days, until one morning, she happened upon a strange discovery of two beings locked in an embrace. As she watched, she was certain that her strange find didn’t have anything to do with love or affection. In fact, if the one being’s huge hands choking the other’s scrawny neck were any indication, the intention of this embrace was quite the opposite.

  A strange, little creature was suspended in the air, held up only by the hairy hands clamped on his windpipe. Wynter couldn’t decide whether the bugged out eyes were supposed to look that way, or if it were a product of suffocation. Either way, she had no intention of watching the one murder the other directly in front of her eyes. Even a Spriteblood had standards.

  The enormous thing holding the little thing looks like a walking, upright pile of hair, she thought, amused. In all of the many years she had roamed the earth, she had never seen a creature such as this, so she thought it was possible there weren’t very many of them. A dying species, perhaps. It would be a shame if she had to kill it.

  The long, sable brown hair seemed to cover every inch that she saw, though she could discern two beady, black eyes that held nothing but anger for the nearly hairless thing it seemed intent on killing. A various string of clicks and s
norts erupted, giving Wynter the impression that the hairy one was telling the other one—now gasping—exactly what it thought and was possibly giving it a suggestion on where its spirit could go once he had finished his work with its body.

  The popping, round eyes had spotted her, and it gurgled in what sounded like a plea for her help. Wynter stepped forward, deliberately on a pile of dry twigs. The crunch caused by her bare feet managed to get the attention of the hairy one, though it took him a full second before he dumped the other to the ground in a gagging heap.

  His eyes doubled in what Wynter thought might be recognition, though she knew that wasn’t the case, unless he’d had the misfortune of crossing paths with her sister. He moved in the next instant like a blur, disappearing into the forest, surprisingly silent for his size.

  Well, that was easy enough, she thought. Happy to be rid of the big one, her blue gaze traveled to the one whom she’d saved. The eyes had receded somewhat back into the craggy head, though they still looked rather round. She couldn’t decide if that was a normal look or if he was afraid of her, too. He didn’t look grateful, by any means.

  “If I wished you harm, I’d have left you where you were.” Her voice, which normally sounded as musical as raindrops, sounded flat and irritated, even to her own ears.

  Oddly enough, the little being ignored her statement and stood, taking care with one of his legs that seemed slightly bent. Finally upright, he dusted off his tattered clothing with a rather proud air, and then set to hobbling about in an obvious search for something.

  Thinking that she might have made a mistake in saving him, Wynter bared her teeth in frustration and showed the sharp, pointed tips to the ungrateful little wretch as he circled her, still looking about.

  The object that had required his full attention lay against the trunk of a nearby tree. The strange creature grabbed the twisted wooden crutch, which was less than an arm’s length, and then leaned against it heavily and sighed in obvious contentment.

  “What precisely are you?” Wynter asked, frowning.

  The round, black eyes had stayed the same, proving it a natural feature, though now they glared at her. “I am precisely a Bog Elf. Sometimes more, but certainly nothing less.”

  Wynter returned glare for glare as she served his statement with mere silence. Then, the little wretch let out an exasperated sigh and continued, “And I do thank ye for yer service, so ye can stop yer scowling.”

  Somewhat mollified, Wynter inclined her head slightly. Instinct told her there was a story behind this creature with the strange demeanor and bulging eyes. “What did you do to deserve that death?” She pointed her chin toward the place where she had first seen him. In her experience, creatures of nature never attacked unless there was a reason. The hairy thing seemed to be such a creature, though she wasn’t so sure that the Bog Elf before her fit into the same category. If anything, he reminded her of herself to a certain extent. There was magic in him, too.

  A scowl deepened the wrinkles on his face. “I had plans for that one, I did. I wished a book made of his skin. But that one was too strong. The spell didn’t cast right before he caught me.” A calculating look came across his face, as if he were wracking his brain for ways of planning a future attack.

  Wynter didn’t think he would succeed, and decided he was a doomed soul. She had no intention of being around to save him from the same fate twice and was ready to turn and walk away, but a single word had pricked her curiosity. “Did you say a book?”

  “I did,” the Bog Elf said with a proud air. “I make books—special ones that no one else could ever create. I could make ye such a book, as payment for saving Efflehurt’s life, should ye wish.”

  The pointed smile that greeted the old elf was one given in happiness, for the one thing Wynter loved dearly were the secrets held within the pages of books. She took a moment to think of what this special book should hold, though her thoughts turned to her sister, as they often did since the two parted ways. Wynter knew there would come a time when she would need to have every advantage possible when she faced Zue again. Turning her back on her sibling and on the life she had known had made her weaker. And if there was one thing Wynter knew—it was that knowledge held power.

  “Tell me, do you know many secrets of the magical creatures?” she asked the Bog Elf.

  Something dark and happily sinister glimmered beneath the surface of his eyes. “Oh yes, and I would be happy to share them, too. In fact, I’ll make you a book filled with their secrets.”

  SHAKING HERSELF FROM her memories, Wynter took another look around the room she loved, and used her last bits of magic.

  Before she turned to go, she gave it one final glance. The wall was repaired, wood gleaming and perfect, books lined up neatly on each shelf. Everything was ready for the children. They would have everything here that they needed—everything, but their librarian.

  Now, it’s off to fix myself, she thought sadly as she left the library. She hoped it wouldn’t be the last time that she saw it. As the door shut behind her, a single tear trekked down her cheek. There was only one place to go to bring back her magic—back to the place she was made, far below the surface of the earth. She knew it would restore everything she had lost in her time with the humans.

  She only hoped that it wouldn’t wipe out her memory of everything she had learned and who she had become.

  Chapter 2

  DREAMS WERE WISHES. At least that’s what I had always heard. I used to believe in that a short time ago, before I knew what I was. That was before I realized that most of my dreams were warnings of what had already happened, or what was coming my way. Needless to say, I didn’t believe in the wish theory anymore. Because if I had, my wish would have been for plain, uneventful sleep, one free of dreams—and nightmares.

  But I didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

  I was a Seer, blessed (or possibly cursed) with the ability to see things no one else could fathom. Sometimes I saw what would happen in the future, and other times I saw things that happened in the past. It could happen anywhere, anytime. And then there are the nights I dreamed. Most of the time I got bright flashes and images that flit through my head like a slideshow, but here lately I found myself in the same dream, standing in a meadow full of fog, with only glimpses of shadowed things that are just out of my grasp. Sometimes it felt like a puzzle, something I had to figure out, but a couple of times it filled me with a sense of dread that I couldn’t shake off.

  It was a nightmare, but not the way you’re thinking. You see, the nightmare always came true after I awoke.

  It was real.

  Twice I’ve had this dream and the days that followed it were the worst of my life. The first time, Adam went missing and the second—I watched him die.

  I dreaded sleep, so I began sitting beneath a heap of quilts near my bedroom window each night, looking up into the sky, avoiding the time when exhaustion would set in, bringing sleep—and dreams.

  Tonight the moon called to me, begging for me to come and look at her. I’m not sure why I thought of the moon as female. Everyone else always seemed to think of the man in the moon, but I thought of the moon as a young woman, forever trapped in the sky.

  I reached up and traced a circle on the chilly glass.

  Shining Star, a thought came into my mind, unbidden. Yes, that was the name of the moon. I didn’t know how, but I was as certain of her name as I was of my own.

  I finished tracing a full circle before I noticed my hand had a faint, white glow to it.

  That’s strange, I thought and hunched further into my quilt as I watched the mist ebb around my exposed arm. So far, the only time I had the ability to turn into a wolf was when my emotions came into play. If I was upset or angry, I’d feel the slide of fur inside of me as she came to the surface. But right now, I was calm. There wasn’t any need for her protection.

  It was the first time I felt her nudge me, carefully gauging my reaction as she hesitantly bumped into my mind, and
her thoughts mingled with my own.

  Shining Star, the name repeated in my head as I looked back up to the moon, full and round in a star-filled sky. A blood-chilling, heartbroken howl came from the trees not far from the house.

  Startled, I glanced down to the edge of the forest where Adam normally came through when he came to see me. I knew, even as I looked, the wolf I heard was not the one I loved.

  I listened to the anguish in his cry. He misses her.

  A vision came to life and the images flared to life in front of my eyes. Now I knew the name of the Wolf, who materialized near the underbrush—and I knew what his love for the woman in the Moon had cost him.

  I watched as he sat back down and turned to stare up at my window. We sat that way for a moment, watching one another, and then he turned to look up into the sky.

  He misses her, the voice whispered in my head again, pulling at me, making me want to go outside.

  Without thinking, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, and ran down the hall. I hurtled down the curling staircase and out the door. What I was going to do once I rounded the corner of the house? I didn’t have a clue.

  I hadn’t realized my skin was glittering with a fog that shone like white diamonds until the definite feel of fur slid along my bones. In the next instant, I became four-legged, padding around the bushes at the side of the yard, a sleek white wolf on her way toward the gray one who still sat, staring at the Moon. The only acknowledgement of my presence was the slight twitching of his ears and tail, which I took to be a good sign. After a moment he turned, fixing me with his brown eyes and another vision explained more that the first had not.

  Once there had been a petite white-haired girl who kept him company as they stared up into the sky. He at his Moon, and she at her star, two kindred spirits who sat through each night for many long years until the girl, too, left him to take her place with the one she loved.