Authors: P. C. Cast and Kristin Cast
Kalona’s Fall
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For all of you who asked,
“What really happened to Kalona?”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my publishing family. I appreciate you very much! A big hug to my illustrator,
Aura Dalian. YOU ARE AWESOME! Christine—you are the best brainstormer, EVER. As always,
thank you to my agent and friend Meredith Bernstein.
CONTENTS
Also by P. C. Cast and Kristin Cast
1.
INTRIGUE BEGAT CURIOSITY, AND CURIOSITY BEGAT EXPLORATION …
Once upon a time,
long, long ago, there was only the Divine Energy of the universe. Energy was neither
good nor bad, light nor dark, male nor female—it simply existed, a maelstrom of possibilities,
clashing, joining, and growing. As Energy grew, it evolved. As it evolved, it created.
First came the creation of the realms of the Otherworld—endless vistas filled with
the dreams of Divinity. These realms were so beautiful that they inspired Energy to
continue creating, and from the womb of each of the Otherworld realms great solar
systems were born, tangible reflections of the Otherworld Old Magick.
The Divine Energy of the universe was so pleased by its creations that it began to
shift and change as vortexes of power within itself, mothlike, were drawn to the different
universes. Some Energy was content and rested, eternally existing in a swirling orbit
of stars and moons and beautiful, but empty, planets.
Some Energy destroyed its creations, more content with itself than with possibilities.
And some Energy continued to change, evolve, and create.
In one Otherworld realm the Divine Energy was particularly questing and precocious,
restless and joyful, because more than anything it desired companionship. So, from
within the verdant groves and sapphire lakes of the Otherworld, the Divine fashioned
fabulous beings and breathed life into them. The breath of the Divine carried with
it immortality and consciousness. The Divine named these beings Gods, Goddesses, and
Fey. He granted the Gods and Goddesses dominion over all the Otherworld realms, and
tasked the Fey with being their servants.
Many of the immortal beings scattered throughout the endless Otherworld realms, but
those who remained pleased the Divine greatly. To them the Divine gifted an additional
dominion over all other immortals, that of the stewardship of one particular planet
in their system—a planet that intrigued the Divine Energy because it reflected the
green-and-blue beauty of the Otherworld.
Intrigue begat curiosity, and curiosity begat exploration, until finally the Divine
could not resist stroking the surface of the green-and-sapphire planet. The planet
awoke, naming itself Earth. Earth beckoned to the Divine, inviting it within her lush
lands and her sweet, soothing waters.
Filled with wonder, the Gods and Goddesses watched.
Enchanted by his own creation, Divine Energy joined with Earth. She pleased him greatly,
but Energy cannot be long contained. Earth understood and accepted his nature, never
loving him less for that which could not be changed. Before he left her to rove the
universe, seeking more companionship, Divine Energy gave the Earth his most precious
gift—the magick that was the power of creation.
Young Earth, fertile and sultry, began to create.
Earth sowed the lands and the oceans with her gift of creation, and from them evolved
such a magnitude of creatures that the Gods and Goddesses from the watching Otherworld
began to visit her often, reveling in the diversity of the living Earth.
Earth welcomed the immortals, children of her beloved Divine. She loved them so fondly
that she was inspired to design a very special creation. From her bosom, she formed
and then breathed life into beings that she fashioned in the very image of the Gods
and Goddesses, naming them humans. Though Mother Earth was not able to gift her children
with immortality—that was a gift only Divine Energy could bestow—she placed within
each of them a spark of the Divinity that had been shared with her, ensuring that
even though their bodies must always return to the earth from which they had been
made, their consciousness would continue eternally in the form of spirit, so that
they could be reborn again and again to Mother Earth.
Created in their image, Earth’s children enchanted the Gods and Goddesses. The Gods
and Goddesses vowed to watch over them and to share the Otherworld with the Divine
spirits within them when the inevitable happened, and their mortal bodies died.
* * *
At first all was well;
humans prospered and multiplied. They were grateful to Mother Earth, each culture
holding her sacred. The Gods and Goddesses visited Earth’s children often, and humans
revered them as Divine.
Mother Earth watched, noticing which of the Divine’s children were benevolent, and
which were impetuous. Which of them were forgiving, and which were vengeful. Which
of them were kind and which were cruel.
When the immortals were benevolent and forgiving and kind, Mother Earth was pleased,
and showed her pleasure in fertile lands, quenching rains, and crops aplenty.
When the immortals were impetuous and vengeful and cruel, Mother Earth turned her
face from them and there was drought and famine and plague.
The impetuous, vengeful, cruel deities became bored with drought and famine and plague
and stopped visiting the living Earth.
Mother Earth was satisfied, and she retreated within herself, resting from the strain
of creation, sleeping for eons uncountable. When next she awoke, she looked for the
children of the Divine, and was hardly aware of their presence at all.
Calling Air to her, Mother Earth sent a message to the Otherworld, beseeching the
children of her beloved to remember their vow, and inviting them to return to her.
Only one immortal answered her plea.
The Goddess manifested during a clear night when the moon was almost full, on a rugged
isle yet to be named. As Mother Earth became conscious of the Goddess, she saw the
immortal sitting before a grove, her delicate hand outstretched toward a curious wildcat.
“Where are the other children of the Divine?” Mother Earth’s voice was the sloughing
of hawthorn leaves in the grove.
The Goddess lifted her shoulder in a gesture that Mother Earth found surprisingly
childlike. “They have gone.”
The ground trembled in response to Mother Earth’s surprise. “All? How could they all
have gone?”
“They said they were bored and became restless.” The Goddess shook her head and her
long, fair hair glistened in the moonlight, changing from blond to silver.
The leaves of the grove trees shivered. “So like their father,” Mother Earth whispered
sadly. “Why must they all leave me?”
The Goddess sighed. “I do not know. I do not understand how they could ever be bored
here.” She stroked the wildcat that had curled lovingly around her feet. “There is
something new every day. Imagine, just yesterday I did not know this wonderful creature
existed.”
Pleased, Mother Earth warmed the breeze that carried her voice from the grove. “You
must have been formed from one of his more tangible dreams.”
“Yes,” the Goddess said wistfully. “I just wish more of his dreams had been like me.
It is…” She hesitated, as if unable to decide whether to continue.
“It is what?” Mother Earth prompted.
“Lonely,” she admitted softly. “Especially when there are no other beings like me.”
Mother Earth felt the Goddess’s sadness and, taking pity on her, she called awake
the grove, where from the moss and dirt, leaves and flowers, Mother Earth took tangible
form.
The Goddess smiled at her. As beautiful as the gossamer wings of a butterfly, Mother
Earth smiled back, asking, “What is your name, Goddess?”
“Humans are calling me many names.” The Goddess gave the wildcat a final caress and
then straightened, spreading wide her arms. “Some call me Sarasvati.” Her body shifted
in form, changing skin from light to dark, hair from fair as moonlight to the black
of a raven’s wing as another pair of slender arms suddenly appeared. Still smiling,
the Goddess continued, “Nidaba is the name some of your children whisper in their
prayers.” Again, the Goddess shifted form, growing wings and replacing her feet with
talons. “And not far from this very island, they have begun to know me as Breo-saighead,
bringer of fire and justice.” With that pronouncement, the Goddess took the form of
a beautiful woman with hair the color of flame, her white skin decorated by brilliant
sapphire tribal tattoos.
Delighted, Mother Earth clapped her hands, and sleeping butterflies awoke to cavort
around her. “But I know you! I have watched these Goddesses for countless ages. You
are kind and benevolent and just.”
“I am. I am also alone.” The fire faded from her hair, and once again the Goddess
looked like a fair-haired maiden, innocent and sweetly sad.
“Which name would you have me call you?” Mother Earth asked, wanting to distract her
from her melancholy.
The Goddess considered, and then answered, rather shyly, “There is one name I like
more than the others—Nyx. It reminds me of night, and I do so love the peacefulness
of night and the beauty of moonlight.”
As she spoke, Mother Earth saw that her form changed only slightly. She still looked
young, but she had lifted her chin, smiling up at the moon, delicate, filigreed tattooing
glowed silver and sapphire over her skin making her look mysterious and incredibly
beautiful. With hardly a thought, Mother Earth called magick from the night sky and
scattered it on the Goddess, so that it settled upon her as a headdress of glistening
moonlight and stars.
“Oh! That is lovely! May I keep it?” the Goddess said, twirling around girlishly.