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  A Thread of Magic

  by

  Crista McHugh

  A Thread of Magic

  Copyright 2013 by Crista McHugh

  Edited by Gwen Hayes

  Copyedits by Nicole Dyakanoff

  Cover Art by Sweet N’ Spicy Designs

  Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Nyelle’s Transformation

  The Royal Kitten

  Master Tyrrus Takes an Apprentice

  BONUS: Epilogue to The Tears of Elios

  The Tears of Elios

  Dear Readers,

  This collection of short stories is meant to be a prequel to The Tears of Elios, but it also serves to answer some of the questions readers have asked me about the story and the characters. What really happened that night Nyelle was transformed? Why were shapeshifters hunted to near extinction? How did Kira meet Master Tyrrus? And what happened to Kira and Galen when the book ended?

  For this reason, this collection can be read either before Tears or after, depending on your preference. If you are reading this before Tears, I hope these stories will leave you wanting to know more about the characters. If you are reading it after Tears, I hope it answers some of your questions.

  Happy Reading,

  Crista

  Nyelle’s Transformation

  “Why am I the only one taking these rumors seriously? If Travodus has one of the Tears of Elios –”

  “Nyelle, leave these matters to the Elders,” Galen replied in a flat voice, his eyes focused on his papers. “They are deciding on how to proceed with the investigation so no more lives are lost. There is no need for you to become involved in this.”

  His calm dismissal had her grinding her teeth. If the Elders had dealt with the humans when they first arrived, we wouldn’t be in this mess. “Every day we wait, Travodus gets closer to creating his master race. What if he succeeds? What if uses it to destroy us?”

  Galen looked up from his papers and waited for her to stop pacing in front of his desk. “I have faith in the wisdom of elders. There’s more to this situation than you know, and we elves have managed to survive threats like this before.” He resumed writing. “Besides, I have more important matters to deal with, such as arranging your marriage to Seron.”

  She snorted and tossed her golden hair over her shoulder. As if Seron is man enough for me. I’d have to tear him away from his reflection for the wedding. “The only reason Elisus wants me to marry his son is because of who our father was. He’s obsessed with raising his status.”

  “Perhaps, but Seron’s the only one who’s expressed interest in taking you as his wife. Maybe he can tame your willfulness.”

  “You just want me off your hands. I have half a mind to run off with a lowly common elf before I’d settle for Seron.”

  Her brother stared at her with icy blue eyes as if to challenge her. “That would be better than you going near these humans. They are more dangerous than they seem.”

  Nyelle leaned on the desk so her gaze locked with his. “Why don’t you focus on finding your own wife, or better yet, take your place among the Elders instead of cowering behind them?”

  She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Someone needed to take action, and it looked like she would have to be that person.

  As soon as night fell, she snuck out of her village and ran until the sky began to lighten. Her body begged for rest, and she stopped long enough to scout her surroundings.

  A thick fog hung over the forest, blanketing the spring foliage in gray mist. The air was still for this time in the morning. Too still. Normally, the larks would be singing the first songs of the day, and the deer would be shaking the dew off their fur as they searched for their breakfast. Nyelle tilted her head to the side to pick up the slightest of stirrings, but heard nothing. Uneasy from the silence, she slipped an arrow into her bow and moved forward.

  Her mind screamed that she shouldn’t be this close to Rhodus alone, but no one ordered her around. A bitter taste filled her mouth as she reminded herself that these vile humans had stolen what was sacred to her people. The Tears of Elios were a gift from the elven goddess for her people, and Travodus was defiling one of them in his human hands.

  She moved to an opening in the trees, her light steps not even disturbing the decomposing leaves beneath her feet. From there, she could see the outline of the rising fortress Travodus and his cult were building on the edge of the Green Mountains.

  The sun had burned off the early-morning fog before she spied the first human stirrings. About twenty of them stood in the courtyard, looking inside the small structures that littered the central grounds of the fortress. Despite her keen senses, she could neither see nor hear what captivated them. She crept down the hill for a closer look.

  A twig snapped behind her. Nyelle whirled around and released the arrow in the direction of the noise. An angry shriek erupted as the tip buried itself into its mark. The yellow eyes of the wounded griffin narrowed, its curved beak ripping the shaft from its shoulder.

  Her hands trembling, she reached into her quiver and fumbled for another arrow. She fired another shot as she dodged the griffin. It snatched the arrow from the air and splintered it with its front claws. It then turned and squared off to face her before charging. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she raced through the trees, but the griffin moved faster, blocking her escape, forcing her down the hillside toward the human fortress.

  Human voices filled the woods ahead. Nyelle was being herded like a lamb, and the wolves were waiting. In an act of desperation, she grabbed a low-lying branch and tried to swing herself over the griffin’s head. She collided with one of its massive wings, the blow knocking the breath from her lungs. Black waves rolled in front of her eyes. Her chest burned for air.

  As her vision cleared, something clamped down around her, pinning her to the ground. The center claw pressed against her thumping heart.

  “Careful, my pet,” a voice said from behind the griffin. “We don’t want to kill this one.”

  A human with long gray hair and a beard limped forward, leaning on his ornately carved staff. His dark eyes held a strange light in them, and what she saw there terrified her. He surveyed her from head to toe as she tried to pry the griffin’s claw from her chest. “An elf without the Gift?” Then he smiled, and a chill rippled through her body despite the warm sun. “Yes, she’ll do nicely.”

  The old man pointed his staff at her as the griffin lifted its claw. Red lightning erupted from the staff. Pain ripped through her body like a hundred daggers flaying her skin. Her vision pulsed while she screamed. Then everything went black.