Draoithe Preview Chapters
Introduction: This blog features random scenes from works in progress within the Draoithe Saga by Ophelia Kee. These works are primarily urban fantasy and paranormal romance with magical realism, dark themes, and fated mates sprinkled throughout. Here you will find scenes which are yet to be published as of the time of posting, and these chapters may require further editing. It's a look behind the curtain, a sneak peek if you will, at scenes from stories Ophelia Kee is currently drafting.
If you want polished complete stories, this is not the right place. But if you enjoy bits and bobs of things yet to come, won't fall in love with a rough version, and want a taste of the dream before the magic coalesces, then you have found the spot.
January 29, 2025 Sneak Peek at Blood Dark
This is a work in progress and
is subject to change at any time.
Read at Your Own Risk!
Copyright 2025
All Rights Reserved.
No Greater Misery
Kolten Marsden, November 1864
“It took a long time to locate you.”
When the cabin door opened, an old, friendly face smiled at him. Kolton clasped forearms with Fintan Rian, the dragon known as Blade.
The man was a two-souled necromancer who claimed few friends. If anyone in the Leaindeail knew enough about death magic to know how to erase a dragon from the dream, Blade was that person.
“It’s been a long time. I needed space to breathe. I'm glad to see you, but my happiness is rarely long-lived. What brings you to my home in Kentucky?”
Locating a two-souled necromancer who wanted nothing to do with a raging war hadn’t been easy. Especially when the man faded into the Appalachian wilderness to avoid the conflagration.
Trudging through six feet of snow up the side of a mountain not a month before the winter solstice hadn’t been a task Kolton wanted, either. But if getting to Blade had been easy, the man would have little peace.
As it was, perhaps it was the perfect spot for his last goodbye.
“I won’t waste time on ridiculous pleasantries. I need your help, and I know of no one else who could help me.”
“Come inside out of the cold so we can discover if I might assist you.”
Blade invited him inside. and Kolton found himself in a one-room log cabin. A wood-burning stove heated the living space. There were a couple of chairs, a bed, and a washstand.
A small table served as a counter next to the stove.The haunch of a smoked wild pig hung from a rafter. A few items of clothing hung on wall pegs near the bed. A frayed hand-braided rug lay over a packed earthen floor.
Blade cared little for creature comforts. Indoor plumbing seemed no more important to the dragon than flooring. None of it mattered to Cinder. After losing Mardeva, nothing mattered much at all about anything.
Blade took a dented kettle from the table near the stove, opened the door, and scooped snow to fill it. He added herbal tea leaves and placed it atop the wood stove to simmer.
Cinder removed his gloves, cloak, and hat and hung them next to similar garments near the door. When Blade pointed to a chair, Cinder sat. Blade took the other chair.
“You look terrible.”
Blade was always straightforward.
“Mardeva died.”
Cinder no longer cared about polite pleasantries or much of anything. He wanted the sorrow to end. Without his love, it never could. There was nothing left but the pain of loss. He needed a way out.
Blade sucked in a breath and looked away from Cinder. He didn’t offer condolences. They were worthless.
Most thought the man was cold and ruthless. Maybe he could be, but Cinder knew the truth about Blade. If the man appeared unfeeling to most, he had a damn good reason and a serious secret to protect.
Cinder had no desire to ruin a perfect friendship by endangering the man’s position or opening festering wounds. He hoped only to learn of a way out of his situation.
“Without the bond, you remain forever in limbo, with no hope for any resolution. You have a genuine problem. I see why you sought my counsel.”
Cinder nodded. There was little more he needed to say. Little more any man would have wanted to hear.
The tea kettle hissed. Blade moved to the stove to serve two steaming cups. He stirred in honey and handed a chipped mug to Cinder. They sat in silence, listening to the wood crackle and hiss inside the hot stove, waiting for the tea to cool.
Cinder felt no need to interrupt the other man’s thoughts. He simply waited.
“You could visit the demons at Tnuthduil or the warg at Eadriachtanas, perhaps. Time would eventually erase your memories. The demon lords would offer you sanctuary, considering.”
Cinder had considered it. Resurrected dragons slowly lost their memories while in the Netherworld. The black and purple magic of that realm leeched them away.
Usually, it happened when a dragon died. A theory existed in which a living dragon could lose all knowledge of themselves without dying if they simply remained in the Netherworld long enough. The few who tried it had presumably proven the theory, as no one ever saw or heard from them again.
Cinder would take the advice if there was no better way. But he knew it would never be enough.
“I could step into the Netherworld and never come back, but even if I lost all memory, my soul would remember she was gone. It's not enough. I need to go with her.”
Blade nodded, as if he had known what Cinder’s reply would be. Admitting he desired true death might have sounded odd to others. They would have attempted to offer him hope. Blade had recognized the truth immediately and didn’t waste any effort on worthless pursuits.
“You know it is possible to kill red dragons. It’s even possible to erase grey dragons, but it always requires a Valkyrie. You could simply claim a woman without her consent. She would destroy you in her madness.”
Cinder shook his head at Blade’s words. His mate was gone, and her soul dissipated into the dream. He could never claim a woman just to kill her. His grief was madness, but it was his own. His honor refused the idea of entangling an unknowing victim in his macabre desire.
“My honor refuses to harm an innocent to achieve my demise. I need another way. One in which only I suffer the end I desire.”
Blade sat back in his chair and sipped his tea. He closed his eyes, thinking. Cinder let the silence stretch out between them once more. Their old friendship allowed it to be comfortable.
Cinder sipped his slowly cooling tea. It was excellent despite the dented kettle and chipped mug. Blade had a gift for enjoying the finer things in life, even in the strangest of settings. Maybe it was for Rontin that he strove to live so fully in the present.
“I don’t want to give you false hope. But there may be a possibility.”
Blade opened his eyes and sipped his tea. Cinder waited. He had no hope. Pursuing a deadend would be little different from his current life. It all became a dead end when he lost Mardeva.
“I have no hope. One dead end or another. The results are likely the same.”
“There is a prophecy concerning a man who became a thrall’s son. Some believe he exists. If he lives and we could locate him…”
A lot of ifs. Cinder surmised what Blade didn’t say. The hypothetical prophesy man would have to know what he was, know how to use his magic, and do as Cinder required. Any pursuit of that path was likely to fail.
The chances were even less that a man such as Blade described survived the ruthless eradication efforts of the enclaves. They would have believed any living thrall’s son to be nothing more than a rogue, probably bloodlust afflicted, dragon man.
A few might still hide within the dream. But most of those created by the dying Valkyries of destroyed diamond dust dragons from the Velosian/Slug Wars had either claimed consorts and faded into the Domhain to live quietly among humans or suffered execution by vampires and their phoenix allies after the ‘Breaking’.
Those in hiding would never do as Blade suggested. Discovery would endanger their mates.
“It’s the longest of shots.”
“True. But it may be the only option.”
Cinder nodded and sighed.
“Give me a day to ponder the situation and let Rontin consider it. Perhaps a better idea will surface.”
Cinder shrugged. He had no plans. There was nothing inviting him to continue. He desired nothing but Mardeva and he could never hold her again.
“Stay the night. We’ll enjoy the deer haunch. It’s smoked. If I can think of nothing better, we can begin the hunt for either the thrall’s son or another way.”
Cinder looked over at Blade. The man was his loyal friend. He doubted many would have said the same of Blade, but the man took up his burden as if it was his own.
Cinder stretched out his arm, and Blade clasped forearms with him.
“Thank you.”
It was odd to thank a man for helping him die, but it was a kindness no one else would have offered a grief-stricken dragon. Blade understood.
“I can’t say it is my pleasure. I will miss you when you are gone. If I discover a way to offer you hope, I would do that instead.”
“There is none, and neither of us is foolish to believe otherwise.”
Blade nodded. Some broken things had no remedy, no chance for repair. Cinder had nothing left to live for and no way to stop living. There could be no greater misery than the Hell he inhabited.
Thank you for visiting the scrying pool of Draoithe Preview Chapters. I sincerely hope you enjoyed this glimpse into the future of the dream. - OK
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