Rook-Shattered: Way Down We Go

Prologue

...His gaze was penetrating, intense, so scrutinizing I felt as though he was looking for my soul, and I wondered what he saw. Did he find it changed? Did he realize it had transformed into something otherwise; something sinister and dark? I no longer knew whether I was alive or dead—and in truth, I didn’t care either way. I had become cold. My eyes now echoed the darkest levels of hell, and I was—at last—ready to break out of my cage: to leave behind my mortal form and be within the immortal realm of what I was, and as I gazed at the man before me, I knew he recognized what I had become...

I sat back gazing at the screen, satisfied with my work. I never dreamed when I’d become an author, that I’d be writing a story about myself. But here I am, tapping away on the keys of my laptop like a madwoman... My name is Catriana Ranauld, and I write dark paranormal romance, and I’m finally ready to reveal my truth to the world….

CATRIANA

The Past

I was back in Texas for the first time in four-hundred and seven days, traveling along the drive that led to the academy—my home until I’d left shortly after turning eighteen.

Sadness and apprehension settled heavily on me at what lay ahead. I wasn’t ready; I doubted there would ever be a day I'd ever be for this final of a goodbye. Though separated by miles, I’d carried within me the knowledge that it hadn’t been an absolute separation up to the phone call. I’d always known all of them were just numbers away. Just some markers on an interstate... away. Now, one of them wasn’t, and never would be again; Death, if it gave back, never gave back the same as it took.

My thoughts racing, I stared at nothing, tears beginning to slide silently down my cheeks, my thoughts returning to seventy-two hours earlier.

The phone had fallen from my hand, a small utterance of pain escaping my lips as the voice, tiny and distorted through the small speaker of my cheap burner phone informed me of Madeleine Judy Anderson’s passing—my foster grandmother. 

Just as abruptly as the utterance from my soul began, I cut it short. I’d lived like a shadow for the past year within a small, unused, but thankfully furnished apartment, preferring not to live within the bosom of my family. However, at the message, my world closed in around me, and an intensification of sound within my apartment, and outside of it, en-wrapped me within its clutches. I could hear the tick-tock of the windup clock in the other room, the fast-paced whir of the wings of a fly as it buzzed around my trash can. 

I could hear the couple two floors below my apartment, arguing. As well, the happy gurgles of a baby in the apartment across the complex as it cooed and interacted with its mother. I could hear the wind singing softly through the leaves in the nearby woods as it cajoled the foliage to vocalize along with it, and the brush of limbs against one another as they swayed in dance to the composition.

With a small breath, I waited, knowing what would follow my intensified hearing—the pattern was one I’d become familiar with a long time ago.

Within minutes, and just as quickly as my hearing had intensified, I began to suffer a type of tunnel vision; everything became intensely colorful, before the vibrant hues became obscured by moisture as my eyes filled with tears.

Along with the tears, came the sound of blood rushing through my ears, drowning everything out, other than the beat of my heart. With a quick glance at my phone, I winced at seeing the hour and date. It was too late for me to attend Grandma’s service, but I could just make it to her wake, just, if I got my ass moving.

Rushing around the apartment, I gathered the items I needed, at the same time admitting to myself that I hadn’t been able to attend Grandma’s funeral because I was the one who had chosen to cut off all contact with my family, and the academy—Anderson Academy Of Higher Magic.

Now, I sat, staring at my surroundings, uneasiness rampant within me. From the moment I’d climbed in my pickup and placed its nose toward Texas, my stomach had rolled and rioted, and the closer I’d come, the more physically ill I’d felt. By simply returning, I was poking a stick in a pile of shit I didn’t want stirred. 

But, here I am. For Rook, Keeley, and for those I had at one time considered family, I’d come. I couldn’t be so disrespectful as to not show: to not give my sympathies in person—no matter the consequences.

The decision to leave the academy hadn't been easy. But in truth, I wasn’t really given a choice. I couldn’t have stayed, not after what had happened to me. Not after what I had done. It was because of what I’d done, that I’d done all I could to learn about the type of magic I had performed. But I was left with more questions than answers. I’d had to go to some pretty damn scary places, and meet some people I wished I hadn’t, in order to get what little information I’d gained. 

I’d stalked so-called mystical shops, as well those I was left in little doubt were the real deal. I’d done everything I could to figure out how to change the outcome of what was to come. Knowledge, I badly needed, but I either got stared at blankly, or found myself on the end of an abrupt removal from the shop when I’d ask about an ancestor I'd never known I had.

I’d traveled to Salem, Massachusetts, where the mass hysteria of witchcraft had begun—too many innocent lives taken out of fear, lack of understanding, and hallucinations during that time—and on to other States. Finally, when I was just about ready to give up, I’d returned to New Orleans where I'd made my home after leaving Texas, and I’d found myself pausing in front of the window of a tiny, outwardly unimpressive metaphysical store called Madam Vieux’s Shop Of Knowing. It turned out, the information I had gained, couldn’t have been more helpful.

**NOTE: Date May 13th-2025. Thank you for reading the start of book 2. At this point, to save you from spending any more coins, the rest of the chapters are currently being edited. I will return to this page and notify you when the chapters have been edited and the story is ready for further reading. Thank you for your patience. -Alisa**