Paranormal Fantasy Fiction For Adults
Book 1 in the Kyron's Worlde Foretold series.
Outcast psychics with a 2,658-year-old objective, the Seven foresee destruction at the end of nearly all time streams.
The land of Llayentia, already raped by a single act of betrayal, must escape a future more heinous, more ghastly, than all that has come before. Grim with determination, the Seven move to protect their world... at all cost.
Kyra Atar is Freni-Kyn, a race of entertainers genetically modified to survive the Rage Wars through the art of pleasure. This makes for one irresistible assassin. Wielding Freni-Kyn illusions, she readily slips into the persona of whomever she wants. And she can be anyone she wants... with one exception... herself.
Haunted by the jagged wreckage of a past too horrific to face, Tahrek lives a fractured life of deception. Born a half breed, the illegal remnant of a fleeting night's passion, he disguises his true nature under penalty of death. Recruited into a life he despises, he moves from assignment to assignment without hope of relief. His newest job is simple...
Betray, and execute, a fellow assassin... Kyra.
Caught up in a world of intrigue, the two struggle for survival against overwhelming odds where they must defeat the deadliest stalker of all: forbidden desire.
A Savory Sampling
To read samples from the Foretold series click below.
This novel is intended for mature audiences.
Download Foretold: Betrayal Prologue
Download Foretold: Betrayal Chapter 1
Two Thousand Six Hundred and Fifty-Eight Years After Betrayal
Soft rays of light from the double moons slanted in through large paned windows, painting the nearly bare room in shades of romantic pink. Zark's hand rubbed absentmindedly across his bare abdomen, smearing the blood which coated it. His breathing slowed as the scent of raw meat filled his nostrils. A satisfied smile lifted the corner of his lips. He massaged the slick red splatters into his pale skin like a soothing balm as he considered the bloodied mass before him.
Kyra...nobody will recognize you now. He blinked, frowned, then shook his head, causing waving filaments of white hair to sway and dance with sparkling radiance in the diffused lighting. No not Kyra. H'euman, this one's merely h'euman, unworthy of comparison with that thrice be damned witch.
A poor substitute at best. He took in the short blond hair and hour glass figure without remorse. She shouldn't have reminded me of her. Her fault...
A mask of hate marred his perfect freni-kyn features as he thought about Kyra and what she had done. Almost without noticing he slashed the h'euman's cheek with retractable claws, adding to the myriad of shallow cuts lacing her body. Fresh blood welled up to mix with the older, darker blood covering her still form. He frowned. Not enough life in her to be worth playing with now. Probably dead within the day.
A single claw traced the smooth line of his pointed jawline as a sneer touched the rounded fullness of his lips. Perhaps one more bit of sport. Something she'll wake up for. One last delicious moment of agony. He gathered the broken body into his arms almost tenderly and carried her from the luxurious hunting lodge.
The muffled noise of burdened steps as they disturbed the thick layer of undergrowth were the only sound as he tramped through the woods. Even the animals waited. Or seemed to. His eyes shifted warily from shadow to shadow, watching for the telling sign of moonlight shivering off the hungry gleam of a wolf's eye. The scent of fresh blood which wrapped them like a cloak made these hunting grounds dangerous.
He shrugged. Worth it though. Well worth it.
Carefully he settled the broken body upon the ground then stood and nudged her with his foot. She breathed still. He had felt her shuddering gasps for life as he walked. His foot bore down upon a nearly unmarred finger. Zark smiled at the groan of pain that escaped split lips. Kyra's lips. Lips once full and luscious, now cut and bleeding from too many hours of abuse without even water to slake thirst.
Turning reluctantly, he climbed a nearby tree to await the arrival of the wolves. The pervasive scent of blood would draw them soon enough. A smile moved across his blood spattered face at the forbidden pleasure he would glean. The thought of her anguished screams as the animals tore her apart pushed a shiver of desire through his body. His hand slid down his bare abdomen, creating a shower of dried flakes of blood as he reached to stroke his engorged member.
Two leather-clad guards rubbed whitened hands together over a low burning brazier, chaffing circulation into the painful numbness of their fingers. Last night's cold spell, and the damp blanket of fog rolling in on its footsteps, had settled into their joints, leaving behind a longing for a tankard of ale in front of a blazing fire. The muffled sound of horse hooves drew their blood-shot eyes northward. Surprise at how close the traveler had drawn without their notice caused them both to visibly start. Battle scarred hands automatically reached for swords.
A lone figure, cloaked in white linen, rode through the billowing mists towards the engraved archway. An errant breeze blew rogue strands of long blond hair across her face without disturbing the overlaid loops of elaborate gem-set braids. Her cloak lifted in the gust, allowing muted light to glint off the stitched silver and gold adornment of a noble's simple travel wear.
The stalwart soldiers, long hardened to the vast variety of travelers who filtered through the crossing point of the Tri-Land area, relaxed before moving at a languid pace to attention. Her station in life meant little to them beyond orders that needed to be fulfilled to the letter. Her h'euman beauty was a whole other matter. Mesmerized, they watched as her horse, adorned in glinting ropes of silver chain, moved with stately grace through the arch.
Noble born. Definitely noble born, they shared the thought without realizing.
Everything shrieked of that nobility; expensive attire, royal bearing, even the fine features of her face declared the woman one of the chosen few who ruled over the lands. Beautiful, yes, but she didn't need to be. Her every need would be met for the rest of her life.
Kyra drew her horse to a stop in front of the men, in full awareness of her appearance; piercing blue eyes, long aristocratic nose, firm jaw line, plucked arching brows, pale peach lips. All delicate aspects of an intricate interweaving of contrived illusion; plucked from the air, her knowledge of the H'euman race, and current fashion. Even the timing of her arrival at the gate, for when it lay cloaked in billows of drifting fog, was born of an understanding of illusions, familiarity with H'eumans, and their reverence for all things mystical.
Her pale Anestian mare fidgeted, restless, ready to continue on. Kyra's hand moved to stroke the long ropes of its silky mane in a soothing motion. She fumbled through the saddle bag with deliberate slowness, allowing extra time to imprint her face into their memories. Pulling pristine travel parchments from an inner pocket of the bag, and pretentiously lifting her chin, she handed them to the stout guard who had stepped forward. They were impeccable of course. The Red Pelican always had the current version of required papers. Kyra had learned to trust the network of spies who filtered through every city and port in the known lands. To these guards she was a noble of the highest order.
Inwardly Kyra smirked at the irony. Little did the Red Pelican know how much she deserved the title of nobility. Nor how far she had run to escape that despised responsibility. A secret she'd kept close since the day she left the Freni-Kyn landholdings; not daring to allow other races knowledge of the potential hostage they held within their grasp.
After giving the papers a cursory examination the men waved her on. Kyra nudged her horse forward while the mists swirled up, almost mysteriously, around her. She moved languidly forward, making sure to leave an indelible memory of a high born noble woman traveling from the northwest. Once assured of passing far enough from sight Kyra let out a breath of relief and guided her horse off the cobbled road into the nearby woods. Not that she couldn't have handled the men, but it would have complicated things. She paused, listening to the early morning bird calls and the scrabble of small creatures.
Reining her horse towards a rendezvous point memorized from a hand drawn guild map the week before, Kyra began changing. Removing a surprisingly lightweight cloak and using a twisting motion along with several hidden fasteners Kyra flipped it inside out. She laid the now common merchants cloak across her lap, smoothing the rough fabric to assure its safety from falling.
This particular cloak had cost the guild a pretty d'yroap. Kyra's lips flickered into a fleeting smile. Her insistence on its purchase when they started sending her on jobs to impersonate people of importance had well been worth the hassle of dealing with an incompetent seamstress. The distraction of sparkly metal thread were often all she needed to get into, and out of, tight spots. She fiddled with her clothing, twisting and turning bits and pieces till all the ornamental gold and silver disappeared.
Steadily changing appearance, Kyra drew closer to the meeting place. The illusions cloaking her freni-kyn features flickered out one by one. Her face, now heart shaped with high cheekbones, paled noticeably; nose lost its strong h'euman aristocracy, reshaping into a classic diminutive line; average lips turned luscious, full, kissable; ears lengthened into ruffled points; feline-like eyes slanted mysteriously upward under white feathery lashes punctuated with tiny dots. Long golden overlapping braids shimmered into glittering fluff, arising to surround her head in a shifting halo of twinkling lights. A perfect crown for the petite, curvacious freni-kyn she'd become. The corset, which had seemed almost loose, now barely contained Kyra's full bust.
They'd best be there...Kyra grumbled within as she continued moving forward. I can't deal with another no show. One last job...just this one...then I can walk away.
She licked her lips in unconscious anticipation of the bitter-sweet freedom she would enjoy once this job finished. Most of the obligation to her people would be fulfilled, leaving enough saved to start over. Kyra grimaced. Some place other than the stifling Freni-Kyn landholdings.
Slipping from the saddle with well practiced ease, she pulled her horse to a halt. Kyra's gentle fingers plucked at the bits of twisted silver chain that lay in decorative loops over her patient mare. She stashed the gaudy pieces of ornamental jewelry within one of the pockets of her hunter green underskirt. Loosening the outer skirt, the freni-kyn woman let the fabric billow to the ground. It lay, a soft puddle of incongruous light in the dark shadows of the woods. Scooping up the fabric, she ran her fingers around the waistband and hem, checking that all the ornamental stitching lay hidden, a secret. Folding the discarded garment into such a tiny square that it looked like a scrap of a rag, she tucked it in with the sparse contents of her bags.
A haunted scraping sound caused her ears to reflexively lift upwards and drew her eyes southwards. There they are. She squinted at an isolated campfire and the black slits of her catlike pupils narrowed in to observe from a distance.
H'eumans...three of them. And about time. It's been hours since I left the road. Her eyes flickered over the surrounding wooded area. Yes three. Everything seems as it should. Still...a bit of caution can't hurt...
Jade green eyes searched the clearing as she flipped the catches of her corset open before slipping the pale fabric off. With a deft flick of her wrist, she swung the reversible bodice back around her body, revealing it's black brocade side. Kyra paused a moment, waiting for the low metallic scraping sound coming from the site to sound before snapping the latches of her corset closed with a snick. Assured that she hadn't given her position away she gave her horse an almost apologetic pat. Scooping up handfuls of dark loam she turned to rubbing the dirt across the mare's pristine hair, creating a less elegant, more ordinary appearing animal. Satisfied at last that all vestiges of the haughty noble woman disguise had been hidden Kyra turned towards the campfire. Shrouded in a thick cloud of dawn mist she crept forward.
Two veterans...grunts really... Obvious warriors, battle hardened but lacking the deft movements which might pose a threat to a trained assassin.
The younger one though... Her eyes shone faint in the shadows of the forest. Winter lay ready to swoop down on soft grey wings but the deciduous woods, unwilling to release their leaves, remained lush and green, offering her an abundance of dappled hiding places. Despite the flickers of light that moved through her hair like out of season fireflies.
Now...her thoughts purred out in pleasure...he has a grace that speaks of more than messenger... Discomfited, she searched for the reason...there's something about him...
Kyra studied the man, searching his h'euman face for clues; average nose, strong clean-cut jaw, slightly high cheekbones, medium length flaxen hair. He stiffened, turning in her direction. She crouched lower, attempting to hide behind the brush that separated them. Too late. Dropping the piece of wood he was holding, he began walking towards her hiding spot. The breeze caught his flaxen hair, throwing it forward across his face. With an impatient hand, one too well formed for a simple messenger, he pushed the hair roughly back.
Kyra grimaced. My hair! The lights must have betrayed my hiding place. She stood as he neared; every part of him, every move he made, exuding male confidence.
Instead of stopping the expected distance, he drew so uncomfortably close that he towered over her, forcing her to look up. Palpable desire sparked between them. Kyra licked suddenly dry lips. The beginning of the code started past her throat but he cut them short with an unexpected rough tug of her belt. Muscular arms closed around her as she stumbled forward into the warmth of his broad chest. Kyra gave into the longing now coursing through her body like a living entity and lifted hungry lips expectantly. His tongue snaked out to taste the fullness of them before capturing hers in a crushing kiss that stole the breath from her body and left her wanting more. So much more. Their hands tugged at the clothing separating them till the pieces fell one by one to the ground. Standing, bare now, in the forest, bodies nothing but raw hunger, they ran eager fingers over skin long deprived of gratification, drawing out moans of pleasure.
A squirrel dropped to the ground near Kyra and she started. Blinking rapidly at the interruption she stifled a moan of frustration. Kyron's Beard! I'm dreaming up pairings now! My cycle? She counted moons, unconsciously tapping fingers against her legs then lifted her shoulders in a shrug. Maybe...but mostly the curse of my own imagination. And a distraction I don't need right now...or ever. Resisting the urge to pinch herself, a form of self inflicted injury that had served her well during boring childhood lessons, she resolved instead to stay focused on the job as her eyes narrowed in on the man again. Nothing unusual there...no tell-tale scars or inks...but handsome...in a h'euman kind of way...
Finding no answer to the niggling hint of a warning that edged her consciousness, Kyra moved on to examining his body. Every detail was important, could be the difference between success or disaster. Her trained eyes took in the bloused poets shirt and open leather vest over reasonably broad shoulders; slim hips, plain brown pants, somewhat weather stained; dark leather boots. All the clothing hung loose and sloppy, as though they hadn't been purchased for his slim form, but absolutely nothing stood out as remarkable.
Despite her resolve to stay focused on the job at hand, Kyra's imagination drifted to more gratifying things while staring at the man's physique. She wrapped pale arms about her body, clenching her upper arms in a pinching grip without thinking. Trembling hands drew her attention back to the present again. She snapped her mind back to the task at hand.
This won't do at all...exasperation whipped through her. I shouldn't be getting this easily distracted. Must've miscalculated the time I have left...If I don't take a mate soon...a drawn out shudder overcame her...the decision of who, and when, and where, will no longer be mine.
Cursing herself for breaking a vow to the Red Pelican, she bit her lip while pressing shaking hands together, I'll be okay...just have to get home soon...they'll never know...in the mean time, Kyra, keep your mind on business... Her eyes drifted to the flaxen haired male ...and off men...
As the h'euman leaned forward to add more wood to the fire, pale blond hair fell across his face revealing the slight point of a half-frevell ear. She let out a breath of relief.
Ahhh...there we have it...a half-breed.
It made sense; refused a place in his parent's world, some misbegotten cast-off creation of a fleeting night's passion. Illegal even, in most places. Taken in by the assassin's guild; maybe even raised from birth, as they oft did with society's outcasts. The miss-breeds as some called them. A definite advantage to the Red Pelican. No one to answer to if something went wrong and who could be more loyal than one reared by the guild itself.
He moves with poise though...her thoughts simmered with appreciative admiration...from the Frevell side no doubt.
She crouched, watching in absolute perfect stillness broken only by the random shimmers of light that touched the tips of her hair. A playful autumn breeze picked up, stirring the liquid dandelion fluff of hair that floated about her head and taking with it a few bits of light. Lifting an impatient hand, Kyra pushed it back from her eyes before drawing a deep thoughtful breath and moving forward. She slipped a simple nighshk ring on while circling the campsite. Her medium length hair gradually darkened into a floating mass of deep brown while the lights winked out one by one.
Tahrek added yet another fresh cut log to the fire then rubbed sticky fingertips down over his breeches, wiping away a clinging coat of stubborn sap. Picking up a brown woven cloak that lay thrown across the wood pile he swirled it onto his shoulders, unconsciously mimicking the graceful motions of a dancer. He glanced at the overcast sky, attempting to somehow part the murk and clearly see the illusive sun. Daybreak had come and gone, yet the chill of night hung upon the land.
How long have we waited? Our contact should be here by now. He tried shaking off the feeling of foreboding gloom which shrouded, thick and heavy, smothering close about his body. Impossible to dispense with, it embraced him even harder, as though belonging to that day. To him. Change is coming. He sensed the turning of paths as surely as though they lay before him.
Desperate for distraction, a long-drawn-out litany of mental complaints erupted from Tahrek: Kyron! How I despise this job!...and this one...this one's worse than all the others rolled into one...what a relief it'll be when it's over...time for a break...I'll go somewhere...they'll let me too...I'm long overdue.
He rubbed callused hands together over the rejuvenated flames which burst upwards in a crackling hissing mass, encompassing the new log. Somewhere warm...I'll go somewhere warm.
"See anyone yet?" he called out to his mercenary companions. "He should be here by now."
The guards turned uncaring eyes towards him before returning to the task of sharpening blades, creating long drawn-out scraping sounds that echoed through the dense woods.
"Nope," one grunted with a languid slide of whet stone down his sword, "maybe he's not coming..." his voice trailed off at the implications.
Tahrek shuddered with dread at the forlorn noise that seemed only to add to the dismal day. He could tell them to stop. He knew that. But what right had he to rob them of the comfort a familiar task afforded?
"We should move on," the darker of the two hurried to put away his belongings. "We've waited all night."
"No." Tahrek spoke in terse authority. "We wait. Orders."
The muffled thump of horse hooves sounding from the wrong direction sent electric tingles of alarm racing through his well muscled body. With urgent movements Tahrek drew a battle-worn sword. Instinctively responding to the raw sound of a weapon being drawn the guards spread out. Tahrek glanced at the men as they moved in the wrong direction and barely contained a grunt of disgust before turning towards the nearing sound. His ears strained to pull more hints as to the identity of the newcomer from the concealing woods. One rider on an unburdened horse he decided.
A stray breeze lifted the fog, revealing the source of the sound; one solitary freni-kyn girl-child riding a horse too big for her small frame. The unlit fluff of dark brown hair and exotic cast of features gave away her racial heritage as well as clues to her age.
Tension drained from tight muscles. False alarm...lost...most likely...
"I'll take care of this," he told his protectors. With impatient grunts they returned to the warmth of the fire while he moved to intercept the child. His eyes took in the fine bones of the horse; despite the filth it was a well bred beast.
I can't believe this is happening...He gave himself an internal shake as she rode closer ...of all the times for some wisp of a child to show up...she'll have to find a different fire...there's no help for it...this is no place for a youngling.
The unsure smile that flitted across the child's face nearly disarmed him as he stared up into wide green eyes. "Hallo," she chirruped.
"What're you doing out here alone?" his voice turned gruff with very real concern.
Tahrek grimaced at how young she was; nearly flat chested with hair too short to even have come of age.
She slipped from the mare with catlike grace in the firelight. "I saw the fire," her voice sounded sweetly naive, a breath of clean air on such an ominous day.
"You can't stay here," he brusquely placed his body between her and the flames she was so obviously drawn to. At the question in her large green eyes he scowled, trying to appear threatening, "It's dangerous."
"But..." her voice trailed off as she glanced over his shoulder into the fog. Her eyes took on an even wider look of dawning awareness. Seeing the fright mirrored there Tahrek steeled himself to hear some forlorn story.
Her gaze shifted to his own golden eyes. Tahrek noted the subtle alteration in the way she carried herself; the flexing of her knees as though prepared to spring, the widening of her pupils into pools of darkness till she resembled an animal poised to strike. Memories of horror stories about creatures said to roam this territory came rushing to the forefront of his mind. Despite immediate dismissal of the notion as a piece of fanciful fiction he repressed a shudder The silence drew out. Tahrek stiffened at the palpable menace emanating from the girl, his hand settling uneasily on the hilt of his sword.
"My dog ran away across the lake," the code words dropped from petal soft lips like a crack of lightning in the silence before a storm.
"I'm sure you can draw him back with a spot of fresh meat," despite his training, astonishment stole over his face.
"But I have none," she savored the bewilderment reflected in his eyes. Her own lost the wild look they had momentarily held, returning to sweet innocence.
"Then perhaps some jerky will do," he finished off the code phrases. Aftershock resonated through Tahrek, glass thrown against metal.
"You're a girl-child!" Tahrek blurted out in disparagement. Jerking a slender packet from his leather vest, he passed it to her.
How was this...this...tiny thing...supposed to take out a grown man...a grown man in a guarded palace? His angry thoughts stuttered out.
For the first time since joining the guild someone had made a grievous mistake. They'd assigned the wrong person to this mission. His part was taking on new levels of distastefulness by the moment. Now, on top of everything else in the whole disgusting mess, a child was destined to die.
Pulling soft leather gloves from her hand in near slow motion, she revealed delicate fingers adorned with a single ring of pitted black metal. In a burst of movement her hand shot forward, plucking the packet from his outstretched palm.
Tahrek started. Damn she's fast.
Still wearing her child illusion, Kyra, unconcerned, turned her back on him. Walking to the fire she deftly slipped open the oilskin envelope. Two small packets slid into a waiting hand, to be secreted within her bodice. The guards looked elsewhere, anywhere but at the girl; neither of them wanting the type of early retirement awaiting people who got too curious in this business. After reading the enclosed document she watched it drop and burn to ash in the fire before turning towards Tahrek.
"Are you sure you can handle this?" he muttered. Doubt furled his forehead into lines of worry.
She's too young to die...maybe I can talk her out of going...it's not too late...if she doesn't go then I won't have to...
Kyra's heart shaped face cocked sideways causing her dark hair to sway in a playful manner and confirming his belief that the choice of a child had to be an error.
"Can I handle this?" She challenged with such a queerly intense gaze that he found himself looking away.
When he looked again she had vanished.
"Can you?" The hair on the back of his neck lifted in warning at the menacing whisper from behind.
Download Foretold: Betrayal now! 4.99 on Amazon. Click the widget to the right today and immerse yourself in a whole new worlde!
Fantasy Fiction written with the adult in mind.
Immerse yourself in a worlde filled with secrets.
Where no one is who, or what, they seem.
The rich imagery of Kyron's Worlde will twist you about, leaving you gasping with surprise.
This is not your mother's fantasy fiction... Or is it? You probably don't want to know the answer to that question.
More about the author behind Kyron's Worlde: Foretold can be found
Jacket Cover Art
The wonderful cover art for Foretold and the Kyron’s Worlde logo were created by award winning
artist Karen Swaty. Samples of her digital art are also featured throughout this website. Many
thanks Karen for all her help!
To visit Karen's Freni-Kyn Faire Shop and Photo Mod page click here.
For pictures of the fascinating process of transformation that Karen took the Foretold cover
through click here.
K. Swaty is a resident of Kentucky and has recently started a new line of Tapestry Masterpieces.
More about Karen and her awesome artwork can be found at her website.
What's coming for Kyron's Worlde?
Several more books that continue the story of Foretold are in the works. A book which explains Tahrek has been rough drafted and should be finished within the year. Another book about the Seven seers from the first Foretelling and several short stories are in planning stages.
Artistic renderings of the 7 Races and some of the half-breeds.
Time-line for the 'histories'.
Gaming stats for the 7 races.
Downloadable destop wallpaper.