Gates of Eden: Starter Library Read online

  WELCOME TO THE “Gates of Eden” Universe

  This is a one-of-a-kind edition of several “book 1s” from my library of “Gates of Eden” novels. I hope you’ll enjoy these books! And if you like, be sure to check out my website where you can find the rest of each series!

  So, what is the “Gates of Eden” Universe? There are some overlaps between characters. However, the main idea came from my own study of different religions. I noticed a lot of religions and traditions had some kind of “other” world, a primeval world, unmarred and unstained by human corruption. In the Judeo-Christian tradition it was the Garden of Eden. For the Druids and Celts it is Annwn. For Louisiana vodouisants it is Guinee.

  What if there really was such a place–a place that put us into touch with something “original” to our nature, something that was lost, something that made us more than we currently are? This is the “genesis” (pun intended) of the idea that under-girds these books! All of the Gates of Eden books are based on a particular mythological or spiritual tradition. While the magical systems are my own creation, they are based on rites, lore, and mythologies unique to these traditions. There is a lot of overlap between traditions in these books–what the Druids call one thing, the Voodoo Mambos call something else. In the end, however, we see in these books a magical system that transcends the differences in religion and myth and unifies us all under a common force, a power, something uniquely human but nonetheless absent from our magic-less world. There may be many “Gates,” but ultimately there is one Eden, one Annwn, one Guinee. One humanity.

  I’m also releasing new books (almost) every month, sometimes twice a month! Would you like to be alerted when I have a new release? Follow me on Bookbub! Or, check out my Amazon profile and follow me here, too!

  These books are all a part of the same world! They can really be read in any order, but if you’re interested in the chronology be sure to check out my free guide here! Understanding the chronology will help, especially, if you choose to read the books out of order. This little guide will lay everything out for you in an easy-to-follow way!

  No more rambling…

  Off to the stories!

  Happy reading,

  Theo

  Druid's Dance

  Copyright © 2020 by Theophilus Monroe.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Previously Published as Elijah Wadsworth and the Druid’s Dance. 2018.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information : www.theophilusmonroe.com

  Prologue

  I HAVE READ, in the marvellous heart of man,

  That strange and mystic scroll,

  That an army of phantoms vast and wan

  Beleaguer the human soul.

  —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Annwn — The Garden Groves

  October 31, 2006

  How could I have missed this? Myrrdn thought as he stared into the gateway wellspring, now polluted by residual red magic. Only one creature in all Samhuinn possessed the strength to cross the ley lines from the blighted kingdom into Annwn’s sacred garden groves. The Morrigan—the queen of Samhuinn—would literally bring her hell to Earth.

  I have to stop her, somehow…

  Despite his resolve, until the wellspring purified itself the gatekeeper wizard knew he had no option other than to wait. Myrrdn stood beside the gateway wellspring, leaning against a hazel tree, and traced the various sigils carved into his staff with the index finger of his right hand. Annwn’s cool, pure breeze struck his long, white beard, causing it to flutter in the wind. The spring bubbled as five salmon swam clockwise within. The residue of red magic, the kind that originated from the Samhuinn’s Wayward Tree, swirled among the fish. With each inhale, the salmon took in the tainted water through their gills, then returned it to the spring clear of any tainted magic. How could he have allowed this to happen?

  Myrrdn tapped his foot furiously against the grassy ground, staring intently at the bubbling waters as the wellspring’s guardians ever so slowly purged their watery home of the cursed red magic. For someone not used to having to wait on much of anything, the minutes that passed felt like hours. The salmon simply couldn’t work as quickly as Myrrdn needed them to. Who knew what kind of havoc the queen of Samhuinn could be wreaking on the Earth as each second passed?

  Once he saw that the wellspring had resumed its crystal-clear condition, which made nearly fifteen feet of deep water appear like mere inches, Myrrdn dove in and swam to the bottom, plunging himself through the gateway.

  His arms and legs churned against the water as he swam his way through the other side and pushed himself toward the surface of Earth’s twin wellspring. The familiar sound of droplets falling from stalactites echoed through the cave. He pulled himself upon the rocks at the edge of the pool. With soaked beard and robes, he dashed down a long corridor toward the sunlight.

  Emerging from the cave’s opening, he took a deep breath. Achoo! Inhaling Earth’s air for the first time in months was bound to force a sneeze or two. He removed his long white robe, draping it across a boulder, and kicked off his shoes. The wizard shivered as the cool October breeze struck his exposed flesh. Myrrdn gripped his staff firmly with both hands and reached out with his will, channeling the magic from the Tree of Life into his frame. His body shifted shape, his arms and shoulders tucking behind him, forming into wings. His legs shortened and narrowed into talons. Feathers sprang forth from his skin—dark ones on his body, and white ones atop his head and down his neck. His nose hardened and turned a shade of mustard yellow, forming into a beak. After grabbing his robe and staff with his talons, Myrrdn flapped his wings and took off into the skies, soaring northward toward St. Louis. He was thankful, at this time of year, the snakes and field rodents were less abundant than in the spring or summer. It was always a struggle to fight his predatory instincts in this form, and he had no extra time for distractions.

  From a distance, a pillar of black smoke filled the skies near his destination. By the trees, he thought, pray it not be so. Drawing nearer to the house, though, his fears were realized. The Wadsworth home was consumed in flames, smoke pouring from around its windows. Myrrdn dove toward one of the windows, and crashing through the glass, he landed in the master bedroom.

  Releasing the magic that held him in eagle form, he resumed his natural condition and quickly redressed himself. He covered his face with his white robe and, struggling to breathe through the smoke-filled air, gripped his staff with his other hand. “Mereflod!”

  A torrent of water poured from the end of his staff, extinguishing the flames around the room, but filling it at the same time with steam and more smoke. Myrrdn coughed, struggling to breathe through his thick cotton sleeve.

  Myrrdn passed through the bedroom, extinguishing the flames with Mereflod as he saw them. Down the hallway he saw a body collapsed, lying face-down at the foot of the stairs. He recognized his old friend, who lay there as if he had fallen in his struggle to make his way toward the twins’ room before the smoke overtook him. Myrrdn turned his friend over onto his back and entered into spirit gaze. He was looking for life, trying to sense if any of the Druid’s magic still coursed within him… but he saw nothing. Only a single object, still gripped by the rigor mortis of his hand, reflected green magic b
ack at Myrrdn’s gaze. Myrrdn pried the object from the dead Druid’s grip. It was a smooth stone, marked by the sigil of the Druid Order, embossed in amber on its porous surface. He knew what this was—it was meant for one of the Druid’s children, if either of the twins had survived.

  One of them must have, Myrrdn thought, otherwise the wellspring gateway would have closed. Still in his spirit gaze, Myrrdn searched the Wadsworth home, looking for signs of life. There was nothing. Kicking through the front door, Myrrdn removed his clothes again, channeled his will, and returned to eagle form. He heard fire engines approaching as he took off into the skies. Maintaining eagle form while still in spirit gaze took all his focus, but he managed to retain both spells as he searched the area. He prayed that the rest of them had made it out and escaped the flames, but he sensed only a single spirit whose soul retained its connection to the Tree of Life. Three blocks over, he sensed the boy’s presence. Thank the trees, he was still alive. A tear fell from Myrrdn’s eagle eye. The boy’s life was about to be turned upside down. He’d lost everything and didn’t even realize it yet.

  There was no time to worry or mourn. Myrrdn expanded his spirit gaze again, surveying everything in several miles’ radius. The Morrigan couldn’t have gotten too far. Then he saw a subtle, red glow from deep within Forest Park. Pushing a mass of air beneath his wings, he dove through a canopy of orange and red leaves, zeroing in on the source of the magic. The Morrigan was gone, but a magical residue consumed a single, hundred-year-old oak in the middle of the park. The wizard hesitated a moment. Engaging red magic was never pleasant. When he touched it, it burned more than his skin. It felt like a thousand torments all descending upon his soul.

  A tornado of green and gold energies swirled rapidly around the oak’s trunk. It was a portal, a gateway. Forming a portal wasn’t a challenge—any adept Druid could do it. Making one that could pierce through the veil on the other side, however, required the consent of a gatekeeper… and the Morrigan ruled Samhuinn. Myrrdn know where this portal led.

  Myrrdn took a deep breath. He’d only been to Samhuinn once before and vowed never to subject himself to that torture again. But he had no choice. After what the Morrigan had done, he had to stop her before she could carry out any more of whatever insidious plan she had made. He gripped his staff and dove into the gateway. It felt like his body was being ripped apart as he pierced the veil between earth and Samhuinn. A violent heat struck him as he fell through the other side, face-planting in the dry, blighted soil. Looking up, he saw a dark, flowering branch adorned with a red, bulbous fruit casting a grim shadow over him. As he struggled to get to his feet, something hard struck him abruptly under the jaw, sending him flying into the Wayward Tree’s massive trunk.

  Through his dazed vision he saw her—shrouded in black from head to toe, gripping her white, crooked staff as her eyes burned like red embers.

  “Morrigan!” Myrrdn shouted as he gripped his staff. “Cadwini!”

  A chain of jade shot out from his staff and wrapped itself around the queen of Samhuinn, but she feigned no resistance. She simply stood still as the gatekeeper’s bindings squeezed her body. Getting to his feet, Myrrdn swung his staff, yanking at the magical bindings and sending the Morrigan flying into the Wayward Tree. As she struck the tree, the trunk opened up, exposing a dark hole, and swallowed her whole. Releasing the spell, Myrrdn shouted again, “Cadwini!” This time he ran circles around the tree, tying it shut. He had trapped the Morrigan within the cursed Wayward Tree. His eyes radiated like emeralds in the sun as he stared at the wicked tree.

  That shouldn’t have been so easy, he thought. It was almost like she wanted to be trapped within…

  The sound of rapid footsteps diverted his attention. Myrrdn turned his head to look, but he saw no one. Sweat poured from his brow and down his beard. “Who’s there?” he asked.

  No response.

  Casting in Samhuinn took a lot out of him—more than usual. He wasn’t sure he’d have the stamina to fight off a Loa, or whatever other insidious creature might be lurking about. Samhuinn was full of vile beasts, some of them not visible to human eyes—not even to a wizard in spirit gaze. He had to get out of here. Myrrdn lifted his staff overhead, twirling it in a circle. A tornado of green and gold enveloped his frame as Myrrdn disappeared, returning safely to Annwn’s garden groves.

  Part One: Awaken

  1. Caged

  AS I THINK back to how all of this began, how I went from being your average teenage nobody to the world’s most powerful sorcerer, it all really started back in the eighth grade. It was a little more than a year after the fire, and as you might predict, I wasn’t exactly the sort of kid who found joy in candy and Happy Meal toys. Video games distracted me, but I can’t say I really enjoyed them anymore. I didn’t enjoy a whole lot of anything back then, to tell the truth. It was like living life through a viewfinder. I saw people enjoying themselves, playing games, laughing at each other’s jokes. But I felt removed from it all, isolated, on my own little island without so much as a castaway’s volleyball to assuage my insanity. So, I started living recklessly. It’s not like I wanted to die. But I wasn’t sure how I could go on living, either. Most of the time I was numb. But when I put myself in danger… it was like I could feel again. The only time I ever felt like I really wanted to live was at that very moment when I thought I might die. I know it’s kind of screwed up… but losing everything you care about at such a young age will do that to you. I’d heard that St. Louis was one of the most dangerous cities in the country, so I’d sneak out in the middle of the night and go walking through the park. I’d ride my bike into traffic and laugh as the cars tried to swerve out of my way. Thinking back on it, I was probably putting Gene and Lois Harley—my friend’s parents who adopted me after my parents died—through hell.

  By far the craziest thing I did, though, was something I oddly didn’t even mean to do.

  It was Halloween. I hate Halloween; it’s the day when my family died exactly two years before. So I was probably even more out of sorts than usual. It was also the day our class took a field trip to the St. Louis Zoo.

  As I stood there overlooking the exhibit, I felt something of a kinship with the young but full-grown grizzly who paced back and forth with no discernible purpose. They called his home a “habitat,” but nothing of the thrill of the wild remained for the bear in his man-made pit. A few of my fellow eighth-grade field-trippers snickered as they watched him obsessively perform his ritual.

  He would walk to one end of his cage and bob his head back and forth. Moments later, he would walk another predetermined path, sniffing at the water along the way, until he returned to where he had started. Then he’d do it all over again. He must have repeated his choreographed stroll a dozen times while I watched. I couldn’t join in my classmates’ mockery. I felt his pain. His loneliness. He had lost everything, and I knew what that was like.

  Surely as a young cub, he’d had dreams—the thrill of snagging a salmon from a cold stream, savoring the fruit of his kill as he chomped into its juicy flesh. Now all he had to look forward to was the creak of an iron gate signaling that his keeper might throw him a lifeless, tasteless meal. He could survive here… but he couldn’t live.

  I had more in common with this bear than any of my fellow classmates.

  As I stood at the edge of the exhibit, pondering the similarities between the bear’s tragic life and my own, someone touched my arm. It was a gentle touch. A static tingle flowed from the unexpected caress and consumed my body. I turned to see who it was, but a bright light, swirling with streams of red and gold, consumed my vision. Within the light, all I could see was a dark figure with a delicate frame, nearly my own height. A feminine voice echoed in my mind, loud and piercing, but calm and deliberate.

  You are meant for more than this, Elijah. Awaken!

  A force stirred deep within my gut. The blinding lights surrounding the figure beside me intensified, forcing my eyes shut.

  I heard hysterical
screams from a distance. When my vision readjusted to my surroundings, I was in the pit, standing only a few feet from the grizzly bear. The shrieks from above continued as my classmates and other zoo-goers observed what surely seemed to them a horror come true.

  The bear broke his ritual when he saw me. He paused, and as much as a bear can, he seemed to smile at me. I was not scared. Time slowed down. He sniffed my hand. Rearing upon his hind legs, he stared directly into my eyes. It was like we knew each other. I felt his pain. He understood mine. For a moment, it felt like he was my friend… or something more than that. If we could have spoken, we would have. Still, words weren’t necessary. I knew his thoughts. He cried for help. He hoped I could offer him salvation. I had no answer for him. Still, he seemed to sense my empathy. That’s all he wanted. Someone, anyone, who understood. Tears welled up in my eyes.

  I felt my feet leave the ground. I heard a loud bang as my body was yanked from the exhibit by the hands of a man whom I had never met. The grizzly’s countenance turned furious. He released a piercing roar but collapsed as he attempted to pursue me, a single dart stuck in his back. With another loud bang, a second dart struck him just beneath the first. I screamed. I begged them to let me go, not to harm him.

  The world spun around me as the man who held me returned my feet to the ground. He gripped my wrist tightly. Panic was upon his face as he looked directly into my eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “I… Yeah… I’m fine…” I mumbled, taken aback by the sequence of events that led me to this confrontation.

  “What’s your name?”

  I paused for a moment, trying to make sense of what had happened. The man was large, and he spoke with a deep and intimidating voice. His khaki shirt and pants, affixed with an official St. Louis Zoo logo above his left breast, signaled that he must have been one of the zookeepers. “Elijah Wadsworth,” I told him. “I’m sorry…”