Welcome to Atlantis.
Below you’ll find the prologue and first two chapters of Stone of Blood & Spirit, the first book in The Guardian of Atlantis Trilogy .
I hope you fall in love with Hope’s journey, Atlantis, and the seven chakra realms.
Enjoy stepping through the portal.
— Tash
© 2026 Natasha Brooker. All rights reserved.
Stone of Blood & Spirit and The Guardians of Atlantis Trilogy are original unpublished works protected under copyright law. This exclusive reader preview is provided for personal reading only and may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, shared, or uploaded elsewhere without written permission from the author.
Thank you for supporting independent authors and helping protect Hope’s journey as it makes its way into the world.
Prologue
I know this place. I’ve been here before.
The room is bathed in the soft glow of firelight, shadows flickering against stone walls. My gaze lands on a massive antique baroque mirror, its ornate gold frame carved with intricate filigree. A giant sapphire crowns the top of the arch, catching the light with an eerie shimmer. It looks almost identical to the mirror that mysteriously appeared at my front door last week, except mine is crowned with a giant emerald.
Why is it here? A strange sense of familiarity presses down on me as my eyes drift to a woman standing over a table near a wall, hunched over a ragged old book. Her brow is furrowed in intense focus as she mutters to herself.
She’s been here every night since my mirror arrived, haunting my dreams. I’m nothing more than a silent observer – unable to speak, touch, or interfere. Just along for the ride.
And just like before, I float closer, peering over her shoulder. The ancient script sprawled across the pages still baffles me, but the symbols spark a strange flicker of recognition. Her finger pauses on a symbol I know all too well: the Tree of Life.
“This can’t be.” She whispers, her voice tight with dread. “If it is, we’re all doomed.”
She slams the book shut, urgency blazing in her eyes. Her gaze snaps to a small mirror mounted on the wall in front of her. It’s a perfect replica of the larger one across the room, only scaled down.
Placing her palm against the glass, a soft navy-blue glow radiates from her hand. The mirror ripples like liquid, its surface shimmering into a swirl of light.
Without hesitation, the woman thrusts the book into the glowing surface. The ancient tome vanishes into the swirling mirror before it settles back to stillness.
What in the… did her hand just disappear into that mirror?
Her shoulders drop ever so slightly, but the reprieve is short-lived. The air crackles as a dark energy begins swirling in the centre of the room. My unease deepens as a figure emerges – a man draped in black, his cape billowing around him like living shadows. His sharp, angular face is dominated by a long, pointed nose, and his sinister gaze glints with malice. He looks like some twisted version of Doctor Strange.
Even as a spectator, I can feel the lethal intent radiating off him. My stomach twists as I dub him The Dark One. Every villain needs an ominous nickname, right?
His eyes lock onto the woman with a cold, unrelenting stare.
A gold ring catches the low light as he absently twists the band around his finger. The stone set into the ring is a deep, wine-dark garnet, cut into a sharp hexagonal face. For a moment, it looks almost black. Then the light shifts and something glows beneath the surface. A red ember buried deep within the stone.
“Where is it, Lucille?” he growls, voice deep and dangerous.
Lucille. So that’s her name. It feels familiar.
She tilts her head, showing no trace of fear. “Somewhere you’ll never find it,” she replies, her voice echoing through the chamber.
Without warning, he slices the air with his hands, conjuring a crackling orb of black energy. He hurls it at her – fast and merciless. But Lucille’s no helpless victim. She catches the orb mid-air, the dark magic sparking against her fingertips before she throws it back. It slams into his shoulder, knocking him backwards. He lands in a crouch, unfazed.
Damn, he’s fast.
Terror and excitement tighten in my gut. I barely know Lucille – she’s just a recurring character in my dreams – yet I already care. And somehow, the thought of losing her twists something deep inside me.
Lucille summons another orb, its indigo core pulsing as it expands outward. With focused precision, she launches it at the Dark One. It strikes his chest – but instead of impact, the energy is absorbed into a clear crystal dangling from a black-rope chain around his neck.
For a moment, the crystal darkens, swallowing her magic. Then it fades back to clear. The Dark One glances at the crystal, a flicker of intrigue and disappointment passing over his face.
His energy flares, and the assault intensifies. Light and dark clash in a brutal storm of raw power. Lucille fights fiercely, but she’s tiring. Her movements slow, and one misstep leaves her exposed. His next strike hits her square in the chest, sending her crashing to the ground.
I watch in silent horror as she struggles to lift her head. Her lips move in a silent plea, fingers twitching as she tries to summon whatever magic remains. But it’s clear she’s got nothing left to give.
I’m powerless. Astral, detached, useless. All I can do is watch the nightmare unfold. My soul aches at the thought of darkness winning.
But this is just a dream... isn’t it?
The Dark One approaches Lucille, the echo of his boots on stone slicing through the silence. A blade of pure black energy materialises in his hand, its eerie glow at odds with the flickering firelight.
Lucille looks up, defiant even as fear clouds her eyes.
The blade plunges into her chest. There’s no visible wound as the light fades from her body. Her life extinguishes.
For a moment.
Nothing—
Then, from her chest, an iridescent sphere of indigo light rises. It hovers briefly, then moves into the larger antique mirror, vanishing into its surface.
“No!” The word rips from me, raw and desperate. But my voice has no weight here. No power.
The Dark One freezes. Slowly, his gaze shifts—
—and for the first time, it lands on me.
A slow, knowing smirk curls his lips.
“Ah, there you are,” he murmurs.
The last thing I hear is his voice, a whisper at the edge of my mind.
“I’ve been searching for you… Guardian of the Earth Portal.”
A cold wave of disbelief crashes over me as the scene fades to black.
Chapter One: This is Definitely NOT a Dream
I jolt upright, breathless. My sheets cling to me, damp with sweat, my heart racing as if my Pilates instructor has just said, “pulse for eight more seconds.”
The image of Lucille’s death still burns in my mind – sharp, vivid, unrelenting. I press a trembling hand to my chest, willing my heartbeat to slow. It was just a dream, I remind myself. Only a dream.
My breath shakes as I drag a hand across my forehead. There’s a warmth there – a faint, steady pulse, like something humming beneath my skin. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flicker of indigo light. I turn sharply. But nothing’s there.
The lavender scent of my bed covers usually soothes me, but tonight it offers little comfort. I reach for the lamp on my bedside table and flick it on. A soft amber glow spreads across the room, chasing away the shadows.
When I reach for my glass, it’s empty. Mocking me. I sigh. Fine. May as well get up, pee, and refill it.
Padding into my ensuite, I move on autopilot, then slowly make my way downstairs. The wooden stairs creak softly beneath my feet, familiar yet strangely loud in the dead of the night. I flick on the light. The open-plan space spreads out before me: dining table to the left, kitchen to the right, lounge room straight ahead, divided by a long couch.
I head to the island sink and let the water run cold before filling my glass. Leaning against the counter, I sip, the coolness soothing my dry throat. My fingers trail over the smooth marble surface, white veined with delicate threads of grey.
I designed this kitchen myself. The slate-blue cabinets gleam softly under the light, accentuated with warm, gold toned handles. The backsplash glimmers with glossy tiles layered in deep shades of blue grey.
My mind drifts back to the dream. The same one I’ve had for seven nights now. Always the same chamber. Always Lucille, pouring over that ancient book.
But tonight… tonight was different.
A new, deadly character appeared. A shiver rolls through me. The memory of the Dark One’s gaze prickles across my skin. It felt like he wasn’t just looking at me, but locking directly onto my soul…
The dreams began the day that damn mirror arrived. My eyes flick toward the back corner of the room. There it stands, massive and imposing, silently mocking me. The bloody thing is impossible to ignore. The delivery guys had refused to take it back, no matter how many times I swore I hadn’t ordered an eight-foot antique mirror.
It’s identical to the one in my dream, except instead of a sapphire crowning the arch, mine bears a large emerald stone. I pad closer to it, my bare feet sinking into the rug. My reflection stares back: tangled hair, flushed cheeks, my favourite lavender silk camisole and shorts clinging to my curves. I look… shaken. And not the fun Bond martini kind of way. In the, I’ve just been scared witless kind of way.
The recurring dreams have been strange but harmless until now. But with the Dark One’s arrival, it’s taken a turn I don’t like at all. Maybe it’s just stress. Busy season at the shop. Too many back-to-back healings. I’ve been burning the candles at both ends, and it’s starting to mess with my head, and my sleep.
I take another sip of water and sink onto the couch, trying to ground myself in something normal. Warmth fills my chest at the thought of my sister arriving soon. She’ll be working from Italy for ten days – practically next door by Australian standards – and I plan to meet her for a weekend. It’s less than a two-hour flight from London to Milan.
My gaze drifts to the bookshelf across from me, crammed with oracle decks, spiritual books, and, frankly, an embarrassing number of romantasy novels. My collection of fictional book boyfriends has given me ridiculously high expectations for my future husband.
I smile faintly and send a silent prayer to the Universe: Please don’t make me wait too much longer for my person to arrive. Thanks in advance.
A cheeky thought crosses my mind, and I bite back a laugh. Maybe he’s closer than I realise if last night’s new moon ritual worked.
I’d gone all out – lit candles, wore a sexy red lace number, and even tried a bit of sex magic for the first time. That’s got to give my manifestation a boost, right?
Feeling calmer, I set my empty glass on the coffee table and trudge back upstairs. The bed looks inviting, warm and safe. I slide beneath the covers the faint pulse of warmth in my forehead lulling me as I drift off to sleep.
I pause behind the counter for a moment, letting the quiet settle around the shop. This is my favourite time of day. Early morning, a quiet reprieve before the chaos and constant trickle of people fills the shop. The only moment the space belongs entirely to me.
I relish the present moment, simply taking it all in. Light spills through the giant windows, casting rainbow prisms across the walls as it hits the crystal display in the window.
I still have to pinch myself in disbelief that this shop is all mine. I took a chance on myself and followed the call of my soul instead of sticking it out in the finance world. Saving myself from staring at spreadsheets, pretending numbers mattered more than people.
I let my gaze slowly drift around the room. Pale oak shelves line the walls from floor to ceiling, their edges glowing with subtle strip lighting that illuminates the treasures they hold. Crystals, pendulums, candles, oracle decks, and crystal bowls scatter the surfaces, ordered not by category but by feeling.
Everything in the shop carries the same calming palette: warm wood, soft creams, and gold brass. I wanted people to walk in and feel grounded the moment they entered.
I run my fingers along the counter as I slowly move towards the centrepiece of the shop. A wide, round wooden display table sits just below my waist. I gently pick up one of the fire quartz stones, feeling the weight of it in my palm. The smooth, rounded crystal flashes with vibrant streaks of red and orange against a pale pinkish base. The stone is linked to the root chakra, grounding me firmly in the here and now.
I place it back amongst the other crystals aligned to the root chakras. The stones vary in size, shape, and polish. Some are smooth while others remain rough cut.
I arranged the display in the rainbow colours of the seven chakras. The smaller circular dais rising from the centre holds crystals aligned to the upper chakras, from the heart to the crown. Shades of green, blue, indigo, and violet catch the light. I smile to myself, quietly proud of the display.
Toward the front of the shop the space opens into a small reading nook. Low linen sofas and rounded armchairs sit around café tables, surrounded by shelves filled with spiritual books, mythology, and well-loved romantasy novels.
A quiet doorway at the side connects directly to the neighbouring coffee shop. Sandalwood incense curls through the air, but the memory of that delicious coffee scent makes me crave that caffeine goodness. After the less than stellar sleep last night, I need a flat white… stat.
The whole place feels less like a shop and more like a sanctuary. A place where people can enjoy coffee and brunch next door, wander in out of curiosity, and end up staying far longer than planned.
When I’m not busy downstairs doing energy healings, you can usually find me at the front counter people-watching. I love seeing customers with a latte or a crystal in hand, flipping through the books they just bought diving into a world of wonder, magic, and the mysteries of the soul.
Something dark catches my eye on the shelf opposite me.
A black obsidian wand.
I move towards it, picking it up and turning it over in my hand. I love these things. Crystal wands are usually carved into a straight, six-sided column, tapering into a pointed tip. This one is smooth and cool to the touch, about the length of my hand, with a comforting weight that settles instantly into my palm.
I roll it between my fingers, lifting my arm and pointing the tip towards an imaginary foe.
“Take that, evil sorcerer,” I murmur under my breath. “Your dark little energy blasts don’t stand a chance.”
I jab the wand like it’s a sword, warding off invisible balls of negative energy.
Black obsidian is all about protection. It absorbs negativity, shields against bad vibes. I’ve got pieces of it, along with black tourmaline, tucked into the corners of my flat to keep out the bad juju and protect the energy of my home.
The Dark One flashes into my mind standing at the end of my wand.
The humour fades.
A knowing settles in my gut. I need this wand. It’s coming with me.
“My god, this coffee is everything.”
Daphne’s voice breaks my focus as I walk back around the counter, the wand still in hand. I drop it into my handbag. Note to self: update inventory and accounts. I am now the proud owner of a black obsidian wand.
My gaze drifts over her form and I beam, taking in her wayward dark curls spilling from a loose bun, a coffee clutched in her hand. She’s dressed in her usual yoga attire.
“Tough session?” I ask.
“I didn’t sleep a wink. First class of the day is always hard to teach, even on a good night’s sleep.”
“Well as always, Daph, you look like a glowing goddess…” I say with a wink. “Even with those dark circles under your eyes.”
And when I say goddess, I mean a Greek goddess. Daphne actually grew up in a city called Lamia in central Greece. We met while working together at the stockbroking firm in London. Not long after I moved to Glastonbury, she followed me and opened a yoga studio next door to my crystal shop.
“Thanks hun, right back ‘atcha.” Her deep brown eyes study me as she takes in my form leaning over the counter.
“Girl, you alright?” She walks around the counter to stand beside me, her face full of concern. “You look like how I feel.”
I sigh wearily, rubbing the palm of my hand over my right eyebrow. “I didn’t get much sleep either. I’m too old for this lack of sleep shit.”
She chuckles and lightly swats my arm. “I keep telling you, forty is not old.”
This is what I love about Daphne. She’s my ultimate hype girl. There’s almost a decade between us, she’s thirty-three, but age doesn’t come into it. We’re definitely kindred spirits. Soul sisters, as I like to say.
“I certainly feel it today.”
“Another dream of that woman?” she asks, rubbing my upper arm soothingly.
I’ve been keeping her up to date with the dreams since that damn mirror arrived. She was with me when the delivery men dropped it off and was just as bewildered as I was about why someone would send me an eight-foot mirror with no return address.
I sigh heavily, a shiver running down my spine at the memory of the Dark One’s piercing stare.
“Yes, but this one was more of a nightmare. A dark, menacing character showed up. I’ve dubbed him the Dark One. He appeared out of thin air. Very dramatic. He reminded me of an evil version of Doctor Strange.”
I swallow.
“And I know her name now. He called her Lucille… right before he killed her with a blade of black energy.” I shudder at the memory.
“That’s awful.” Worry flickers across Daphne’s face. “He sounds terrifying.”
“That’s not the scariest part.” I rub my arms, trying to shake the lingering chill. “You know how I can’t interact in the dreams and just sort of drift around?”
“Hmm.” Daphne nods.
“I swear before I woke up, The Dark One looked straight at me. Like he knew I was there in spirit form. He called me Guardian of the Earth Portal… whatever that means.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “I told you that mirror was trouble.”
“I know, I know.” I use air quotes. “You said my world was going to turn upside down if I lay a hand on that mirror.”
I always suspected Daphne has a touch of psychic ability. She says things sometimes that have a funny way of coming true.
Which is exactly why I’ve kept myself from touching the mirror. I like my world the right way up, thank you very much.
Daphne’s shoulders suddenly straighten and her face goes blank. Her voice deepens. “It’s time to bring balance back to the realms.”
My stomach sinks as her words settle over me. A tingling sensation begins at the crown of my head as I stare at her. Her eyes have gone distant, like she’s looking straight through me. I’ve seen Daphne predict things before. The gender of a friend’s baby. When a couple is about to break up. Knowing who’s calling before the phone rings.
But this… this is different.
Her voice sounds ancient, not her own. As if she’s channelling something. Do I shake her? Try to snap her out of it?
Relief floods through me as she suddenly blinks and gently shakes her head, warmth returning to her familiar eyes.
“Um… what the bloody hell does that mean?” I ask her.
“No idea.” She shrugs. “I just have a feeling you’re about to go through a period of great change.”
She picks up the Tower card from the tarot reading we did yesterday. I didn’t have time to pack the deck away before closing.
“Yep, I remember,” I mutter. “My world is about to be shaken up.”
I stare at the tarot card. Two figures tumble from the tower as lightning strikes the top, fire and chaos burning outwards. Cue more body shivers.
A soft ding sounds as the door to the shop opens. Nora’s big smiling face appears, her calm presence immediately chasing away the lingering unease from Daphne’s words.
A smile tugs at my lips the moment I see her. She’s a sweet older woman with kind eyes, ebony skin, and short black hair peppered with silver. Nora was the very first customer to walk through my door the day I opened the shop. The moment she stepped inside, I felt an instant connection.
“Nora!” I rush over and wrap my arms around her, settling into her warm embrace. Her arms tighten around me.
“Good morning, child,” she says, her deep voice rumbling through me.
“Ready for our coffee date?” I ask.
“Best part of my week, dear,” she says warmly patting my hand.
“I’ll be back in an hour, Daph.” I call over my shoulder. “Thanks for opening the store.”
“Anytime. You two have fun.”
The room is bathed in the soft firelight, shadows flickering against the stone walls from the sconces surrounding the chamber.
Awareness hits. I’m dreaming again. Formless. Silent. Adrift in the now familiar space.
I float towards the smaller mirror, noticing the table beneath it. No book rests on its surface this time. No Lucille. A pang tightens at her absence. Even here, I’m picking up where we left off. Lucille is dead.
I drift back to the large mirror at the centre of the room, staring at the sapphire gleaming at the pinnacle of its gold frame. The crystal catches the firelight, scattering fractured light across the chamber.
I gaze into the mirror’s glass surface. Stone walls. A column. Empty space where I should be. Movement catches behind the column as the Dark One steps into view.
“Ah… Earth Guardian, I’ve been expecting you.” His voice unnervingly calm.
It freezes something deep inside me. I can’t respond. Can’t move. I can only watch as his hands slice through the air, energy gathering between his palms, black threaded with white.
He releases it.
The light surges towards me and locks on.
No pain.
Just a pulsating vibration wrapping around my awareness, tightening, binding.
Panic claws through me as the pressure builds.
His gaze sharpens. “Got you…” he mutters. The light constricts further, sinking into me. Not around me. It threads through something deeper, anchoring itself into the core of my being. Mind, body, and soul.
The chamber begins to warp. The pull intensifies. Not holding me. Pulling through me. Through the connection...
I jolt awake. Heart beating loudly in my ears. I’m back in the comfort of my bed as my senses begin to return. My skin crawls with the memory of the constricting light. Uncontrollable shivers ripple through my body.
“God damn it!” I yell. “I’m sick of these dreams.”
I fling off the covers, anger coursing through my body. I flick on the light and try once again to calm myself down. I remind myself it was just a dream. That I’m safe.
That’s when I notice the silence. It’s unnervingly quiet.
The air thickens, pressing against my skin. My gaze snaps to the far corner of the room. Shadows gather, twisting and writhing until they form a dense vortex of darkness.
The Dark One steps through.
I scramble back against the headboard, my breath catching.
No. No, no, no. Maybe I’m still asleep. “What are the chances I’m still dreaming?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer immediately. He just stares at me. Assessing. Then—
“Low.”
He takes a step forward, his gaze flicking over the room and then back to me. A ball of dark energy crackles to life in his palm. It surges toward me with terrifying speed. I dive off the bed, barely avoiding the blast. It slams into the wall, leaving a scorch mark.
I don’t wait. Dream or not, I sprint for the door, feet thudding against the wooden floor as I tear down the stairs.
A thought – urgent, insistent – pushes into my mind: obsidian wand.
No time to question it. Just move. I stumble downstairs, cursing as I nearly miss the bottom step. I skid to a halt in front of the coffee table near the couch, scrambling through my handbag. My fingers close around the cold, black crystal wand. Relief surges.
Behind me, I hear his slow, deliberate footsteps. He’s taking his time. Like he knows I have nowhere to run. I whirl around. He stands in the doorway, dark energy curling off him in waves. His eyes flick to the wand, amusement glinting in them. Like he thinks I’m cute for even trying.
“What do you want with me?” I demand. My voice shakes despite my attempt at bravado.
He tilts his head. “I need you dead.”
Well. That’s… direct.
Another orb of black energy forms between his palms.
Desperate, I raise my wand. Obsidian wards off negative energy, so surely it can do something against dark energy blasts. At least I bloody hope so.
My fingers tighten as I point it at my very much not imaginary foe.
Please work.
His blast hurtles toward me—
The wand jolts in my grip. It absorbs the impact, sending a shooting pulse up my arm. The force throws me backwards. I crash into the bookshelf. Books, and oracle cards cascade around me. Pain radiates down my spine.
But I’m alive. I stare at the wand, stunned. That actually… worked?
Across the room, the Dark One’s smirk falters. His hand rises again, fingers glowing with lethal intent.
The wand hums in my grip. I don’t know how I know what to do – I just do. Pointing it at my target, I release a golden beam of energy from the tip, striking his shoulder. He collapses to one knee snarling.
Holy shit. Obsidian wand for the win. I knew I needed it.
My good fortune is short lived as he rises with a snarl, conjuring a sword of pure crackling dark energy. His other hand lifts, preparing another attack.
Panic floods my system. My wand might repel negative energy – but in an energy sword fight? Yeah, I’m screwed. I retreat instinctively, heart pounding, backing towards the mirror in the corner of the room.
His next blast slams into my shoulder. Pain sears down my arm as I’m jolted back, my skull cracking against the mirror’s gold frame.
I brace my hand against the cool glass to steady myself. A flare of emerald light bursts beneath my palm. A surge rises in my chest – something ancient, long-forgotten, waking inside me. My heart pounds with a strange certainty.
I slide down to the floor, clutching my head. Okay, that hurt. This is definitely not a dream. Dear Universe, please send help.
The mirror beside my head ripples, its surface shifting like liquid silver.
“What the hell…” The words rasp from my throat.
A figure steps through. First, a sword – long, gleaming, almost radiant. Then boots – scuffed brown leather – strike the floor. A man emerges, his presence commanding the room. His eyes meet mine, and something deep inside me recognises him.
Then his gaze shifts to the Dark One, darkening with deadly menace. Like this is personal. Relief crashes over me. Whoever he is, he appears to be on my side. Thank you, Universe.
He moves with lethal grace, vaulting over the couch like it’s nothing. His dark blue tunic clings to a body clearly built for battle – broad shoulders, lean muscle, total warrior energy. His dark-brown, tousled hair bounces with each stride. And his face? God. Chiselled to perfection. If I weren’t fighting for my life right now, I’d be picking my jaw off the floor. Definitely not the time to ogle.
But – damn.
His sword arcs through the air. Light and dark collide. Steel meeting crackling energy. Sparks fly with each strike.
My breath catches as I push myself up – first to my knees, then slowly to my feet. The pain at the back of my head flares, sending a wave of dizziness through me.
The Dark One blocks a strike, then slams his fist – amplified with energy – into the stranger’s jaw. The impact launches him across the room. He crashes into a side table. Wood shatters.
I gasp. Something inside me snaps. Rage. Pure, blinding, sacred rage.
My protector!
The thought blazes through me.
Emerald fire surges through me, radiating from my chest. My whole body hums with raw power. A molten green sphere ignites in my hands – hot and blinding. I scream, hurl it, and it slams into the Dark One’s chest.
He smashes into the wall, leaving a crater of cracked plaster. But the blast doesn’t destroy him. It’s absorbed by the crystal hanging around his neck which is now glowing a brilliant white before fading back to clear.
My stomach drops. Lucille’s blast darkened it. Mine made it glow.
The Dark One touches the crystal. Then he grins. “Interesting…” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to find you so soon.”
His gaze locks on mine, triumph sparking in his eyes. “I’ll save you for last.”
A whirl of darkness, then he’s gone.
Silence crashes into the room.
The stranger groans, pushing himself out of the wreckage. In three strides, he’s in front of me, his hands gripping my arms just below the shoulders, steadying my swaying frame.
“I have you,” he says, voice low and rough.
My knees buckle. I grit my teeth. No way am I passing out like some helpless damsel. Not happening.
But then, everything tilts sideways.
Chapter Two: The Lost City is Real?
“Hope, Hope, stay with me.”
A worried voice pulls me toward consciousness, followed by a light slapping on my cheek. My brain registers the command to open my eyes, but my eyelids feel like lead. The pain at the back of my head pulses, sharp and unrelenting.
What the hell just happened? Where am I?
I force my eyes open. My vision blurs before snapping into focus – straight into a set of piercing honey-brown eyes, rich and warm like melted amber. Gold flecks shimmer around the irises, catching the light like flecks in a Tiger’s Eye stone.
Ohmygod, you’re gorgeous!
His lips quirk. “You think I’m gorgeous?”
My stomach drops. “Crap, did I say that out loud?”
“I’m afraid so,” he says, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh.
I groan and shift, wincing as pain shoots down my spine. “How do you know my name?”
“That is a long story, and I will explain in time. But first…” His sharp gaze sweeps over me. “Tell me where you’re hurt.”
I do a quick body scan. My back throbs where I hit the bookshelf. My muscles ache from my staircase sprint. Oh, and my skull? Feels like a tiny gnome is in there mining for gold with a sledgehammer.
“Everywhere,” I groan, pressing my fingers to my temples. “Mostly my head, though.”
His brows draw together. “You hit your head?”
I nod once and instantly regret it as pain lances through my skull. “The back of my head broke the fall when I was blasted into that damn mirror.”
I drop my hands from my temple and look up at him again. His dark brown hair falls in a loose wave just above one eye, like it’s been windswept. The strange urge to brush it back rises in me. Before I can stop myself, my hand lifts of its own accord.
“Do I get to know the name of my ridiculously gorgeous rescuer?” I murmur.
He catches my hand gently, giving it a soft squeeze before lowering it back down. Warmth spreads through me at the contact, softening the edges of my pain and panic.
“My name’s Hunter,” he says with a dramatic tilt of his head. “At your service.”
I scoff lightly. “Of course it is. Hunter. Strong, rugged, protective.” I squint at him. “Let me guess – you rescue damsels in distress in your spare time?”
“Only when they’re worth rescuing.” He smiles, revealing dimples.
Ridiculously handsome, charming, and he has dimples. I’m in so much trouble. Dimples are my weakness.
His eyebrows lift.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” I grimace.
His smirk deepens. “You speak freely when you’ve struck your head.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, groaning. “My filter’s broken.” I peek at him. “Can I pass out again, please?”
He laughs before reaching for me. “Can you sit up?”
Huh – I’m not already? Nope. I’m lying on my couch, the cushions soft beneath me. Hunter gently guides me into a sitting position, his hands steady and warm. My stomach lurches in protest.
“I can help take away some of the pain, but I’m not as proficient as our healers in Atlantis.”
Did he just say Atlantis? Another pulse of pain surges through my head, pushing that thought aside.
Hunter moves to sit on the coffee table, his legs bracketing mine. The heat radiating from him settles some of the unease in my chest. He places his right hand gently on the back of my head and the other near my temple.
His eyes narrow in concentration. “Close your eyes and focus on your breath.”
I obey, inhaling deeply. Warmth radiates from his hands. A soft hum vibrates through my bones. Behind my closed lids, the black void brightens with a golden glow. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve opened my eyes. The warmth spreads through my body as if it’s searching for wherever it needs to heal, and just like that, the tiny gnome in my skull puts down his sledgehammer. My stomach settles. My mind clears.
Hunter pulls his hands away as my eyes flutter open.
“How do you feel now?” Concern lingers in his expression.
I sigh in relief. “About a thousand times better. My head no longer feels like it’s under siege by a gnome, and I think I can keep my thoughts inside my head now.”
“Good.” His expression softens slightly.
“Thanks, Hunter. You can add ‘incredible healing hands’ to your list of services for damsels in distress.”
He smiles, those dimples flashing again. Damn. He really is gorgeous.
His eyebrows lift knowingly.
I cross my arms. “I’m confident I didn’t say that out loud.”
“No, but you wear your thoughts on your face.”
I groan and swat his arm. Then I sober. “Care to explain what the hell all that”—I gesture from him to the mirror and dining area where the Dark One disappeared from— “was?”
Hunter lets out a deep sigh, running his hand through his hair. “That was Seamus, a dark sorcerer assassin from the Magic Realm.”
He stares at me pointedly, then at the mirror. “And you appear to be the new Guardian of the Earth Portal.”
My breath catches as I recall the dreams. That’s what the Dark One – Seamus? – called me.
I prefer the Dark One. Dramatic. Ominous. Easier to file under villain who wants me dead.
I inhale slowly, a poor attempt to slow the rising panic within. “And a Guardian is… what exactly?”
I don’t give him a chance to respond, shaking my head in disbelief. “My biggest problem today was should I restock rose quartz or order new Oracle decks. How is this my life right now?” I mutter to myself.
“Magic? Evil sorcerers? Hot guys stepping through antique mirrors? That stuff only happens in books.” I pinch my arm. Ouch. “Nope. Not dreaming.”
I’m on the brink of panic, my brain scrambling to process everything that just happened. I keep going, voice rising. “He tried to kill me. In my house. My sanctuary. And I… I did something.”
I stare at my open hands, palms up. “Energy bolts shot out of my hands. I don’t even know how…” My voice cracks.
I stand abruptly and stride over to the mirror, jabbing my thumb at it. “And let’s not forget that this thing is a freaking portal!”
I start pacing in front of the stupid chaos-causing mirror and whirl back to Hunter. “And you! What took you so bloody long to come through the magic mirror and help me?”
Yeah, Hope, because clearly yelling at your rescuer is a brilliant move. I know I’m spiralling, but I can’t seem to pull it back.
Hunter pushes up from the coffee table and steps into my space, grabbing my shoulders. His gentle grip is enough to ground me. His piercing gaze scans my face as if assessing my mental condition.
“Hope, the portal on Earth has been inactive for over fifteen hundred years.” His voice is steady, but there’s an urgency beneath it. “I was only able to step through once you opened it.”
“When I opened it?” My mind flashes to the moment during the Dark One’s attack when I placed my palm on the mirror’s surface – the emerald glow that followed.
Hunter nods, his jaw tight. “Believe me, I would have been here a lot sooner if I could. It was torture watching you. Not being able to reach you.” His hands tighten at my shoulders at the memory.
I swallow hard. Okay. That’s a lot to take in. “I’m going to need you to explain these portals.”
He exhales, guiding me back towards the couch, steady and unhurried. I sink into the cushions, my breath still uneven after my mini panic spiral. He sits back onto the coffee table in front of me, close enough that I can still feel his presence. Solid. Steady. Comforting.
“The portals,” he says, voice softening. “They connect the realms – seven of them, each aligned with an energy source. Some call them the chakra realms. Atlantis is the anchor that connects them all together, and Earth was always considered the heart.”
I stare at him, the word Atlantis ringing in my ears like a struck bell.
Atlantis. As in the Lost City of Atlantis? The ancient civilisation that supposedly sank beneath the ocean thousands of years ago. That Atlantis?
My brain stutters over it, caught between awe and sheer disbelief. I can only process so much magical insanity at once, so I settle for the next thing my mind can latch onto. “Chakra realms? Like energy centres?”
That, at least, makes some sense. I know the body’s chakra system well from my energy healing training – and crystals. Crystals are easy. Lost cities and magic portal mirrors? Not so much.
Hunter nods. “Each realm resonates with a different energy centre. The Dragon Realm is linked to the Solar Plexus – strength, willpower, fire energy. The Angelic Realm governs the Crown, the highest form of consciousness.”
He pauses, letting that sink in before continuing.
“The other realms align with the remaining chakras: Root, Sacral, Heart, Throat, and the Third Eye. Each portal has a Guardian – protectors chosen to oversee and maintain their portal’s energy. Their role is to ensure balance and keep the connection between realms intact.”
His gaze sharpens. “And most importantly, they’re the only ones who can open and close their respective portals.”
“Why has the Earth portal been inactive for so long?” I ask, unable to contain my curiosity.
Hunter tenses. “It’s been inactive ever since…” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck, then exhales slowly before speaking again. “Ever since Princess Aurora. When she died… Earth was cut off.”
A strange ache blooms beneath my ribs. “Aurora.” I murmur, tasting the name on my tongue. It feels… familiar. Just like Hunter’s golden-brown eyes.
A flicker of pain flashes across his face before he schools his expression.
“Who was she?” I ask softly, crossing my arms. “And why would her death shut down the Earth portal?”
Hunter’s expression is tight with unspoken grief. “Aurora was the true heir of Atlantis. A warrior. A leader. She was the only one who could open all seven portals, ensuring the realms stayed connected. It was her destiny to rule Atlantis and protect them all.” His jaw clenches. “But she died before she could fulfil that destiny.”
The ache in my chest deepens. I don’t know why, but I feel like I should be mourning her too.
He draws a ragged breath. “The previous Earth Guardian perished during a battle on Earth, leaving that portal unanchored. No Guardian had ever died before their successor had been identified, so no one knew how to replace her.”
My brows knit. “Aurora was supposed to figure it out?”
Hunter nods, a shadow crossing his face. “Yes. She was trying to work out how to find the next Earth Guardian, to pass on the Earth portal’s power. But before she discovered a way… she died.” His voice drops lower. “Without her… no one really knew where that power went.”
His gaze flickers to me, steady. Intent. “I guess now we do…”
Right. Because I’m supposedly the next Earth Guardian. I swallow hard, something twisting deep in my gut. I shake it off, clearing my throat. “Sounds like she was important.”
Hunter exhales, running a hand through his hair. “More than you know.”
He stands abruptly before stopping in front of the mirror. His reflection stares back at him before he turns to face me.
“When did this mirror come into your possession?” he asks, curiosity in his tone.
“Some delivery guys dropped it off last week. I told them – multiple times – that I didn’t order an eight-foot antique mirror, but they wouldn’t take it back. Something about company policy. I meant to call the head office and figure out where it came from, but I never got around to it. Honestly, something about it just… felt important. Maybe that’s why I didn’t try harder to get rid of it.”
I glance at Hunter, grasping for any other explanation. “Are we sure it was meant for me? Maybe someone else was supposed to receive it – someone who’s actually supposed to be this Earth Guardian….” Even as the words leave my mouth, I don’t believe them.
Hunter rubs his jaw. “Only the Guardian of the portal has the power to open it.” His gaze flickers towards the mirror. “So, I’m afraid this was always meant to find you. But why now? It must be connected to the Silver Moon Convergence…” he mutters, almost to himself.
His gaze flickers over me, something shifting behind his eyes – an understanding I don’t yet share – and he turns back to the mirror.
What the hell is a Silver Moon Convergence? A thousand more questions flood my mind, but I don’t even know where to start. My thoughts are an incoherent mess, my brain struggling to keep up with everything that’s happened tonight. But there’s one question I can’t ignore. One I need to ask, even if I’m terrified of the answer.
I take a steadying breath. “Hunter?”
He’s still staring at the mirror, like it holds answers only he can see. It takes him a second to turn – like pulling himself out of a trance.
“Who’s Lucille?” I ask.
His brows lift, surprise flickering across his face before something darker settles in.
“Lucille… she’s the Guardian of the Magic Realm.” His jaw tightens. “Or – she was. Seamus killed her.”
His gaze sharpens on me. “How do you know about Lucille?”
My stomach twists. Holy crap. Lucille’s real. They weren’t just dreams. The truth slams into me like a punch to the gut, stealing my breath. I saw her die – not in some distant, disconnected way – but felt it. The terror. The helplessness. The last shreds of her strength.
The weight of it presses down on my chest, and my eyes burn with unshed tears. But I can’t break down. Not now. Not yet.
“I know because…” My voice falters. “Because I’ve been dreaming of her ever since I got that damn mirror.” I point accusingly at the offending object like it personally ruined my life. Because from where I’m sitting, it absolutely has – at the very least, it’s ruined my night.
“For the record, I’m blaming the mirror for all of this.” Stupid. Bloody. Mirror. The exhaustion finally catches up to me, dragging me under like a riptide. I close my eyes, resting my head against the couch.
I feel Hunter’s eyes on me. Begrudgingly, I open my eyes again. His expression has softened, laced with concern – like he’s only now realising how much this night has taken from me.
“You can tell me more about the dreams later,” he says. “You’ve been through an ordeal. Let’s get you to Atlantis, have the healer examine you, and get you some rest. Then we’ll speak.”
Atlantis is real.
Hunter is from there.
And I’m going.
My first instinct is to protest – I can’t just leave. I have a life. A family back in Australia. In two weeks, I’m supposed to meet my sister in Milan. My crystal shop. Daphne, Nora. My clients. My whole world.
But even as the thoughts rush in, my brain shuts them down. Pretending this isn’t happening won’t make it go away. And if I want answers, I need to stay close to Hunter – not bury my head in the sand.
I exhale slowly and tune into my inner compass. To that subtle pull in my gut that says this way. Some call it instinct. I call it intuition. It’s not a thought, not exactly a feeling either. It’s more like a quiet knowing that whispers beneath all the noise.
Most people forget how to listen to it. Life piles on expectations and rules, the so-called ‘right’ path. School. Job. Marriage. Kids. Don’t stray too far from the ‘safe’ path. And somewhere in all that, you lose the thread of your own inner guidance.
But it never really goes away. It just waits for you to remember it’s there.
Even now, sitting here with emotional whiplash and my entire worldview flipped by ancient cities, portals, dark sorcerers, and the fact that I’m apparently the next Guardian of the Earth Portal… something in me still knows. This is where I’m meant to be.
And the next step?
Jump into the unknown. I don’t have to understand it. I just have to trust it.
“Okay, sounds like a plan.”
Hunter looks surprised, like he expected me to argue.
“Do I have time to shower and change?” I ask, glancing down at myself – and only now realising I’m still in my pyjamas. My very skimpy lavender silk camisole set and matching shorts.
Hunter’s expression flickers. Oh, he definitely notices. He clears his throat, gaze snapping to the wall. “Of course, my lady.” He bows his head slightly.
I slowly rise, pausing to make sure the dizziness is truly gone. My gaze lands on Hunter’s sword resting atop the bookshelf. The memory crashes into me.
Dear Universe, please send help.
And then Hunter stepped through the mirror.
My stomach tightens at the thought of what would have happened if I hadn’t opened the portal. I move closer to Hunter, reaching for his forearm. Solid muscle shifts beneath my fingertips.
“Thank you, Hunter,” I say softly. “If you hadn’t arrived when you did…” I trail off, the weight of it settling between us. “You saved my life.”
Something shifts in his expression. “Of course,” he responds quietly. “I would never let anything happen to y—” He cuts himself off abruptly, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze slips away from mine. “To any of the Guardians,” he corrects, his voice more formal.
A smile tugs at my lips as I nod.
He straightens, composure sliding back into place. “And rescuing damsels in distress is my new pastime.”
I laugh softly. But the warmth lingering beneath his words stays with me.
Then his tone shifts, something heavier settling into his voice. “I should warn you – Seamus is still out there. And while it sounds like he might target other Guardians first… he will come back for you.”
I stiffen. “You sound like you have history with the Dark One.”
“Is that what we’re calling him?” Hunter’s mouth quirks, a dry huff of almost-laughter slipping out.
I shrug. “If the shoe fits…”
The humour fades fast, replaced by something colder. Sharper. “I crossed paths with him recently.” He doesn’t elaborate, but the tension in his shoulders says enough. “He’s dangerous – and not just because of his magic.”
A prickle of unease races down my spine. “What does that mean?”
“It means the Dark One isn’t just some rogue mage stirring up trouble.” Hunter’s jaw tightens. “He’s strategic. Patient. Every move he makes—it’s all part of something bigger. A plan we still don’t fully understand.”
“Great,” I mutter. “A villain with a nefarious plan. What’s not to love about that.”
The Dark One’s words echo in my mind as I head upstairs to shower.
I’ll save you for last…
© 2026 Natasha Brooker. All rights reserved.
Stone of Blood & Spirit and The Guardians of Atlantis Trilogy are original unpublished works protected under copyright law. This exclusive reader preview is provided for personal reading only and may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, shared, or uploaded elsewhere without written permission from the author.
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