Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 42412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
She was screaming for Theon, but I couldn’t see her as Reaver rose from a plume of dust, shaking his large, diamond-shaped head. The double doors blew open, and a tall female draped in crimson entered, her eyes glowing with eather. She was immediately struck with Primal essence, her body exploding.
My eyes followed the fading bolt of eather to a tall, brown-skinned woman with braided hair—the Primal goddess I’d heard screaming. She stalked forward, a bronze-and-black crown clutched in one hand.
A male darted into the room, and Revenants poured in behind him, their pale faces painted with red wings. There was a flash of the hooded god, and then he was behind the male, his hands on the sides of the other’s head. Reaver’s spiked tail whipped through the chaos, taking out a pillar and an entire line of Revenants. Some went flying, others were impaled on the horns lining his tail. One of his massive forelegs slammed down in front of me, splintering the tile as he stretched over me, extending his long neck. His mouth opened, and smoke wafted out before a stream of silver fire erupted. The flames swallowed the Revenants, and screams tore through the air. As Reaver roared, releasing another funnel of fire, I saw Kolis.
The Primal mist around him had disintegrated, and something was on him—something large and covered in silver fur. He stumbled and then went down, bright red tinted with a blue shimmer coursing down his chest and arms. Whatever that something was, it was clawing at Kolis’s chest, shredding the flesh.
It was a wolf.
One larger than any wolven I’d ever seen. And it was shaking its head, violently tearing into Kolis.
Darkness came for me again, and there was no fighting it this time. It swept in like a tide, tugging me under. Everything went quiet, and then I heard a low whimper, or maybe a whine. Softness tickled my cheek, and then I felt something cold and damp. The pained whining disappeared, replaced by Reaver’s gravelly voice. He was shouting. Yelling my…my name.
“Hold on.” Another voice cut through the haze, one full of authority and carrying smoke and shadows. I felt myself being lifted, enveloped by the scents of citrus and fresh air. “You just need to hold on. Do you hear me, Poppy? You need to hold on.”
I wanted to.
But there was only snow-frosted silence.
And then…
And then I heard her.
“Give her to me,” she demanded in a voice that was strong but not steady. There was a tremor under each word that tasted like panic and regret. “Give her to me, Ash.”
A glimmer of warmth brushed my cheek. The touch was featherlight at first, and then, as if I had stepped out into the summer sun, the warmth spread, chasing away the numbing cold that had invaded my muscles and bones.
A breath lifted my chest.
I smelled lilacs…fresh lilacs. And a strange taste that hadn’t been there before filled my mouth: sweet and slightly floral, almost like a ripe pear but with a metallic edge to it.
It tasted like…blood.
Like life.
“It’s okay,” she whispered as that sunlight filled me. “You can let go now.”
I did just that.
I slipped into the sun.
And I let go.
HE WHO IS BORN OF THE BLOOD OF GODS
Casteel
Screams filled the air like smog. Some of horror. Others steeped in pain that went deeper than bone.
They came from wherever I heard Kolis’s haunting voice, somewhere inside Wayfair and beyond the inner Rise, lifting from the broad, cobbled avenues of the Garden District and the cramped, dirtied streets of Croft’s Cross.
Death was everywhere.
The sound of it should’ve been enough to reach the part buried deep inside me that recognized things like duty and responsibility.
But those parts were dead now. In their place was nothing but a knot of coldness, lodged deep in my chest.
Fists banged against the sealed doors of the Great Hall. He shouted, calling my name. Other voices joined in, but his remained the loudest.
“Cas! Let us in!” he yelled, the doors shaking under the force of his blows. “Cas!”
When the doors remained closed, sealed by the inky, overlapping vines, I felt his presence bearing down on me, that woodsy imprint brushing against my thoughts.
Tearing my gaze from the too-still bodies lying in the Great Hall—what remained of my father—I rose. Unused muscles across my upper back twitched, adjusting to the strange weight of wings. A breeze drifted in from the shattered glass dome, carrying with it the iron-rich scent of blood and the lingering stench of stale lilacs. The feathers… They were oddly sensitive.
The shouting continued.
He kept trying to break through, using the singular pathway forged by the notam that now extended to me.
I shut him out, quickly and precisely, as I glanced down.
“Fuck!” he shouted. “Cas!”
The shirt was torn, the edges soaked in blood. Through the ragged tears, I saw that the flesh that had been ripped open was now the bright, shiny pink of healed skin. I could see the dark-gray, crimson-tinged shadows moving beneath. Could see silver bone where patches of skin had faded away. Reaching up, I halted as I saw that the hand was half flesh, and the four fingers were bone and shadows. I gripped a fistful of the linen and tore the ruined shirt free, letting it drop to the floor, then lifted my chin to the dome above and the jagged shards of glass that remained intact.