Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 118860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
They rounded a bend, pushing aside the overgrown abundance of leaves and brush to view ruins of more modern homes that had been burned to the ground. The jungle had reclaimed most of the area. That didn’t lessen the impact of sorrow, of blood spilled, a slaughter of men, women and children. Sarika was so sensitive, she heard the cries, the screams, the sounds of the massacre.
Solange. She felt the woman’s energy all around her. The terrible sorrow. The guilt of survival. The horrific knowledge that she couldn’t prevent the slaughter of everyone she loved. This was the site of Solange’s home before her father, Brodrick the Terrible, and his shifters had murdered every man, woman and child they deemed beneath them. This was where he had tried to kill Solange when she was just a child but hadn’t succeeded.
“She comes here often,” Jubal said, his voice almost reverent. “Dominic makes it better for her, but the pain of that day has never left her.”
Blood had soaked into the ground. The pain penetrated deep into the recollections of the forest. It would always be there, the memory of the slaughter of a village. This hadn’t been the only massacre committed on these grounds. The memories rose from under the more modern-time murders, choking Sarika.
The screams and wails of the dying, the tortured innocent people, came from beneath the layers of Solange’s massacred village. Sarika couldn’t block them out. She tried everything, but the closer they got to the actual ruins of the temple, the louder the screams were, reminding her she hadn’t saved those gentle people. Her stomach lurched, knotted into tight fists of pain. There was no way to stop the rush of memories invading her mind and flooding her body with a sickening physical reaction.
The temple ruins were nearly overgrown with moss, vines and liana, making it nearly impossible to see until one was right up on it. The statue of the jaguar with its piercing eyes seemingly watched them from any angle of approach. Moss and liana climbed her body, but not her face. There wasn’t a speck of green on her head. Her gaze was fierce, the eyes of a predator judging their intent.
Sarika felt the power emanating from the statue. Through her, the others felt it as well.
“What is it made of?” Tomas asked. He got very close to inspect the statue, but he didn’t touch it. Sarika had been prepared to push him away. The statue was sacred. It was protected.
“Look at this,” Tomas invited his brothers. “This material is not from our planet. Like Sarika’s amulet, it is made from either an asteroid or a meteor. To make a statue this size, it would have been one huge chunk falling from the sky. Most are very small.”
Tomas looked at Sarika. “Could these people have come from a different planet?”
“I don’t know. They were highly intelligent and very advanced. Very peaceful people. They wanted to stay to themselves and live out their lives in harmony with the earth, sky and below. The temple was the connection between all three dimensions.”
“Was it a female-dominated society?” Lojos asked Sarika. “The jaguar statue feels feminine, and you have the ability to bind power to you.”
“They worshiped the jaguar,” she said. “I was a shifter in those times and regarded as a sort of priestess. My life was one of service to the people.”
“Were they shifters?” Mataias asked.
Sarika shook her head. They were entering the temple. On the outside, the building looked as if it were broken and sunken into the ground, but the moment they entered, walls shimmered around them, great blocks of stone. There were two chambers one could conceal themselves in, but Sarika pushed on what appeared to be a solid wall, knowing the actual temple was belowground. She did it instinctively, as if she’d done so many, many times.
She led the way with confidence, down the narrow stairs and through the various rooms used for rituals. They were looking for the weapon she had stolen from Mitro. She hadn’t had time to take it down into the extensive underground tunnels. She had hidden it there in the chamber where Mitro so gleefully tortured and murdered the innocent, peaceful people she had come to love.
No one spoke. The chamber was far too soaked in blood and death. Heaviness invaded their minds and hearts. The Carpathian males automatically shut down their feelings, but Jubal and Sarika had no choice but to endure. She couldn’t help admiring the strength in Jubal. He had come to pay tribute to these people as well as to Solange’s. When he knew Solange was making her pilgrimage, he joined her to give her support and to let her know that her people would not be forgotten. He was making that same statement about Sarika’s people.