Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Her lungs seized. She could still hear her grandmother’s scream as his claws raked through her neck, scythes through grass. She could still feel his attack, the wet punch of his fangs embedded in her chest. Pain flashed alive again, agony rippling under Rose’s skin, ancient and fresh all at once.
Straegan stepped toward her, lips curled back in a snarl.
For one suspended heartbeat, Rose stared into the maw that had once ended her.
This time, she didn’t hesitate to defend herself.
She screamed a piercing cry and cast off every restraint she’d ever held.
Magic detonated out of her.
A storm of light tore through the air. The cottage walls buckled under the shock wave. Straegan was hurled backward through collapsing stone, engulfed in a wildfire of power that leveled the Witchwood beyond.
And when silence fell, it was total—save for the faint hiss of her own power, still boiling over in the ruins around her. Ash snowed down, the world recoiling from her.
She had survived him this time. Her bones hummed with the truth of it:
I am not the girl he devoured.
I am not prey.
Not anymore.
Memories continued to flood in but not yet all. Why had he targeted her? Why had he dug for her very heart?
Somewhere in the distance, a howl echoed. Wounded but enraged, promising return.
Rose didn’t flinch. She lifted her glowing palms, the air warping around her fingertips, and whispered to the broken night: “I will repay his torture a thousand times over.”
The words trembled with power.
The wasted Witchwood trembled with them.
And as her magic seethed—hungry and uncaged—Rose stepped into the moonlight, a witch reborn from her own destruction.
Chapter 61
Firis
The Firis River woke.
What loud calamity had roused her from her slumber?
With a groan that shook the mountains, she stirred. Her molten body heaved, and crimson rapids frothed like veins reopening. Her waves spat against their own heat.
She stretched herself from bank to bank, feeling the ache of long stillness crack through her bed of stone. How long had she slept?
She remembered the last age—newcomers locked in ruinous war. Loose alliances of the desperate had driven the undead toward the Helter, and she, the mighty Firis, had pitied those immortal warriors. She had risen from Mount Nothrior and flooded the wilds, her torrents corralling the undead abominations in a ring of fire.
And for that service? Hardly a whisper of gratitude. No temples raised. No sacrifices worthy of her.
She’d been offered only the occasional Skeinian—a startled victim tumbling into her current or a lovelorn immortal determined to disintegrate beneath her waves.
She delved deeper, through the haze of memory, through layers of time and ash, and found something had changed within herself. A hollow in her heart of flame.
Something gone.
Something stolen.
Despite her service, evil had been done to her.
The recollection came with a volcanic surge. Geysers of rage erupted along her course as the truth ignited: Thieves had taken from her. Stolen the essence of her own being—her spark, her child of fire—torn away and carried beyond her reach.
The thieves would pay. All of them. Every creature in the Skein who had allowed this outrage would burn for it.
Her roar singed the air. Vengeance rekindled her ancient purpose, feeding her like fuel poured upon coals. Her heat swelled. Her banks widened. The ground trembled beneath a hunger as old as creation.
And far off, from the shadow reaches of the Helter, came answering cries—excited, feral howls. The undead knew their time had come.
My course will change, she vowed, her voice the hiss of steam and cracking stone. And when it does, the world will burn anew.
Immortals Untold returns soon with the Accession at full burn.
Every alliance is a gamble. Every desire a weapon.
Some will finally be claimed by fate.
Others will be left…DEVOURED.