Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Am I going to explode?
I look up at the man in the robe whose hands twist at something in the air. It mimics the twisting feeling in my chest and I gasp from the intrusion.
Is he pulling out my heart?
Will I die?
“Look at all that humanity within you,” the man murmurs seductively, and as his fingers claw in the air I feel them moving inside me, as if he’s feeling out all the parts that make me me.
Fear strengthens me, and I summon enough energy to blast this mountain apart, but shaking off his hold is enough. I start to push it outward, but I’m stunned when the robed figure cocks an arm, as if he’s going to throw something at me. His hand is empty, but when he makes the motion as if to hurl something my way, a glowing apparition appears. It sails through the air, like a thick rope at least four feet long.
Slapping me in the chest, it wraps around me twice, and as one end floats in front of my face, I’m horrified to see the head of a snake. It’s white with blue eyes and glows with golden luminescence.
Its head sways as if trying to hypnotize me. I attempt to blast it off with my power but it seems stuck. I can feel it bottled up with nowhere to go.
And then the snake opens its mouth, revealing two fangs dripping with pearly venom. I don’t even have time to scream before it strikes, landing a bite on that tender area where my neck meets my shoulder. The poison burns as it enters me and the snake doesn’t let go.
My head swims and I’m not sure if I’m feeling faint from the venom or the horror of what’s happening. It feels like someone’s stuffing my head full of cotton and my thoughts start to slow. It becomes difficult to form a coherent idea. I know I should be doing something to stop what’s going on but I’m not sure I care to. Too much effort.
The robed figure lifts his head but not enough for me to see his face, just his mouth as it curves into a leering smile. A low thrum of terror flows through me but quickly fades. I simply don’t care about being scared.
Or fighting, really.
Some god I am.
Or am I a god?
Perhaps I’m only a person after all.
“Good night,” the hooded man rasps, and then everything goes black.
* * *
When consciousness pricks at me, it’s dread I feel first. I’m not sure why because as I poke at my memory I can’t remember much.
I don’t know why I should feel scared but I do.
My eyes flutter open and things are blurry. It’s dim and I’m lying on a hard surface that’s icy to the touch and slightly damp. Shivering, I push up with one hand and try to blink the fuzziness away.
“It took you long enough to awaken.”
I scramble to my feet at the sound behind me and almost topple over as I’m still dizzy. I reach out to steady myself against a wall, rough like rock, cold and wet with slime. There’s no one there, so I turn slowly around.
“I imagine you’re feeling… a bit out of sorts.” The words seem to echo, as if they’re coming from all around me.
“Who’s there?” I demand, noting that my words also have a certain reverberation.
Am I in a cave?
There’s no answer, but light streams across the ground and I move toward it. An exit, I’m assuming.
It gets brighter the closer I get, but then I’m stumbling back as the man in the robes comes through the glow. I’m not sure if he stepped in from another dimension or if he’s entering what appears to be a cave. The walls and floor are made of black stone.
“Who are you?” I demand. “And where am I?”
More importantly, although I don’t ask, is what did he do to me? I’m aware I have no power within. I feel fragile.
Human.
“Oh, I’ve missed you, little vessel,” the stranger croons as he lifts his hands to pull back the hood of the robe.
A handsome man with wavy brown hair down to his shoulders and dark blue eyes.
I gasp as he’s revealed to me. “Ariman.”
The dark immortal priest—Kymaris’s most devoted follower—smiles as he undoes a clasp at his throat and lets the robes fall to the ground. Underneath he’s dressed in fashion typical of the Underworld—brown denim breeches and tunic with leather belt and boots. Things are simple down there.
What is not simple is the Blood Stone that he still wears on a chain around his neck.
“How did you get that?” I ask, and I hate how shaky my voice sounds.
His head dips and he stares at the gem that almost gave Kymaris and the Underworld victory over the First Dimension. Since her defeat, it’s been locked up with Carrick and Finley.