Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Cold steel presses to my skin, and I can feel the tiny tear in my flesh, feel a trickle of blood trailing down my throat. “Should I kill you, or do you want to fight now, Ember? Because one thing I know for certain is if you’re too weak to fight me, you’re too weak to have ever welcomed the light. The darkness would have always owned you. It already does.”
There’s a burn in my chest mimicked by the burn in my palm where the hilt of the sword rests. I step backward and lift the weapon in my hand, and I’m not sure how it happens, but I’m clanging the blade against his with skills I should not possess. I can feel the magic dancing along my skin, igniting my muscles and my movements.
We battle.
Our well-strategized steps cover the expanse of one side of the octagon, swords dodging, diving, and grinding against the other. But when I grow a bit too confident in my skills, I pay the price. My back and shoulders crash into the wall behind me, and his blade is once again pinching my throat. My heart lurches, and I rift away, appearing behind him, my blade in the center of his back.
His laughter is deep and rough, and I blink, and he’s rifted. He’s standing in front of me all over again, his sword crossing my sword, his eyes alight with a mix of mischief and approval. “That’s the way to win. Keep going.”
I hate how much I crave his compliments when my throat drips of the blood his sword has drawn, and I smash my weapon into his—anger, frustration, and magic exploding from someplace deep and enraged. The wolf inside me roars to life, and it’s invigorating and powerful. Micah is all about secrets, secrets related to me and my life. I have a right to know what he knows. But beating him is apparently above my skill set, magic or not. I end up against yet another wall, and before I can react, he’s flung away my sword, retrieved my blade, and pressed it to my throat.
I try to rift away, but I can’t seem to move, and I can hear the wolf inside me whine and retreat.
“You can’t rift with the blade of Elysium against your throat.” He pulls the steel back and slides the knife into the sheath snugly against my leg. “And I’m not trying to kill you. I’m trying to save you. And us with you.” He rotates away from me and flattens on the wall before sliding down to rest on the floor.
There’s an air of defeat in him that gives me pause and seems to contrast the way he pushed me to fight. I sit down next to him. “You didn’t like what Silas had to say.” I rotate to face him, and I remember the truck bed we’d ridden in, sitting much like this: close, intimate, and yet so far away. “Why?”
“We need a way to purge the serpent. I sent three of my men to seek answers from those who might actually have them.”
“Which would be who?”
“There are three Knowledge Keepers, all unique and ancient Nephilim.”
I’m intrigued and sit up straighter, rotating to my knees. “What knowledge?”
“There was a time when our library of knowledge was in one central location. There was a demon infiltration. They accessed information they should never have possessed, which led to a lot of bloodshed. That’s when we split the libraries, and certain books, the most critical and dangerous of all, were planted in the Knowledge Keepers’ heads and then destroyed.”
“What if that person goes rogue or dies? Or what if the knowledge is magically extracted?”
“Powerful magic protects the Knowledge Keepers. Should someone try to extract the information, the Keeper will perish. Should the Keeper perish, their knowledge will be cast into an heir, and no one, not even the Keeper, knows who that is.”
“What if the Keeper goes rogue?” I press.
“Once a month, the Keeper visits the Tree of Life in the Kingdom of Nephilim, also known as the Judgement Tree. It’s where our criminals and traitors are sent for judgement. The tree will decide if the visitor is innocent or guilty. You are either punished by the tree or gifted as the tree sees fit as penance for being forced into judgement.”
“Do I want to know what the punishment might be?”
“No, you really don’t, and it doesn’t matter. The Keepers are loyal to their duties.”
“And you asked one of them about me?”
“All of them. And yes, I did through my men. But it’s better we keep your location under wraps until we solve the problem at hand. If anyone knows you have the serpent inside you and that I know this but I’m sheltering you, we’re both dead.”
We’re dead.