Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
My brows drew together. “You have a tome here?” I asked Cyrus. What kind? Soal’s books never left the library.
Cyrus’s brows drew together too. “No, I—” He blinked, shook his head. “I do. I remember now.”
He stalked off and returned a few minutes later, wearing a shirt and holding a thick, ancient-looking book. A small, oily shadow slithered around it, and I recoiled, instantly anxious. But calm washed over me, just as it had done earlier, chasing away the anxiety.
“My grandfather has a library similar to Soal’s, and he gave me this,” Cyrus said, leading us into the living room. He settled on the couch, and I claimed the chair across from him, allowing Domino to stand at my side. “I think . . . I think this is one of the reasons I lost my memories. I blacked out every time I opened it.”
“That is a history told by a Soalian scribe who lived long ago, but as you can see, Astan attempts to distort the story,” the librarian said. “Read it,” he instructed me, and I vehemently shook my head in denial. Black out? No, thank you. “You are connected to me, the contents unable to ensnare you as they did Cyrus.”
Fine. I reluctantly requested the book, which Cyrus slid across the coffee table between us. The moment I brushed my fingers over the cover, the shadow broke apart, evaporating, as if afraid to face me. Good, that was good. Perhaps I had more power than I’d realized.
The absence of the dark haze revealed striking leather decorated with mesmerizing swirls of gold. I set the heavy tome on my lap, took a calming breath, and cracked the spine.
“You can read it?” Cyrus asked, curious.
“Yes. The title page calls this The Rise of Harmonies.”
When I gently flipped the thick, yellowed page, I came to a hand-painted picture of a gorgeous, familiar man with a mop of curls and white wings tipped in gold. He wore jewel-studded armor.
“That is Astan,” Domino said. “Among the ancients, he’s known as Eos. Enemy of Soal.”
I’d heard the term before, though not its meaning. I’d been told Eos was the technical name for the Madness.
I examined every detail. Something was diff— “He’s without horns!”
“Correct. Those grew after his affair with Briar Rose began.”
As he spoke, bowed horns grew over Astan’s image on the page. “Why only then?”
“When a heart is changed, the body follows,” Domino replied.
Beside me, Cyrus made a frustrated noise, and I gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m only seeing illustrations so far.” The next page offered another hand-painted picture. This one of the exquisite woman I’d seen in Ember’s class. Flower petals clung to her curves. From her fingertips grew curling vines blooming with lush, green leaves and ruby-red fruit.
“Briar Rose, now Astan’s wife.” Domino flicked his gaze to Cyrus, who watched me with a hard stare. “She’s a grower, able to produce seeds. Flowers. Trees. Fruit.”
That statement yanked my attention back to the book. “I’m a grower too,” I rasped, dots connecting. I flinched. “She’s chosen me, hasn’t she?”
Domino didn’t respond to my question. “When she aligned with Astan, her seeds became tainted, the same as her heart.”
The next series of pages showcased paintings of Bala, Astan’s pet dragon, who was far more ferocious than expected, with glittering emerald scales and eyes as bright as rubies. Those teeth . . . that spiked tail . . .
Then came Astan’s most trusted council and guards. Finally, I reached text.
There were no symbols, no code. Nervous, I read the first line.
Once upon a time, there existed a kingdom ruled by the most beautiful and powerful of creatures, where power danced in the air like stardust. Allow me to take you there . . .
Black dots wove through my vision, and I caught myself tilting forward.
“Stop,” Domino said, and I immediately rocketed my attention to him. The dots faded, and I righted. “Do not read it while fearful. The emotion opens the door to Astan’s essence, allowing it to weave a sticky web through your thoughts.”
Yes, I’d felt that. “I understand,” I told him, girding myself for the next passages.
“Continue.”
I began to read once more, my emotions on lockdown. This time, when images invaded, they didn’t take over my mind, and yet I was there. Living in the past, a time before and beyond.
In this enchanting world of worlds, there lives a radiant woman named Rose. A spirit reminiscent of the wild woods, and a queen as cherished as she is captivating.
As Rose flutters through the lush gardens, her long, white robe sparkles with diamond dust woven into the fabric. With grace and joy, she visits tree after tree, bringing them to bloom with a captivating song that embodies the very life of the land.
When a dashing figure emerges from the shadows, she startles. His potent presence causes the very atmosphere to vibrate. Despite warnings, she is instantly intrigued. His allure is undeniable, his eyes twin orbs of molten obsidian.