Total pages in book: 401
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
“I know, but I have to find them. They’re scared and…and confused. Almost as if—”
I cried out as another outpouring of pain and terror seized every fiber of my being. It fell like a crimson shadow over the chamber, over us, painting the walls red and soaking the floor in blood.
Casteel was speaking, but I couldn’t understand his words as I stared at my arm. It was raised as if I had attempted to ward something off…or perhaps call upon something. Shadows appeared under my skin and swirled.
Casteel stiffened against me, and I knew. I knew without asking that he had also noticed what was happening beneath my skin. “Poppy.”
I wrenched myself free of him, turning as the eather swelled inside me. I had to do something. I had to stop this. I needed to.
The essence of the Primals—of me—seemed to understand the rushing, desperate thoughts and responded at once. The eather seized control. It was like an instinct buried deep within me, never touched before, had been unlocked from the furthest corners of my mind. I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.
I simply lifted my arm; fingers splayed wide. Shadowy silver wrapped in tendrils of gold sparked from my fingertips, and the air no more than a foot in front of me hissed and then split open. The tear crackled and spat as it grew and widened.
“Poppy!” Casteel shouted. “Don’t!”
My eyes locked with wide, wild amber ones when I glanced over my shoulder at him. I wanted to explain what I was doing, but I wasn’t even sure I could. Because my mind hadn’t caught up with this newly discovered instinct, and there was no time.
The pain called to me.
And so did death.
A strange scent drifted from the opening—an acrid and pungent aroma that reminded me of burnt oil but sharper, smokier. “I have to.”
Casteel’s flesh seemed to thin, causing the angles of his face to become stark. Panic filled his voice. “Don’t you dare, Poppy! Don’t—”
I walked through the opening, leaving one realm and stepping into another—
Noise.
That was the first thing I noticed as the silver glow of eather faded, revealing that I stood among a small, sun-dappled cluster of four or five trees. So much noise came from every direction. What sounded like trumpets blared almost continuously, interrupting the shouts and voices coming from every direction—voices that seemed to grow louder, get closer, and then quickly fade away.
And the smell? That burnt-oil scent had increased, mixing with a damp, fishy aroma and something that reminded me of the cramped streets and crowded homes near the Rise in Masadonia.
My heart thumped as the voices grew closer, but they sounded strange. “… a flow of ash, rock, and gas that can move upward of four hundred miles per hour. There’s no escaping an eruption of this magnitude. It’s…” The voice choked, and then a throat cleared. “It’s devastation on a scale we haven’t seen in…”
I turned toward the voice, spying the shadow of someone walking quickly past the trees. I couldn’t place the accent and its sharp, quick speech pattern.
“…the loss of life will be significant.” Another voice reached me, this time feminine, and it came from behind me.
“How could there be no warning?” someone else questioned from my left. The way the man had said warning, it was like he’d dropped the r. “No signs?”
Although I had no idea what event these people were speaking of, it had to be what I’d felt.
Throat dry, I walked from the grouping of trees—
And jerked to a halt, my eyes widening and lips parting. I couldn’t process what I was seeing. Absolutely none of it made sense.
My body flashed hot and then cold as I stared past a neatly trimmed lawn filled with people scattered about, some alone and others in small groups. None of them wore anything I recognized. Gone were the graceful or even drab gowns I was familiar with. Women here wore odd, snug trousers made of some sort of strange blue material or tight skirts that skimmed the knees, exposing what many would consider a scandalous length of leg. Men seemed to favor shirts with peculiar insignias rather than fitted tunics or waistcoats. Some of the breeches were short—really, daringly short—no matter the sex. Some blouses didn’t even cover the wearer’s stomach and appeared more like a corset sheared in half. The footwear was also puzzling. Their shoes were either pointy and heeled or flat and brightly colored.
The strangeness didn’t end there. I saw hair the color of the sky and other unnatural shades. Many had tiny, often white objects in their ears, and nearly everyone held a rectangular object in their hands that they either stared down at or spoke into.
Those who passed me seemed to either be unaware of my presence or would merely glance toward me with an expression I imagined mirrored mine before quickly looking away.