Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
They've haunted every nightmare I've had for years, tormenting my sleeping mind. Somehow, somewhere, I've seen them before. I'm sure of it.
Forsaken.
My mother sends a blast of light toward the hole.
Half a dozen of the Forsaken burst into flames, screaming.
I rear back as a massive man charges into the room from the kitchen, murder etches across his handsome face, a sword of pure light spinning in his hands.
I've seen him before, too. Only, unlike with my mother, I have actual memories of this man. He held me in his arms when I was a little girl. I remember the way they closed around me as he swung me up from the ground and the smell of cigar smoke in his beard when he did it. Even now, I can almost hear his booming laughter echoing in the recesses of my mind as he called out to me, asking if I was a good girl.
"Papa," I whisper, stumbling back a step.
His gaze meets mine for a split second, and I know I'm right. This man is my father. Except…he isn't human. And neither is she. I don't know what they are, but they aren't human.
Am I?
It's a terrifying, familiar question, but I don't even have time to consider the lifetime of evidence screaming for attention before half a dozen Forsaken surround him, sending tendrils of smoke hurtling in his direction.
My mother screams.
I glance in her direction, watching in horror as tendrils of black whip at her from every direction faster than she can react.
She screams in fury, blindly throwing a blast of light into the mass of Forsaken still pouring out of the hole. More of them go up in flames. But the one at the front doesn't even flinch as the light hits him. He simply strides forward, his expression twisted with hatred.
"Valkyrie witch," he hisses. "You should have died with your sisters when Valhalla fell."
"And you never should have crawled from the Dark," she gasps as he stalks her across the living room.
"Stay away from her!" my father shouts, but he can't get to her. The Forsaken have him surrounded. He fights like hell, his blade swirling like death as he cleaves through them, felling them one by one.
But it's not enough.
The Forsaken who didn't burn walks right up to my mother as her back bumps up against the wall, plunging a blade of pure black into her stomach. He smiles as he lifts his hand upward, sending it slicing through her.
She gasps, stumbling to her knees.
"Randgríðr!" my father shouts as she lands in a heap on the floor at the Forsaken's feet.
"Get her out of her, Simek," she chokes, her voice weak…fading. And still, she struggles to get back to her feet. Still, she tries to reform her ball of light.
I scream, lunging forward to help her, but someone grabs me from behind, pulling me away. I wheel around, snarling. Something inside me…blooms. I don't know what happens, exactly. But I do the same thing I always do when I'm angry or afraid or in danger. I grasp the hot rush of light, wielding the scalding inferno like a weapon. One blazes to life in my hands, a tiny dagger of blue flame.
My father meets my gaze, pride and pain mingling in his green eyes. He isn't even hurt, but he's fading before my eyes. I see it. "Run, daughter. Find my brothers in Eitr. They'll protect you. Tell them Simek and Randgríðr sent you. Tell them to find the others."
"Papa," I sob.
"Run," he growls. "You can't save us."
He's right. My mother is already dying…and so is he. I feel it. And still, Forsaken pour through the portal. There are too many of them. I can't save them. I'm not even sure if I can save myself. But I have to try.
They came here tonight, sacrificing their lives for mine for reasons I can't even begin to comprehend. That has to matter.
I hesitate for a heartbeat, committing every line of his face to memory. I glance at my mother—at the way she holds her head high even as the life drains out of her, refusing to bend, refusing to break. This is where I came from. My whole life, I wanted to know. And now, I do.
I came from warriors.
"Run, Marion."
A sob breaks from my lips as I obey, leaving my parents to face the Forsaken and die alone.
My father roars behind me—his voice tinged with madness, with fury.
I glance back and see him falling to his knees beside my mother. The light of his sword winks out as he gathers her into his arms. He doesn't try to fight. He just…surrenders.
"Run," he screams. "Run, Marion."
The Forsaken swarm them.
Sobs wrack my body as I race down the steps and out into the dark, nearly falling on my face.
Oh God. They just let them take them. Why? Why is it so important for me to get away? What do the Forsaken want with me?