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)
It calls to me, beckoning me, and I travel the rocky slant up the hill and cross the smooth stone of the ledge to the stand at the base of the tower that’s closer to the edge of the cliff than it had appeared from below. The view is stunning, miles of bluer than blue ocean, stretching eternally it seems, the wind tossing around my hair and kissing my skin. Considering his fear of heights, Oliver would be freaking out right now while I laughed my ass off at him, the way he laughs at me for my fear of spiders. Please let this place not have giant spiders. I claim the bench beside the aged wooden front door and accept my friendship with him is over, praying that he really is one of the good guys, as I’d proclaimed to Micah. At this point, I’m not sure I can assume anyone is what they seem.
Micah casually appears beside me out of nowhere and offers me a ceramic mug with steam piping from the top. “Morning.”
His dark hair is thick and rumpled, his blue eyes as stunning as diamonds glistening under the perfect light. There’s an angelic quality to him in the new dawn that somehow contrasts with all that I am and that I’m intended to become. Maybe that’s why he’s the one who had to come for me. He’s the light to the darkness I don’t want to consume me. I accept the cup, our fingers brushing, a jolt of awareness between us that shakes me to the core, but I’m not sure that’s a bad thing anymore. I don’t think I need to protect myself from him. I think I need to protect him from me.
With that thought, and my uncertainty on how to do that, I cut my gaze, my legs shifting away from his. “Thank you,” I murmur and sip the coffee, and concerned he’ll read my uneasiness, I fill the space with chatter. “Surely, there are no boats seeking a shoreline in the stormy nights since there are no people,” I say, glancing over at him. “Does it even storm on Elysium in the first place? Does it have seasons?”
“Yes, we have seasons, but they’re more like San Francisco—subtle shifts and moderate temperatures. This is winter, which means mid-fifties. And no, there are no ships, but the lighthouse is symbolic of the war against the underworld.”
I turn his direction again, my knees sliding right, my body angling with them. “In what way?”
“Demons hate water. We have no idea why. We’ve yet to find any text that explains it. It won’t kill them, and you can’t use it as a weapon. They’ll laugh.”
“Then—” my brow furrows, “what do you mean they hate water?”
“They will not go near a large body of water, which is why the Overseers all have safe haven lighthouses in their territories with magic-driven underground facilities.”
“You do?”
“I do. I’ll take you there one day soon, if you would like.”
“I would like it,” I say, “but maybe wait until we know I’m the right person to share your secrets with.” I set my coffee down and stand up, walking until I’m at the edge of the cliff, where I sit down on a boulder. The wind is wilder here, lifting my hair off my nape, goosebumps lifting on my skin, as Micah sits down next to me.
“How far did you read?”
“Far enough,” I say.
“I told you not to take a portion of what you read as the word. You need to read it all for context.”
“I have context. The Aza is evil.” It’s not a question. “You knew this when you saved me from the cabin, right?”
“I did not. After the Eagles told me about your eyes, I started watching you and believed you to be exactly what I told you when we first met—a Crystal Seer abducted and corrupted by a demon.”
“Why didn’t that immediately say the Aza to you?”
“The Aza was hidden away for safekeeping at birth, and not by demons. It was, and still is, illogical that you ended up being raised by the Corrupted. And back on topic, the Aza will become the ultimate warrior for good or the ultimate destruction of good.”
“Therefore, evil,” I say, way beyond mincing words.
“Quite the contrary. The underworld fears you. We do not. It was always believed that you were hidden until you came of age to ensure you couldn’t be killed by the underworld before you could fully realize your potential. And so that you couldn’t be corrupted before that point, either. Your development being guarded was critical.”
“Who hid me away?”
“I don’t know, and I’m treading cautiously in case it’s a corrupt angel that needs to be brought to justice. I think it’s more likely the Corrupted that acted as your parents pretended to be Eagles.”