Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
And yet, something in me recognized her.
Wings made of water flapped with elegance and grace, raining upon those beneath her, dousing all flames. On her index finger glowed my mother’s—my—ring, six stones aglow. Golden armor appeared on her body, a perfect match to Ahav’s. A sword of fire materialized in her hand.
The first time I’d fought monstra, the same golden armor had appeared on me. I’d created a sword of fire from air. What I hadn’t done: hover in the air with water wings.
The monstra focused their crazed fury on her…
From every direction, through time, space, and eternity, a disembodied voice bellowed, “Andrea!”
My brows drew together. Andrea? As in Elowen’s ancestor, the first water maiden? The one who helped Morris defeat the monstra in round one?
No answers came, only more questions. Then the world shattered. Suddenly, I lay in a room flooded with blinding light. Padded walls. Straps biting into my wrists and ankles. Modern medical equipment beeped and hummed around me. Men and women in scrubs surrounded me, poking and prodding at different parts of my body as I fought for freedom. In the corner stood a woman cloaked in shadows and a tall man built with muscle. Their faces were as blurry as the green woman’s had been.
This didn’t feel like the past or the future. It didn’t even feel like the present.
The numbness evaporated, and panic swallowed me whole. “Jasher!” I screamed, thrashing. “Jasher!”
“Put her back under before she hurts herself,” the shadowy woman commanded with a soft tone.
A sharp sting. Darkness. “Jasher,” I breathed out, and my eyes popped open.
7
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
Ilay on my back, rocking as if I’d fallen asleep in the back of my dad’s truck, and he was currently easing us across a long stretch of twigs and gravel. It was cold, so cold. Creaking and tapping sounds filled my ears. Though my vision was hazy, relief seeped into my limbs. A dream, only a dream.
A dream…or glimpses of past loops?
The question whispered through my mind, and like a hammer strike, memories of everything that had happened returned in a rush. Elowen’s memory restoration serum. Monster Jasher. Waterway.
Goodbye, Mom and Dad.
Icy air scraped in. I probably had seen past loops, considering Elowen’s serum now flowed through my veins. I should have refused her. Old me had gone through some stuff. Truly, I couldn’t quantify the awfulness of what I’d seen. The battle. The deaths. The room. Who were the shadow woman and her sidekick?
Although, how had I seen all the way back to Andrea?
I tried to sit up, but a throbbing pain cut through my temples, keeping me down. A groan spilled from my lips. The muscles in my shoulders were stretched to the max. And my arms. I couldn’t move my arms. Why?
I squirmed and pulled without results. Where was I? Where was Jasher? Where had we landed?
Rapid blinking cleared my vision. The world around me formed, and a frown pulled at my mouth. I sprawled across a thin layer of hay, inside a rickety, uncovered wagon with cartons of spoiled vegetables and one wooden crate with the scraggliest chicken in existence.
She watched me. Not with fear or curiosity but with what might be pure, unadulterated judgment. Her eyes shouted, Unworthy! Her feathers jutted at odd angles, and one eye drooped lower than the other. Her comb flopped sideways, resembling a wilted crown, and her beak bore a small notch. A souvenir from a fight.
She tilted her head, more unimpressed by the second, then emitted a low, offended bawk—less barnyard noise, more commentary. What are you looking at, hooman?
Teeth chattering, heart hammering, I jerked upright. Or tried to. Rope pulled, keeping my arms trapped behind me. I was bound?
Instant fury. I fought for freedom, a ragged blanket dropping to my waist, allowing frigid wind to pummel me. “Jasher?” I called. He wasn’t in the wagon with me. Through weathered slats, I spied the charred remains of a forest. Panic sprouted. “Jasher!”
The chicken shifted, feathers rustling, and let out a sharp cluck that sounded suspiciously like, Really?
“Shh shh. Please be quiet, Oracle.” The low, accented command came from the front of the vehicle, spoken by an unfamiliar male voice. “We’ll reach the shimmer soon, and you can be as loud as you wish. But right now, monstra lurk nearby. Sound draws them.”
The almost-English accent. I was absolutely back in Hakeldama. But what was the date? And why did he think I was an oracle? Wasn’t like I’d introduced myself.
Dread and resolve battled as I craned my neck. Two gaunt men perched upon a bench seat, one holding reins. Both wore fur coats with swords strapped to their backs. The pair didn’t look—or smell—like trappers. Filthy, rot-infested cannibals who bred rabdogs. Or “death on four legs,” as Jasher once described them.
And yet, I couldn’t shake the thought: trackers.