Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
The ground became a thick blanket of ice beneath Zepharali’s feet. Frost clung to the nearby shrubs before the chill spread through every nook and cranny of the forest.
Once Weeping Glass pulsed with winter energy, Boraleashe flicked one hand forward—thank the heavens it wasn’t both—sending another dusting of frost across the mountaintop, cold enough to cause instant hypothermia.
As Zepharali predicted, Boraleashe’s primary weapon put a considerable hole in the dense black fog, and he wasn’t finished.
The Titan of Winter’s long white hair fanned around him. His hands conjured a blur of swirling ivory and sapphire as he pulled more power from his sword and shot another devastating blow into the heart of the mist.
Zepharali squinted, inching closer while still giving Boraleashe a wide berth.
He could make out two men, one taller than the other in front. He could tell the man in back was young and frightened by the way he clutched the older man.
He couldn’t be all that evil or dangerous if he was cowering and afraid.
The berry-sweet scent turned ill-tasting, creating unease and indecision that twisted Zepharali’s stomach.
He leapt toward Boraleashe to stop him from delivering the final blast that would obliterate anything left of the fog and what was shielded behind it, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Boraleashe’s frost was below any temperature Zepharali thought possible.
Before the deadly ice reached the remaining shreds of mist, a blazing inferno erupted through the clouds and hit the ground so hard it shook the mountain.
A massive, winged creature appeared from a jet-black billowing mass of smoke.
Boraleashe reared back and shielded his eyes before Theodor threw up his magic-infused cloak to protect his husband from the searing heat.
The animal’s long, curved talons dug deep into the dusty snow that quickly melted and vanished.
The birdlike beast extended his long black wings, shielding whoever stood behind it.
The creature screamed a shattering “Keeearr” that none of them mistook as their one and only warning.
It spread its large wings and flapped them, sending embers into the sky.
Their three war stallions bolted to their sides and reared up before landing and shaking their wild manes and stomping their hooves in response to the threat against their masters.
Boraleashe struggled for words, shock and rage evident on his face as he yanked Weeping Glass out of the earth. The blade transformed into a sharp spike of unbreakable glass, ready for battle.
Theodor clutched Boraleashe, halting his attack. “Wait, don’t!”
“If it comes toward us, it dies.”
“No one move,” Theodor warned in a hushed voice. “It’s a phoenix.”
Zepharali inched backward. “Will it try to kill us?”
“Only if you continue to threaten who it was born to protect.”
Boraleashe kept his sword raised, remaining skeptical and cautious.
Theodor pointed at the almost twelve feet of blazing wings. “His flames are hotter than in the Underworld…but…he can’t withstand your frost for too long.”
“Good,” Boraleashe growled.
“But he’d be a worthy adversary and give you one helluva a fight, my love.” Theodor touched his husband. “Stand down.”
“I’ve never seen one of these. Are they from the dark world?”
“No, Zepharali. They are not of any world or realm.” Theodor extended his hands in a gesture of peace. “It’s of the Phoenix Vale, created by the ancient guardian angels to protect the greatest beings created. Entities or species that have the capacity to reshape entire worlds…or conquer them.”
Zepharali had lived long enough to assume he’d seen all the many worlds and realms had to offer.
But he was wrong.
“No one has seen the magnificent—ferociously loyal—Ribiccaww Raptor in thousands of years. The more brilliant the sun, the more powerful and deadly their flames.” Theodor nodded to Boraleashe to shield his weapon. “Just wait a moment. His fire will recede when he calms and his charge is no longer in danger.”
“She.” The nonthreatening voice behind the phoenix slid down Zepharali’s spine like a forbidden caress. “My Myst is a female.”
The older of the two men emerged through the remaining fog first, standing silent and alert as he scanned each of them with keen black eyes.
He was a few heads shorter than them. Zepharali guessed he was a fragile human of the Earth Realm. His skin was wrinkled but not sun-weathered. His long slate-gray hair had perhaps once been beautiful brown or black locks.
His dirty, battered tunic and overcoat looked like they’d seen better days before he decided to camp at the top of Kipmis Mountain.
The oversized phoenix calmed enough to extinguish its flames—the dense feathers continuing to release enough steam to melt any lingering frost—but her midnight-black wings stayed extended, concealing the man behind it.
Zepharali craned his neck to catch a clearer glimpse of the one who’d spoken with a voice that dripped like berry sap—smooth and tempting.
“Renowned Lords of the Winds. King Cavalerie, our gods’ Treasure of the Realms.” The slight man gave a deep, respectable bow. “I am Oleksandr Osmund, the Silent Sentinel of the Ancient Angel Continent. My lord and I were sent to this world by Mother Earth and the Titan of the West Wind.”