Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) by Jonathan Michael (ereader that reads to you txt) 📗

This is Jaymes we’re searching for. She’s an adolescent girl starving for attention, but unsure how to acquire it without forcing a dramatic scene. And she went over the top this time. Yes. That’s it. I’m sure of it. This is all just a game to her, and she’s hiding in the brush having a ball while the two of us get worked up over her childish nonsense. This is because we refused her the hunt this morning. Except for one thing…the blood. I wouldn’t put it past her, though. She is rather wicked from time to time. A smile crosses my face at the thought. She keeps things interesting if they aren’t already.

I access an area where the forest is less dense. Had the sun been high yet, it would be blanketed in warmth, but with the sun wavering and Cerise climbing higher, it’s shrouded in crimson shadows. The undergrowth has thinned, and the trees are a bit sparser and reedier in the trunk, allowing for better visual. The peat moss and fallen debris covering most of the forest floor has faded into a lush green grass along with patches of clovers. Jaymes has described this scenery more than once, always talking about the warmth it brings her. This must be her gathering spot as of late. And the blood trail stops here.

With only a faint amount of sunlight remaining, I shine the thunder torch around the area, searching for more clues. Footprints, the tiniest drop of blood, flattened grass—anything will help. It could be the wound began to clot.

At a closer look, I notice disturbed soil, as though something has been uprooting the plants. No beast would do this. Then I see a vibrant blue flower radiating from behind a leaf on an undisturbed plant. “Remarkable!” I mutter under my breath. “Everweed.” I’ve sought them out on my own before, traveling leagues throughout this forest without any luck, and here they are right under my nose. Jay has been here. But where is she now? And how did she acquire a wound so severe she couldn’t wait for Stone to heal it? I probably know the answer to that.

“Jay?” I call, but not so loud to bring unwanted attention. “Jay!” No response. There has to be some trace of where she ran off to next. Maybe we crossed paths and she’s already back home. I do a onceover of the area with the thunder torch to ensure I’m not missing anything. There’s a faint sign of flattened ground coverings. I’ve been prudent with my step, as all trackers are, so it must have been Jay or some wildlife, which leaves a wide array of possibilities. It’s a weak clue at best, but I follow it anyhow.

There are far too many disturbances in the vegetation for a smaller beast to be the culprit. In fact, these prints are larger than any human.

My heart beats heavier. I inhale and, with the back of my hand, brush a drop of sweat that has found its way down my forehead. I know what these tracks belong to. But why now? Am I projecting my ambitions—to slay a Creature of the Night? I grab a handful of Everweed from the ground and reluctantly head in the direction of the trampled vegetation.

My experience with these beasts is nonexistent, but then again, there isn’t another who can claim otherwise. They’re the type of animal man stays far away from, which was the primary reason for choosing this location as a refuge. We chose to risk being mauled by the Creatures of the Night over the public execution we would have inevitably encountered by hiding in a small village. Some would consider us the biggest halfwits in all of Vedora, all of Azure even, for making the decision we made, but I know Harris Martelli personally, and the fact he is capable of persuading a strong-willed and morally sound man like my father to do what he did is far more threatening than any beast living in the wood.

The one thing I do know about these beasts that isn’t often conveyed in the terrifying tales is they have a very distinctive smell. Almost the smell of a rotting carcass, but worse. A scent that can bring a man to his knees. I’d be curious to know whether it’s a defense tactic or the effect of an introverted species. Regardless, I’ve come to believe they’re not exceptionally clean animals.

I continue down the trampled path until, as anticipated, a mallet of rotting flesh hits me right in the nostrils. The waxing stench is the smell of the deceased. There’s no possible way anything living could tolerate that aroma.

Despite the horrendous smell, I know what I must do—be the man my father would expect me to be. I continue pushing forward, setting down the thunder torch in an attempt to detect rather than be detected. And the stench is my ally. If I learned anything in my limited time at the Academy, it was the act of surprise is my best advantage. Especially against a foe that can send me passing through the heroes’ gate.

My instincts tug me in the opposite direction, but my father always said I should seize the opportunity. And this is a great opportunity to show the world how great I can be. To be the only man ever to slay a Creature of the Night and live to tell the tale. And to save a damsel in distress at the same time would be an unachievable task that I achieved. Ambitious, maybe. But I can already hear the bards’ tune.

Cryptid Slayer! Cryptid Slayer!

Vile creature of the night

Goose the Great! Goose the Great!

Victor burning with might

Could use some work, but I’ll have time to fine-tune it after the deed is done.

I creep forward into the darkness and through the faint