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

lava burns, hot and steady with the occasional spark meandering into the air. But it leaves no charred remains. The entire tree disintegrates in a blazing fashion. Elder stays put on the swing, unknowing.

“Elder!” I shout again, this time with fear and panic in my voice rather than excitement. “Elder!” But it’s as if he cannot hear me. He continues swinging. The tree smolders rapidly, and I’m too far away to save him before he combusts along with it. I sprint toward him, hoping he’ll notice me and flee the tree.

He should feel the heat by now. What’s happening?

Elder sees me and waves with a devious grin. One of his odd smiles that professes he’s up to no good. Then, he’s gone. Vanished. The wooden swing he was sitting on along with him. In his place, two bodies remain hanging from the same ropes that held the swing.

I want to upheave the contents of my stomach. My parents hang motionless by their necks, adding another painful memory to this tree. I’m suddenly grateful it burns. The fire is upon them, closing in on the branch they’re so desolately draped from. The smoldering hot blaze works its way down each rope that tethers the bodies, disintegrating the material as it burns. Yet, the bodies remain hanging even without a branch for the ropes to be tied to. Gravity doesn’t pull them to the ground as it should.

I watch in disbelief as my parents, Arden and Shae McLarin, slowly dissipate along with the rest of the tree. Their bodies, from head to toe, slowly dematerialize in the heat. And just like that, they’re gone. And I’m alone again.

I didn’t see it while watching them burn—and justifiably so—but the fire isn’t isolated to the one tree. The entire forest has burned up. Not a single tree remains standing. Nor my home. There is a burning twinkle in the air from the last embers that would be a beautiful sight in vastly different circumstances. Other than the few lingering sparks, there is no evidence a forest ever existed.

Now, I remain standing in a grassy field. Dead grass, but thankfully not smoldering like the trees I just witnessed. Thick clouds materialize above. Dark. A vast world of…nothing. Emptiness. There is nothing around me except a dark, cloudy sky. The lifeless field expands in all directions as far as I can see. Dead brown grass and dark-grey clouds. Colorless. Hopeless.

Is this…the afterlife? It couldn’t be. This is so droll and…

Suddenly, the clouds start dissipating, revealing a yellow sun and a blue sky. The clouds evaporate in moments, leaving the midday sun shining down bright and hot, but not for long. The sun speeds across the sky, faster than it should. Too fast. It gains velocity until it sets over the horizon. And I’m back to a still, dead, flat grassy field.

The dark sky is now consumed by so many stars I can see blades of grass in the field I stand in. And a silhouette of another boy lurks in the distance.

Not seeing any other alternatives, I warily head in his direction.

The boy…it’s my brother Stone, staring at me with concern and dread. Does he mourn my death? I drop my wariness and replace it with haste. As I get closer, I see I’m mistaken. It’s not Stone at all. In fact, he’s the complete opposite. Uncertain of how I made such an unacceptable misjudgment, I continue walking toward him anyway. Harris Martelli stands fifty paces away.

I stop before him, keeping a safe distance of about five paces. I’m already dead, right? Fear shouldn’t still be a factor. It’s the essence of who this man is, and his presence demands it even in the afterlife.

“Hello, Jaymes. It is both pleasant and disheartening to see you tonight.” His voice resonates in a low pitch, but sharp with proper enunciation.

I am back in my home now, standing in the grand foyer. My mother and father are bound and gagged behind him. There are several men standing at ease, creating a perimeter around the entire room except the stairway immediately at my heels. All the men are adorned in pale-grey, hooded warrior’s tunics and greaves. All with the exception of the two men who restrain my parents. They look familiar. Not their generic features so much—both are tall with green eyes, one with short, brown hair and the other shoulder-length, blond hair. It is their hands that are unforgettable. The fingers of these men aren’t fingers at all, but rather vines extending out from their knuckles. And those vines are what bind my parents, restricting their movements to mere wobbles easily controlled by the two large men. I stand surprisingly calm before the tall, dark man and his gang of miscreants. It’s a familiar scene. A memory hidden deep within me.

“I suppose I should have the decency of giving you an explanation before stripping you of your parents and your life. However, decorum and proper etiquette is for your almighty Taoiseach, Harris Martelli. Not me.”

As he finishes his unnerving comment, his face morphs right before my eyes. The midnight-black features of Harris Martelli wash clean as if he wiped his face with a wet cloth. But there is no cloth, and his hands don’t touch his face. He uses his talents in a way I hadn’t realized was possible. The face underneath is one I didn’t recognize at the time. But now… Now I know who this morbid man is. His ashy skin is scarred with crimson tattoos. His eyes are nearly pure white except for a thin silver crown. And the smile on his face looks murderous. As quick as this ungodly face appears, Harris Martelli’s resurrects itself. And in less than a click it morphs into yet another face.

My brother Stone now stands before me. All the men, my parents, and even the room itself vanish. I’m back on