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

the open plain of dead grass and starry sky as far as the eye can see. Right back to the moment when I first saw Stone standing in the field with dread and concern reeking out of him.

The stars noticeably move in the sky. It’s random at first, but then it’s clear they pull toward a central location like an event horizon sucking in all matter around it. The stars culminate behind him, creating one large bright light, transforming the boy…no, the man…into a silhouette. Then I realize I’m mistaken once again. What I thought was concern, dread, or something of the like, isn’t that at all. The only emotion radiating from him and pulling me closer is…love.

A bright white ethereal radiance overtakes the blackness that is Stone, and another exhilarating force surges throughout me. This time it doesn’t forget to share the pain expected with shock. My entire body, from the tips of my nicely polished toenails to the roots of my short, lilac-scented, brown hair, animates with energy. A single breath fills my lungs, and I inhale all that I can.

I stir with life.

I have no recollection of where I am or why my entire body pulsates with pain. Pain. The pain is…well, painful, and real. I accept it. Feel it. Rejoice in it. I am…alive.

I open my eyes to see my whereabouts, but there is nothing to see. A slight moment of panic rushes through me until I remember my teachings. Ellia layered me with strengths and the knowledge to handle this. The shadows are my allies. The light, my ambition.

Panic swiftly transforms into caution and I, lying still to avoid traps or alarms, slowly press outward and hit a solid surface. I recoil with the abrupt stoppage, not expecting such close proximity. My elbows jerk outward and smash into a wall on either side of me. Absolute darkness without a trace of light. I’m in a box. A coffin, perhaps? Buried?

I don’t fret. Rather, a small grin smears across my face as I whisper in the solitude. “A darker shadow offers a more ambitious light.”

Epilogue

H e can see the heat radiating off the dunes in the distance, distorting the horizon. The sun, directly overhead, scorches the terrain. Wiry bushes are placed here and there across the dunes, but aside from that, vegetation is nonexistent. The land is barren and dry. Life should not exist this far south, but that thought only brings a smile to Carib’s face. He defies what should and should not be.

Carib stands atop a small dune overlooking his company. Most hide their distorted appearances under iron. Though, with the scarcity of resources for such a material, they’re limited to one or two adornments. Some wear an iron face in the form of a king’s jester and some in the form of demons or wild animals, and some wear iron-plated armor. The heat has no effect on them. It’s as if they were created for this land. And the iron conceals their reality more than it protects them. Carib understands their humility. He was the same once.

Others in the company aren’t as disfigured. While maintaining camp, they don’t feel the need to don the armor as the others do. They take to the freedom, adorning themselves with only ragged loin cloths. And others still, those who have completely grasped the freedom, wear nothing at all.

Altogether, they are a group that appears to belong beneath the surface of Azure, but they are not dead. Not completely. Although blood no longer runs through their veins, they are more alive than any man in the northern realm of Vedora. Down in the Blood Plains is where true freedom is expressed.

The men are tending to the daily necessities of the camp, which has grown large enough—fifteen thousand strong—to encompass the one small red lake Carib has discovered this far south. Although he feels as if he’s defying nature by living in this arid land, he knows they would not survive without that lake. He has tested the fate of a few unlucky men and concluded even this group of sour individuals requires the red waters of Azure to remain walking.

Carib wears his iron-plated mail atop a pale tunic, similar to what his company adorns themselves with. He decides the formalities of relating to and intimidating his company are not necessary at the moment, so he strips the armor and tunic to enjoy some of that freedom. For that is why he is out here in the first place, to be free from the rule in the northern realm. He drops his armor to the ground and stretches his muscles. The skin on his chest lacks any pigment just like the rest of his company. Even in the burning heat, his flesh remains the color of chalk. His skin doesn’t burn, nor can he feel the heat of the day. He is immune to that sense, which he believes has risen himself and his men above the rest.

A great gust of wind pulsates from behind, distracting him from admiring his accomplishments. Sand and dust whirl past him, followed by a gentle growl and a snort. Carib, arrogant and confident, refuses to turn and welcome the beast. He knows.

A few moments pass before an apprehensive voice asks, “Pardon me, King Reign?”

“What news do you bring me, Master Sephyre? You’ve been north for some time now, so I trust you have information of value.” Carib turns to face his trusted emissary.

“Of course, King Reign. The Taoiseach is dead. There is much to tell you…”

We Are the Blood of Azure

Races & Hierarchy of Azure

Races:

Lahyf (Healer): Spring birth, a.k.a. the season of life; talents include regeneration (healing)

Sprhowt (Greenthumb): Summer birth, a.k.a. the season of growth; talents include accretion (growth)

Dihkai (Gloomer): Autumn birth, a.k.a. the season of decay; talents