The Wrath – Rise of the Warlords Read Online Gena Showalter

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors:
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
<<<<819199100101102103111>118
Advertisement2


If you wish to save everyone, Neeka, you need only speak with the girl in the mirror. Did Siobhan have a bead on the missing bones? Or something else? Did she own the bones? And dang it, who had spoken those words to Neeka in the first place, and why? How was the deaf girl supposed to make a voice identification?

“Maybe a coupon to find Hades his one true love, too,” she mused.

Cherry... Crimson... Scarlet Avenger handed his son a dagger and demonstrated a basic move, his muscles rippling. Mmm. Maybe relaxing wasn’t a bad idea. “I’m gonna get me some of that first.”

Professor Hotness glanced up, as if he’d heard her words, and winked. She preened and waved like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“I miss single Neeka. She was enamored of me,” Reflection muttered.

A soft smile played at the corners of Neeka’s mouth. The expression on Rathbone’s face—she snorted. He looked as if he’d sucked on a lemon as Maximus continued punching the blade through the air, grinning like a toddler with a new toy.

The desire to be with them proved too strong to ignore. “Excuse me a bit,” she said, setting her bowl aside.

Wings stiffening, she prepared to drop and join the festivities. A vision stopped her, barging into her mind without warning. She jerked as the world around her faded...hmm. The landscape remained mostly the same, with only slight differences.

She saw the field beneath the balcony, where Rathbone and Maximus were practicing. Except, in the vision, Rathbone wasn’t there; Maximus stood alone, staring with horror at... She tracked the line of his gaze and gasped. He watched Rathbone and Neeka.

A wealth of arrows protruded from future Neeka’s chest. Her consort held her limp form in his arms, feeding her blood and shouting commands at her.

Her heart thudded. Not because of her multitude of injuries, but Rathbone. He was so absorbed by her condition, he didn’t notice Azar. The Astra materialized behind Maximus and captured the kid in a choke hold.

Azar called, “There’s nothing you can do to keep me from your kingdom, Majesty. No place you or those you protect are safe.”

Future Rathbone’s head whipped up. Aggression radiated from him as he clocked the danger to his son.

“You have twenty-four hours to give me the orb, or I will execute the lad,” Azar continued. “I look forward to hearing from you.” He flashed away, taking his prize with him.

The vision morphed, whisking days ahead, revealing—No! No, no, no. Tremors cascaded through Neeka’s limbs. Maximus lay on a stone altar, a gaping hole in his chest. Azar towered on one side of him, resolved, and Rathbone towered on the other, grief-stricken. Tears streaked his cheeks, and the sight nearly broke her.

“You should have given me what I sought,” the Astra said.

Lore appeared at his side and draped a hand over his strong shoulder. Her touch was solid; she was a spirit no longer.

They’d brought her to life before the final ceremony in this timeline? Good to know.

“As you can see, we acquired the orb anyway.” Lore smiled smugly at Rathbone before whispering to Azar, “Tell him he can watch my triumph in three days. We have a surprise for him.”

“You can watch Lore’s triumph in three days,” the Astra parroted. “We have a surprise for you.”

Lore controlled him so completely? How? And who had found the last bones? How had Azar acquired the orb, if not Rathbone?

“You will not win this,” the king spat at the goddess. He grabbed at her, claws bared, and Neeka jolted. Chains circled his wrists. She’d changed things, but not enough.

The vision morphed again, skipping ahead once again, depositing her in the harpy throne room. Azar walked in with a flesh and blood Lore, who took her place on the dais, made her victory speech, then unbridled her evil.

Three visions in one. Not uncommon and always spurred for the same reason. One event was tied to another. Prevent the first, and you prevented the others. Yay. On the flip side, the final path had begun to solidify, soon to be unchangeable. Every decision executed from this point forward set the dominos in place.

The vision ended, and trepidation pierced Neeka. “Save Maximus,” she tried to scream in real life. Pinpricks of scorching pain penetrated her chest. Ow! Ow, ow, ow. Hot liquid rushed up her throat, gushing from the corners of her mouth. Her world tilted until she flipped end over end, her body weightless.

Falling?

Impact! Organs popped like balloons. Agony. So much worse than ever before. She moaned and writhed, fighting to see past a blurry haze. Where was she? What had happened?

Something warm and soft cupped her cheek, and she went still. Her world continued to spin, scattering her thoughts. Rathbone. Maximus. Azar and Lore. The vision!

She blinked rapidly and met Rathbone’s gaze. His mouth was moving, his expression tinged with desperate concern. “Save Maximus,” she commanded with the last of her strength. Don’t be too late, don’t be too late.


Advertisement3

<<<<819199100101102103111>118

Advertisement4