Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Adriel is gone.
And I never even told him that I love him.
Chapter One
Abigail
Seattle, Now
I know I’m dreaming. I always do when the nightmares and the visions come. But I drown in them anyway, tossed like a buoy from one violent scene to the next with nothing to anchor me. This one might be the worst.
A scream rips from my throat as one of the Forsaken—a soulless monster with pale skin and a misshapen mouth—reaches out, grasping the young Valkyrie in front of him around the throat. Her dark hair whips around her face, her dark eyes widening with terror as he lifts her from the floor. Her feet scrabble for purchase on the old church floor, her nails digging into the pale flesh of his arm as she struggles to breathe, fighting to free herself.
But it’s useless.
With a vicious snarl, the Forsaken flings her across the room. Her body sails through the air before striking the wall with a sickening crunch.
I feel the life draining out of her as she crumples to the floor, pale and still.
I cry out in terror, desperately trying to reach her. But I have no body here. There’s nothing I can do. I’m simply a watcher, forced to witness these atrocities, unable to act to stop them.
This is my hell.
The scene flickers like the shutter of a camera as it changes. Forsaken spread throughout a church, polluting it with their corrupt magic. The Valkyrie lies crumpled on the floor. The Fae race through the dark streets of Seattle.
My mind spins wildly as one tiny glimmer after another flows through me, brought by some seiðr magic—seer magic—no one, not even the Fae, understands.
I see thousands of snapshots in these moments, paths we might take, things that might come to pass. Not all are certain. What we do moment to moment dictates how the Norns weave the tapestry.
But the strongest visions? Those are all but guaranteed. They will happen. Unless we force them to change.
Another flicker and a vision solidifies. This one is certain, then.
Eitr is overrun, the Forsaken and varulv flooding the streets. Their dark magic and evil pollute everything.
I get pulled into a cabin in the heart of Eitr.
My heart clenches when I see Tori tied to a chair. Her vibrant energy slowly fades as she struggles weakly against her bonds, tears mixing with the red stains on her cheeks until it looks almost as if she cries blood.
Reaper lies on the floor at her feet, a gaping hole in his chest. Even in death, he reaches for her, one hand extended as if, in his final moments, he sought to comfort her.
Outside, screams grow louder—the screams of the Fae. They’re dying.
Damrion. Adriel.
No. Gods, no.
Horror and defiance well up inside me, screaming in fury. But it’s too late to save them. I feel them slipping away—the biggest parts of my soul being torn from me as they fade.
I scream in agony. In torment.
The scene flickers again, changing.
I stare down at myself this time. A Forsaken in jeans and a hoodie looms over me in the kitchen at the safehouse in Washington—the same one where my sleeping body lies right now. Injured warriors litter the ground. Others are held back by dark flows of magic. The Forsaken is speaking to me, though I can’t make out the words. He points at a rippling black shadow in the corner.
A portal, corrupted by their evil magic.
“If I let you take me in their place, you’ll let Tori and the other Valkyrie live? You won’t harm the Fae?”
The Forsaken nods.
Tears run down my cheeks as I nod and stumble toward the portal. I don’t fight him. I don’t try to get away. To my horror, I go willingly, letting him guide me into the corrupt portal.
No! I want to scream at myself. No, Abigail. You can’t do this!
But I have no choice. I feel the certainty of that truth ringing in my soul. If I don’t go, they’ll kill Tori and the other Valkyrie, and then Reaper. Damrion and Adriel—the two warriors I’d give up my soul to protect—will die. And then the rest of the Fae and Rissa.
All will be lost.
The vision flickers and changes again.
Below, my body is chained to a stone slab. Agony lances through me as I'm struck by whips of dark magic, the corrupted power searing me. I scream until my voice gives out, thrashing against the brutal onslaught.
Even in the vision, I feel the pain ripping me apart. It hurts. Gods. It hurts.
Another whip slams into me.
I scream again, my body convulsing on the slab.
Suddenly, Light pours into me—not my body on the slab, but me—hot and sustaining. The vision smokes and curls at the edges, burning away.
All that’s left is dark and pain. It engulfs me, leaving me drifting in a sea of agony.