The Gate of the Mind sealed around her. A warm tingling spread across her skin, brushing away the scourge that had settled there. It seeped in through her pores, permeating her body. A flicker of heat bubbled up inside her stomach, spreading through bones that ached and groaned, before releasing in a great rush of energy. In an instant, the trickle became a torrent and Emmaline was engulfed in the blazing light energy. Her awareness surged and she could sense everything around her; the quiet, dark energy of the mountains, the whispering ribbons that surrounded the Singer Stone, the blazing righteous fire that swirled around the statues of the Nine.
A dull, insistent nagging tugged her out of sleep, but the Sight stayed with her. Above her, Lucian sat, his eyes closed, palms still glowing slightly with lambent energy. A shiver danced down her spine. The rest of the room shimmered slightly with whorls of colour, flickering and jumping. Lucian was like an abyss, dark and infinite. The vision overlaid with her normal sight, reducing her head to a dizzy mess. She rolled onto her side, retching.
Azrael rushed over. “Emmaline, shhh, it’s ok, breathe, breathe, you’re out of there now. You’re safe.”
The roiling turmoil in her gut slowed as the Sight faded slightly. The relentless pounding in her skull didn’t let up, however. She whimpered. “Az, my head hurts so much, you have to make it stop.”
He glanced over at Lucian helplessly. Confusion had transformed Lucian’s face into a dark frown. “I don’t understand… She should be fine now.”
The whisper of cloth on stone drew their attention to the door. In the doorway, a man cloaked in robes stood, his hands tucked in the sleeves. Emmaline looked at him curiously, whimpering slightly as the pain lanced behind her eyes. His face was half-cloaked in shadows beneath a hood. When he spoke, his voice sounded like the softest silk sighing in the summer wind. “The sensation is overwhelming her senses. Allow me to help, if you would.”
Azrael eyed the man suspiciously. “And just who are you?”
The man in robes replied softly with “Someone who can help.”
Anger flashed in Azrael’s eyes. “Why should I trust you to help her? For all I know, you’re a blood mage, come to finish her off.”
Still kneeling, Lucian sighed. “You really need to learn to trust people more, Azrael. This man,” he said, getting to his feet, “is Master Shigeru, of the Temple of Stone.”
Master Shigeru bowed deeply at Azrael. “Would that I could extend our exchange of greetings longer, but Emmaline is in grievous need of attention. May I?”
Azrael nodded tautly. “If any harm comes to her, you will have hell to pay, old man.”
From his corner in the shadows, Lucian tsked at that, but said nothing. Master Shigeru walked into the house and crouched beside Emmaline. Where he had been standing, another figure stood. Azrael jumped. “Who the hell…”
The man walked into the light. He was clad in a similar dark robe to Master Shigeru, but his hung slightly open. Beneath it, gold and silver plated armour could be seen. Over his shoulder, the hilt of a massive greatsword shone dully. “It’s Alandriel. Lucian can vouch for me here, can’t you… old friend.”
Lucian gave a weary half smile. “Oh, yes, I suppose I could. Still, I might find it amusing to not vouch for you and watch Azrael try to rip apart one of the High Disciples.”
Azrael’s eyes widened and he knelt swiftly to the floor. “Oh, gods, sir, my... my apologies. I d-didn’t realize.”
Alandriel snorted. “Gods be good, man, get up off the floor. I was a High Disciple. Now… well, hell’s teeth, now I don’t know what I am. Shigeru’s bodyguard, I suppose you could say.”
YOU ARE READING
A Storm of Shadows (Shatterborn Book One)
FantasyThe world has been reborn. Enter Veritas, a world of magic and myth. Emmaline Longshadow has lived her life in hiding. She and her adoptive father were chased for much of her early years, before seeking sanctuary in an ancient monastery known only...
