Total pages in book: 401
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
The warmth surged into heat as I saw the Primal of Life digging into soil soaked with a mixture of the blood of the very first draken and his. And I knew he’d spent centuries tending to the fragile life he was cultivating with his breath and will. I saw him lift a babe from the soil, their eyes a shining crimson that turned into a brilliant blue, then shifted into a mosaic of all the colors in existence before settling on a soft brown as he gazed upon the Primal. And I knew what was unknown to the Primal. That the free will from the winged beasts, which had been passed on to the draken, had then been bestowed upon the mortal.
But the ten who dreamed knew.
Even as they marveled at the tiny life he held. Even as they rejoiced, full of awe and pride, they knew it was the beginning of the end.
And I understood as the warmth pulsed in my chest and silver light wrapped in crimson and gold flashed behind my eyes. Because, for them, nothing was more miraculous than the creation of life. They cherished even their most nightmarish creations. Loved them just as deeply as they did the beautiful, elemental beings they designed.
Until they didn’t.
Until their benevolence turned to apathy. They watched as the Primals grew closer to the mortals, and the first Primal fell in love—just as the ten had dreamed. They stopped seeing the beauty in creation and began to only see the grave cost of unrestricted growth as the number of mortals grew and spread, overtaking the land and destroying it in the name of new creation.
And I understood what the Ancients could not. That when they saw the Primals now unbalanced by emotion and decided to take back everything they’d created, they too felt.
I understood, as the Primals rose, and the Ancients either retreated into places of peace or were sentenced to the ground, what the ten who had dreamed only realized after it was too late.
That everything done to prevent what was coming had only ensured that it would.
Without the capability to love and hate, rejoice and mourn, gain and lose, there could be no balance. For every hardship, there must be prosperity. Hate could not exist without love. There could be no joy without knowing grief.
As the essence flowed through me, I understood that there must always be balance. Life must continue, and death must always come. Because I saw what the ten Ancients dreamed—what they saw when balance was irrevocably disrupted.
I saw Ancients who had gone to ground and ones yet to Awaken claw their way free, shaking the realms. And I knew they were no longer the great givers of life and the anchors that kept the essence of the realms stable. They were the end that erupted mountains and turned days into endless nights, toppling cities of steel and drying oceans. I saw them rise, full of ruin and wrath.
But I also saw more.
Because in the center of those swirling colors, I saw the desperate King with the golden crown of laurel the ten Ancients had dreamed—the man who had descended from that tiny babe the true Primal of Life had held in his hands. I saw it all: the great power that rose as heir to the lands and skies; she, the first Chosen to fail, who was the true Primal of Life; and what the union between the bringer of life and the bringer of bone would unleash.
Two daughters.
Two Kings.
And the Great Conspirator.
It was inevitable.
The end would come.
But I understood what was threaded through those dreams and existed in the whirling colors as they faded into the crimson-streaked darkness.
Every beginning has an end. But for every end, there must be a new beginning.
That’s what the ten dreamed.
The fall of ruin and wrath.
And the rise of blood and bone.
CASTEEL
Thunder rumbled in the distance as the wolven next to me stood rigid, his hands balling into fists as what I’d said about the Revenant sank in. He’d sung the very same disturbing rhyme that had haunted Poppy—my wife, my Queen, my everything—since she was a child. But it wasn’t just that it was fucked up and triggered a violent storm of emotions in both of us.
It was also what that Rev—now in bloody pieces strewn across the floor—had insinuated: that he had been waiting a long time for what was his.
It took no leap of logic to know the Rev meant Kolis. And what he wanted was Poppy.
Kieran’s jaw clenched. “Absolutely fucking—”
A low rumble shook the floors and walls, causing objects in the bathing chamber to fall over.
Kieran looked at me. “That can’t be another god waking up.”
I agreed.
A sudden surge of energy filled the air, making the hairs on my arms stand up.
Stone cracked beneath us. A thin fissure appeared next to Kieran, quickly spreading in a circle around us and the bed. Another fracture formed at the foot of the bed, and more at the head and along the sides.