Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

and full of gloom. And his lack of guards is astonishing. With Cerise still hiding behind the horizon, the shadows have me well concealed and offer plenty of time to figure this out.

Unsure where the lever or button is, I put my palm flat against the wall. Dark roots intertwine around my fingers. I try to pull away, but it’s too tight. It won’t let go. The harder I pull, the tighter they grip. I tear at the roots with my other hand, and more dark vines curl around that hand too. They coil up my arms, pulling me into the wall ever so slowly. I plant my feet into the grass and tug, but it’s useless. The vines are too strong. I press a foot against the wall, which is a mistake. My foot is entangled. I’m trapped.

Or am I? I’m continuously told how my potential is great. Time to put it to the test.

The rot escapes into the redwood roots. I throw my bodyweight backward away from the wall, and my hands pull free. It’s what I imagine it to feel like if I were to pull myself free from a tub of pudding. My arms slide from the death grip with little tension holding on. I fall on my back with an angry twist in my leg. It’s not broken, just turned. The rot didn’t expand to where my foot is planted. It remains stuck.

Angry at the oversight, I heave my body forward. I want to let out an ugly holler, but I refrain. Silence is vital.

I place both hands on the wall, allowing my energy to pulse through my veins, down my arms, and into my fingertips before it explodes into the wall.  The rot spreads rampantly. I claw at it, digging the rot away. My leg is free, but I continue hacking. Rotting, tearing out the sinew of the impenetrable redwood wall the Taoiseach has built for himself.

It’s thick. But not too thick for me. I emerge on the other side and fall forward into the grass once I realize I’m free. Heavy breathing and fatigue follow. I close my eyes. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m exhausted. I must close them. Even if only for a bit.

My eyelids flutter open. Cerise has yet to shed her crimson glow amidst the sparkling sky. The stars are like pinholes in a coffin as my defeated body awaits its burial. The stench of rot jackets me. My nose wrinkles at the smell.

Susy’s four hells! It’s dark! I jump to my feet and run.

Where to, I don’t know. It’ll be dumb luck to find Stone this time of night.

Sticking close to the shadows of the wall, but not too close to get sucked in, I flee. I check the vicinity where Elder pointed. There are multiple hills outside the Martelli Manor. I don’t know which is which, so I run past all of them, silently in the night, keeping my eyes peeled for my brother. But I only see vagrants looming about their makeshift abodes.

Where could he be?

Unfamiliar with where the Academy campus begins and ends, I work my way over the hill and toward a cluster of buildings, hoping they’re part of the Academy. But why would Stone be attending the school? It’s controlled by the Taoiseach. I shrug off the silly thought. It’s the only lead I have, so I stick to it.

I pass by the tallest of buildings in the area. It appears to be held up by ancient redwoods. A building from the Old Races, perhaps? Sticking to the shadows and keeping light on my feet, which isn’t a challenge anymore, I dodge in between buildings. Tall, grey stone towers over me. All the buildings have similar features in this area. This must be campus. But where could Stone be? This is a hopeless effort. Sure, the potential of my talent is impeccable, but what good does it do me in a world alone? Where are you, Stone?

I plop down under a tree. There is a fancy estate in the distance and a perfume in the air. I can’t see what type of flower nor does my nose know the difference between such frivolous things, but there are certainly flowers blooming near me. A large garden of flowers with how strong the aroma is. Not a bad place to sulk in my failure. Better than the stench of Tombtrough.

The campus is quiet. Only the sound of the nightlife is present, which is abysmal amidst the city. Only the wind moves about, dancing on the air, careless about the world around it. Even the crickets are asleep.

Then I hear a distant chuckle. Maintaining my soft feet, I sweep closer to the sound. A girl’s voice speaks with delicacy and assertive words. Sweet, yet demanding. It’s coming from inside the small cottage I huddle against. I’d brush it off as just a girl, but it sounds like Astor, so I press tight against the wall and listen. I never did get an opportunity to hear her side of the story. Why she’s here. How she’s involved with the Taoiseach. Whether her words lead me to Stone or not is irrelevant. Anything I can learn about that deviant bitch ought to benefit me. For all I know, she was in it from the beginning. She was the mastermind that wooed us into submission and secured the mark until the assassin was ready to take aim. Except Ellia did worse than kill me. She captured me and dragged me deep within the darkest shadows. She pulled me into Susy’s four hells. And by the end of our journey, I was freely marching behind her. No. I’m wrong. It wasn’t Astor. It wasn’t Ellia. This was all my choice. I chose the shadows. I had choices the entire way. Nobody is holding me captive.

I lower