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

A narrator booms in a great voice from the shadows beyond the screen. He starts with a prelude to set the tone of the drama about to unfold. It is a warrior’s tale. The story of the Three Season War, one of the Legends of the Dark. It is the most bold and passionate of the legends that originated from the dark ages. A time with no history, no religion, and no god. Only man. A time when man thought himself god. And gods need not record their lives for they will live forever. So, the only history to escape the dark ages was by the tongue of man. And everyone knows how reliable of a resource the tongue of man is. Regardless, the Legends of the Dark are remarkable stories, and this one is my favorite. To see it on the silver screen… Jay would love to be here.

“There was a young lad,” the narrator calls out, “not yet a man, but more than an innocent boy, from the northwestern region of Alta Silvae. Moritus Feris was his name, The Fierce Decayer. At the time his tale began, he was known as Mori the Gory, a disfigured and mistreated soul, and his story began on a night of bloodshed and horror. At the hour of the demon, the head of the Kukri Guild, an assemblage of trained Sprhowt assassins, lay siege to the town of Hedgestone—the town where Mori and his kin resided.

“The assassins crept into the village more silent than a bird on the wind.” Dark figures manifest on the stage. The narrator continues. “For most of the citizens of the village, they go quiet and peaceful into the clutches of the grim, but not all. That…was not the fate…for Mori the Gory…”

And the show begins.

Just then, I see her. How could it be? How could Jaymes have made her way to Redcliffe Village? Was she not kidnapped by the Taoiseach? Does that mean Stone is headed to his own execution without reason?

She has short, brunette, unkempt hair and a petite figure. She carries her typical demeanor that screams You have no power over me! Her attire plays a part in it, as it’s not of a trending or traditional style, but rather outlandish, and derives from her own personal taste—spirited. She dons unusually short, brown trousers, which barely cover her buttocks, with bright-colored strings of cloth dangling loosely from the belt line. Her light-green tunic is nothing unusual aside from being sleeveless with frayed edges. And in her hair are strands of brightly colored ribbons, contrasting the dark features she carries. I’ve never witnessed such flashy clothing on her, but it fits her personality perfectly. It demands attention. It shouts Jaymes.

I wonder how she made it here. Maybe Stone knows of this. And where is that thief who stole her from our company? So many questions, but it’s no surprise to find her mesmerized and lost in front of the silver screen. I gesture to Graytu I’ll return shortly, and approach her nonchalantly. Maybe she’ll think I came here intentionally, looking for her. I’ll be her hero.

I move to tap her shoulder but hesitate. I withdraw my hand. “Jay?” She turns around, and my excitement falters immediately. Her nose, lips, cheekbones, dark features, physique, and everything about her are so familiar. All except for her evergreen eyes. Jaymes’s are a beautiful amber and are unrivaled —not that this girl doesn’t have beautiful eyes—but Jaymes’s have an unmistakable radiance about them. Plus, this girl’s features are noticeably more childlike. She’s not Jaymes.

“Excuse me!” Her brow crinkles, and a finger jabs me in the chest. ”You’re disrupting the show.”

“My apologies. I thought you were…a girl.” I trail off, realizing too late my response might be offensive.

“What do you mean?” she asks, raising her voice. “Are you saying I’m not a girl? That I don’t meet your standards? That I don’t demand the attention pretty girls do? You’re twice my age anyhow, you pervert!”

“That…uh…that’s not what I said at all.” I stammer, caught off guard by the rather immature and outright offensive response. In no way did my comment deserve such a slandering. Who is this bold girl?

She looks at me with pursed lips and a gaze so sharp it could lop my head off with one fell swoop.

I gather my courage and respond with a more brash response. It’s apparent this young girl would talk down to the highest of Advocates or even the Taoiseach himself had she the opportunity. She has flame, I give her that.

“I lost someone… Someone close to me. Your resemblance to her is uncanny and I merely thought my search had come to an end.”

“Well, I’m not the girl you’re looking for,” she replies. “Now please, I’d like to enjoy the show. And as a guest, you ought to do the same out of respect for those being so generous to you.” She turns and faces the entertainment.

To be reprimanded by such a young girl. Embarrassing. It doesn’t settle well with me.

Suddenly, drums beat to a dubstep rhythm. The deep cadence is enough to penetrate my skin down to my bones. It’s a sound that allows for no less than full attention. I forget about her disrespect and follow her example. And without regret. The silver screen is magnificent.

A brief intermission takes place while the acting guild sets up a new act. The audience buzzes again, and I take advantage of the break to confront the familiar young girl.

“My name is Goose.” I introduce myself while peering over her shoulder.

“Grouse?”

“No. What?”

She turns to face me. “Oh, you again? What is it this time?”

“I figured an apology was due, but your nasty tongue is giving me second thoughts. You lectured me on respect, yet you fail to follow your own advice. Where are your parents?”

She gives