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

“Don’t fucking touch anything.” Ellia glares at me. Then, she raises an open palm and leaves it hovering over the wood as if touching the tower would cause death. She investigates it prior to pressing her hand on a specific location at the base of the tree. Roots retract with the soft sound of grinding wood as a portal appears to our left.

What? How did she do that?

She tugs on my tunic and insists we enter without delay. “Don’t touch anything,” she reinforces.

I hardly pay any mind to her warning, though. I casually brush my fingers along the wood after walking through the doorway, curious if they’re normal tree roots or if there’s something special about them that allowed her to create a doorway. The entrance starts closing inward just as Ellia enters behind Persia.

I crouch low and run. Persia is right on my heels. The long corridor, maybe twenty paces across, curls in like snakes tightening around their prey. It grows too small to sprint, but the exit is close. I force my legs to keep moving. Long, low strides. With a momentous leap, I lurch forward and find my way through the wall before it devours me. Scrambling on the ground, I look back. Persia’s head pops out of the tunnel, then her front paws reach through and pull her to freedom. Ellia is gone.

Unknowing what to do, I stare at the wall of roots. The black cat sits next to me and joins in with my staring. What now? Did she get eaten by roots? The various shades of brown have a subtle change in color. They grow darker where the portal was until its nearly black. Ellia bursts through the black rot. She’s covered head to toe in the grueling slop. Her arm snaps up, flinging some rot, and firmly points in the direction we’re to head.

Her emotion is concealed behind the black mess on her face, but it can’t be happy. I spring to my feet and start marching. Suddenly, a sharp sting slaps the back of my head. My brow tightens inward. I stop and look at her.

“I said don’t fucking touch anything. I’m tempted to cut off that other hand of yours, but one handicaps you enough. None, and you’d be fucking worthless. I’m not going to be able to fix that now that it’s rotten. Go.” Her hand snaps up again. I flinch, but she only points.

Ellia looks down on me with disappointment. It’s a common occurrence since the day I attempted to drop that evergreen—the day Astor fell from our lives forever. Though…I can’t help but feel ashamed for disappointing her. Why? She’s a villain. She’s as evil as they come. But her strength and expectations push me harder. I want to please her even though she’s my captor. I’ve never had that with Stone or Goose, or even my parents when they were still… alive. Mom. Where have you been? I miss you.

I spin around and trudge forward, gripping my fists into tight balls. Both of them. Until I remember one is missing. My fingers graze over my nub to reassure myself it’s not there. The phantom of my hand lingers.

Being on the Taoiseach’s grounds stirs emotion and wonder regarding the truth behind my parents’ death. Stone has never given me an honest answer. He always dodges the questions as if I would forget I once had parents. Ellia would give me the truth of it. She wouldn’t hold me back from the pain. She would let me take it and suffer the consequences. But I doubt she knows any more than I do. It would be nice to know the truth. Unfortunately, now I’ll probably never see my brother again or hear the real story. It would be impossible for him to find me in the compounds of the Martelli Manor, and I doubt I’ll ever escape these impenetrable walls after seeing Ellia’s narrow escape.

Ellia leads the way through the grounds to Harris Martelli’s mansion. She keeps to the shadows, of course, creeping along the wall, ducking behind bushes and trees so we aren’t seen by any of the patrolling guards. Some would conclude she’s allergic to the sun.

The fortification guarding the estate illustrated grandeur and an ancient impenetrable strength. As we near the Taoiseach’s home, I find it to be even more marvelous in an unusual way. Power, elegance, fear, and fascination are all words that come to mind when staring up at his grand manor.

The home is comprised primarily of lapped ironwood slats. My father, being the Architect of Parliament, knew all about commerce and the power ironwood wields within our society. Ironwood is incredibly heavy and incomparably resilient, causing its value to soar above all other organics. The Taoiseach’s home being wrapped in the prestigious material demonstrates not only the physical dominance of the structure itself but the Taoiseach’s power over the market and the commodities in Azure. It’s typically used for the bones of the structure, not embellishment.

Straight lines, clean cuts, and modern finishes in the waking light claim elegance. It looks as though a scholar with the demand of perfection lives here, and it makes a statement about The Taoiseach’s expectations.

Harris Martelli’s personal touch is what draws out the fear. The home has a sadness about it with limited lighting washing over an exterior dark in color, which presents despair all by itself. But to further enhance that despair, there are gardens of gloom surrounding it. Their malicious auras represent death and toxins. Not to the Dihkai race, however, or the House of Martelli. Mushrooms represent everything that are Dihkai—thriving from decay. The shroom is the insignia of our race.  The Hiberneyts have their barren maple. The Lahyf have their raindrop. The Sprhowts have their blazing sun. And we, the Dihkai, get a dreadful