Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
She’s dead.
They’re all dead.
“Oh, my God.” My hand flies up to my mouth. “Nysta!” I look around again, feeling sick.
Because she’s gone too.
And she wasn’t even guilty of anything. I mean, maybe none of these monsters were guilty of anything, how the hell would I know? But Nysta! All she did was get a little bitchy with us and I sentenced her to death for it.
I want to leave. Immediately. I want to go back into the tomb, leave this shadow world behind, and just… escape. Pell was right. Tomas was right. Saving people is stupid. I can’t save anyone. I’m not in charge of any of this. I’m just a frickin’ girl with an imaginary talking bird who stumbled into a mental condition and never fell back out.
That’s it. That’s all this is. I’m just crazy.
I have to be.
Because if I’m not…
I can’t even finish the thought.
And what will I tell Tarq? Sorry I killed the love of your life? That’s gonna go over well. Especially when Pell is going to use Nysta to lure Tarq back so we can hand him over to that fucking Eros.
We’re the worst.
We failed.
At everything.
There is not one good thing left about any of this and we just need to accept our defeat and slink away though a door like a bunch of fuckin’ cowards and then live the rest of our lives in shame.
I take one last look at the remnants of my beautiful sanctuary and then I turn—
But as I turn, I see a figure off in the distance, near the back entrance of what’s left of the cathedral.
“Nysta?” I whisper it. It doesn’t really look like Nysta. But it’s definitely not Callistina. No antlers. And those fuckers were spectacular.
I’m just about to call out again, louder this time, when the woman slips through the ruins of a door and goes inside.
I sigh. Now what? Follow her? Or continue on my path of shame?
Decisions, decisions. But what can I do? I glance over at the entrance to Pell’s tomb, then throw up my hands and begin walking towards the cathedral.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - PELL
For a moment, I just stand in place, looking around, trying to make sense of things. This door should lead to the palace bakery. At least, that’s where it took us when Pie made it.
But this is not the bakery.
Hell, this isn’t even a palace.
It’s a ruin.
I blink, then shake my head, trying to force it all to make sense. But all I end up doing is muttering, “What the fuck is this?”
I can’t even step forward across the threshold of the door because there is so much debris. I have to actually climb out, clawing my way up the side of a fallen column that is massive in scale.
When I get to the top, I stand up and just look around.
It’s… a wasteland.
I don’t know what Vinca looks like. I came here twice and both times I was inside of a building. But Pie did describe a river to me when I asked her about it a few weeks ago. A massive river filled with barges and houseboats that was flanked on both sides by wide walking streets.
And while there isn’t a river here, there is a deep and winding dent in the ground where one might’ve been a long time ago.
I slowly turn in a circle, taking it all in. Not wanting to believe my eyes, but unable to conjure up a big enough lie to convince myself that I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.
Vinca has been destroyed. And from the looks of it, it happened a long time ago.
I cup my hands around my mouth and with all the power of my voice, I yell, “Tarq!”
The rumble disturbs the ruins, making them shift and move. But, of course, no one answers back.
Still, I yell it again. Louder this time. With even more power. “Tarq!”
And again, the ruins shift, this time revealing the remnants of a doorway off to my right. Standing alone in the middle of a space that’s almost cleared of debris.
I squint at it. Because I recognize it. It’s the door to the throne room where I made Tarq the king.
The spelling comes back to me now, and I let out a breath.
I take the power of this ring. My best friend Tarq is now the king.
Even I have to admit, what a stupid fucking spell. It’s got no power at all. In fact, now that I think about—and now that I understand a little more about spelling—it wasn’t the spell at all that did that magic.
It was me and my voice.
I keep turning in a circle, trying to imagine what happened here.
There was a war, obviously. I’ve been through enough hallway war zones to recognize what I’m seeing. And that’s definitely what this is.