Dawnbreaker: Legends of the Duskwalker - Book 3 by Posey Jay

Author:Posey, Jay
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-85766-449-5
Publisher: Watkins Media
Published: 2015-08-04T04:00:00+00:00

TWENTY

Wren lay on his narrow bed covered by a thin blanket, staring up at the slender ray of orange light that cleanly divided the gloom that clung to the ceiling. The day before, he’d quickly discovered that regardless of the time, switching off the lights in his room plunged him into an immediate and total darkness. There were no windows, no devices with status lights, not even cracks around the door. It made everything feel too close, reminded him too much of times past that had terrified him, and still maintained the power to do so. He’d settled on leaving the bathroom light on with the door cracked, though it made him feel supremely childish. He knew there were no monsters under the bed. But he knew too there were demons in his mind, and that sliver of light seemed to keep some of them at bay.

He’d slept fitfully, the deep exhaustion of the many days demanding its due yet warring against the stress and anxiety that plagued his every thought. It’d created the same sensation that a high fever would; body demanding sleep, but gaining no rest from it. For now, he was floating in a wired equilibrium. Tired, but not sleepy. Restless, but too weary to move. He checked the time; still an hour and a half before sunrise.

Naturally his thoughts turned towards his mother, as they often did. Despite having heard nothing from her in over a week, he felt more confident now that she was out there somewhere, alive. Mama was a survivor. He’d seen it for himself firsthand. And having witnessed how practiced she’d been in it, he knew she always had been, even before he’d been born. But today, he tried to drive his thoughts elsewhere. That life was behind him now, at least for the duration of his training.

His training. He wondered what lay ahead of him under the old man’s instruction. The old man. Foe. Maybe he’d meant it as a joke, but Wren couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it. It seemed too true, too likely that it really did capture the old man’s intentions. To train Wren not as a patient friend, but rather as a determined enemy.

A sliding sound from the door interrupted his thoughts, the well-oiled mechanicals shifting as someone opened it. The door swung slowly open, cutting the narrow beam of light from the bathroom. It was dark in the hall beyond, so Wren couldn’t make out who it was entering his room, but the possibilities were pretty limited. After the door closed, a figure glided silently forward, likewise tripping the orange ray, and Wren saw his features in a rapid series of slivers.

“Hi, Haiku,” Wren said. The man stopped moving, apparently surprised by Wren’s voice.

“Hello, Wren,” Haiku said quietly. “Did you sleep?”

“A little.”

“Anxious?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s understandable. You’ll sleep well tonight, though,” Haiku said, and Wren could hear the smile in his words. “Assuming you’re still intent on going forward.”

“I am,” Wren said.

“Then Father’s waiting for you.”

“Oh. Already?”

“Yes. The days are going to be long, Wren.

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