Forsake Not the Gods: Book Two of The Wells of the Worlds by Robert Mullin

Author:Robert Mullin [Mullin, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Final Thorn Publishing
Published: 2022-11-12T07:00:00+00:00

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Once, on the outside, Siaran had watched the rebirth of a flittermoth from its cocoon. For hours it had struggled, pushing its body through a tiny rent in the green shell. At last it emerged, its lovely fuzzed wings mimicking the eyes of a night owl. For some time it simply sat on the branch, its wings slowly moving up and down, drying in the air.

Then it took flight, casting off its old self, becoming something new and free. It landed on her arm.

“No!” she shouted, but it was no use. The insect slumped, its tiny legs going limp, its wings withering. Nothing that small had a strong enough will to withstand the leeching touch of the Reamar. It slid off her arm and twirled to the ground.

She forced herself to move on before the tree she sat under started to die, too. At least in the city she stood a chance of not killing everything she touched. And she could warn away this Dreaded One, whoever that was, who so consumed the Reamar’s thoughts ever since Lord Réus had his vision.

She had not been welcomed, but that was to be expected. Most of the denizens of Caileen did not worship the Reamar, so when they realized what she was, they viewed her as a monster come to disrupt their peace. After enough attempts on her life, it had taken everything within her not to prove them right.

But she craved peace even more than they did.

Here, in the green-misted bowels of Darkhorn Fell, there was no way of telling day from night, nor how much time had passed. The Reamar perceived time differently from mortals anyway, but she missed the sun and stars. She and Esden took turns watching each other sleep. Though the Harvesters and wraiths hadn’t bothered them for a while, sleeping in shifts was the only way to assure they would not be caught unawares. A handful of others shared the chamber with them; they went out in groups for any food that might have been provided, and then made their way back here. Siaran tried to talk to them, but they were too far gone. Every now and again, one simply went missing, and the others scarcely seemed to notice. Trapped, neither living nor dying, but merely extending consciousness until the will faded… It would be easier to allow herself to be taken, one way or another. To live as a parasite or to die as prey… it all began to sound equally appealing.

Something Siaran should not have been able to feel jolted her into full consciousness. She sat up and stared out into the misty darkness.

“Aric?”

Esden sat up. “What’s wrong?”

Siaran ignored the boy. Aric? Aric, where are you?

His puzzlement drifted through her spirit, but so did the sense of Reamar. It was difficult, in the heart of Darkhorn Fell, not to feel the taint, but this was specifically linked to him. Had he somehow connected with Ulora again? She frowned. Don’t give in. Don’t waste the opportunity granted you.

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