Mask of the Eternal Moon: A Sword & Sorcery Epic Fantasy Adventure (Legends of Elessia - Shadows Over Garm: Book 2) by Luís Falcão de Magalhães

Author:Luís Falcão de Magalhães
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Legends of Elessia
Published: 2022-09-23T04:00:00+00:00

— Donata —

Donata woke up to darkness. Breathing was hard. Rough burlap covered her face.

She tried to remember. How had she gotten here? Where was here? She had been running through the archives, and then… she fell through the darkness. It had been like a dream: the stone floor melted beneath her feet, and she plunged into a cold void thick as soup. It invaded her mouth and nostrils, strangling her, and then… then she woke up. Here. To a much less alien, yet still scary, darkness.

She tried flexing her fingers. They worked.

Good.

Her hands, not so much. They were bound behind her back. Her legs were sore, but she thought she could move them…

“She’s waking up.”

Someone hit Donata hard on her right leg. She let out a cry into the burlap.

“Pull her up. I would talk to her,” said a sultry female voice.

That voice… Oh, no.

They gripped Donata by the arms and hoisted her up to a standing position. Her legs were shaky, which earned her the sting of a blade’s flat against her right thigh. She yelped.

“Stand up and no kicking, girl, or you’ll be sorry,” a man said.

She felt the coarse burlap brush her skin and hair; just like that, it was off. She blinked to adjust to the light, and it didn’t take long; there wasn’t much of it. Yellow flames danced upon stone braziers on the terrace, framing two silhouettes. One exuded power and confidence; the other, equally powerful, but also… Malevolent.

“How nice to see you again, little girl,” Memphala said, caressing the red scarf covering her neck. “I have been thinking of you… often.”

Donata kept quiet. She tried to feel the comforting cold of the silver amulet against her skin, but it was in vain. They had removed it.

“This time,” the vampire continued, “you will be useful to me.”

Donata’s expression must have betrayed her thoughts because the man standing beside Memphala—a tall, dark man, whose fine linens seemed to glow in the torchlight—laughed out almost as soon as the vampire had spoken.

“She’s not convinced, milady! The little one bears little love for you, it seems!”

“I don’t need her love; her body will suffice,” she told him before turning back to Donata. “Look over there, little priestess.”

The vampire sorceress pointed to a shiny object floating between two statues. Donata squinted to get a better look. It was… A mask? A broken mask.

“You will get that for me.”

Donata focused on the glow. She knew that glow! She could feel the power, the caress of the silvery moon, the telltale sign of her goddess. Only then did she realize: one statue represented her lady, the Lady of the Pines. The mask… her lady’s power protected it.

“No,” she said.

The man holding Donata pulled her head back, making her lose her balance and stumble to the floor. He dragged her by the hair as she kicked and screamed, then threw her in front of a group of black-clad men and women. He kicked her once in the stomach, and bile rose to her throat, but she couldn’t quite vomit.

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