The End of the World: Rise of the After Lord (The Primordial Engine Book 1) by H.S. Gilchrist

Author:H.S. Gilchrist [Gilchrist, H.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dystopian Sunrise Press
Published: 2024-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

The dream pulled itself over Mica’s head. Drunk on sedation, she barely felt Father Dark lift her body from the gurney and place it gently on the floor in the room’s center.

“Enter the Dream,” he’d said, and she knew exactly what he meant and how to call it. She’d spent so much of her life running away from it, but now it was as simple as closing her eyes and giving into unconsciousness to bring the dream back. And yet part of her remained aware of the real world, as if her mind had split into two pieces and existed in both places at once. Just like what had happened to her at Lady Fang’s.

The dream found her floating in the darkness and took her directly to that nightmare place, to the gateway she now knew led to the Other World.

“What now?” Mica shivered as her voice echoed in the dream world. She stood before that dreadful pair of doors, staring at the engraving of a burning city atop of a mound of twisted, grimacing bodies, and a sky filled with winged monstrosities: great serpents with six feathered wings apiece. The doors parted silently and beckoned her forward into the profane room beyond.

On the cold steel floor back in the operating room, her body jerked as if possessed by electricity. A sucking sensation filled the surrounding space, and she felt a tug on something inside her—was this what Animkii called a soul?—pulling her past the portal and into that terrible Other World. The blood running through her veins grew cold as she clawed feebly at the ground, leaving trails of black blood on the floor. If she could’ve moved, she would’ve run.

“Don’t fight it,” Father Dark said. “Remember Samiel.”

Bracing herself with the hope she could still save Sam, she let go of her defiance.

Mica moved forward, out of her own dream and into the Other World, her fingers clenched into fists at her sides, black blood from her real-world wounds dripping down her knuckles as she fought the terror in her heart. She ordered herself to keep moving, her teeth chattering from fear and cold. The light passing through the stained glass washed her in crimson and gold, but the warmth of color couldn’t shield her from the chill that spilled out from the unholy hall.

The hall looked the same as when she’d last left it, the towering six-winged effigy and the unmoving body at its feet dominating the front, giving it the air of a macabre throne room. That nightmare presence was stronger now than she remembered it, so heavy in the air she felt herself straining to breathe, or maybe it was the panic gathering in her chest that made it feel that way.

A phantom arm drew her toward the altar. “Step forward, Mica Stone.” Just the sound of that sinister, serpentine voice lowered the temperature in the room.

This was the voice that had ordered her to kill the cultists back in Under-Zeta. She exhaled a shaky

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