Blood Eagle: Book One (Wrath of Origin 1) by A.D. Summer

Author:A.D. Summer [Summer, A.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-31T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The plane shrank away as Sibylla tumbled through the air, joining the swirling storm of bodies plummeting toward the earth. All around her, voices undulated in strange waves, rising and falling, drifting and twisting. They were all going to die. And they knew it.

Sibylla blinked against the frigid wind as she struggled to take in her surroundings. She saw frosted peaks, dark forests, a clear lake. She rushed through her mind for a plan. But the panic was strangling.

Why? Why would they do this to them? Why throw them from the ship only to let them fall to their deaths?

Sunlight beamed in the sky. Clouds drifted overhead. Far below, a pair of eagles soared in unison, gliding with outstretched wings. They were flying.

Was that it? Is that what the Eagles had expected the recruits to do? Fly?

Closing her eyes, she reached beneath her arms, searching for some type of clue. There, she realized, feeling a noticeable bump beneath the carbon fiber of her bodysuit. Something was there. But how to activate it? Gritting her teeth, she gave herself up to hope and shot out her arms.

The reaction was instant.

Black cloth shot out from her armpits, and her body jerked back with a snap, sailing her into a controlled glide.

The Eagles had hidden wings within the seams of their suits, sections of thick cloth that could capture the wind like baskets. Sibylla gasped as she began to soar like an eagle, enjoying the relief that eased through her body.

But the sensation was short-lived.

She was still bleeding from her wound, and the other recruits were still tumbling to their deaths. As fast as she could, she swerved into the chaotic mess of bodies and screamed for them to spread out their arms.

One after another, they followed her example, sprouting wings against the blue sky and sailing along with her.

In the distance, she could see the recruits who’d been too far away to hear her commands. They tumbled wildly over the horizon, their screams tapering off as they fell to their deaths.

Sibylla spotted a thick forest to the right. A leafless patch of trees. Their crowns were thick with snow-laden branches—thin pieces of wood that could bend against the weight of a falling body. Angling her wings, she headed in its direction.

The forest grew larger by the second. One moment, it looked like a group of bushes; the next, actual trees of hard wood. She bent at the waist, shot out her feet, and closed her eyes.

“Oh, shit!”

Branches belted her in the face. Snow punched her in the mouth. An empty nest of twigs exploded under her chin, stinging her eyes with dust. She was plunging down the tree’s throat, breaking every branch in the process. Finally, her body buckled as she slammed into a bottom branch, and her body spun around, sinking into the bed of snow beneath her.

For a while, she lay motionless, listening to the muted silence of her icy tomb. Had she survived? Was she okay? A number

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