Blood Immortal by Paul Centeno

Author:Paul Centeno [Centeno, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

FORGOTTEN TUNDRA

Utter darkness surrounded Aarian, making him feel blind. No matter how hard he tried to see, it was pitch-black. Was he standing on solid ground, drifting deep within a sea, or floating in the air? Whispers of an unknown tongue filled his ears, the tenor and tone diabolical. He then smelled charred flesh. The dark place where he resided started to light up. Yet this wasn’t due to the sun’s radiance. Rather, what illuminated the realm was an inferno that rapidly approached and enveloped him.

Excruciating pain was only the beginning of Aarian’s torment. He screamed horrifically with third-degree burns throughout his body, his searing flesh melting like wax. All that remained of him was a scorched skeleton. Then the tormenting twinges somehow dissipated. As abruptly as the agony had embraced him, it faded, leaving him numb and in shock. At that moment, Aarian was able to see with eyes of fire. Izabaldo stood before him in a peninsula of hellfire—seventeen feet tall, wings expanding, and horns bigger than the prince’s body.

“You belong to me,” said Izabaldo, his laughter booming.

His thunderclap-like cackle was deafening to Aarian who closed his burning-red eyes. He screamed at the top of his lungs, resenting this nightmarish experience that felt so damned real to him. His shrilling scream shifted, becoming an outcry of anguish. He then knelt down, his bones cracking. Aarian desperately wanted Izabaldo to end his miserable existence. He knew that he’d done terrible things and didn’t deserve to be granted a soul by the immortal Nine, but he could no longer bear such agony.

Moments later, a blizzard stirred. The coldness of death gripped him, dousing the flames within and around him. Izabaldo snorted, diminishing into the shadows as a gentle light approached the prince. Fatigued and defeated, Aarian felt hopeless despite Izabaldo withdrawing. When the light embraced him, he somehow felt a glimmer of hope. It soon became ice-cold; from one extreme to the next. Though shivering madly, he preferred the freezing weather.

Upon accepting the icy climate, he awakened from his nightmarish coma, finding himself lying in an arctic tundra. Behind him lay a shoreline overlooking a partially frozen ocean littered with glaciers and gargantuan fossils of a ten-headed hydra on which hoarfrost grew. He also spotted grisly carvings along the thick bones due to monstrous claws. His brow furrowing at the brutal marks, he wondered what kind of fiend could do such a thing. But more bizarre to him was his present location.

Turning to gaze at the stark continent, he saw a rocky permafrost landscape consisting of shrubs, moss, and lichens. Massive icecaps stood to the west, fjords lay to the east, and snowy mountains were in the far distance up north. He shuddered from a gust of freezing wind, starting to apprehend that this was most certainly not his intended destination.

“This can’t be right,” he said while staring at the remote mountains, incredulity overwhelming him. “How did I end up in Niratredam?”

Looking back, he observed the coast carefully. This time he ignored the hydra’s carcass, trying to locate any signs of wreckage.

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