Salt & the Sisters: The Siren's Curse 3 (The Elemental Origins Series Book 9) by A.L. Knorr

Salt & the Sisters: The Siren's Curse 3 (The Elemental Origins Series Book 9) by A.L. Knorr

Author:A.L. Knorr [Knorr, A.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Intellectually Promiscuous Press
Published: 2019-07-11T16:00:00+00:00


Fourteen

It wasn’t long after we started moving again that I felt it.

I was walking ahead of the group with Emun at my side. We’d been making our way down the broad old road in companionable silence. I put a hand on his forearm.

He stopped walking and looked at me. “What is it?”

Closing my eyes, I tuned in to a sensation that was not dissimilar to feeling your skin warm up on a hot day. It was like a heat lamp set on low was shining on only one side of my face. I opened my eyes and looked up, scanning the sky.

Emun followed my gaze. “You’re freaking me out a little, baby sister,” he said through the pale covering over his mouth, but not without humor.

The sun was to our left, and yes, it was warm. But the warm sensation was on my right and it was different––a little sharper. It was the presence of gems, it had to be. Only the gems could inspire that strange kind of heat. I began to climb over the rubble toward the crooked white pillars in the distance—the direction of the heat.

Mom, Jozef, and Antoni caught up to Emun and I heard Antoni ask where I was going.

“I’m not sure, but she’s got an idea. We should follow.” I heard Emun’s shoes scuff over the stones as he climbed to follow me.

Soon the entire party was climbing and crawling among the rubble after me. As I gained ground, a better view of Atlantis spread out before us. From here it looked like it went on forever rather than being contained to a small circular depression in a vast wasteland. To the north was a darker line on the horizon, a rough and fuzzy skyline. These were the mountains Plato had written about in his description. For centuries, all treasure-hunters and archaeologists had had to go by was the account Plato gave in his dialogues called Critias and Timaeus. The Richat Structure fit his portrayal of the ancient city exactly, but the account had long ago been relegated to the world of fiction. And yet, here the city was, under my feet.

Following the feeling of heat on my skin––which I neglected to mention in case it alarmed my mom––we arrowed slowly through Atlantis toward the white ruin.

Antoni had replaced Emun at my side, as Emun had slowed and joined Nike and Petra. I could hear the low murmur of conversation from them. Mom and Jozef traveled even more slowly as Jozef stopped to take photos and make notes in a small notebook he kept in his chest pocket.

“You seem like you know where you’re going,” Antoni commented as he crested the same boulder I had stopped on, now looking down into a slight dip in the cityscape before us.

The sun passed behind a thick blanket of clouds, and my eye was drawn to a very faint glow emanating from between a cluster of fallen pillars. They were fat and white and leaning at dangerous angles, but even from a distance I could make out the faded markings on the pillars’ tops.



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