Shadow Dance (Book one of The Offline Series) by C. K. Andersson

Author:C. K. Andersson [Andersson, C. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: C.K. Andersson
Published: 2023-06-24T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Kailunn Sunseeker

The imposing white castle before me has my eyes searching up to the celestial sphere as it desperately reaches towards the fluffy clouds. Sunbeams find their way down through the cloud covers, giving a hint of warmth to the slightly chilly breeze that catches my strands of hair as I sit in the saddle of my mount, Daerisa.

My party of five soldiers dismount from their gryphons. One of them grabs Daerisa’s halter as she gives me a hand, helping me get down from the saddle. I caress my faithful companion across the beak and neck, speaking to her via telepathy. She makes a soft snorting sound and gently pushes her head against the palm of my hand while her bright green eyes look at me lovingly, her tail loosely wrapping around one of my thighs. She shakes her feathers in various dark and light shades of blue and iridescent white which cover most of the scales on her body, except for her claws and face. I give her a reassuring scratch on the neck, and her tail’s grip on my leg releases. My eyes journey with her briefly as she and the other gryphons leap high into the air, taking their leave on steady wings.

I glance over my shoulder and telepathically order my party to stay close to the castle walls. As their quiet, synchronised voices breathe momentarily in my head, I turn my attention to the castle guards. Their watchful eyes are fixed on me through the visors, and I stretch my back.

“I have arrived,” I announce. The strength of my voice surprises me, as I rarely use spoken words, in particular when communicating with my people.

A guard nods in welcome. “Well met, Prince Sunseeker.”

My countenance is immovable as I make my way up the stairs to the castle and a pair of guards in heavy armour allow me entry in through a massive, dark wooden door.

Since my last meeting in this kingdom a number of years ago, nothing has changed significantly. Oil paintings of various royalty throughout the times and significant personalities in the history of the humans cover the snow-white walls.

For a moment, my steps cease. My eyes explore a large painting depicting a brutal scene with bodies in the background, displaying a knight in the foreground with one of his heavy sabatons over the chest of a fallen troll. The knight points towards the sky with a heavy, bloodied sword, overlaid with gold details and a set red jewel, and in his other hand he carries the severed head of the troll. The troll’s tongue hangs out of its mouth, a grotesque display of demise. A radiant light, similar in hue to his golden, blood-spattered locks of hair, illuminates the knight from behind and from the firmament above. From the scar on his face, there is no mistaking who the celebrated hero in the painting is.

A faint grimace of disgust leaves temporary footprints on my face. The humans seem inclined to glorify violence when

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