The Great Beyond- the Vile Fate by K. M. McGuire

Author:K. M. McGuire [McGuire, K. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-07T16:00:00+00:00

Voden gasped, his lungs pulling for the sanctity of the air. His eyes flailed open, still flashing with the visions of the raging pit, when he saw the downcast head of Andar, his tears dripping onto Voden’s shirt.

“Kintza! He’s coming!” he shouted, the syllables falling over top of one another, coming out in a stumbling mess of sound. Andar’s hands pressed against his shoulders, shocked by the sudden vitality that erupted from Voden.

“Voden! Thank Beyond!” Andar cried, grabbing Voden in a quick embrace.

“Where’s Kintza?” Voden said, trying to peer around Andar. The air was drafty, almost moist; a breath of cold ran through the stagnant din. “Where are we?”

“Kintza?” Andar shook his head but gave Voden a curious look. “I’m not sure. There was no one with you except me. You saw Kintza?” Andar asked, furrowing his brow. Voden nodded firmly. “No, that idol is a myth, Voden. Even so, if he was real, Eurruk chained him in the Collapsing Plane during the battle of Nul’ Sceza. I don’t know how you haven’t heard that story. I imagine those spores gave you those hallucinations.”

Voden bit his lip. It sounded vaguely familiar, at least the name Eurruk did. One of the great prophets of old who had achieved marvels even the most well studied Syphon users would have feared.

“Well, I didn’t have any visions, just everything was…well extra. I saw you stray away from Yael. She didn’t seem to really understand what was going on, so I followed you up the stairs. You were holding that damnable cube and wouldn’t hear a word I said. You were in…” He paused, sucking in air while he tried to find the words. “You were in some kind of trance. Muttering to yourself. I couldn’t stop you. You found a door.” Andar stopped.

Voden felt a trickling skim along his back, and his eyes adjusted to the somber cradle of the looming trees around him. The trees, though ancient, made no groan, as though they were breathlessly watching the boys, and their silent, decrepit vigil waited to feed on their secrets. Andar looked down to the ground beside Voden. He fumbled with something a moment and lifted the red cube from the dusty earth.

“I thought you got rid of this.” His voice was sharp with accusations.

“I…I…meant to,” Voden mumbled.

“Well, it opened the door to… here,” Andar huffed, lifting himself to his feet, holding the artifact, “but the spark inside is gone. I don’t know how to open it again.”

Voden urged his aching bones to move, examining the door behind them. It was tall, shrouded by the gnarled vegetation that crept in the forest with scaly thorns thicker than his leg, curled in all directions, gesticulating for him to come within their reach. The wall that was under the bramble was made of shale, managing to hold together and giving the appearance—from the small segments that happened to not be covered by woody briars—of pages in a book swollen with moisture. The stone door was pocked

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