Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
What the fuck?
I hadn’t even cut an inch into his neck before the sword began to sing even louder and it was a mournful, haunting melody.
Beautiful.
Tragic.
Otherworldly.
The kind of sound that pierced through bone and marrow, embedding itself in the heart and soul of everyone who heard it.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Some clutched their chests.
Others covered their mouths.
Slowly, I moved the blade inch by inch, cutting deeper into his flesh.
Blood welled up around the edge, rich and dark, staining the silver steel.
The mournful song of Soaring Precious only grew louder as if the sword itself grieved for what was being done.
My father’s eyes snapped open. He formed his lips into a deranged smile.
His voice came out scratchy. “H-honn-nnor.”
The word hung in the air.
Yes. Honor. You got what you always wanted. The honorable judgement of a legendary sword.
I looked at Moni and my heart warmed as she cried.
And I finally have what I always wanted. The love of a beautiful woman.
I turned back to him and pressed Soaring Precious forward.
The song crescendoed as the final cut came swift and clean.
There.
My father’s head separated from his body, falling to the blood-soaked ground with a dull thud.
Next, a geyser of crimson blood erupted from his neck, spraying high into the air.
The crowd collectively recoiled.
Still, the sword sang.
My arms ached, my chest burned, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from my father’s lifeless body before me.
It’s over. Finally over.
The song of Soaring Precious faded then ended.
Silence followed.
I let out a long breath.
Then, like the crack of thunder, applause erupted through the arena. It rolled over me in waves.
But none of it mattered.
Not the crowd.
Not their cheers.
I dropped the sword and turned to Moni.
That little gun now lay on the ground. Somewhere between the sword singing and my cutting off his head, she’d dropped it.
Sighing, I took Moni in my arms and her warmth enveloped me. “It’s over. . .”
She cried against me. “You fucking did it, baby.”
“No.” My legs began to lose balance. I did my best to keep up. “We did it.”
And then darkness swallowed me whole.
Chapter thirty-five
The Poison Within
Moni
Lei collapsed against me with his arms locked around my waist.
The force was unexpected and we both tumbled to the ground in a heap. My body cushioned his fall and I could feel the frantic beat of his heart against my chest.
I looked down at him. “Baby!”
With his eyes squeezed shut and his expression twisted in agony, he gasped for air as if each breath was a struggle.
“No. No. Baby, are you okay?” I looked up and yelled. “Help! Somebody help right now!”
Thankfully, someone roared back. “The Master Healer is coming!”
Hurry.
Meanwhile, the crows that had landed near Leo earlier began to creep closer to him.
Their eyes glinted.
Then, one bold crow hopped forward, clicking its talons against the blood-soaked ground. It let out a single sharp caw before plunging its beak into Leo's lifeless body.
I parted my lips.
Next, the others followed, descending on his corpse and tearing into his flesh. Those beaks pierced his chest and ripped his pants away.
Sickening squelches rose in the air.
Feathers flew in a frenzy, some sticking to the gore as the crows wrestled over strips of raw meat.
The only part of Leo untouched was his severed head, lying a few feet away, still staring blankly into the void. It remained pristine amidst the carnage, almost as though the crows refused to touch it.
But his body—they ravaged it.
I looked back at my baby.
These black lines appeared at his temples. They were faint etchings of ink bleeding into paper.
What the fuck is this?
The thin streaks branched outward, crawling across his golden skin like veins of liquid shadow.
They rippled.
“Oh, God.” Panic tightened my throat. “No.”
The lines crept across his high cheekbones, slicing through the curve of his jaw like jagged cracks in porcelain.
The contrast of the deep black against his ashen skin was grotesque.
I reached for his arms, desperate to see if this insanity was isolated to his face.
It wasn’t.
Dark tendrils snaked along his forearms, writhing and pulsating as if alive. The lines branched and twisted, creating nightmarish patterns that spiraled down to his hands.
His fingertips looked like they belonged to a corpse—blackened and motionless.
“Hurry the fuck up!” I traced a finger over one of the marks, to my horror, it felt hot.
“No.” I shivered. “What’s happening!”
The lines weren’t just on the surface, they had to be deeper.
I trembled. “Lei, can you hear me?”
His hands twitched as if he was fighting an invisible enemy.
I glanced back and saw an older man just entering the edge of the arena and rushing our way with four men following and holding a blue gurney.
Finally.
I got closer to Lei and swore I could hear the faintest hiss, like steam escaping from a kettle, coming from the marks.
The sound sent chills racing down my spine.
Is his heart still beating?