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)
Tonight, surrounding the arena, fire torches glimmered, placing dancing shadows against the already gathering crowd.
Beside the ring, a breathtaking waterfall cascaded. Its clear waters were rumored to possess healing properties. Fighters often submerged their injuries in its depths, trusting it to quicken their recovery.
Guarding the Arena of Echoes, imposing stone statues of mythical creatures stood watch. A dragon with emerald eyes coiled around one corner, while a phoenix with ruby eyes spread its carved wings. Nearby, a tiger crouched, staring at a graceful crane.
So close.
With a final spin mid-air, I angled myself towards the arena entrance and seconds later landed hard.
The ground beneath me trembled with the impact.
My knees buckled, but I managed to regain my footing.
The crowd roared in response, ready to see a fight.
I straightened.
There my father stood in the center of the Arena of Echoes.
But that wasn’t the problem.
What is that?
He stood next to. . .
God no!
My body stiffened as horror began to overtake me.
N-noooooooo!
Chapter twenty-nine
When Love Meets War
Lei
My father had done the unthinkable.
I closed my eyes.
The air was cold, biting against my sweat-soaked skin as I stood at the edge of the Arena of Echoes.
The descent had drained me.
Every muscle in my body screamed for rest but there was no room for weakness.
Not here.
Not now.
My chest heaved as I caught my breath with Soaring Precious still clutched tightly in my hand.
Go ahead and deal with it.
I opened my eyes.
And I saw her.
Chanel.
Or what was left of her.
Slowly, I walked forward getting closer to the grotesque display my father had orchestrated.
The air carried the sickly-sweet stench of decay that clawed at my nostrils and threatened to choke me. It was a smell I’d encountered before, in the aftermath of battles and executions, but this was different.
This was personal.
Chanel’s once radiant brown skin had turned a ghastly dark gray, cracked like the parched earth after a drought. Pieces of that rotted flesh had peeled away, exposing the raw, desiccated insides beneath.
Her hair—once thick, long waves that I’d dreamed of running my fingers through—was gone, leaving patches of bare, mottled scalp and flesh.
Her full lips—now shriveled and receded—revealed rotten teeth that grinned grotesquely in death.
At her sides, her fingers, curled inward like the brittle claws of some long-dead creature unearthed from the ground.
My God. What the fuck is wrong with him?
She was naked.
I stopped ten feet away from her, unable to get any closer.
The indignity of it hit me like a blow to the chest. Not that her body—ruined as it was—could stir desire, but the disrespect in the act was undeniable. My father had reduced Chanel, a woman who had once commanded rooms and controlled the West, to nothing more than a prop in his twisted game.
Do you even know how to fight with honor anymore?
Rage bubbled beneath my exhaustion.
Her head lolled to the side. Her lifeless eyes stared at nothing yet still pierced through me.
Pleading.
Accusing.
So close, the stench of decay clung to the air like an unwelcome ghost. It was everywhere, inescapable, wrapping itself around me as I stood motionless, staring at Chanel’s ruined form.
But the longer I stood there, the less the smell seemed to matter.
The less she even seemed to matter.
This isn’t Chanel.
Chanel had been gone for a long time.
Don’t just get angry and act. That’s exactly what he wants you to do. Instead. . .wait and think.
I looked at the situation deeper.
Okay.
This display of her naked dead body in front of the East was meant to be a mockery. A cruel imitation of the woman Chanel once was, crafted by my father who thrived on manipulation and control.
I forced my breathing to be steady.
Alright. Now go further. What else?
My father had done this for a reason—to get in my head.
To make me falter.
He thought this would shatter me, would crack my resolve and leave me vulnerable.
But he was wrong.
In the end, Chanel’s body wasn’t here because of him.
It was because of me.
I clenched my jaw as that realization hit my chest with brutal clarity.
I was the one who had taken Chanel’s body. Stolen it like some selfish, grieving thief, believing I could somehow protect her, even in death. I’d let my guilt and anger blind me, and in doing so, I’d given my sister Yan—and now my father—the perfect weapon to use against me.
I stared at Chanel’s lifeless form, the cracks in her skin, the emptiness in her eyes, and felt something shift inside me.
For the first time since I’d seen her, there was no surge of anger, no desperate wave of guilt.
Just. . .absolute acceptance.
Chanel wasn’t here anymore. Not in any way that mattered. She had died long ago, her vibrant light extinguished by the same man who stood across from me now.
Her death wasn’t my fault.
It never had been.
It was his.
My father had killed her. He’d taken her from me just like he’d taken everything else. And no amount of my guilt or rage would bring her back.