Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
There were no stories, no relics, no clues about where I’d come from, only the cold, impersonal record of the system.
My foster parents hadn't bothered to ask and few seemed to care about me beyond what was necessary. I’d been left to forge my own identity in a world that wouldn’t notice if I stopped existing. Now, here on this island of darkness and power, where bloodlines mattered more than anything, my existence was something to be revered.
Anya had once joked about me being a long-lost heir, but now I couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to her jests.
What if something in my past had been the reason I wound up here, in this place I wanted no part of? I was hesitant to dig deeper into this. If it were true, what would that mean for me? For Anya, who had been dragged into this just like I was?
From the very beginning, the obvious course of action was to escape, to find a way out for both of us. The deeper I was immersed in the Isle and its ruler, the more dangerous that path became.
The alternative, however grim, was becoming clearer--staying by Alexander’s side. It wasn’t a choice in the truest sense; it was survival. It also might’ve been the only way to keep Anya safe, and myself. I straightened in my seat as the car passed through the iron gates, sealing off the service road to the outside world. The sky had deepened into a heavy, inky black by now, casting an even darker shadow over the landscape. Stygian Chapel loomed ahead, its silhouette both grand and ominous against the night, its spires reaching up like claws. The air around it seemed to pulse with an eerie energy, a stark reminder of the power this place held.
As we approached, a stream of people moved toward the Chapel, their faces obscured by the usual elaborate demonic masks. The sight of their concealed expressions always added to the surreal and unsettling atmosphere. Ambrose parked the car and stepped out swiftly, moving to open my door.
As soon as the cool night air hit me, a wave of apprehension joined it, the weight of unseen eyes prickling against my skin. I could feel them, all watching, waiting. Stepping out, I forced myself to stand tall, pushing away the unease creeping up my spine. I focused on Ambrose, his silent presence a brief source of comfort as he offered his arm and guided me toward the towering entrance of the Chapel. I glanced up at the building, its massive, gothic structure pressing down on me as I braced myself for whatever I’d witness beyond its doors that evening.
Inside, the low hum of whispered conversations, punctuated by soft footsteps, filled the space as Isle natives filed into the main room. As Ambrose and I moved through the hallway away from them, a heavily pregnant woman passed by, her belly round and prominent beneath her flowing gown. A man, tender and protective, held her close as they made their way toward the main chamber.
I almost did a double-take. For as heavily implied as continuing bloodlines was, she was only the second expectant mother I’d seen since arriving on the Isle. We reached a grand staircase, its polished steps leading upward. Ambrose’s steady pace never wavered as we ascended, leaving behind the murmur of voices from the crowd below. At the top, Matron Seraphine awaited us, wearing a smile the same smile that seemed too serene for the setting. Ambrose halted beside me; his formal duty complete.
“This is where I leave you,” he said softly, bowing slightly. “I’ll join the others now.”
A flicker of unease tugged at me as he turned and disappeared down the stairs. I wasn’t sure why. The last few times I’d attended class, to be educated as Esther put it, I had been escorted by a masked disciple who never spoke a word. Watching Ambrose walk away had a growing isolation settle over me.
I didn’t know where this was coming from. It had been the same with Verity.
“How are you this evening?” Seraphine asked, her tone bright and welcoming as she gestured for me to follow her down the narrow hallway. Her almond-shaped eyes held a glimmer of excitement as if anticipating the night ahead. Her dark hair pulled back into an elegant twist, left her sharp features fully exposed, making it clear she was someone not to be underestimated.
“I’m fine. And you?” I responded; my voice was more composed than I felt.
"Looking forward to what's ahead.”
The excitement in her voice was barely contained. It hadn’t been there for any of the classes I attended. That was a sure sign I was going to hate every minute of whatever this service consisted of. We passed several closed doors, each one ornate and carved with intricate symbols.