Page 19 of The Book of Legends
The door slams open. A gust of cold air rushes in, killing the warmth. The flames die instantly.
My eyes pop open when I hear a loud boom that makes the walls shake. The singing stops.
A large, cloaked figure looms over me, and then a large blade moves with precision in my peripheral. “Move,” he growls, and it’s like everything obeys.
Shadows curl, hungry tendrils freezing me in place.
Eryndor’s eyes widen, his lips parting in shock. The smell of copper singes my nose. A loud scream escapes my throat. I hit the ground hard on my knees.
“You’re a fool,” he says coldly. “And in my way.”
A pulse of dark energy ripples from him, knocking me back. Not hard, but enough to show me one thing: he could kill me.
I’m floating in the air, but the room continues to spin. I still can’t feel my limbs. I turn my head, and in a moment of clarity, the large, cloaked figure raises a blade in the air; a wet sound fills the room—a dull, sickening crack. Eryndor’s eyes go blank, and then in slow motion, his head falls and rolls on the wooden planks. I let out a piercing scream. His sword drips black blood from Eryndor’s corpse. Blood is spraying like a geyser as his headless body slumps forward.
“What about the girl?” a woman’s voice asks behind me as the room begins to spin again.
“Lock her up. We don’t know who or what she is,” the deep voice replies.
“What about the Spellbinder?” another voice asks.
“Burn it all,” the deep voice answers.
“Let me go,” I yell, trying to get free, fighting with all I have, but it’s no use. I can’t move my arms. “Let me go,” I repeat, my voice skinning my throat raw.
A sharp pain shoots to the back of my head, causing my eyes to roll back. The room tilts.
A shadow looms over me, colder than ice.
“I said, get her,” his deep voice commands.
I try to struggle, but my limbs won’t obey.
The world tilts.
Then—darkness.
Iwince from the sharp pain between my eyes and the cold water beating on my face, my breath hitching at the sudden sensation.
I bolt up, wiping my face frantically. “What the hell?” I sputter.
My head feels like it’s been beaten by a sledgehammer. I must have cried myself drunk after the party last night and had the weirdest dream.
“Diana,” my voice cracks. “What the fuck?” I blink rapidly, but everything around me is too sharp. The stone walls, the uneven cracks. I instinctively push up my glasses. Wait. They’re still on my face, and yet…nothing is distorted at the edges like it should be. The blur, the magnification, the shift between shadows and light.
I shake my head, dismissing the weird feeling. I’m still dreaming. That must be it. Because the alternative? Impossible.
I wipe my face and try to focus as my surroundings start to materialize. This is not my dorm room. Dark, jagged rock walls stretch around me, slick with moisture. The air is thick, stale,and reeking of damp earth, decay, and something sour like sweat and urine.
“It’s alright,” a man’s voice says calmly.
That’s not Diana’s voice.
I look over and find a very thin man. His skin is filthy, and the dirty rag for a shirt looks like a sack from a potato bag hanging off his skinny frame. He’s bone thin, with long shoulder-length hair in tangled, greasy ropes. I can’t tell if it’s dirty or gray because he is caked in filth, his face hidden behind a long, scraggly beard. His eyes are dark and hollow.
“It’s about time,” he says in a weathered voice.
“Where am I?” My voice wobbles, raw with panic.
