Page 1 of Cerulean Truth
PROLOGUE
"No!”I roared, complete desperation clawing at my throat as I struggled to breathe. The air was thick with the stench of burning debris and blood, making each breath sear my lungs and stick to the back of my throat like ash. Around me, total chaos erupted—screams and cries for help filling the acrid atmosphere.
I yanked the lodged knife from my tibia in one swift motion, a sharp metallic tang flooding my mouth as the pain shot up my leg. Ignoring the nausea twisting in my gut, I started to run, pushing my battered legs to their limits.
Surrounded by shards of glass and collapsed walls, the sight before me bore a gut-wrenching resemblance to the gruesome aftermath of a brutal explosion. The smell of smoke and charred wood assaulted my senses while I took in the devastation. The Spring Palace was in ruins, its former glory obliterated, reduced to a smoldering mound of destruction.
Standing in the midst of all that wreckage, like a spectator to my own personal hell, I saw everyone I knew and cared for in distress. Everyone that is, excepther. I couldn’t see shit through the choking cloud, much less a small, possibly unconscious woman. But I had to fucking find her.
As I made my way through the casualties, I ignored their pleas, and pressed on through the chaos. There was but one thought, tirelessly circling in my mind like a relentless drum.Her. I had to findher.On some level, I knew it was wrong; so many needed my help, but nothing else mattered. My focus remained solely on her. On reachingher. On savingher. Everything would be fine if I could just get to her. But where the hell was she?
A wave of terror crept into the corners of my mind, its icy grip twisting my gut. What if I was too late? What if she was beyond saving? The very thought of her being...
You’re fine. You have to be fine. I swear to the gods, if you don’t show up right now, I’m gonna?—
The foggy cloud still surrounding us wasn’t letting up one bit. It clung to my skin and clothes, a suffocating blanket of ash and fear. Feeling like I was wading through a blizzard without the wind or cold, I tried to see what I could. The biting mist burned my eyes, but I kept them open, fighting through the pain, fearing the excruciating loss of her more…
I started shouting her name, but every time I opened my mouth the fog prevented me from breathing. Or was it the thought of her being hurt that was sucking all the oxygen out of my lungs… Why wasn’t she answering me? Why didn’t she call out for me?
After what seemed an eternity, the air began to clear. I could still barely see in front of me, but at least I could breathe again. Suddenly, something caught my eye and I turned my head. There! In the corner!
Ignoring the weakness in my legs, I sprinted toward it at impossible speed. But as I reached what I’d seen, I froze, my mind struggling to process the sight before me. Ice-cold shivers ran down my spine, paralyzing me. My legs went numb, a creeping sensation that crawled upward inch by inch. When Ifinally grasped what lay in front of me—her cold, unmoving body on the floor—a primal fear gripped me, raw and overwhelming, unlike anything I'd ever felt before.
She wasn’t moving. I was barely breathing. My already weakened legs gave out, and I fell to my knees in agony, hovering over her, pleading in whispering sounds for her to be alive. Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t make a sound. With trembling hands, I reached for her pale face, drawing in a shuttering breath when she still felt warm. Leaning in against her chest, I could discern the faint drumming of her heart and an immense feeling of relief surged through me.
But the relief was short-lived, as I realized she was still unconscious. I had to get her out of here—now.
Gathering all the strength I had left, I scooped her into my arms, carried her away from the horrifying scene, and looked down at her as she…
PART 1
ONE
EMMA
I was staring at porn. Again. I had been staring at porn for at least ten hours straight the day before and there I was again, six hours in. Me—not touching—myself and porn.
Suppressing a yawn, I took another nip from my not-so-hot anymore cup of coffee.
From the neighboring cubicle, I could hear Jason the Dick also yawning, though it appeared he was re-s(n)orting to other substances than caffeine to stay awake. I tried to skip the judgement, but failed.
The three guys on my screen were shooting their uhm... “white surprise” on the face of a blonde girl, which was indicating the end of the last viewing. Finally.
I took a deep breath and looked at the remaining stack of files on my desk. I grabbed the list on top and sighed once again. So much more porn to watch.
Jason leaned into my cubicle and flashed me a "dirty" grin. “Feeling like losing your virginity already?”
I squinted at my screen, faking (pun intended) I had stumbled upon something genuinely fascinating—other than multiple dicks waving around of course. I made a concerted effort to ignore both him and his foolish comments—which wasstarting to become a daily routine. Why, out of everyone, did they have to assign him to the same project?
“I’ve gone through the first fifteen,” he boasted, provoking my usual immediate irritation. Not because he was uttering inappropriate comments about my—non-existing—virginity but because he was clearly going through the assignment a lot faster than I was, and also because his nasal voice was as annoying as his uninspiring personality.
Jason was a major egotistical cokehead, who’d decided that earning money was more important than developing an actual personality. He had overly gelled hair and an unhealthy motivation to “score” as many women as possible while high on coke. Which is why the office called him “Moby” behind his back. As in Moby Dick, as in on the permanent hunt for white stuff…with the term “dick” serving as an apt resonance. It made sense at the time. We might have been drunk at the time.
But he was also seriously ambitious and my biggest competition for the highly coveted associate position. At the end of summer, one of the senior lawyers would select only one intern, and for me, securing that position was imperative. Finishing my “porn-related-report” before Moby would go a long way to influence Simon or Bill in selectingmefor the job.
“Good for you,” I replied dryly, mumbling, “Moby,” to his back when he turned away.
I hadn’t even completed the review of the first ten. How the heck had he managed to watch fifteen of them already? We had been explicitly instructed not to fast forward, and each film had a runtime of at least an hour. At this rate, I was going to have to stay the night…
