Spirit’s End by A.R. Knight EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: A.R. Knight
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Fantasy
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I had been alive the last time I kissed her lips. Soft, cool to the touch.
Mine were likely the same. Selena’s eyes, though, still had life. Her soul
was still there. Mine too.
We parted, grabbed our things from around the gray, ashy apartment. I
slipped on my long black coat, a reminder of something I no longer was. A
guide, meant to take the spirits of Earth’s dead stuck in Riven and send
them on. Send them to the Cycle to keep them from crowding out this
world. This grand, desolate place.
My home.
I hooked my lash into my belt, a ten foot long cord with a piercing
metal point at the end. On my left side, I stuck in a long knife, a foot and a
half of pointed desperation. On my back went the great sword I’d taken
from the man who killed me. The sword stood half my height and took both
hands to swing. It’s black and silver metal blade would have been heavy,
but without a real body and its limitations, I had no problems hefting the
weapon. I didn’t get tired anymore.
My crossbow hung over the sword, three sets of bolts looping around
the shaft. Normal black-tipped quarrels meant to deliver pointed pain to
anything they struck. Next were blue ones, ready to spit out wrangling fire
that would deliver a spirit to its peaceful end. Last came orange. A shot that
could be as dangerous to me as it was to the enemy. My favorite.
“You’re sure this is what we should do?” Selena said as she set her
cleaver, as long as a knife and as thick as my sword, with biting ridges on
the front edge, in its holster attached to the front flap of her coat.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But if Nara doesn’t have an idea, we’re stuck.
Breaches are erupting everywhere, and the guides don’t have the numbers.
We need a miracle, and unless you’ve thought one up in the last couple of
hours, that spirit is our best shot.”
I didn’t bring up the other reason for speed. The voice whispering at the
edge of my mind, calling me to drop everything I had and start on that long
walk to oblivion. The Cycle murmured, always there. A honeyed hush
inviting me to give up my troubles and embrace peace.
And they said the dead had no worries.
“Is it strong today?” Selena noticed my closed eyes. “Bad?”
She asked me every morning. Her passion kept the Cycle in check. If I
focused on her, on what Selena was saying, what we had, then the Cycle’s
siren call would diminish. Selena gave me a reason to stay, one far more
compelling than the Cycle’s push to leave.
“No worse than any other.
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