The Return by Jon Monson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Jon Monson
- Language: English
- Genre: Coming of Age Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
he violet pillar of light that had so recently dominated the sky Twas fading
to little more than a weak glow. Barrick stood in fresh powder that
clamored up his shins, and he did not want to think about how far down he
would have to plunge before hitting solid ground. As a burst of wind tore
across the mountaintop, his legs trembled under the stress of supporting his
frame.
The sun was setting at his back, washing away the violet light in an array of
reds and oranges. From his position atop a peak in the Pharone Mountains,
Barrick could still see the Genodran coastal plain, if just barely. The scene
below was filled by the dull green and brown of early spring, and his body
longed to be free from the snow-covered landscape that surrounded him.
Another gust of bitter wind swept across the mountain’s peak, cutting
through the rags that hung on his emaciated frame. The clothing had barely
been enough in the desert heat of Gorteo, and he might as well have been
naked in the cold wind. His body
convulsed, but he forced himself to stay on his feet—if he fell into the white
powder, he may never escape its icy embrace.
A mere span away stood Hermnes, Messenger of the Gods. The impossibly
muscled figure’s mouth was agape, and his unblinking eyes were smooth as
glass. His breaths were shallow, but Barrick could see the warm puffs of air
billowing into the cold.
How long had it been since the appearance of the violet pillar off in the
distance? Barrick couldn’t keep track of the time, but it must have been
over an hour. In all that time, the deity had given no indication that he felt
the cold, though he was dressed in nothing more than a thin, white tunic.
The man’s silvery hair fluttered in the wind, but the ancient being gave it no
regard.
Barrick took a deep breath and clenched his jaw as he pushed crimsonstained fingers against the wound in his shoulder—the one given to him
months ago by a shadow blade—to stop the blood from flowing. Wounds
from those Underworld-forged blades never healed, and it had been split
wide open during the beating he had received from Hermnes. The words
uttered only a short time ago by the Divine echoed in his mind, and
Barrick’s vision began to dim.
“Do you feel that presence?” Hermnes had gasped, and Barrick could still
hear the words in his mind, could feel the anguish in the Divine’s voice.
“What presence do you feel?” Barrick had responded.
“It’s… Her.”
The fear and desperation in the Divine’s voice sent shivers up Barrick’s
own spine—shivers that had nothing to do with the icy wind. The very
thought made his stomach roil.
As another gust of wind ripped through his rags, Barrick forced himself to
stay on his feet. The realization hit him as hard as the wind—he needed to
do something if he was going to live. Several of his ribs were bruised or
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