The Frozen Moon - By J.D. Swinn Page 0,33
running with all the rage inside of him. The suffering burned like fuel inside him, some hellish fire. He knew that his feet hit pavement, wind brushed his sweat-drenched face, and people stared from all sides. He knew that these were things his senses should have detected, but did not. He must have run several miles before slowing to a stop. He took assessment of his body, his thoughts.
Numbness.
It was all he could feel, and with the desired effect achieved, he turned and walked slowly toward the Corner, his hands in his pockets and his head down. It was under control, he thought. For now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: IN THE LIGHT’S EMBRACE
Grassy hills stretched out before her, as if unfurling their limbs from a long and restful sleep. The gentle sun caressed its yawn across their sea of earth, completing the image of the awakening world. Fitting, she thought, seeing as this was thought to be the birthplace of the Upperworld. The leaves had begun to change color as the seasons passed seamlessly into each other. All around Nameh, the sky seemed to be rimmed with fire, rustling gently in the fall breeze. She breathed deeply and relished her favorite part of autumn: the smell. It smelled of dampness and fresh earth and death. But underneath it all lay the subtle tones and promises of new life to come.
She turned her attention to match the others’, facing the great marble statue in front of them. The figure was a great and pure white angel, made of all smooth lines and soft curves. In one outstretched arm, it held a perfect ring balanced on its palm. She recalled a line of text Max had quoted earlier, “The ring is thought to be a symbol of eternity, never-ending and perfect.” The other arm of the angel was drawn about in an elegant pose in front of its chest, as though it mimicked a ballerina, creating a half circle. Looking at the monument was like being at the beginning of the world, when the spark had created all of the Upperworlders: the birthing of the vampires and harpies and warlocks, faeries and pixies and dryads, griffins and dragons and phoenixes. Not even the Guardians or the Vine knew exactly how many races of Upperworlders existed anymore. Some had surely died out, while others live isolated in the earth’s far reaches. Others still might never have been discovered, like the Unseen spirits of dark magic which are thought to feed on souls in exchange for power.
Creatures of all kinds had been created. The light and the dark, equal and opposite, perfectly balanced. Good and evil, black and white, life and death. It was all the same, it seemed to her now. The colors swam together into a gray cloud across her thoughts. For a moment, they could only stare, breathless.
The beauty of the image was striking in design and purity, but these did not help them to draw the conclusions they hoped to. They had spoken few words since arriving at the memorial, for all had been deep in thought, considering the carefully cryptic words inscribed at the pristine angel’s feet. In the light’s embrace, all shadows are lifted. These were, of course, translated from the Warlock’s ancient language through the aid of Wyd’s learning spell several nights before.
Finally, after battling the urge for too long, Nameh reached out a gentle hand and laid it on the smooth marble. Few things she did were gentle, but the awe and respect inspired in her at the sight of the ancient stone compelled her. Despite the cold air, the marble held a surprising warmth, as though deep inside it, an inextinguishable flame burned. For a moment, she could see before her the faces of a thousand Markbearers, hear the whispers of a thousand spells spun, taste the dew of a thousand sunrises, feel the caress of a thousand winds brushing past, and smell the deep and heavy scent of passing time. She snapped out of her sensory dream as she drew her slender fingers back from the statue.
“Alright,” Mira began. She was twisting her fingers as she often did when in thought. “So we know that the inscription might be of significance-”
“Or it could be nothing,” added Cal as a consideration.
“Right,” she continued. Her brow furrowed slightly, and she bit softly at the side of her lip. “In the light’s embrace…” she trailed off. A pensive silence grew over them like consuming moss, isolating and focusing their thoughts.
“Well,