The underworld writhes. Terror unleashed. Souls enslaved.
The Spirit Shields with memories returned are plunged into a conflict older than mankind. The pending battle pits family against spirit and flesh. The godlings face off for ultimate control of the souls of the dead, each with their own agenda, for there is no love lost between these siblings.
Helga, goddess of the underworld, tightens her hold on those who hold the key to ultimate victory. Meanwhile, Avery struggles to convince her sister Artio that unless they become allies they will fail in their misaligned quest. Cayden, with the aid of Brimstone, struggles to fulfill a destiny prophesied since their original deaths long ago.
Can four warring siblings find peace and forgiveness? Or will they battle to the end of the world, sacrificing all living souls in the conflict?
*Winner, Dante Rossetti First In Category, Chanticleer Reviews (2018)*
Cayden’s eyes followed the drift of ash as it fell through the opening, and a great sadness arose within him. Another life lost because he sat within the underworld arguing with his sister. A sister who did not know mortality as he knew it, who did not appreciate the frailty of life, the flash of human existence and, yes, of animal existence. She did not understand how precious those lives were to the owners of those souls. How could she? She had never been mortal.
He ground his teeth in frustration. How can I get through to her? Impress upon her the crime she is committing? I don’t know the half of her plans, yet what little I have seen scares me.
There, he had admitted it. He was afraid. He felt no shame in being afraid. He was apprehensive, though. He had already died once. This time, if he died, he knew it would be forever. I don’t want to die. I have too much to live for, even in this form. He shivered, thinking of Ziona. Ziona, he sent to her via their telepathic connection. My love, please stay away! I beg you!
He did not know if the link was broken or disrupted. Ever since he had entered Helga’s realm, which he knew to be a gateway to the underworld, his soul connection with Ziona was intermittent at best. He still lived, but it was as though the connections of their souls were being smothered. Perhaps I am dead. No, that is not possible. I would not feel her at all then. I must still live. It’s this place. His fists were clenched as tight as a spring in a wound clock. He forced his fingers to relax, taking a deep breath.
Focus on the task at hand.
| Language | Status |
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Cristina López
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