‹ Prequel: The War Summer’s Soul Warrior
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Peregrine
13
The Vindicta watched Peregrine from a natural shield on the mountainside. How did he know his Soul was going to come and appear from the mountain? His Soul could appear halfway across the world if she wanted it to. That’s right. The Vindicta is the controller of the Souls.
She truly wasn’t all bad. When the Souls rose from the mountain, she guided them to where the owner of the Soul was waiting. But is it really kind? Getting your Soul back only immerses you into another world of pain, murder and disease. One new Shadow World being every millennium . . .
The wind was still trying to blow Peregrine of the face of Soul Mountain. The Vindicta stifled a laugh.
The Vindicta was actually a person. Well, a Shadow World being, anyway. She’s one of the oldest. Probably around thirteen thousand years mature. She was frozen into her Shadow World form when she was thirteen. Huh; it figures. Apparently she had a human name once, but it got lost in age and translation. So, she named herself the Vindicta—Latin for revenge.
The Vindicta felt the itch-under-the-skin rumble of magic. The numbers lined up. She was created 1300 years ago, when she was 13; it was the 13th year of the Shadow World then. Today the Shadow World was turning back its clock. Each of the thirteen existing Shadow World members will gather. They will cleanse everything their kind has touched. Wipe the slate clean. Everything is going—all their traditions, possessions . . . and themselves—including the Vindicta.
She wasn’t happy about this. She would not be blown off the face of the planet just to make way for the next generation of the Shadow World. She could only taste one thing in her mouth: rebellion.
Who knew a mess of 13s could create something horrifically beautiful?
She truly wasn’t all bad. When the Souls rose from the mountain, she guided them to where the owner of the Soul was waiting. But is it really kind? Getting your Soul back only immerses you into another world of pain, murder and disease. One new Shadow World being every millennium . . .
The wind was still trying to blow Peregrine of the face of Soul Mountain. The Vindicta stifled a laugh.
The Vindicta was actually a person. Well, a Shadow World being, anyway. She’s one of the oldest. Probably around thirteen thousand years mature. She was frozen into her Shadow World form when she was thirteen. Huh; it figures. Apparently she had a human name once, but it got lost in age and translation. So, she named herself the Vindicta—Latin for revenge.
The Vindicta felt the itch-under-the-skin rumble of magic. The numbers lined up. She was created 1300 years ago, when she was 13; it was the 13th year of the Shadow World then. Today the Shadow World was turning back its clock. Each of the thirteen existing Shadow World members will gather. They will cleanse everything their kind has touched. Wipe the slate clean. Everything is going—all their traditions, possessions . . . and themselves—including the Vindicta.
She wasn’t happy about this. She would not be blown off the face of the planet just to make way for the next generation of the Shadow World. She could only taste one thing in her mouth: rebellion.
Who knew a mess of 13s could create something horrifically beautiful?
♠ ♠ ♠
Super short.2/3