What is so special about Week #27, you ask? By itself, probably not much…
However, if you look closely at the date, and examine the rest of the blog, you will realise that it has been exactly six months since we began, here.
And what better way to celebrate this day, than by giving our readers the first look at our upcoming book, and the sequel to Arrkaya: Origins.
If you have not read Book #1 yet, do not worry, this contains no spoilers.
PS: Yeah, this will be a fiery one…
[Arrkaya, Book Two]
The Phoenix Rises
She wiped the soot off her face, without pausing for a moment.
The cold valley was filled with mist and smoke. She ran up the slope, through the dark night. Her feet were bare and bloody, and her chest was heaving. She slipped in a pool of blood, and fell headfirst onto the charred remains of a man. With a loud shriek, she darted away, covering her mouth with both her hands.
Her tense skin, taut as that of a drum, could feel the air heating up around her. Drawing on every ounce of her strength, she raised herself to her feet, and continued scampering up the hillside. The grunts of her pursuer grew louder, and air around her grew more and more stifling. She slipped again, crashing down to her knees. With a quick stroke, she wiped off her tears, as a moan escaped her mouth. She did not need to turn around and look, to know that it was already too late…
Warm flames enveloped her body, caressing her, comforting her. She could hear her hair sizzling, as the fire singed her skin. She could feel the inferno around her, consuming her flesh and calcining her bones. And yet, she felt no pain. The fears and the sorrows in her heart seemed to have been burnt away. For the first time in her life, she had found peace.
The night was now quiet. The smoke was beginning to lift from the valley, revealing scorched buildings and charred corpses. The entire town was still. Then, from the ashes of his own mother, arose a boy. His fiery red hair, like wild flames, waved in the breeze, a grim look on his alabaster face. He took a fistful of the ash, and smeared it across his forehead. With steady, confident strides, he moved down the hill, until he stood in the centre of the valley. For the very first time, he opened his smouldering eyes, like a pair of glowing embers embedded in his skull.
“I am sorry, Mother,” he said, his voice calm, unwavering, “but it is not my fault. It is my nature to consume.”
He spread out his arms, feeling the heat around him. Drawing from the ancient voice within his head, he started absorbing energy from the scorched buildings and the charred corpses, draining them of all heat trapped within. The breeze suddenly changed direction, and grew chilly. The few surviving blades of grass wilted, as they began to glaciate.
His eyes were ablaze with this newfound power. Throwing his head back, he let out a roar that rumbled through the valley.
“I AM AZAZEL!”