Jamyria: The Entering (The Jamyria Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

that dance upon vibrant green grasses. A cluster of moss-covered boulders is strewn across the area. Pops of red from mushroom caps and wildflowers add zest to the already perfect setting.
    But what truly demands Margo’s attention are the thousand light specks bouncing around the clearing. The grand bird stands before her proudly with its tail feathers spread. Like water upon a flame, the cool colors of its tail surround its blazing body. And to Margo’s satisfaction, the peculiar bird no longer runs but waits, studying her while she studies it.
    Her mouth gapes as she absorbs the beauty surrounding her. A dream would make more sense. Surely this is no reality.
    The bird stands strangely before her now. Almost as if waiting for something; its beady eyes are fixed on Margo. She takes a few cautious steps closer, and it shows no sign of fear. The sun reflects off of a glossy surface from behind the bird’s spread feathers.
    “Are you keeping something?” she asks, automatically feeling silly for questioning a bird.
    But the focus of its eyes intrigues her, as if it would indeed answer.
    No sooner had Margo made that assumption, the creature bows its graceful head and retracts its tail feathers to reveal what is behind it: a globe set in a gold stand which rests upon a boulder. It couldn’t have stood more than ten inches high with perfectly smooth glass and glistening filigree.
    The colorful woods suddenly turn gray as ash. Nothing matters but what is now placed in front of her., the only thing remaining in color: this globe. She is drawn in like a magnet. The world around her slips away. The only clarity lingering emanates from this globe.
     
    She blinks. The world erupts into brilliant color as she stumbles backwards to the ground. She curses under her breath clutching her numb hand into her chest.
    “What…” Margo searches the woods, disoriented. Her arm throbs in violent spasms up to her shoulder, but her hand remains deadened. “How did my…arm…?”
    She breaks off in a scream as the pain suddenly becomes unbearable, her face meeting the grass, which she finds is not as soft as it appears. She writhes, its blades scratching her cheek, as the icy current pulses through her arm.
    She notices it then. The woods are strange, much too vibrant for early fall, the grass too green, mushrooms too bright. Even the trees seem oddly hued as if brought in from a different forest.
    “ Margo ,” calls an airy whisper.
    She scrunches her eyes tightly shut. “No!” she wails. Rolling over, she uses her bad elbow to help push herself to her feet, ignoring the razors digging under the skin of her arm. Her hand flops about as she makes a break for the path.
    “ Margo .” The voice returns. Not a man, nor a woman. Just a taunting voice, one she should not acknowledge. “ Margo .”
    But this time she spares a glance in its direction. The colors of the forest dull into grays around the source of the voice once more. Her feet carry her toward the whispers, the woods no longer holding a flicker of her interest. Eyes black with lust, she craves for the promises of the globe. She can hear it calling for her, begging for her to take it into her hands. To own it. To claim it as hers.
    “ You cannot escape what has already been decided. I am yours. And you will be mine .”
    She peers into the crystal sphere and finds a forest encircling a small city glittering with tiny lights.
    “A snow globe,” whispers Margo.
    “ That was all you could say upon our last encounter. ”
    “Perfect…snow globe…”
    “ More perfect when the snow is falling .”
    She marvels over its every detail. Crystal smooth as glass, golden trees intricately shaped in filigree, and, most unusually, a spiral-shaped etching in the front of its base. It appears haphazardly added, its style contradicting the fairy tale feeling.
    “ You who are cursed must meet your fate .” The whispers grow impatient. “ Take me, Margo. You are only prolonging your