Souldancer (Soul Cycle Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

saw himself soaring high above the ground, running in the starry fields of night; and coming at last to the sun’s secret resting place.
    Full to bursting with undreamt gladness, Jemai had rejoiced in the brazen plain. How he’d longed to stay there always, held in the arms of the sun! But the day had gone at last, snuffing the glorious fire and leaving the prairie dark as ash. The lost pilgrim had sunk to his knees, cupped his face in his hands, and wept for the death of his dream.
    Through the lattice of his wet fingers, Jemai had spied what he’d given up hope of seeing—a faint trace of the glory that had filled him. He caught a glimpse of it upon the mountains that rose black as coal on his right. There, a red-gold glow still lined the broken peaks.
    Hope had rekindled in Jemai’s heart. The sun still waited beyond the mountains. He’d raced through the fields on stiff spindly legs, drawn to the golden light that never seemed to fade.
    Days later, Jemai lay panting on a broken peak. The spark of memory stoked his feverish need once more. Strength came back to his aching limbs, and he hauled himself over the crest of the ridge.
    At first he feared that the red-gold light had vanished. Then he looked down and saw what lay beyond the mountains. A wide fault cut across the range’s knees. Below the ridge, barren foothills marched away north and south. Beyond the hills, a wide plain spread out under the dark of night.
    Jemai had heard that the mountains stood near the sea. Yet there were no crashing waves; no salty breezes gusting up from deep waters. Silence filled his ears, and his nose caught a faint whiff of cinders.
    I won’t give up! Jemai had come too far; had suffered too much. He’d wait for another sign, no matter how long it took.
    His wait wasn’t long. A pillar of flame rose from the darkened plain. There, Jemai saw a firelit vision to shame any story. Colossal ruins lining wide, rubble-choked streets fanned out from the foothills. What little he could see covered more land than a thousand Vales.
    Jemai’s fevered memory gave up a name. The Tower Graves.
    He dimly recalled his master’s wife warning her sons against visiting the place. No one had warned Jemai—probably because the miller would welcome the chance to find a new apprentice. Still, he’d gathered that the place had been a great city whose wickedness had called down Fire to scour the world. The towers raised in defiance of heaven had become blackened tombs in the space of a breath. But it was said that here, alone of all the lands it had laid waste, an ember of the Fire still haunted the dead city that had kindled it.
    By the pillar’s light, Jemai saw that the city’s roads ran together like the spokes of a wheel. He sought the point where they met. There, a black wall straddled the horizon, invisible but for the fire reflected in its polished surface.
    Jemai’s courage almost failed. Somehow he knew that he should fear the mountain at the crumbling city’s heart. But the flame beckoned him.
    “I shouldn’t of doubted you,” he croaked through bleeding lips. “I knew you’d save me.”
    The fire’s glow doubled, entering his soul through his eyes. Jemai saw through the world to where colors changed places; to the big pyramid behind the sky. The fire’s thoughts were his, and it wept and laughed for him, burning away slights he never knew he’d suffered.
    Jemai arose purified and strode forward, his heart light. He slid down the loose hillside and laughed as he plunged into the abyss.

5
    Damus stood with Nahel in the early afternoon heat, staring across the sunbaked road at the water shrine. He strained to see through the windows, but the temple was as dark as a tomb. The only soul in sight was a lean young man standing in the shady entrance alcove. His white robe bereft of blue stripes named him an acolyte.
    “Do you have to do this now?” asked Nahel.
    Damus rounded on the malakh. “Have you gone mad? The Nesshin is in