The Balborite Curse (Book 4) Read Online Free PDF

him in the great temple?
    Sometimes, they fought side-by-side in the temple ’s practice rings. When they did, the acolyte offered her a shy smile, which she returned. She watched him patiently, with dead eyes like a shark, knowing that vengeance was near.
    Then one day, it came time for the acolyte to take his final vows and become a temple priest. The month prior to the ceremony was reserved for deep meditation. The acolyte entered the men’s sweat lodge where he would pray for days and eventually call his spirit-totem. She knew that this time would be her best chance for revenge, while he was isolated and weak from fasting.
    With each passing day, her anticipation grew. Skera-Kina waited until the coming of the new moon. On that night, the acolytes emerged from the sweat lodge to go into the forest and call their spirit-totem. It was the final step before their ordination. Silently she left her sleeping quarters and went into the wood.
    It was a dark, windless night, and she only had the stars to guide her. She searched the woods for over an hour before she found the sweat lodge, concealed behind a high fence. She waited in the darkness and overheard the priests sending the acolytes out toward the final stage of their training.
    Carefully, silently, she followed behind the boys, making sure that she stayed hidden in the shadows. Her target was at the front of the line, walking slowly into the forest with the others.
    When they reached the tree line, the round-faced teen ventured out on his own. The final ritual called for isolation, which would leave the boy vulnerable. Skera-Kina circled him in the darkness, dizzy with anticipation.
    “Hello,” she whispered, drawing up behind him. The acolyte tensed, and Skera-Kina placed her fingers on his lips. “No, do not speak. Tomorrow, you shall become a priest, but for now, you are still free. I have watched you for many moons, wishing for things I could not bring myself to describe.” She stepped back, and the boy turned to face her. His eyes shone with a mixture of confusion and excitement. “Do you feel the same as I do? The same burning desire?”
    The acolyte nodded dumbly, his lips spreading out into a eager grin.
    Skera-Kina chuckled quietly and straddled his body, slipping her hands behind his neck. “Then let me touch you—and share your mind and heart, that I might know you better.” She felt his pulse quicken. “Are you ready?”
    “Yes,” he said shyly.
    Skera-Kina leaned down and brushed her lips against his face, stopping near his ear. She drew a single breath and whispered the ancient curse she had practiced for so long.
    “Ai-me-nahh, lei’na, nei.”
    The walking death.
    The boy ’s eyes grew wide, and the blood drained from his face. An eerie glow encircled the pair, and a terror unlike any the boy had experienced coursed through his veins. Enveloped in silence, he tried to scream, but couldn’t cry out. Her grip on his neck tightened, and she pushed her finger into his temple, striking a pressure point there. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then he fell to the ground and lay writhing there, foaming at the mouth and convulsing.
    She hadn’t killed him. No, it was a fate worse than death. Skera-Kina had shattered his soul. The boy was found lying on the grass the following morning, motionless as a statue, his eyes open and staring at nothing. The priests decided that the communion with his totem had overwhelmed him. He would never recover.
    The priests considered his condition a result of weakness, and they placed him in the servants’ quarters. He did not regain his speech; the servants would forget to feed him, sometimes for several days. Eventually he was moved into the stables, where he slept with the animals.
    Sometimes Skera-Kina would take a break from her training and visit him in the stables, where he sat alone on a stool in a dark corner. She looked into his eyes and smiled. He never responded.
    The flesh wasted from his