The yell took both brothers away from the situation for a split second—he had never spoken so loudly to his brother. You don't know what's in there. It will do you no good to go and get lost or hurt. You'll do nobody any good at all doing that. You don't know what's in there, he trailed off as he realized he repeated himself.
He knew if it were the other way around, Nick would think up the perfect thing to say to keep him out of those woods. Rylan did not have the right words in him. Nothing could be said to stop his brother from going to save the day.
He wished fervently there was another option but none presented itself. I'm going in. I love you very much, bro. I will be right back, Nick spoke in a whisper. He gave Rylan a gentle pat on his shoulder and took a step into the forest. Seconds later, he was out of sight, consumed by the foliage that guarded the forbidden place….
And we must remember Nick for the loving boy he was, the priest's voice pulled Rylan from his daydream. His face was drenched in raindrops of assorted sizes, but he didn't wipe them away. He had been struggling to make himself cry, but all his tears were lost during the long search for his brother. At least the falling rain made it appear he was crying. It had been an exhausting three years for the Youngs.
Before the disappearance, they were a picture perfect model of a happy family. Timothy and Michelle Young only owned one house during their marriage, which was the foundation for the two wonderful children they raised there. They lived in an eye-catching home located in the upper-class area of Light Grove, a secluded neighborhood in southern Texas. The two-story house was a welcoming sight, with tall spiraling columns rising on both sides of the front door.
The columns were clothed with cursive, Italian writing, a trademark of Timothy's ancestors from long ago.
The Saga of Sordic: The First Dreamlight (Novel 1 of 4)
The greenery comprising the landscape of the Young's home was an artistic masterpiece filled with exotic flowers and shrubs Michelle handpicked herself. The vibrant hues of the flora mixed together like a thousand colorful pinwheels trapped in a tornado. The Young's home was the favorite spot for the local birds to reside. The pleasing melody of singing blue jays and fluttering hummingbirds filled the yard at nearly every daylight hour. The beauty continued as you entered the home, filled with Italian artifacts and overpriced paintings.
A tall staircase with a golden-lined rail filled the entryway. The stairs forked at the top, one way leading to the master bedroom and the other to the bedrooms of Nick and Rylan. Rylan hated the house now. Each room was filled with memories of a time when peace and happiness inhabited the lives of the Youngs. Now sorrow and emptiness presided over everything. Pictures of Nick still lined the hallways, his face forcing Rylan to continually flash back to the last real time he saw that face.
Seconds later, Nick was out of sight, consumed by the foliage that guarded the forbidden place. All that was left was Rylan and an almost invisible puff of dust that was knocked into the air off his shoulder when his brother last touched him. He waited. His face was expressionless. He didn't even blink. Every second took an hour to pass as he stared at the exact spot Nick entered the forest and waited for any sign of his brother. He wondered if Nick would come out holding a lady that tripped and sprained her ankle. Or maybe he would show up empty handed with a few scratches from the brush and an excuse about being unable to find the screaming lady.
Or maybe he would not show up at all. He held his breath at the thought. Was this possible? Once the prospect entered his mind, it stuck like superglue. Though it had only been ten minutes, he felt true fear. A treacherous feeling he had never experienced overtook him. Rylan somehow knew that he had seen his brother for the last time.
The sun was only minutes away from taking its final dip into the horizon. It would be dark soon. His next decision cut through him with the sharpness of a fresh blade—he left.
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For an instant, as he ran the last leg of his trip home, the darkening sky became a lighter shade of blue above the forest and then went completely black. As the drizzle came down at a faster pace, the priest raised his voice to overcome the pitter-patter of the raindrops on the casket. The entire day had been much harder than the Young family anticipated.
He wore a black suit with a white shirt, which camouflaged him with the rest of the men attending. Michelle wore no makeup because of her incessant crying. And then there was Rylan. He stood expressionless, much like he did when he last saw Nick on Cupet Road. He stared at the empty casket, his teeth slowly grinding as he continued to contemplate what went wrong that day. He didn't care what the priest was saying about his lost brother. He still found it hard to believe that it had been three years since that dreadful day.
The events of the walk home from the baseball complex were running through his mind like a rat exercising on a wheel, exhausting his every thought until he felt a faint spell of dizziness. His knees went weak but he hastily collected himself once more. The three Youngs did not hold hands and never made eye contact. Each one felt as if they were alone. Perhaps Timothy and Michelle were in shock and disbelief that they were burying their oldest son.
Or perhaps they were burying their favorite son…. The funeral was nearing its end though the storm was only beginning. Here and there, family members were stealing glances at their watches. Friends of Nick had other things planned today, and most of the family would only visit with the Youngs for a short time after the funeral before continuing on with their normal activities. But for the Youngs, this day would not end soon.
A great number of people were attending the atypical funeral, which may have been the reason that Nick's family and friends had overlooked something. There were two mysterious visitors blending into the crowd. Their clothing unified them with those that were invited and belonged, making them difficult to spot.
The first stranger was a mountain of a man, standing a bit over six and a half feet. His body was trim and rigid.
It looked as though the colossal man had the strength of ten men. The truth was he had the strength of thirty, easily. Other characteristics were impossible to observe because of the dark rain hood that shielded his face.
The second stranger hid more of herself. She stood shorter, an inch under six feet. The clothing she wore was a replica of her counterpart, probably woven by the same hands. Tim Nalodka. The Wither Trials, Book 2 and Book 3. How to write a great review. The review must be at least 50 characters long. The title should be at least 4 characters long.
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R.S. Cummings (Author of Masters of the Art)
Chi ama i libri sceglie Kobo e inMondadori. About Publish Join Sign In. Readers Benefits of registering Where are my ebooks? Ask it above. The heroes of Sordic have built strength and resurrected hope through grueling trainings in The Art. But now the true test comes when the Shadow unexpectedly attacks Strykworth directly!
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The extricated protectors of the realm must race across the lands in search of allies before the evil spreads beyond their reach. Rylan inches closer to discovering the secrets of his past