Dark World (Book I in the Dark World Trilogy) by Danielle Q. Lee Page B

to kill. But the rising inferno swelling within her core was
taking on a life of its own. The pulsating sensation was
overwhelming. Like a spinning top, the dizzying power amplified
with every beat. Ick jumped down, seeming to sense the imminent
danger. He scurried to a far corner and shivered, shielding his
eyes as Fate’s sight flooded black.
     
    Cloaked from head to toe in mud-colored
rags, the petite Oracle sat hunched before her collection of
crystal ornaments. Carved into twelve unique runes, the stones
spoke to her—and only her. Each with a song all their own, the
mystical rocks vibrated and glowed as they answered the seer’s
queries of the future.
    As he made his way to the seat across
from her, Kane’s horns bumped into the various gem mobiles dangling
from ceiling. They clicked and clattered in protest, undulating
long after he’d gone by.
    Quietly seating himself, he awaited
acknowledgment of his presence.
    Engrossed in some sort of trance, her
head hung, he wondered if he should return later. He turned to
leave but was startled when suddenly she spoke, her voice gravelly
and ancient.
    “ What do you desire, son of
Lucifer?”
    “ I am searching for the pages of
the Devil’s—my father’s—Bible. Are you not the guardian of the
scroll?” he queried, wondering why the wraith sentinel had brought
him to the Oracle when he’d asked for the scroll’s
guardian.
    “ No, the wraith guardian is
no longer with us,” she responded cryptically. “Why would you seek
the pages when they will only bring conflict if brought
together”
    He bowed his head, paying reverence to
the fallen wraith guardian, then answered, “We believe Malus has
stolen our scroll…and the banshees’ as well. I seek to protect
them. I have to stop her from gaining access to the
Surface.”
    The elderly crone nodded. “Yes, your
mother must be stopped.”
    Kane cringed. He despised his renowned
affiliation to the nastiest Devil in Dark World history. Seeming to
sense his unease, the Oracle moved on.
    “ The wraiths cannot help
you,” she stated, a wisp of silver smoke drifting across her face
from a nearby candle.
    “ Why?” Kane
frowned.
    A raspy sigh escaped her. “Their scroll
has also been taken.”
    His heart and soul fell at once, making
him feel woozy with dread.
    Malus has three of them
now?
    “ No,” she responded to his
thoughts and he shuddered. “Not Malus. There is
another.”
    “ Another! What do you mean?”
Kane leapt to his hooves, nearly smashing his head into the
ceiling. “Someone else seeks the scrolls? Who?”
    Unmoving, she admitted, “I know not.
But…” she whispered, continuing with an eerie breath, “you must
travel south. To Necrosia. The answers you seek are
there.”
    Necrosia. He shuddered.
    Kane exhaled sharply and examined the
old soothsayer a moment, tempted to believe she was
lying.
    Would she deceive
me?
    For this, her head snapped up and she
shook her head no. The hooded cloak betrayed her but for an
instant. Kane practically trembled when he glimpsed her face—or
lack thereof. A void. A nothingness. Just an empty space where the
windows to the soul were to reside.
    A relative newcomer to Dark World, no
one knew where she’d come from. She’d simply shown up over a
century ago, her powers of prophecy unrivaled. Although she was
revered throughout the land, Kane wondered what this haggard old
soul was doing within the wraith dwelling. Wraiths didn’t mingle
with other races and while he didn’t know from which race the
prophetess stemmed, he was certain she was not a wraith. She was
solid whereas wraiths were nearly translucent beings, ghostly and
vaporous. Banshees were solid, but Amazonian in stature, and being
a sexually provocative group, always naked.
    And she was obviously no
demon.
    Reapers, the most dangerous race, dwelt
deep within the Nether Caves. Always cowled, Kane had to admit he’d
never actually seen a reaper uncloaked. He swallowed hard with the
notion that