Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2), C.J. Aaron [e reading malayalam books txt] 📗

view of the man's face from under the shadow of his hood. There was something familiar in its features.

“Mind your surroundings, Captain,” the beggar whispered.

There was something familiar about that voice.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose as an unexplained feeling of worry rose from within.

He spun around, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword. A pair of revelers stumbled over each other, affording him a wide berth as his menacing pose landed on them.

Finding his way back to his quarters, he closed the heavy door, thankful to be free from the burden of duty for remainder of the evening. The lantern he'd left burning on the table had nearly run its course. The weak fire flickered, partially illuminating his study. The breeze from the open window strained the delicate flame.

Strangely enough, he hadn't recalled leaving that window open. He crossed the small room, closing the pane, double checking to ensure the latch was properly engaged. He drew the curtains shut with a sigh; he wanted nothing more than peace. The fabric, as thick as it was, did little to muffle the sound of the revelry outside. A few hours of solitude remained before the morning’s Harvest.

He unbuckled his sword belt, draping it over the back of the chair behind his desk. His fingers worked hastily at the buttons to remove his uniform top.

Without warning, he was blanketed with an overpowering feeling. An emotion, so out of place, that his mind instantly travelled back to the first time he'd felt its call. It was stronger now. He was staggered by the unexpected force.

Hope.

“There is no hope here,” he cursed to himself.

He froze as his eyes traveled upward, past his desk. His mouth hung open and his face went white as a chill coated his body. Just inside the outer ring of the flame’s light stood a figure. Its long grey cloak billowed slightly to the side though the air in this room was still.

The right sleeve was removed at the shoulder; the right arm a solid mass of intricate tattoos. The left arm was covered by the folds of the cloak. The hood was up but pulled back enough for him to glimpse the features of his face.

The beggar from earlier.

Through the darkness of the shadow of his hood, his eyes churned with the raging fires of an inferno.

He stepped back as the realization slammed into him with a terrifying force. The face hadn't aged a day … yet looked wizened well past its cycles.

“Impossible,” he gasped.

The voice shattered his disbelief.

“What's wrong, Captain?” The hooded man whispered. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Thank you for reading Fulcrum of Light, book two in Catalyst.

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ALSO IN SERIES

A TRIBUTE AT THE GATES

FULCRUM OF LIGHT

GHOSTS OF THE ERYLN

About the Author

CJ Aaron is an American Fantasy Author who relocated from the four seasons of the northeast to the nearly perpetual sauna of the third coast.

When he isn’t writing fantasy, you can find him working as a jack of all trades in the digital world or spending time with his wife, two children, two dogs, two cats and an ever-changing menagerie of foster animals.

Raised on a steady diet of fantasy and science fiction, he is still an avid reader, lover of movies, video games and pretending to be a musician.

I’d love to hear from you if you have any questions, comments, feedback, etc.

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