Ghosts of the Erlyn (Catalyst Book 3), C.J. Aaron [book recommendations .TXT] 📗

mindsight, desperately seeking for any sign of the wayward child and her father. Outside the wagon, he saw the lingering trace of Ramm and Vox at the extent of his vision to the north. Kaep was seated several meters to the south. The surrounding landscape revealed no evidence of alexen. His thoughts sparked a memory, and the words of Da’agryn rang in his ears.

They would find their way to you.

The mysterious phrenic had spoken of a connection between phrenics. He'd described the pull between the alexen that drew those with the compound together. Da'agryn had warned that Ryl, with his active alexen, would draw others to him from far and wide.

Ryl inhaled a deep breath, closing his eyes, willing the statement true. The child and her father could be anywhere. He pleaded that fate allow for their paths to cross. As he exhaled, he scanned again, confirming that which he already knew. There were no additional signatures outside of the wagon. He paused as his mind took note of the signatures of the tributes beside him. All still glowed with a weak, pale light. Given time, would their alexen return to its previous state, or would this be their new norm were they to awaken?

His eyes opened suddenly as his mind understood the information presented to him. Inside the wagon, six signatures now lay unmoving in a row. The furthest to the rear of the wagon was the dullest of them all; the glow was barely perceptible.

He turned his body to the side, peering into the dim light. Ryl let out an audible gasp. His heart skipped a beat in his chest.

Elias’ head had turned from before. His face was pointed toward Ryl and the exit.

His eyes were open. There was a slight glimmer of a wry smile on his lips.

“Ryl,” his voice was ragged, barely a whisper. “Is that you?”

Chapter 7

Ryl nearly fell as he hurdled the prone tributes between he and Elias. He stumbled to his friend’s side in moments. The moisture began welling up uncontrollably in his eyes.

“I’m here, Elias,” was all his feeble voice could muster. He choked back the tears that threatened to stream from his eyes.

“You’ve grown since I last saw you,” the weak, airy voice of his friend replied. “It’s good to see you again.”

In the nearly two cycles since Elias’ Harvest Ryl grown considerably. Gone was nearly any semblance of innocence in his frame.

In Ryl’s time in the hidden city of Vim, he’d developed far beyond others his age. As a child growing up in the toxic environment that was The Stocks, he was forced to mature well before his time. Though barely just a shell of man at his arrival in Vim, his growth had accelerated exponentially with his recovery. With the addition of adequate nutrition, his frame had filled out.

Ryl had always maintained a well-muscled, athletic physique as a result of the toils of manual labor. Gone now was the emaciated youth that had been freed from The Stocks. His body was still lean from exercise and constant training, yet it was muscles that shone through his clothes now, not bone.

His maturation was far more than purely physical. As a product of his awakening, age ceased to matter to him. While he acknowledged that his birth was roughly eighteen cycles past, his age seemed inconsequential. He was now the accumulation of experiences of thousands of phrenics. He’d lived out countless cycles in their stead.

“Where are we?” Elias mumbled.

“It’s good to see you too. You’re safe, Elias,” Ryl admitted. “You’re with friends.”

Elias’ gaze drifted past Ryl to the tributes laying on the litters stretched across the wagon. Hs eyes widened as he viewed the scene before him.

“What happened to them?” he croaked.

Ryl turned his vision back to the tributes for a moment before returning to his friend. Had he no recollection of what had happened?

“Do you not remember?” Ryl asked delicately. “Elias, do you recall anything that’s happened to you since the Harvest?”

Elias moved his head with effort, turning his gaze from his side to the ceiling of the wagon above. Ryl watched as his eyes darted back and forth, making short rapid movements, seemingly lost in thought. There was a pause as his gaze roamed the interior of the wagon. A tear rolled from his eye.

“I feel like my memories are confined to still images of the time since I left The Stocks,” Elias whispered. “I remember seeing the city for the first time after so long. I remember the darkness and stench of the wagon. Then the pain. Never-ending pain.”

His voice cracked as the emotion overtook him.

"There was a blackness that covered everything," he continued after a long pause. "I remember blood. Enough blood that it rained down from above, coating everything in crimson. What have I done, Ryl?”

As he spoke, the water in his eyes swelled until it could no longer be contained. What had started as a single drop, quickly progressed into a stream that ran down his face. His body wracked with sobs of anguish. Ryl noted the hint of black that stained his cheek as the tears left their trails on his skin. He placed his hands on his friend, concentrating on sending a wave of calm over his body.

“I feel empty,” Elias gasped, his voice growing weaker and more staggered between the sobs and tears.

“I feel cold. I feel anger. I feel hatred,” he whispered. “It’s as if a part of me had been removed and replaced with something vile. What happened to me?”

He looked up at Ryl. His expression was wrought with a haunting mixture of confusion, sorrow and fear. He struggled to maintain focus. His eyes fluttered then closed as he faded from consciousness.

Ryl couldn’t answer his friend. The words stopped in his mouth. What had Elias done? What had he done? He focused on sending another wave of calm over his friend. His choking breaths between sobs quickly settled into a slow and steady rhythm. Ryl’s