Resonance 4th Edits - Bleeding Worlds Bk 3

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Resonance 4th Edits - Bleeding Worlds Bk 3 Page 1

by Justus R. Stone




  Contents

  Front Matter

  Copyright

  Part One

  I

  II

  III

  Part Two

  1 - Reunion

  2 - Forgiven

  3 - The Ego's Miscalculation

  4 - His Daughter's Eyes

  5 - Preparing for Treachery

  6 - Answers on the Horizon

  7 - Exit Strategy

  8 - Family Decisions

  9 - The Depths of Pride

  10 - Marduk

  11 - Flight

  12 - History of the Soul

  13 - Quetzalcoatl

  14 - Nidhoggr

  15 - Frozen Spaces

  16 - Nefesh

  17 - Silver Assailant

  18 - Deception

  19 - Bogeyman

  20 - Knitting Fates

  21 - The Silenced Heart

  22 - Yggdrasil

  23 - The Forbidden Tear

  24 - Resonance

  25 - A Time to Mourn

  26 - Returning

  27 - Homecoming

  28 - A Time for War

  The Story Concludes

  About the Author

  Resonance

  The Bleeding Worlds Book Three

  Justus R. Stone

  Published by Red Bucket Publishing

  Copyright 2014 Justus R. Stone

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any references to real world streets, cities, etc. are used in a fictional manner.

  Resonance–The Bleeding Worlds Book Three. Copyright © 2014 by Justus R. Stone. All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

  Published by Red Bucket Publishing, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. http://redbucketpublishing.com

  Cover Imagery - Male Model by GraphicPAStock http://graphicpastock.deviantart.com, all other images and editing by Carolyn Macpherson

  First Edition

  * * *

  Stone, Justus R.

  Resonance / Justus R. Stone

  p. cm. —(The bleeding worlds;bk. three)

  Summary: Trillions of existences wiped out in a single moment.

  The remaining worlds left battered and bleeding.

  At the center of the disaster stands Gwynn Dormath. He has been called both a hero and a harbinger of the end of all things. A single boy thrust unwittingly into a game of old gods and ancient horrors.

  Now, injured both in body and mind, if he hopes to save the ones he loves, he must undertake his most perilous and strange journey.

  Between all things lies the Veil. Home of the souls of humanity and the power source for all Anunnaki, it is a place of great power and even greater danger. If Gwynn is to move forward, he must plunge into its murkiest depths and face not only its own guardians, but the darkness within himself.

  Meanwhile, the former members of Suture fight to find their own place in these damaged worlds. As alliances are formed and new enemies battled, they inch forward to a conflict only prophecies and myths could predict, or hope to understand.

  Resonance is the third novel in The Bleeding Worlds series.

  [1.Mythology–Fiction 2.Supernatural–Fiction 3.Soul–Fiction]

  ISBN 978–0–9877439–6–1

  * * *

  PART ONE

  Cataclysm

  I

  Connecting with someone’s soul was difficult. To lower your defenses, allowing someone to see your faults and fears, could be equal parts violation as joy. In a lifetime, even hundreds of lifetimes, finding one person to share that level of intimacy was rare.

  Adrastia had pulled the five remaining members of Ansuz into her soul.

  Traversing the Veil was dangerous. Through the years, Anunnaki discovered their soul could be used as a shield to accomplish it. First, it meant facing the enormity of your soul and staying sane. Of the few who braved the experience, fewer succeeded.

  Assuming you survived, you faced the task of shaping your personal experience.

  Adrastia envisioned the Veil as a long hall, many stories high, lined with an endless number of doors. She’d never bothered to imagine a color for the walls aside from white. It was easier to maintain the illusion without too many details. But the walls weren’t without character—their paint showed scratches and scars. None of these originated within her imagination, it was her mind interpreting the Veil and conforming it to her chosen scenario. Chips in the paint, cracks in the walls, were all symptoms of Cain’s passage and the continual tearing of the Veil by Anunnaki.

  Another feature beyond her control was the falling star. It hung in the air, the trail of its fiery descent frozen like a photograph. Always out of reach, this too was a permanent cancer within the Veil. As creatures of linearity, Anunnaki experienced the Veil as it existed the moment they entered. But their actions lived here forever, trillions of layers of events, hidden from each other. Only Cain and one other managed to cross the Veil in a diagonal manner, traversing time in the process. But some events resonated forever, influencing every time and place. The falling star was such an event. Or maybe Adrastia just saw it since it influenced her every time and place.

  “Keep your eyes shut,” she ordered her companions. She supposed they weren’t words, just thoughts directed along the currents of energy within the Veil. “Try not to think about this place. Don’t guess what is here, or what you might see.”

  The walls shimmered, like heat waves rising from the pavement on a summer day.

  Shit. Damn, damn, damn.

  Thought was energy—synapse firing bursts of electricity along their intricate network. The Veil, an entity of energy, responded to these same electrical impulses. It was how she constructed this area, making it conform to become her “reality.” But she had introduced five other sets of thoughts. Trying to have them think of nothing, to focus on nothingness, was dangerous. She’d never tried this with more than two other people. Five strong-willed Anunnaki was proving unwieldy.

  Adrastia turned her focus on one of the doors.

  In her hall, they were all the same—a wood door, painted white—though years of weathering faded the paint to a dullish gray, revealing the wood grain underneath. The door knob—once a lush, shining brass—was dull and rusty after years of use.

  She let her memories of that door, and all the love laying behind it, coalesce into waves of energy, pulsing outward, brushing aside the influence of the other members of Ansuz. Her soul was the tiniest fraction of the Veil belonging to her. She wouldn’t let others over-ride it.

  A scream, containing every frequency a human being could hear or utter, filled the hall. The echoing thud of a door slamming cut off the noise, plunging the hall into an eery silence.

  “What the hell was that?” Brandt asked.

  “Shut up,” Adrastia snapped.

  More screams, more slamming doors.

  A distant giggle drew Adrastia’s attention. The source, a little girl with black hair in pony tails, skipped from one side of the hall to the next. She never went through any doors, only appeared to fade in and out of existence from one side to the next.

  “You’ll never save them,” someone said from the opposite direction.

  The source was a phantom version of Adrastia. Blood stained its cheeks and the clothes it wore hung in tatters.

  “You’re too weak to save anyo
ne,” it said.

  Adrastia clenched her eyes shut.

  Shut up, shut up, shut up.

  Marie screamed.

  “What is it?” Brandt yelled at her. “Why the hell are you screaming?”

  “It’s Natalie,” she gasped. “I hear her. She’s here.”

  “Ignore it.” Adrastia felt their confidence unravelling. “Something is happening in the Veil. They’re just phantoms trying to drive you mad. Nothing they say is real.”

  “But she knows things.” Tears filled Marie’s voice. “Only things Nat would know. It’s her I tell you.”

  We have to get out of here.

  Adrastia guided them toward a door. Any kind of world might lie beyond its threshold, but it was safer than staying in the Veil.

  She didn’t dare loosen her grip on either of the Ansuz members. Instead, she directed her thoughts and desires toward the door,

  Open. Let us through into a new world.

  Instead of swinging open, the door creaked, bulged in the center, and exploded in a shower of splinters.

  Adrastia tried telling herself the door wasn’t real—the explosion only her mind’s interpretation of… what? What was happening?

  It didn’t matter. No amount of will could deny the shockwave slamming into her and the other members of Ansuz.

  “Hold on,” she screamed.

  They tried. But the force crushing against them was too much. Even Brandt, who gripped her hand so tight Adrastia thought it would shatter, eventually lost his grip.

  She swallowed back sick, trying to fight against dizziness just to sit up.

  “Don’t open your eyes,” she yelled, trying to keep her voice calm. “No matter what you hear, ignore it.”

  A sharp stab in her left leg kept her on the ground. A six inch length of wood pierced her inner calf. She tasted blood, biting her lip to keep from yelling as she tore it out.

  She searched the space for the others. Despite the impact, her mind reasoned they shouldn’t be too far away. But all sense of scale was lost. Initially, the hallway was immeasurably long, but only a thousand-or-so feet wide. Measurement no longer existed. There was no telling the dimensions of the place now—what seemed within reach skipped several feet away when approached.

  Brandt, who’d hung onto her hand the longest, was closest—she hoped. But it was Wade who drew her attention.

  The others were barely conscious—she couldn’t be sure they were even alive—but Wade was upright, on his knees, arms outstretched.

  His eyes were wide open.

  “It’s beautiful,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I never knew. If you’d only told me sooner, I wouldn’t have been afraid to come.”

  “Wade,” Adrastia screamed, “ignore it. Whatever you think is talking to you, it’s just an illusion. Focus on my voice, on me. Look at me Wade, just look at me.”

  “I’m ready,” he said, ignoring her pleas. “I don’t want to go back.”

  “Wade, no!”

  Something rose from the floor. It happened so fast, the details were lost to her. She only knew one moment Wade was there, the next, he’d been consumed and the space left empty.

  She smacked her fist against the floor. Nearby, Brandt started groaning and moving. Adrastia threw herself toward him, grasping his arm.

  “It’s me, Brandt,” she said. “I’ve got you. Just take a moment to get yourself together. But keep your eyes shut.”

  “Where’s everyone else? What’s happening?”

  I wish I knew.

  After giving him a minute, though it was less than he needed, she dragged him to his feet.

  “Come on. Caelum and Jackson aren’t far.”

  She pulled Brandt behind her.

  Caelum and Jackson being close was a lie. They were far, much further than she wanted. But they were still closer than Marie.

  Jackson was curled in a ball, clutching his head. He seemed to be saying something, but she couldn’t hear him from this distance.

  Caelum, on his knees, hunched over Jackson, seemed to be trying to talk him down.

  She quickened her pace toward them.

  “They’re all dying,” Jackson cried. “So many voices, so much pain. A trillion futures lost.”

  Caelum gripped him by the shoulders. Despite Adrastia’s warnings, his eyes were open. Thankfully, he seemed intent only on Jackson.

  “Hold it together, Jackson. We don’t know what’s happening. Adrastia said it could all just be an illusion.”

  “No,” Jackson moaned, “you don’t get it. You can’t hear them. So many worlds destroyed. Futures that had already happened but will never happen again.”

  “You’re talking nonsense.”

  Adrastia stopped, an icicle stabbing at her heart. Jackson wasn’t talking nonsense—though it was unlikely he even realized himself.

  A number of doors exploded, the shockwave rolling over them like the tide breaking on the shore. She and Brandt collided against Caelum and Jackson. They lay huddled together for several minutes, clinging to each other like lifeboats in a raging sea.

  Survival should’ve been her first priority—saving the others a close second. But Adrastia couldn’t help but dwell on Jackson’s words.

  Futures already happened that will never come again.

  If that’s true, why am I even here?

  Marie screamed, snapping Adrastia from her thoughts.

  The girl was still hundreds of feet away. The image of her faded in and out of view.

  “Come on, we need to go.”

  Adrastia pulled the others to their feet and dragged them behind her.

  The floor, though she knew there wasn’t really a floor, quaked beneath them. Large fissures snapped open, running the length of the floor to the walls, where they continued upward, splitting the walls, revealing the void beyond.

  “Marie, hold on,” Adrastia yelled.

  Like every living thing, Marie’s soul resided within the Veil. The more Adrastia’s control on the situation slid, the harder Marie’s soul would work to claim her. Few Anunnaki escaped the experience unscathed—if they escaped at all.

  I need to keep her here. I need to keep her focused on us.

  “All of you,” Adrastia said, “callout to Marie. Try to keep her focused on us.”

  The boys started yelling. She ignored their calls—absorbed in some personal torment playing out in her mind.

  “Fuck it,” Brandt said. “Marie, you useless bitch.”

  They all stopped, their collective mouths falling open.

  “If you can’t handle this, then just go ahead and die. We don’t need to be slowed down by some whiny baby.”

  While there were similar abilities shared by all Anunnaki, each had a special talent unique to themselves. In the case of Marie, it was the ability to move at blazing speeds. Even knowing that, it amazed Adrastia how quickly things went from words leaving Brandt’s mouth to Marie slapping him so hard, only Adrastia’s grip on his arm kept him from falling to the ground.

  “You bastard! You sexist, misogynistic, fucking asshole!”

  Brandt grabbed Marie around the waist.

  “I’ve got her. Can we get the hell out of here now?”

  “Let go of me,” Marie protested.

  “Marie, shut up! He’s saving your life,” Adrastia snapped.

  “What about Wade?” Caelum asked.

  “I’m sorry,” Adrastia let her tone soften, “he’s gone. The Veil took him.”

  Maybe he would be able to stand facing himself. Maybe he would be one of the lucky few that made it out of the Veil in one piece.

  Maybe she was delusional.

  No one else spoke. Whether they were mourning their friend or staying quiet to show their lack of care, she couldn’t know. Thankfully, none protested. They’d seen enough to know Adrastia saying he was lost meant no going back for him. Such a thing would only result in more loss.

  Getting out was all anyone could do now. The Veil had become more dangerous than
ever. But where? The first door she tried nearly killed them. Where would be safe? How could she even know…

  “Everyone, I know you’re frightened. I know things are going crazy. But please, stay calm while I think for just a few seconds. Then I’ll get us out of here, I promise.”

  They managed to follow her instructions—their silence almost pointless amid the horrific sounds within the Veil. She tried to tune out the chaos, reaching out to the greater part of herself—her soul, a construct of energy, touching every time and every world all at once. She would never hear what she was searching for without its aid.

  The song was nearly as familiar as her own. For centuries, she’d heard an increasingly distorted version. Even when she’d lived long enough to find the pure version again, she couldn’t find it. Not until his school classroom, where the discordant notes clouding him sorted themselves into the melody she’d longed to hear. And then, that night in the park, she’d sung it for him, pure and free of dissonance. He’d embraced it, and those notes now resonated outward to the universe.

  In the park, she’d thought she was doing it for him. If he’d failed Fuyuko, he would never forgive himself—she would’ve lost his song forever. But now, she knew she’d done it more for herself. She’d longed for it for so long—Cain’s garbled version was an insult—she had to give it back to Gwynn, just so she could hear his soul sing again.

  The song saved Gwynn and Fuyuko. Now, Adrastia hoped it would be enough to save her and the rest of Ansuz.

  There was no telling if Gwynn was somewhere safe. After all, Jackson said pre-existing futures had disappeared. But she couldn’t let that deter her. She’d been so intent on getting Gwynn to Asgard, where he’d meet Sophia, where he’d be safe, she’d been blindsided by whatever treachery Woten concocted. If she’d been wrong, if Gwynn being taken to Asgard hadn’t helped him, then her destruction didn’t matter.

  A note struck her ear, a hint of melody in a direction she could follow. She shoved the other sounds aside like an adventurer chopping his way through deep brush.

 

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