by Lucia Ashta
“All together,” my brother in red piped up.
“Yes,” another in yellow added. “So that no one of us carries the burden.”
“Very well,” G-Man said. “Now then…”
“Wait,” I stammered. I thought they’d at least give me time for farewells and some semblance of composure after my supervillain stunt.
But the next instant I couldn’t talk or string together coherent thoughts. I couldn’t hear anything beyond the loud whooshing, pulsing sound in my head, and I imagined it to be the sound of doom. Unbearable pressure assaulted my body from all directions, pulling and pushing in on me at the same time.
My eyes wouldn’t register anything beyond pain, but I understood what my friends must be doing. Ever since lightning gave us superhuman strength, we could push and pull with an immeasurable force—perhaps that of ten thousand men. Some of my friends hurled all of their might in my direction, while others pulled with equal force. My body was at once being crushed into oblivion and ripped into its smallest component parts.
I’d either implode or explode, and I hoped it’d happen before I could feel any more of this pain. I hadn’t experienced real pain since the lightning storm lit up our cloister ages ago. Now I experienced enough of it to distribute fairly across all that missed time.
Next, I was falling, hurtling toward the car dealership and its mangled evidence of my earlier power.
I was in a free fall, unable to do anything to stop the ground, littered with metal and glass, from rising to meet me.
Every single speck of me was being pulled apart, dissolving my life into its actual meaninglessness. And simultaneously every part of me was condensed until I was made to feel as small as I believed myself to be.
I had to be nearly at the car lot. I tried to open my eyes, squinting toward the sky. All I could make out was light and colored blotches that matched my pace as I rocketed out of the sky.
When I hit the ground, whatever breath was left to me fled in a final puff. My last jumbled thought was that I wouldn’t need it anymore.
Then blessed, empty darkness clouded my vision. It settled across my consciousness like a smothering blanket.
And finally, I was delivered to death.
The darkness began to fade even as I desperately begged for it not to abandon me, although I couldn’t move any part of my body to make my efforts more convincing. I’d sunken into myself like a black hole, but I was moving back toward the light.
I wanted to scream, but my head pounded and the thought of any sound beyond what pressed against my mind was out of the question.
Beyond the pulsing in my brain, I made out the angry thumping of my heart.
Then, sounds outside of me coalesced into murmurs, voices.
As my resistance to the pull of life went unheeded, the voices focused into discernible words.
“I guess the Unkillable Killer can’t be killed.” It wasn’t Germaine’s smug voice as I might have expected. It was the compassionate voice of my closest friend, whom I’d forced to kill me and bear the burden of that action for an eternity.
But Zedekiah hadn’t managed to kill me.
None of them had.
The scream that tore through me, shattering whatever stability I had left, was sufficient to push me back toward the relief of unfeeling darkness for another time.
But the relief would end.
And I wouldn’t.
I was alive.
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ABOUT SPIRIT OF THE SPELL, a Witching World story:
Some things are worth dying for. Others are worth living for again.
When Damien dies, Oliana is devastated. It’s understandable, he is her first love. She’ll cry and grieve and, eventually, she’ll move on, as she must—at least, that’s what an ordinary girl would do.
But Oliana isn’t ordinary. She’s a witch. And she isn’t going to accept Damien’s death without a fight.
With the power of the four elements at her disposal, she can do more than challenge death. The question is, what is she willing to sacrifice to get him back?
ABOUT MOWAB RIDER, a Planet Origins story:
I’ll go anywhere to find Princess Ilara. Even to the Wilds—where people disappear and don’t come back.
The rebels are resisting King Oderon’s rule. I don’t blame them, I’d resist too if I could get away with it.
But the rebels don’t know that. They’ll kill me and never ask questions. Especially now that they’re united by a rebel who can tame the mowabs, the fiercest animals of all Origins.
Anyone who can ride mowabs must be as beastly as they are. Good thing Dolpheus has my back. We’ll need every one of his skills and all of mine to escape the Mowab Rider with our lives.
*** Recommended reading age for Mowab Rider is 17+ due to language.
Acknowledgments
I’d write no matter what, because telling stories is my passion, but the following people make creating worlds (and life) a joy. I’m eternally grateful for the support of my beloved, James, my mother, Elsa, and my three daughters, Catia, Sonia, and Nadia. They’ve always believed in me, even before I published a single word. They help me see the magic in the world around me, and more importantly, within.
I’m thankful for every single one of you who’ve reached out to tell me that one of my stories touched you in one way or another, made you smile or cry, or kept you up long past your bedtime. You’ve given me reason to keep writing.
Books by Lucía Ashta
THE WITCHING WORLD (YA fantasy)
Magic Awakens
The Five-Petal Knot
The Merqueen
The Witching World Omnibus, Books 1-3
The Ginger Cat
The Scarlet Dragon
Mermagic
Spirit of the Spell - FREE for joining my Readers Group
PLANET ORIGINS (Space fantasy)
Planet Origins
Original Elements
Holographic Princess
Planet Origins Omnibus, Books 1-3
Purple Worlds
Planet Sand
Holographic Convergence *
Mowab Rider - FREE for joining my Readers Group
THE LIGHT WARRIORS (Visionary fantasy)
Beyond Sedona *
Beyond Prophecy *
Beyond Amber *
Beyond Arnaka *
The Prophecy of Arnaka
The Secret of Namana
A Betrayal of Time
Whispers of Pachamama
“Daughter of the Wind”
“Immortalium” *
The Unkillable Killer
(* coming soon)
About the Author
Lucía Ashta, a former attorney and architect, is an Argentinian-American author who lives in Sedona with her beloved and three daughters. She published her first story (about an unusual Cockatoo) at the age of eight, and she’s been at it ever since.
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Lucía on the web:
LuciaAshta.com
[email protected]