Westward Ho! Or, The Voyages and Adventures of Sir Amyas Leigh, Knight, of Burrough, in the County of Devon, in the Reign of Her Most Glorious Majesty Queen Elizabeth by - (best books to read for self development TXT) 📕

Again, he pilfered through her thoughts, her memories, with a reckless, violating power that made her choke down a sob.

“Ah! She too refused the sanctuary.” She felt his cold lips press against her temple. “I wonder how it will feel to know that every risk you took, everything you and your demons did was for nothing. I will simply take the Immortals back, and leave you all to suffer the consequences.”

“Bastard,” she ground out, more tears rolling down her cheeks.

She felt his lips smile against her skin. “You know what the best part is? You’re the one who betrayed them. You ruined it all for them.” Then, his voice grew quieter. “And you won’t even remember it.”

That horrible feeling came again, of him prying inside her mind, and then, everything went black.

19

Tristan watched as the morning sun rose over the horizon, feeling strangely satisfied. This island was one blessed by the four Immortals who controlled the seasons. No one else had ever walked these golden sands, until them. He could feel the healing energy of the powerful magic coursing through his skin. He liked the impact it had on those he protected.

The Immortals had eaten the golden apples for hours. And over that time, they’d visibly changed. Their skin glowed. They gained weight, filling out their bodies. And they seemed to hum with power with each passing second.

They’d then stripped off their clothes and bathed in the waters that surrounded the island. Waters that sparkled like stars. When they’d finally emerged, they wore clothing representative of their seasons. And they also wore smiles.

Only the Immortal known as Summer seemed to have no emotion. He ate, bathed, and curled up on the sands without a word or a sign of his feelings. And yet, when they slept, they all slept curled together on the sands.

We were right to take them here.

He’d debated whether he was making a mistake. The shifter he carried had woken, pointing and guiding Tristan as he flew him. Tristan had thought he should bring the shifter to sanctuary, but seeing how their lands healed them, he was glad he didn’t. They needed this.

They deserved it after all they had been through.

And now, Daniel and Mark were sleeping contently near him, the Immortals only a few feet further away, and Surcy safely in their home.

He felt… happy. Nothing made him happier than when the people under his protection were safe. Perhaps it was the gargoyle in him, but he didn’t mind.

Closing his eyes, he felt the sun as it caressed his flesh. Since meeting Surcy, he found himself staying in this form more and more. He no longer wanted to hide in stone. In fact, he felt like an entirely new person. All the years before he’d been broken, he slept unless his village needed him. Now, he couldn’t imagine hiding in his stone form.

It felt… nice to be alive.

Something sliced through his chest, and pain shot through every nerve in his body. His eyes opened, and Frink stood over him, grinning. The angel pulled back his soul-blade and blood poured from Tristan’s mouth. He tried to shout, to warn the others, but it came out gargled through his blood.

Frink’s smiled widened, and he plunged his sword into Tristan’s chest again, pinning him back against the sand. His head turned. White-winged angels crept along the golden sands, their blades drawn, as they surrounded Mark, Daniel, and the Immortals.

Drawing every ounce of strength within him, he spit blood, and shouted, “angels!”

The word wasn’t loud. But it was enough. Daniel and Mark shot awake. The angels raised their soul-blades, and suddenly, swords appeared in the demons’ hands. Metal clashed with metal, and then they were leaping to their feet.

The Immortals rose too, their expressions giving nothing away as the angels surrounded them.

He couldn’t let them die! He couldn’t!

Frink grabbed his face and pulled him to face him as he leaned down on his sword, twisting it more painfully inside him. “I can’t kill you, demon-scum, but I’ve been told I can make you very, very miserable.”

Tristan spit blood in his face, then coughed up more.

Frink wiped it away, his eyes wild.

And then, Daniel severed the angel’s head from behind. The fire mage stood over him, pulled the blade out of his chest, then turned to face the next attack.

Tristan willed his flesh to turn to stone. It took longer than usual, but with the blade gone, it was possible. He knew the instant it worked, because the pain echoed through him, but was no longer unbearable.

Breathing hard, he still couldn’t rise. But his thoughts began to clear.

A roar shook the air.

Letting his head drop to the side, he was shocked to see the dragon he’d rescued. He’d transformed again, but this time he no longer looked as sickly. Still too thin, but his scales were a brilliant gold, and his wings looked stronger.

The angels scattered back from him.

He lashed out at them, and the angels scattered into the air. Summer rose into the air, following them like a being focused only on revenge. On the shore, Spring shifted. Where the woman once stood, a silver dragon rose. Without slowing, she followed Summer into the sky.

Winter shifted into a black dragon. A massive creature with dark eyes. And Autumn changed beside her, into a red dragon. They too launched into the air.

The angels Mark and Daniel fought were plucked off the ground. Thrown, ripped into pieces, and torn with vicious teeth. Tristan had seen many battles in his lifetimes and had seen a lot of blood, but this was different. These dragons were out for blood. They didn’t just want to kill the angels, or win the fight. They wanted to make the angels suffer.

Screams filled the air. And with each second that passed, Tristan fought to rise. He didn’t know what he would do, but he was determined this would not be the first battle he didn’t fight in.

When he managed to climb to