Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2) by C.J. Aaron (ebook reader that looks like a book .TXT) 📕

entirety of his life. The cavity left in its place was shocking. He felt as if a monumental void had opened in his body, as if a great piece of him was missing.

The feeling terrified him.

Ryl inclined his head, opening his mouth to scream in frustration. No sound escaped his lips. Slamming his eyes shut, he curled into a fetal position.

He was empty.

He was alone.

He was afraid.

Chapter 39

If Ryl could have sobbed, he would have. He wrapped his arms around his knees squeezing his body tighter and tighter. In frustration, he slammed his fist down.

The jarring contact with something solid snapped him back to his senses. The left side of his body felt chilled. He opened his fist, running his hand across the smooth surface beneath it.

Ryl opened his eyes slowly pushing himself up to his knees. He was kneeling in a corridor between the vertical fronts of two mountains. His body was in the center of a massive circle paved with perfectly interlocking, smoothed stones. The circular area formed the low point of a wide bowl. Around it, a field of green grass stretched outward, rising gently until it met the vertical walls of stone. In the narrow gap between the mountains, the grass continued upward following the slight rise in the earth, blocking his view beyond the depression in which he kneeled. The still, green grasses created a jagged line as they met the brilliant light blue of the sky.

The mountains on either side were a stark contrast to each other. Each, however, looked and felt familiar, as if he’d known their faces for ages.

To his right, cracked rocks and jagged points dominated the features of the mountain range. His vision followed the range toward the horizon in the distance. The colors of the sky bleached from blue to white. Dark grey clouds stood out against the colorless sky. Overhead, a swirling black sun leached the color from the surrounding area. Few trees and vegetation grew. The ones that did were stunted; their gnarled branches clawed with sharp pointed barbs. Blood red flowers grew on the stunted, darkened shrubs scattered along the base of the range. Around them an endless plain of windswept desolation stretched out to the horizon.

To his left, the mountains were solid, their rolling peaks topped with a healthy green covering of moss and wild grasses. The sky darkened to a deep blue in the distance. Wisps of fluffy white clouds were scattered throughout the sky. A brilliant golden sun shone down on the surrounding landscape. The trees were full of life, their green branches laden with fruit. Rolling fields of green grasses thrived as far as his eyes could see.

Ryl slowly pivoted his body, admiring the conflicting scenery. There was still beauty to be found in the fractured mountains, just as much as it radiated from the healthy land on its opposite. As he completed his rotation, he noted movement from atop the rise between the ranges. The silhouette of a man appeared, gliding its way purposefully down the grassy hill toward his position on the circle of stone.

As the man approached, the details of the figure resolved. His wavy hair, parted to one side, and the crooked smile were a mirror image of what Ryl’s memory recalled. A long grey cloak billowed out behind his as he approached with measured strides. Though his appearance was no longer that of a translucent green apparition, Ryl recognized his identity immediately.

Caprien.

The phrenic stopped a pace away from Ryl, offering a mild bow.

“Hello, Ryl,” Caprien said. His voice was full of energy and life. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Aye, Caprien,” Ryl croaked. “What is this place?”

The ancient phrenic spun around, his arms held out to each side.

“This is a nexus. A sacred meeting place of sorts, yet it has no name, nor does it need one,” Caprien stated bluntly.

“A meeting place?” Ryl stuttered. “A meeting place for whom?”

“For the phrenic, of course,” he said matter-of-factly. “A hub from which all information travels.”

“Is this real?” Ryl quizzed.

Caprien tilted his head slightly, crossing his arms across his chest.

“That is up to you, my friend,” he said. “Whether this place is tangible or merely a figment of your imagination matters not. There are very few reasons for one to come here.”

He paused, and his eyes focused on Ryl’s arms, then his chest. On the tattoo.

The Transference of Power.

“It seems you are here for two of them,” Caprien stated. “A surprise, I must admit, but I digress.”

Caprien folded his hands behind his back, slowly pacing in a circle around Ryl.

“You see, my friend, time has no meaning here,” he explained. “Whether it had been a moon or an eternity, it would feel the same to me.”

Ryl’s eyes followed the phrenic as he circled. Caprien tilted his head back, gazing into the sky above, letting out an audible sigh.

“As meaningless as time may be, in the same regard, I feel drawn by a profound longing,” he admitted. “I am anxious to complete my final task. I yearn to be reunited with my brethren.”

“The transference,” Ryl gasped. “That is your final process, is it not?”

“Aye, my friend,” Caprien beamed. “The process of transference requires two steps. In the world of the living, you were marked. The power that flowed through me, my experiences, my training, my heartbreak, my joys in life, all were transferred to you. The alexen in your blood are the keepers of that knowledge, though some inevitably becomes accessible to you in the process. Others they release from time to time when they see fit.”

Ryl opened his mouth to question, but Caprien continued his explanation.

“Here, the process reaches its conclusion,” he explained, stopping his orbit in front of Ryl once more.

He held out his left hand, palm up for Ryl to see. In its center was an identical circle, like Ryl’s chest; its featureless interior a blur of black. As he extended his hand toward Ryl’s chest, the motion slowed; the designs of the rotating