Fractured Crown (Book 1: Terra)

Chapter 1

Free falling. Down, down, down. A never-ending blackness that seemed to swallow Iris whole. The panic that rose within her caught in her throat. She was unable to scream or cry out for help. Her eyes were wide open, desperately darting left to right, though open or shut, it made no difference. There seemed to be no end. No reassuring ray of light. Just vast blackness all around her. Her arms flailed helplessly around as her heart drummed fast in her chest, her stomach churning and tightening as she continued to fall further down the pitiless abyss.

She was going to hit the ground, she realised. How she knew this when her sight was of no use to her, she had no clue. But an overwhelming instinct told her she was going to hit the end of the line, very, very soon.

She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth.

Wake up, she thought suddenly. You need to wake up.

Then she opened her eyes and not a second too soon. The blackness vanished beneath her and she jolted upwards, her legs kicking out reflexively. She gasped loudly, her heart thumping a million miles a minute.

Dark spots covered her vision and she rubbed at her eyes, slowly regaining her wits and surroundings.

She was in the graveyard.

She let out a long, shuddering sigh, the tension slowly leaving her body. Everything was alright. She must have simply dozed off again.

She leaned her head against the cool, brick wall behind her and gazed at the cemetery in all its serenity. There was something calming about the way the wind gently caressed the autumn leaves, barely making them rustle in the silent, warm air.

Strange as it sounded, the cemetery was Iris's favourite place to visit. There was not a person in sight, no sound of the constant, oncoming Los Angeles traffic. No chatter or salespeople convincing pedestrians that they simply must buy their products. No fancily dressed people in costumes that convinced tourists to take a photo with them and later demand money from them. No commotions, and most importantly, no people.

The Hollywood Cemetery was where she came to think, or simply just to be, when she needed space and solidarity, peace and quiet. Here, it didn't matter what or who she was. No one cared. There was no one to tell her what to do. And yet, she didn't feel alone. As if the souls of hundreds – thousands – of deceased individuals assured her that this was a place of rest.

Iris stood and absent-mindedly strolled past the gravestones. She took no note of the names on the stones. There was only a handful she had ever recognised anyway. Instead, she observed the kind donations people had left behind. Flowers, money, candles. She glanced back at the cool, white wall she had slept against, the gold letters above reading 'CREMATIONS'. She had walked in there a few times before, but it never ceased to surprise her just how long those halls ran, stretching out as far as the eye could see. It actually stunned her how many people chose cremation over burial.

Why would anyone want their bodies burnt to a crisp?

There was something about being buried below the earth that was almost symbolic, as if a person was finally returning to the earth below, like their time on earth would forever be kept in a chest beneath the earth's soil whilst their soul lifted and went... well, wherever that ended up being.