The Survivors: Point of Origin (book 2)

Soulless, pt. 2

            

 

The seasons were melting, one into the other. Most things I cared about had fallen by the wayside. Any version of who I used to be had faded. Thinking about it, I supposed I could include my faith in that list. Perhaps that's what motivated me to go to Densus.

 

            I ran straight there to see the famous Densus Church. Like Ephesus, it had a pagan history that predated its Christian history. The church wasn't quite that old, dating back only to the seventh century, though it had been sacred ground for centuries before that.

 

I roamed the hills surrounding it for several hours, waiting for that pull. But I felt nothing.

 

An hour before dawn, I worked my way inside the locked church. I knelt at the altar and prayed for guidance. For protection. I gave thanks that, so far, we had all made it through this debacle in one piece. And I asked for forgiveness for the million bad choices that had landed me here, and for wishing I hadn't been roped into this. I regretted hurting my family, but I also regretted helping my family, and that made me a terrible person.

 

Before I knew it, I was crying. I was on my knees, alone with my God, and vulnerable on a cold dawn in a foreign land. I knew these mistakes I'd made and the hand I'd been dealt were irreversible, that there would be no lazy Saturday afternoons with Cole or couples' getaways with Corrina. There would be no human life for me. Just more of this. More of the same.

 

This is why I wanted out so badly.

 

I realized how lost I had become. My faith had always been my true north, the direction all other paths I took were based on. But now I wasn't so sure. I had lost sight of so many things I once thought, once believed, and that was dangerous. Everyone has that internal compass, and everyone's true north is a part of who they are. By abandoning my internal compass, I was guilty of abandoning who I was at my most basic. I was falling apart. I understood then that it didn't matter what was at someone's core — love, faith, a god, art, philosophy — if it was neglected, it would give way. Abandoning my core had put distance between the deepest parts of myself.

 

I pressed my forehead to the ground and prayed, curled up in front of the altar, in front of the crucifix. I repeated prayers this way for twenty minutes. It felt like the only safe place to lose it. In front of God. In front of myself.

 

Then I heard them coming: Three minds in the distance, running toward me at a faster than human pace. I assumed it was the Winters, tracking me far more quickly than I expected them to. But as they got close, I heard three distinct mental voices, uninhibited by mental shields. If it were the Winters, I wouldn't be able to that with anyone but Ginny. I stood up, on my guard, and made my way out of the church.

 

"What do you know?" she called, still a distance away, her long hair whipping wildly in the wind. I recognized the shock of white-blonde hair on the muscular man beside her before I could make out her features. They had a girl with them I didn't know.

 

"Narcisa!" I called and ran toward her.

 

"Don't forget me," Valentin said in his native Romanian.

 

"I'm so glad you're alive!" Narcisa cried as she threw her arms around my neck.