Stone Sacrifice ✔️Chronicles of Grey BOOK ONE [COMPLETED]

Chapter Thirty-Three

Help me!

I was darkness around me, but I could feel —

Help me!

— the hardness of stone under me, a jagged piece of stone digging into my cheek. I could feel my arm going numb, splayed out behind me, my other awkwardly angled under my belly. My legs were splayed, knee pressed into a pocket in the stone, making me sure I lay on cobblestones.

I could hear —

Scattered! Buried!

— muffled shouts of many kinds. Some in anger, some crying as if in grief. I could barely tell the difference between the two tones as there were —

Help me!

— no words, only sound as if listening through water, but growing sharper and clearer at every passing moment as I lay on the cobble stone... why was I laying on the stone?

"Miera? Can you hear me?"

I knew that voice. It was close. Standing out above the others. Meira, the voice had called me Meira. That's right, I am —

Help me, Meira!

— Meira Greyov. And I was laying on the ground because I was dead.

No, wait, that didn't make any sense.

A fog rushed by in the blackness. Help me! It screamed. I then realized I had been hearing it all along. I knew that voice, it was the fog in Eastwood. The ghost. I could hear the ghost because was dead.

No. That didn't make sense either.

Then understanding came.

Nightmare. I was having a —

Scattered.

— nightmare and so I was hearing the —

Buried.

— ghost.

Except... how could I be having a nightmare when I was dead? And how did I die?

"Meira." Said Jovian more firmly. "It's time to wake up now. I know you can hear me."

Jovian. That was his name.

The muffled cries became even clearer. One I could hear best, shouts of rage - another familiar sound.

Marqis.

All at once I felt it, the anger and rage that was my own. The blackness swirled with red and I felt a trickle in the back of my mind that was the Bloodstone. This was where the ghost had some from, but how that could be was something I would put to my mind for later. My mind was too busy going over flashes of what had happened. The messy fight, the pain, the Black Stone...

The Grey Stone.

He'd killed me. Marqis had killed me on the Grey Stone. I remembered my thoughts as I lay there dying. My final thoughts. The rumbling.

My father had been wrong. Orro had been wrong. The Grey Stone did not kill all of the bloodline, but somehow it had brought me back to life. It had to be, unless it was the Bloodstone?

No. It had been the Grey, I was sure of it somehow, and judging by Marqis' fit of rage, it must have taken away his link to the Grey Stone even as it strengthened mine.

Help—

Shut up! I yelled at it.

The face of fog disappeared and light began to come into my eyes, slowly with shapes I could not understand at first but soon found it was feet and legs and ankles. People were running. Here was a wing of a dragon, white and flitting by as fast as an imagined dream.