The End of Days (The Soul Stone Trilogy Book 3)

by Matt Moss

  He thought about his family in the Order back at the Grand Highlands and how they were nearing completion on rebuilding the town. No small feat, they had banded together under Torin’s instruction and erected nearly twenty shops and homes in a short time. Spirits were high at the Grand Highlands, and the people were ready for the war with Victor. Their training had progressed immensely under the tutelage of Torin, Joko, Lyla, and himself, and Arkin knew that they would fight well. And everyone knew what must be done, though they still feared of what the outcome might be.

  Fear is a powerful weapon when channeled the right way. To live and die for the greater good—unafraid.

  White flakes fell softly and began to stick on the banks of the river as he stared at the water. The small stone pulsed with energy in his hand, beckoning him.

  His mind went to Paul, to Moses, to Levi, to Lucian, to Victor, to his mother—to anything and everyone but Lyla.

  Never before in his life had he been afraid to lose something, but the past months had changed everything. Their love for one another grew to where it caused him physical pain—the thought of being without her ached his body down to the bone. And it wasn’t just her.

  She was with child.

  “How do you know?”

  “I haven’t bled in months, Arkin. And I can feel new life growing inside me.” She smiled and cried upon telling him the news, and Arkin’s heart overflowed with joy. She’d never been more beautiful to him.

  He couldn’t stop the tears and pulled her close to kiss her lips. “I love you so much, Lyla. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  She hugged him tight as he placed a gentle hand on her stomach. “We’re going to be a family,” she said.

  That memory would stick with him for the rest of his days.

  And that’s why he had to use the stone. “I must know what’s going to happen.”

  Paul had warned him of the consequences that came with knowing the future. Even the smallest change could alter history and shape the outcome of the world—sometimes for the worse.

  His hand closed around the stone. I don’t care. I have to know.

  He soul tapped.

  The stone grew bright and a beam of blue light shot into the sky. The river bank melted away in the sands of time and he found himself standing in darkness. Like the void, he was submerged in the black. His ears buzzed with the lack of noise, and he looked in every direction for anything that could bring him back from this place.

  Breathe.

  He closed his eyes and silenced his mind. His body became weightless and he relaxed into the stream of nothingness. Below him, the vision came into view; as if he was floating above the world.

  The war had been won. Victor and the remains of his army were fleeing across a great mountain pass. Many lives had been lost in the throes of war—blood and corpses filling the battlefield, crows the only thing moving as they picked the spoils of the fallen. Arkin looked for a familiar face among the living, but found none that he knew—most of their skin brown in color, hair black as night. Upon foot and horseback, they cheered the victory and raised their weapons to the sky.

  A small group pursued Victor through the mountain pass.

  Light flashed, blurring Arkin’s vision. The void appeared once more, submerging him in darkness. More light flashed and he found himself above The Crossing. Staring down at his father’s shop. The small town was silent, deserted. Victor and his party came into view, riding as fast as they could from the east. They rallied at the center of the town and Victor commanded them to spread out. Arkin saw the men scatter to hide behind shops and on top of buildings, attempting to ambush their pursuers in one final stand. Karn stood next to Victor in the middle of the dirt street and the two waited there.

  Arkin’s eyes went to the east. He saw himself leading the charge with Torin and Lyla behind him. There were others, but their faces weren’t clear and he couldn’t make out who they were.

  Lightning flashed, splintering across the sky. Black, menacing clouds filled the air and thunder cracked across the land. Looking down, flames filled Arkin’s vision. The Crossing were on fire and the fight continued in the street. He saw himself engaged with Victor, pressing the high priest back with a fury of strikes. An orb of light appeared from Victor’s hands and blasted a path of destruction towards Arkin. As he shielded himself from the impact, Lyla jumped in front of him, sacrificing herself to save him. Upon seeing her death, he screamed out loud as he floated above them and tears mixed with fury blinded his vision. He dropped down next to her and looked upon the vision of himself holding her, rocking back and forth in disbelief. She lie still in his arms, burned skin and singed hair. He stared into her lifeless eyes and touched her cheek in search of life. He placed a gentle hand on her womb.

  “NO!” he screamed out loud, his body racked with uncontrollable emotion. His energy surged so much that it enveloped the town in a blinding light, causing Victor and the others to shield their eyes. A shockwave of pure energy exploded from him and leveled the town to pieces, ripping apart everyone who stood witness to his power, their bodies melting away and dissolving into nothing. Floating above himself, he witnessed the unbelievable carnage and tried to wrap his head around what he just saw. Victor, Torin, Karn, Lyla, The Crossing—everyone of them, gone. He destroyed them all.

  No. This can’t be true. I won’t accept this.

  He cried to the heavens above and looked up into the sky as the clouds were sucked away. The sky, the mountains, the remains of the town…everything ripped past him and blended together as they were pulled into the void.

  Again, he floated in darkness.

  No. It can’t be.

  Breathe.

  Flames

  His eyes snapped open. The snow fell gently around him as he found himself again on the bank of the river. He looked at the stone in his hand, now dim. His fist clenched tight around the rock, and then he cast it into the water. The vision felt so real, and he knew that it must be the way of things as fate saw fit.

  Damn fate. I will fix this.

  He swore to himself and everyone he loves that he would change the outcome and not allow the vision to come true. He looked to the sky and said a silent prayer to the Almighty to help him.

  Movement on the far side of the river caught his eye and he rose to his feet. Peering through the snow and trees, he found his old friend.

  Hobba smiled in greeting. “Man of the west. We meet once again.”

  Arkin smiled and waded across the water to meet him. He embraced his old friend on the other side of the river. “It’s good to see you, Hobba. How was the journey?”

  “Good. Until I come to your land.” He looked around. “It is too cold here. Nothing grows.”

  Arkin laughed. “The cold is my friend. Come, let’s warm ourselves by a fire. We have much to discuss.” Arkin led Hobba to the camp where he’d been staying for the past few days, watching the snow fall and waiting on Hobba to meet at the appointed location.

  “What took you so long?” Arkin asked in jest, sparking dry tinder with a couple of stones.

  “There are many mountains in the west. Much larger than the ones in my land. I was not expecting that,” Hobba said as he sat on a log. Within moments, the fire ignited and came to life. Hobba grinned at his friend. “At least you western men know how to build a proper fire.”

  Arkin had saved some ale for their meeting and offered him the skin. Hobba raised an eyebrow. “Is this the drink that you told me of?” He sniffed the contents and scrunched his nose at the aroma. “It smells like camel piss.”

  “Just drink it, man of the east,” Arkin told him.

  Hobba shrugged and drank deep. After a moment of reflection, his eyes narrowed. “I’ve had worse.”

  Arkin smiled and took the skin from him. He drank deep, trying to wash away the vision that he just saw, attempting his best to keep his mind on the moment at hand.

  Hobba sat up straight and crossed his arms. “So, th
e appointed time is at hand and here we are. Are you ready for war?”

  Arkin handed the skin back to him. “My people are ready. Are the tribes ready?”

  Hobba looked offended. “My people were bred for war. They were born ready.” He drank deep as Arkin nurtured the fire.

  “Good. We’re going to need all the help we can get. How many do you command?” Arkin asked.

  “Ten thousand warriors, maybe. You?”

  Arkin cocked his head. “Not that many. And I’m afraid that we won’t get nearly the number we were hoping from the independent cities.”

  “They are afraid of fighting?” Hobba asked, raising an eyebrow. He took a drink.

  Arkin shook his head. “No. Many of them have sworn to the Religion.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they had no choice?”

  Hobba spat to the side. “Now that is horse piss. Man is born free and everyone has a choice.”

  “It’s not that simple, Hobba.”

  Hobba stared into Arkin’s eyes as he handed the skin back. “It is that simple. Everyone has a choice.”

  Arkin drank deep, knowing that his words were true but that most people didn’t want to choose, especially if they risked losing certain privileges, such as the King’s Generosity. It was a grand scheme, meant to keep everyone in line and loyal to the Religion and the church, with the promise of food and security. And Victor was the hand that fed them.

  “I’m going to meet with the leader of the independent cities and see how many we can get to join our cause. We will have numbers that rival yours, trust me,” Arkin told him, though he second-guessed Maximus and his allegiance.

  “And how many does the high priest have?” Hobba asked, staring into the flames.

  “I don’t know.” The fire cracked and hissed as the flames grew. Arkin gazed into the flames and gave into thought. He watched as they clawed towards the sky, intent on tearing the sun down. Consuming it along with everything else, only to fade away into nothing despite the effort. He looked at Hobba. “When I meet him, I’ll ask for your passage. He’ll grant your people access into these lands and we’ll meet up once more before the battle.”

  Hobba stood to leave. “When shall I see you again?”

  “Thirteen days from now, I’ll meet you here. No sooner. No later. From here, we’ll march to war.”

  “It is settled then, man of the west,” Hobba said and shook Arkin’s hand. “Thirteen days. We will destroy this threat in the west together.”

  “Together,” Arkin echoed. He watched his friend walk away and disappear into the pines. He recalled the vision of the dark-skinned army standing over a battlefield of corpses, and he knew that it was the tribes that stood victorious over Victor and his army. He knew it would be because the stone had showed him.

  As the snow fell around him, he closed his eyes. Unable to shake the vision from his head, he walked into the water and sat down. What would steal his breath before, barely caused his heart to rise. Old training kicked in and he focused on his breath, feeling the energy around him—the water, the ground, the snow and the sky.

  Lyla flashed in his mind, her body burned and lifeless.

  I won’t let it happen.

  I will fix this.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Victor stood in front of the temple, admiring the grandness of what he built. Massive cornerstones adorned the sides, and were built upon each other until they formed a pyramid in the middle, reaching up into the sky. An impressive feat in a few months’ time.

  “Look at it, Sarie. Isn’t it wonderful?” he said in amazement.

  Sarie stood by his side. “It’s truly amazing. This will be your testament throughout history.”

  He scoffed in reply. “No, my love. This will be a testament of the Religion throughout history. This will be a place of worship—a place where every knee will bow and every tongue confess.”

  She looked down. He turned his head to her and grinned. “Come. Together, let us walk into the holy temple.” His fingers interlocked with hers. “Hand in hand.”

  She stared into his eyes for a moment then walked along with him after he led the way. Entering through the door of the temple, his eyes went wide at the grand hall. Fixed at the end, towering above the alter of stones, was the eye of the religion, stained in glass and shimmering in the evening light. Victor looked to Sarie, gauging her reaction as they approached the alter, finding her gaze to be fixed upon the eye. Their steps echoed in time as the stonemasons worked in the temple around them, applying the finishing touches to the inside of the holy hall. Three of them worked on the alter and scattered in repentance, their heads down as Victor approached.

  “What do you think, Sarie? Do you think the people will love it?”

  “Of course they will,” she replied without hesitation. Her hand left his as she turned to him. “The people will love it; as they love you.”

  He looked into her eyes and grinned with satisfaction at her response. “Together, we will build a better world.” He wrapped an arm around her and felt her tense at his touch.

  In life or in death, Sarie.

  “Let’s walk among the gardens. Cain is waiting for me there,” Victor said and led the way. Sarie followed.

  Outside the temple, Cain awaited his master’s presence.

  He inclined a bow. “Master.”

  Victor touched his head. “My son. How do you fare among the cities now that you are in command?”

  “The heretics are being snuffed out. Every day, more join the Religion and swear allegiance to you.”

  “And they have been assured the King’s Generosity in return?”

  Cain nodded. “Shipments of food arrive everyday. Only Cartha remains to be converted.” Cain looked into Sarie’s eyes, then back to Victor’s. “I’m sure the city will produce an abundance of believers.”

  Victor grinned. “I’m sure they will.” He paused and looked into the distance, his eyes vacant. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  Cain blinked. “I… suppose not? Either way, I leave tomorrow.”

  Victor turned to him and gripped his shoulder. “Very well. Safe travels and make your way back soon.” He looked to the staff in his right hand. “Oh, and be sure that you bring the believers back with you. Burn the rest.”

  Cain looked to Sarie, finding her as confused by Victor’s words as he was. He cleared his throat before speaking to the high priest. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I don’t see what the urgency is. I don’t have the provisions or the means to transport all those people back to Kingsport. Let them make the journey on their own when they see fit.” He threw his arm out. “The city is bursting as it is. How many more people can it hold within the city walls?”

  Victor snapped his gaze to Cain. “That doesn’t concern you, now does it? Must I explain every motive and intention to you? No. Now be a good dog and do as you’re told, got it?”

  Cain cast his eyes to the ground. “Your Grace.”

  Victor sneered at Cain’s lack of conviction. “Good.” He walked to the edge of the garden and looked over the wall, towards the sea. It pleased him that the one tree that stood among the grounds was ripped away. He looked to Sarie, searching her reaction, knowing that the tree was special to her. He’d watched her rest under its shade for the last few months. She stood straight-backed, bold, and stared into the shimmering horizon, pretending not to let her emotions show. Cain stepped beside them.

  Victor stared into the distance. “This world will soon change. It cannot be stopped. Throughout history, mankind has shaped the face of the world by the might of his hand. And who does he think he is?” he mused, bane laced upon his tongue. “Only the Almighty has jurisdiction upon this world.”

  “And He has given dominion to us,” Cain noted.

  “No,” Victor snapped back in temper. “Mankind was never meant to be. We are an abomination, a scourge upon the land—a blasphemy to all that is natural. We spit in the face of the creator and destroy everyt
hing that is holy. This will end.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sarie asked in earnest, turning her gaze to Victor, searching the meaning of his words.

  He stood at the edge, his white robe blowing in the breeze. His eyes went distant, contemplating unspoken thoughts that would surely give cause for concern. After a few moments’ pause, he turned to her and smiled. “It’s nothing, my dear. I’m rambling, as I do from time to time. Nothing serious of note.”

  Victor felt Cain’s eyes upon him; his gaze questioning.

  Don’t worry. Fate will have its due, and what will be, will be. There’s nothing you can do to stop that. There’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.

  The high priest walked across the grounds and past the temple with his apprentice and Oracle by his side. No more words were spoken as Victor left them standing in the street among the crowd. Alone, he walked into the church.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Cain sat in a chair and marveled at Victor’s words. “I’m telling you, he’s lost his damn mind.”

  Rico flipped a knife in his hand as he reclined against a wall. “You’re just now figuring that out? Tell me, what else is new?”

  Cain sharpened his sword with a stone. “It’s like he doesn’t care about anything anymore. Talking like the world is about to end or something. And the craziest part is that he seems to be looking forward to it.”

  Rico caught the knife and turned it in his hand, admiring the blade. “People, in general, will do that to you. Everyone’s looking for a free ride, making excuses for why their lives aren’t the way they want it to be. To be honest, I’m sick of it all, myself.”

  Cain shook his head. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be. Don’t give into those thoughts and allow them to shape your mind.”