The screeching voices pierced Eric’s skull, making his ears vibrate with painful echoes.
“Take the stone,” they chanted. “The power is yours. You will rule the dark world. You will rule the light.”
Eric dropped to his knees, a feeling of doom taking over his heart. He raised his gaze to the wooden stand that held the precious dark stone.
“Nothing will stand in your way,” the voices went on. “Stop fighting destiny.”
Eric’s eyes narrowed and focused on the stone. The throbbing in his
temples intensified when he stretched out his hand to touch the symbol
of his immortal rule.
Then he heard her voice behind him. “Eric.”
He turned to face her, unable to hide this new kind of greediness in
his eyes. “Not now, Freya,” he growled. “It’s not safe for you here.”
“It’s not safe for you,” she said softly. “Someone’s after your soul.”
Eric returned to admiring the dark stone that was promised to him and
him only. “Can you believe that such a small thing can hold such power?”
he said as if talking to himself.
“Don’t touch it,” Freya warned him. “You don’t know what it will do.”
Eric remained undecided for a short second. Then he guided his hand back to the stone, letting his fingers hang right above it.
“Don’t do it, Eric.”
“I need to know what it can do.”
He heard a sizzling sound behind him that could mean only one thing. He
looked at Freya holding a shimmering receptor in her right hand.
“Don’t make me fight you,” she said.