The Undying God by Nathan Wilson Read Free Book Online

empty, blue eyes still pierced hers.
    “I created a contingency in the event
of my death—should I die, what little life force that remained in
the pendant would be transferred to my body so I might live again.
The remnant of my soul in the pendant restored me to life, but my
mind was radically altered. When I awoke, I was alone and my energy
was fading. My memories had been eradicated, including much of my
personality. I do not know if I possessed friends or family. I do
not know who I was before I died. Most of all, I am severed from
emotion.”
    His hand slipped from the jet pendant
and rested on the leaf-strewn forest floor.
    “All I retain of my former life is my
name, the knowledge of my death, and the vision of my murderer.” He
paused and allowed the silence to speak for him. “I had to relearn
my craft and reread my tomes. My emotions didn’t interfere with my
craft this time. I devoted many years to perfecting my skills and
surpassing my limitations. I am far more disciplined and in control
than I ever could have been in my past life.” He bowed his head.
“But it does not make up for the loss…” Nishka felt bound in place
listening to him.
    “I cannot feel… anything,” he said,
searching for words. She could almost see the longing in his eyes,
as though spiritually lost. “I am detached from emotion. I cannot
feel like a human.” At last, Nishka found her voice
again.
    “What can you feel?”
    Arxu studied her, and with an
expression devoid of emotion, he answered, “Nothing.”
     
    Chapter 6
     
    Night descended across the city as
Margzor approached the Sepulzer temple. In the distance, the
silhouette of the horizon and its edifices lingered mysteriously.
Sepulzer was an opulent sanctuary for sin, a beautiful façade that
concealed a criminal netherworld that reveled in assassination,
prostitution, and slavery. It almost resembled a luxurious hell,
and for each vice there seemed an entire district dedicated to its
worship. The temple was perhaps the only pure thing in the wretched
city.
    How strange, he thought, that no one
was present on the streets. He walked in solitude as the night
sheltered him from prying eyes.
    Each step flowed in perfect unison with
the rest of his body, a tempered confidence marking every stride.
He was thankful that no one was there to witness what he would soon
do. This was the closest he had come to setting his plan in motion,
and he was determined not to let anyone intervene.
    The temple was barely five steps
away.
    He paused at the entrance and listened.
Margzor could hear voices inside, their tones suggesting worship.
He felt something squirming inside him, possibly disgust. He
reached toward the entrance and his fingers brushed against the
intricately smooth surface. Opening the doors, he entered a soaring
chamber with a tiled floor.
    The space unfolded to a majestic
interior. He almost felt swallowed up by the great architecture, so
humbling and monstrous it seemed. It was difficult not to
appreciate the artistic effort that had been dedicated to the
temple’s construction. The vaulted ceiling loomed overhead,
supported by flying buttresses and immense pillars.
    Flanked on both sides by columns, a
great aisle stretched out before beckoning him to the heart of the
sanctuary. Distant voices echoed around the temple with reverence.
Likely, the men and women were praying to their deity and asking
for blessings.
    The concealing shadows washed across
the prayer hall like an eclipse.
    The religious atmosphere was foreign to
him. He admired the fresco glistening with colors, milky whites and
azures that showed his reflection, but even these pure, illuminated
stones couldn’t distort the hideous nature of this
being.
    He scanned the setting; the interior
truly was beautiful. He considered the male priest walking toward
him with a welcome expression. Margzor retrieved his sword, a keen
blade that looked as though fire pulsed inside the steel. Its edge
glistened