Cast - Amber smoke: The Escaped Series, Book One

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Diversion Books
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Copyright 2015 by Kristin Cast
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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First Diversion Books edition July 2015
ISBN: 978-1-62681-552-0

The ancients knew them as the Furies, seekers of justice. Three sisters who acted as jailers, overseeing those who threatened to end humanity and feed from the souls of the innocent. Each sister wore a face of the phases of woman: Maiden, Mother, and Crone. These powerful, ethereal beings held bubbling rage, sickness, and violence locked within the deepest level of the Underworld. It is there that they made their home; in a crystal cave in the heart of Tartarus. In the light of the sugary chandeliers, their gypsum-frosted cavern shimmered like sun-kissed rain. Centuries passed while the sisters kept watch with only each other and the prisoners of Tartarus as companions.

Until, one day, love drifted down from the Mortal Realm and sprouted in the heart of Maiden...

There are only two types of mortals, Mother sniffed as she shuffled through her large wardrobe. The condemned and the saved. She pulled out a scarf and tossed it on the bed. It landed in a clump next to Maiden.

Maiden fingered the scarfs soft purple velvet. But what if you are wrong? What if there are infinite types of mortals and they are more complex than they seem?

Mothers short brown hair skimmed her shoulders as she turned to deliver a withering glance to Maiden. How could they be? They are born and die in the time it takes for you to make even the simplest of decisions.

We cannot blame them for having such a short time on earth. I am merely wishing to experience their world, as I have experienced my own. Even if it is only for a brief while.

That can never happen, Mother snapped. Do you understand? We are not like them. We are what keeps them safe for their pitifully short time alive.

Maiden sulked, All beings die eventually. We too shall join them.

We are different. Mother pulled out a snow-colored shawl and wrapped it around her broad shoulders. When our cycle ends, we will elevate to a higher purpose. No one will pass judgment or decide our eternity for us.

But

Enough, Maiden. Mother closed the mirrored doors. You must not spend your time creating stories about mortals. Tartarus is in need of our full attention.

You and Crone discuss our home like it is living. It is only chambers and halls like the other levels of the Underworld. Maiden studied her reflection in the wardrobe and improved her slumping posture.

Do you think it is our beauty that protects the mortals and keeps the evils of this world locked away?

Maiden twirled the ends of her long auburn hair and shrugged. I suppose not.

Think, for a moment, on the true evil we jail.

What of it?

Mother sighed and sat next to Maiden on the bed. If even one of those creatures freed itself and traveled up, how would we protect ourselves from their vengeance? How would we protect the mortals you care so deeply for? We must respect our home. It is alive around us, protecting both ourselves and the Mortal Realm from destruction.

Maiden ran her fingers over the crystal amulet hanging around her neck. But that is not possible. Nothing can escape from Tartarus.

It is only impossible until it is not.

Maidens forehead wrinkled. I do not understand.

Sister, anything is possible. If the wickedness within this prison made it to the Mortal Realm, we would be destroyed and hell would reign on earth. All the good you see in the human race would wither without Tartarus.

I still do not see the need to classify the mortals so hastily.

Mother sighed. Sometimes I wonder if you will ever learn. She patted Maiden on the leg. I may not be able to teach you our history and purpose in one day, but I can open your eyes to some truth. Come with me.

Maiden hopped off the bed and followed Mother down a brightly lit hallway. The floor and walls gleamed a glassy white, and Maiden admired her distorted reflection all the way down the narrow passageway.

Mother stopped abruptly, and Maiden crashed into her back.

Apologies. She giggled.

The stern look on her sisters face made her smile fade.

Final Judgment takes place just beyond that gate.

She followed Mothers gaze. Tartaruss foreboding entry gate cast thick shadows on the floor. I thought I was not to watch Final Judgment.

You need to see what I know to be true. Mortals plead for either eternal freedom in Elysium or mercy in condemnation. Watch the next Final Judgment. See for yourself what simple creatures mortals are. Maybe then you will stop creating stories. Mother brushed past her sister and disappeared down the hall.

Maiden crossed her arms and lowered her green eyes to the crisscrossed pattern of shadows. There is nothing wrong in thinking there is more to them. Besides, are not all stories based in truths? Maiden said, sliding her bare feet across the smooth floor.

The narrow hall felt smaller as she approached the grand gate. The stench of decay wafted from the Acheron River, and Maiden covered her nose to keep from gagging.

Charon, bring us the next soul for Final Judgment, a voice thundered from one of the three high-backed platinum chairs at the mouth of the Acheron.

Although their seats hid the figures, she recognized the voice. Aeacus, she whispered, quickening her pace. She reached the gate and stood on her tiptoes to see over its filigree designs.

Charons skiff drunkenly bobbed along the waters of the Acheron. Its lone passenger held his arms out to steady himself as Charon guided the boat to shore.

Your time has come. Charons bony arm pointed to the chairs. Go, face your judgment, but do not forget to leave my payment. His long beard seemed to pull him down; a small hump formed between his shoulder blades.

The soul stood and dropped his fare by Charons feet. It hit the vessel with a hollow thud. Your coin, Charon, he said, bowing low before he disembarked.

Galen Argyris, your life in the Mortal Realm has ended. Your soul now faces Final Judgment. Only two choices remain, Elysium or the Underworld. How do you believe your soul has been colored? Aeacus thundered.

I am innocent. He stood tall before the panel, too proud to bend to the rivers stench. But I am not deserving of a place in Elysium. I made a deal in the Mortal Realm to trade my soul for that of my son.