Beast The Fall – Gonzalo E Zabala (1)

Zora went still. Hypnotized by that perfect drop resting on the white page. For an instant she only breathed, watching how the blood spread slightly, embracing the ink. It was as if something inside her clicked. Without thinking much further, she reached toward the grimoire. She opened it. The warning page appeared before her as if it had been waiting. Her hand remained suspended over the book’s edge. The drop of blood on her finger pulsed with her own heartbeat. And the monk’s old, dark, dried drop seemed to look at her from the page.

Zora held her breath. “What am I doing?” crossed her mind a second before she could stop herself. But it was too late. One drop fell. Right upon the ancient mark. As if replacing it. She squeezed her eyes shut, fearing some reaction, some tremor, some whisper… Nothing. Silence. Only a fresh drop of blood upon an old forgotten page. She remained still, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. At last, she released an exhale, half amused, half nervous.

How could she be so foolish? She pushed the grimoire aside, let the page dry, and took another clean sheet to begin Gregorios’s tasks again… this time careful not to cut herself once more. 1kitap1.com/en he pass was not yet fully open. Crossing it like this was madness. But that man had not come to choose. He had come because he had no other option.

The wind came down from the mountain like blades. The messenger’s cloak was a block of ice, his beard filled with frost, and his fingers barely responded. The horse moved more by instinct than by strength: it slipped, rose, slipped again. And even so, the rider gave that final pull that forced it onward, as if death itself were chasing him.

When he saw the poor light of the farm, he nearly collapsed with relief. The moment his feet touched the frozen mud, a man came out with another horse already saddled. No words were needed. The messenger barely breathed; he let himself fall onto the new mount and rode off before the farmer could even close the door. The horse he had brought remained trembling, foam on its muzzle, on the verge of collapse.

From there on, everything was a mixture of rain, mud, and darkness.

This book has been registered and protected through technological proof of authorship and date with Safe Creative. Safe Creative verification code: 2512144018042 No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or 1kitap1.com/en TABLE OF CONTENTS Title Page Copyright Page Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Further Reading: The Dawn 1kitap1.com/en Y CHAPTER 1 ear of Our Lord 1440…

Beneath the mountains of Sadova. Near midnight of a particularly harsh winter, the screams of a woman shattered the vast silence of the mountains. Outside, the snow covered the valleys like a white shroud; inside, the air was thick, hot, saturated with the metallic scent of blood. The woman arched over the bed, her body convulsing between pain and despair. The trembling hands of the village elder woman tried to help her, but the soaked cloths were no longer of any use.

Each time she screamed, the fire in the hearth stirred, casting shadows that seemed to move on their own along the walls. “Push, child, push!” the old woman pleaded, while the father, pale, held his wife’s head. But the baby would not come.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 3c85d224955bb61c
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,567,767 bytes (1.495 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 613
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 471.81 minutes
• Total Words: 94,362
• Total Characters: 540,545
• Average Words per Page: 153.93
• Average Characters per Page: 881.8

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