Silverkin by Jeff Wheeler

By Jeff Wheeler

Buried within the catacombs underneath the castle of Landmoor lies the Silverkin, an old talisman which may triumph over any Forbidden Magic. Thealos Quickfellow has the precise to assert the Silverkin yet understands little in regards to the lethal results befalling those that wield it. ahead of he can lay declare to it although, he needs to first slip past the net of Sorian who've beset Landmoor and conflict among themselves for supremacy.

On his trip Thealos will research individually of the sacrifices required to develop into a Sleepwalker and the way to exploit the Silverkin to avoid wasting his humans. yet will utilizing it ruin him?

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I regretted snapping at Robbie, but sometimes his Big Brother act went too far. Still, Robbie had always been that way—jealous, overprotective, forever looking out for me, like it was his job. I couldn’t remember when I first met him; it felt like he’d always been there. The cafeteria was noisy and dim. I hovered just inside the door, looking for Scott, only to see him at a table in the middle of the f loor, surrounded by cheerleaders and football jocks. I THE IRON KING 37 hesitated. I couldn’t just march up to that table and sit down; Angie Whitmond and her cheerleading squad would rip me to shreds.

Taking that as an invitation, I started toward him, weaving my way past the tables. He f lipped out his iPhone, pressed a button, and looked at me with half-lidded eyes, still grinning. A phone rang close by. I jumped a bit, but continued walking. Behind me, there were gasps, and then hysterical giggles. And then, the whispered conversation that always makes you think they’re talking about you. I felt eyes on the back of my head. Trying to ignore it, I continued down the aisle. Another phone rang.

The Courts are restless. ” The nurse turned, putting both hands on her hips, her voice chiding. “I’m surprised you haven’t given her the mistwine yet. She is sixteen today. ” “I know, I know. ” The shadow sighed, putting his head in his hands. “I’ll take care of that later this afternoon. ” “Resting,” said the nurse. “Poor thing, she was traumatized. ” A chuckle. “The last kid who drank one of your ‘mild’ sleep potions didn’t wake up for two weeks. ” The nurse’s reply was garbled and broken, but I was almost sure she said, “She’s her father’s daughter.

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