Sharon Ede www.magethenovel.com © 2023 all rights reserved
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NEVEN’S EYES HALF opened.
He was inside a dilapidated wooden shack. Someone had bundled him up in a grey woollen blanket, which was warm, but coarse and scratchy.
Where the hell am I? How did I get here?
The shack provided some shelter from the elements, but there were holes in the decayed walls, and entire sections of the structure had been raided, probably for firewood. Unwanted guests, the wind, and snow had invited themselves in. Despite the blanket, his body was an ice-block.
He rubbed his face briskly, to wake up and warm up.
Kicking off the blanket, he tried to stand, but his legs almost gave way.
Neven recalled a sensation of a needle in the neck, and his memory came rushing back. He realised he was still affected by the drug administered by the American in the red jacket.
How long have I been out? Where’s Red? And where’s my brother right now?
He grunted in exasperation at his uncooperative limbs.
Must get moving.
After a minute, when his legs had begun to function again, he made his way over to the shack entrance.
Yanking open the door, he peered out into the polar night, willing his eyes to focus.
He began to plough his way through the snow back towards the vault, his compromised muscles screaming in protest at every step. Every green flash of the Northern Lights amplified the pain.
He ached his way up a gentle incline and was about to set off in the direction of the vault when a shower of red sparks high in the sky to his left caught his attention. Within a minute, the red had faded, but as he squinted into the distance, his sight groping around in the dim blue light, he sensed that something had changed since he first…
