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Limits @ Infinity 1: The Immortals by J.C. Bell.
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Category: Fantasy Book, Horror Novel
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Limits @ Infinity 1 by J.C. Bell
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Ebook Synopsis

The elven home-world lies in ruin, a victim to the Plague. What was once a lush paradise filled with life, is now a lifeless shell. The giant tree and godlike symbol of their world, the Graelic, has been corrupted by the very essence of the Void. What was once a bastion of purity for all of the worlds, has become the greatest evil the universe has ever known. Led by the most blessed of the Elder Gods, Anon, a group returns to the corrupt world to save the one being capable of stopping the evil tree. But after they are betrayed by one of their own, Anon must join forces with one of the very demons that created the Plague. Together, the Elder God and the demon must journey to the utmost heights of the Graelic and free the elf prince before the secret of his people – their immunity and immortality -- is lost, and the genetic line of the elves comes to an end.

To save Prince Adros, Anon must die.

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Also by J.C. Bell on obooko:

Chosen - J C BellLimits @ Infinity 3 & 4: The Servant and the Sanctuary by J.C. BellGuardians of the Rift By J.C. Bell


Screaming, the children ran. Startled by the activity, a flock of multi-colored birds took flight, rising to the air like a rainbow. The children were a flurry of movement, darting in all directions; hiding behind branches, atop limbs, and burying themselves in thick piles of foliage. They kept to the shadows as they fled, dodging the slivers of light that pierced the canopy like blazing spears.

Alana observed the ruckus, amazed as ever at how fast and sure-footed they moved among the limbs. Hundreds of feet above the earth, they jumped from branch to branch without the slightest hint of fear, as though only the tree existed, and they were oblivious to the distant earth below. She was also impressed by their natural agility, and how quickly they were able to scurry up the trunk. Even when footholds were scarce, they never slowed, their nimble fingers able to cling to even the most indiscernible crack.

Alana wasn’t the only one watching the spectacle; a family of the slow-moving Bolo Monkeys crept down from the branches, regarding the scene with their wide, black eyes that always seemed so sleepy and sad. But the smaller monkeys – little more than black-eyed bundles of fur – betrayed their joy by hooting along with the cries of the elven children.

Soon, the children were all settled into their chosen hiding spots, their screams transformed to muffled laughter – the only thing giving away their positions.

Alana used the lull in the activity to look around, and take it all in. The Graelic – as wondrous to her now, as the first day she arrived. The tree was a world unto itself -- a city towering to the heavens, its branches sprawling outward among the clouds. Such a lush nursery of life. Every day she uncovered a new species or plant – the tree harbored countless of both. Gardens of flowers bloomed in the massive crooks of the Great Tree’s limbs; tended by the elves, but occurring naturally as organic matter piled up through the ages, forming a lush bed of soil. The elves cultivated no crops – the tree sustained them with the fruit it bore, the melina berry. As far as Alana could tell, it was their sole source of nourishment, and was a diet that was most likely responsible for their extended life-span.

Alana thought to return to the Sanctuary with a sample of the berries, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that stealing from the tree was somehow sacrilegious.

To the elves, the tree was called the Graelic, and from what she knew of their language, the word could be interpreted to mean many things; ‘life’, ‘god’, ‘love’. But to Alana, the most apt translation was ‘holy tree’. Not only did the Graelic give the elves food, shelter, and a home, it was also their utmost symbol of spirituality -- its purity the very standard by which they existed. To them it was life, it was god, (and above all) it was love. The longer she dwelt within their land, the clearer the truth of it became to Alana. Given enough time, perhaps she would become a convert of their god, the Graelic. But time was something this world lacked. Very soon, even their Holy Tree would be corrupted by the Plague, as would the elves and all of the purity they stood for.

For many days she had watched the children play. At first she hesitated, knowing their inevitable fate and finding it cruel beyond measure to see such joy in their eyes of grey and white. She tried not to think of the coming of the Dark Army, and that she must go, abandoning them to such a hideous and untimely death. She still wasn’t sure if she possessed that kind of strength – to simply leave them, knowing they were certain to die. But Anon had taught her well, and he believed she was ready. She had to put her faith in him, and the Maker, and believe that good would come. That one day the fallen would have their vengeance and peace would once more rule the universe. To set that cycle in motion, she would do what she must.

In the beginning, she couldn’t bear to watch them, then it wasn’t long before she couldn’t bear to look away. Such peace. It was something she had never known – never thought could exist, not in the Age of Death. Up here in the Holy tree, there was only bliss. The Plague did not exist. She knew it would come, but she too wanted to feel such peace, to forget about the Plague, if for but a moment. And though she dared not partake in their games, just watching the elves left her feeling content.

Then he came.

The children’s laughter grew to a fevered pitch with his arrival. Despite her training and self-discipline, Alana found her own heart fluttering -- but for entirely different reasons. So regal, yet humble as well, she had never witnessed a male like him. In many ways, he reminded her of her brother, Gedron. Both men were Princes, powerful leaders that were imposing both physically and magically. Her brother however, had been a cold warrior -- a brutal fighter and strategist who proved his love and loyalty by the number of enemies lying dead at his feet. The Elf Prince was altogether different; he was as strong as her brother, yet in entirely different ways. And unlike Gedron, his love was his greatest strength, and he wasn’t afraid to put it on display. One look at the man, and his kindness was plain to see. Alana couldn’t help but love the sight of it, in a universe filled with death, she found the man’s ability to blend strength and love remarkable – his broad shoulders and glowing waves of hair didn’t escape her notice either.

He moved through the Graelic so silently and fast, that even with Alana’s power, she hadn’t sensed him until he was directly in front of her. There were times he seemed to vanish altogether; despite her best efforts to find him. She prayed her own presence was equally undetectable to him, but often she wondered if he knew she was there. Sometimes she swore – or maybe hoped – that he was looking right at her, possibly even sent an arrogant wink her way. She disregarded the idea as quickly as she could. If anything, it was a lapse in focus, a dream of a real life. To succeed against the Plague, she had to eliminate the idea -- tear it from her mind. In the Age of Death, war was the norm, the only real life was that of solitude and death.

She had been sent to save him, not fall in love with him. If he proved worthy, she would extract him before the death of his world. Then, she would take him before the Conclave of Elders, who would make him one of the Chosen.

The standard method to determine the Chosen was to witness their reaction during crisis – as Anon had done for her. They would be forced to watch all that they love die. Some go mad, others bloodthirsty. Only those who maintain love are saved from the Dark Army.

If he was worthy . . .

. . . he is worthy.