Free Feast of Chaos (Four Feasts Till Darkness Book 3) by Christian A. Brown

well know, although the realm of the Sisters Three plays by nature’s rules. Nature can be cruel by mortal judgments, but we understand her and her laws. Do not attempt to understand Pandemonia—death will come more quickly if you try. You might not even know it’s happening until the Pale Lady shows up to take your hand. So the third and most important rule is, do not touch, eat, or otherwise engage with anything unless I have confirmed it is safe.”
    Moreth spun around and poked his cane into Talwyn. The scholar had been bumbling along behind him, eyes wide, fingers trembling and ready to grab things to feed his scientific curiosity.
    “I wasn’t—I wouldn’t just touch things!”
    “You would; you will. I’ll be shocked if you aren’t dead in a day,” replied Moreth. “Blood King, if you care for him, watch him, please.”
    The Wolf flicked Moreth’s cane off his pack-mate. “I am the Blood King no more.”
    “Well, find out where he is, and get rid of the other fellow you’re pretending to be. We need monsters in Pandemonia, not a lion who has gone and slept with the lambs.”
    After having offended the whole company, Moreth—unfazed—resumed his walk. Breezes and heat swayed his dandified attire; he somehow blended in with the fantastic vista ahead, seemingly as comfortable as the natives of this land.
What people could live in this kaleidoscopic delirium?
wondered Thackery, as he glanced from ember-bug, to rubber tree, to the terrifying desert over yonder. Noises, visual stimuli, and smells abounded. Thackery sensed that the Wolf struggled with this sensory deluge. When Thackery looked to the man, he saw his chest-fur matted, his hanging mouth huffing, and his eyes wild—the appearance of a frantic animal. They would have to help him find a way to filter out all the environmental static, or this place might drive him mad. All-seeing Morigan flashed a silver stare at her concerned friend as he pondered her Wolf.
It will be all right
, she seemed to whisper. And Thackery would have believed her—if he hadn’t known her well enough to read the lie in her expression.
    I shall look out for her again, too, until Caenith finds his bearings
, he decided, and considered what in his arsenal he could use to uphold this promise. What of his magik? Aboard the
Skylark
, Moreth had suggested that magik wouldn’t work properly in Pandemonia, that the etheric currents made sorcery too unstable. Surely, though, there was a way for him to invoke. First, he had to discover what was mechanically wrong with the process in this environment, before exploring how to fix it. So as not to embarrass himself through failure, Thackery waited until the others were ahead of him before summoning his Will. He conjured a memory of Theadora running in a green summery field not unlike this one (although without the freakish elements). It was a memory of love. She’d always loved stars, his Theadora. She’d called them wishing-spots. A little wishing-spot, then, he would make in her honor.
    W HOOSH !
    A pillar of white fire twisted in the air behind the company, and they scattered for cover. No warning, no tingle of danger from the Wolf, seer, or Menosian hunter had presaged the event. There was simply a violent, fiery assault. Mouse was wrenched away by Adam; the Wolf barreled into Morigan and Talwyn, taking them to the earth, and then leaped to his feet. Thackery! Where was the sorcerer? Neither he nor Adam had shielded the man. Angrily, he scanned the haze and screamed into the cindery cloudsfor his friend. Just as the Wolf was about to charge ahead into the black mist, Thackery appeared: soot smudged, coughing, and stumbling. The Wolf carried him to safety.
    “You idiot!” exclaimed Moreth, appearing beside the huddling company. He brandished his cane like a mean schoolmaster ready to rap bones. “You used magik, didn’t you?”
    Thackery coughed. “P-perhaps.”
    “Per-fuking-haps! Obviously, you did.” Spittle flew from