Free The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) by RJ Blain

the walkways. The stench of fear, sweat, and death blasted his nose. Blaise lifted his sleeve to his face.
    “Major, sir!” the soldier called out. A young man with blond hair touched with hints of red tossed aside a chunk of blackened stone before standing. “This man claims he’s with the church and offers his aid.”
    Dark eyes bore into Blaise. “You’re not wearing a coat,” the man shouted up.
    “So I’m not, but I’m with the church all the same. Any injured?”
    The major frowned. “Those who survived walked away. We’re looking for others now.”
    Blaise nodded. “I can help with that.”
    Kneeling down, he touched the broken stones. “There are no secrets in a world watched by God,” he whispered.
    The voices of past Speakers mingled with the cries of those who lived. One by one, he tuned out the strong, healthy lives around him. The ghosts of the long-dead refused to be ignored, but as though respecting his wishes, they faded to mere whispers in his head. A faltering heartbeat echoed in his ear. He turned his head and pointed in the direction. “There is someone that way.”
    Blaise clambered over the rubble, and the stone groaned beneath his weight.
    “Careful!” the major barked.
    Letting out a huff didn’t ease Blaise’s disgust over the men who stayed off of the balconies in case it collapsed.
    It didn’t take him long to find a woman lying with her legs pinned beneath a slab of marble. The remnants of the Speech-wrought destruction manifested as the red and blue lights staining the stone. Blaise scratched his head and considered the problem of the rock; too much force, and he’d hurt or kill the woman, but if he didn’t use enough power, he wouldn’t be able to shift the debris off of her.
    He glanced over his shoulder at the soldiers. They stood still, watching him with ill-disguised curiosity. Wrinkling his nose, he turned back to the Citizen, lowering his hand to brush it against where the rock glowed.
    Warmth radiated from the stone. As he considered the words to Speak, the red and blue luminescence erupted beneath his hand and the marble shattered to a fine powder. One of her legs twisted at an unnatural angle. He muttered the words to stop her bleeding. The strength flowed out of him, and his muscles quivered.
    The woman groaned but didn’t open her eyes. Furrowing his brow, he brushed away the dust from her and felt for her pulse.
    “She’s alive,” he announced, easing his hands beneath her shoulders and knee. Taking several deep breaths, he gathered his strength and lifted her up.
    “Watch the stairs, they’ve been cracking. Help him! Don’t just stand there gawking, fools! You’ve seen Speech before,” the major barked.
    Three cadets rushed to obey, scrambling down to take the woman from him. He sighed out his relief as she was taken from him. The cadets strugged with the woman’s weight, and their faces paled to white as they stared at the blood covering her. Blaise turned back to the rubble, placed his hands against the stone once more, and listened for the injured among the dead and the echoes of the creators of the Arena.
    Too many cried out for salvation—too many lived among the wreckage of lightning and fire. It should’ve killed any in its path. He stood and worked his way over the debris, loose stones bouncing to the tier below.
    The storm rumbled overhead and its lightning stained the rain and stone red. 
     

Chapter 4
     
     
    Pain stabbed through Terin’s fingers and toes, rousing him from sleep. Something cold and wet splashed against his face. It trailed down his cheek and dripped from his jaw. His arms and legs swayed back and forth in a gentle motion.
    Someone held his legs behind his knees and kept him from moving. The air reeked of decay and sewage. Terin slammed his elbow against his captor. A man’s voice cried out. The grip on his legs loosened and Terin kicked out, his bare toes digging into flesh.
    He tore his nails against bare skin. A