Free Krymzyn (The Journals of Krymzyn Book 1) by BC Powell

Neither of those topics is something I’m really interested in, whether I’m here or on Earth.
    The two Disciples sandwiched between Tork and Eval—a man and a woman—are both a bit shorter than Tork. They seem like they’re in their late thirties or early forties, and they’re just as strangely attractive as everyone else I’ve seen in this world. Well, Sash isn’t really all that strange—other than the amber eyes and glowing scarlet in her hair. But “attractive” can’t begin to describe anything about Sash.
    The woman and two men on the other side of Eval don’t look more than a few years older than I am. They range in height from five foot eleven to six foot three. Also good-looking in an unusual way, they look like they could have stepped off a billboard for the latest fashion fad—if that fad happened to be black leathery pants, a sleeveless black V-neck, and stoic faces topped by Halloween wigs.
    “So what are all the anomalies with my visits?” I ask.
    “Are you fully aware when you depart your plane?” Eval asks me, seeming to ignore my question. They sure do that a lot to me here.
    “I guess you could say that.” I don’t want to get into the seizure, tumor scenario.
    “Strange,” she replies. “When Tellers arrive from other planes, they’re typically asleep or in a meditative state while in their own world.”
    “What are the other anomalies?” I ask, returning to my initial question.
    “On your first visit, you appeared to be much younger than any Teller to arrive before you. Tellers always arrive on this hill, called the Telling Hill, yet you arrive in another location. Darkness has never fallen while a Teller was in Krymzyn, yet it’s happened twice with you here. And no Teller has ever witnessed a sustaining tree awake or has been exposed to those who dwell in the Barrens.”
    “You mean the Murkovin?”
    “Yes,” Eval answers. “The Murkovin.”
    “What exactly are they?”
    “Murkovin are creatures who belong to the Barrens outside the Delta. They live on sap from trees in the Barrens. That sap is contaminated. It results in irrational, extreme emotions in those who drink it. The more they drink, the more they need the sap. Those of us living in the grace of Krymzyn take only what we need for existence from the supply our Hunters provide.”
    “So they’re, like, addicted . . . just live to drink sap?” I ask, explaining the word that doesn’t translate.
    “Exactly,” Eval replies. “So much so that they destroy the limbs of trees in the Barrens during light so they may more freely drink the sap during Darkness. Many of the trees in the Barrens die at their hands. The Murkovin then attempt to enter the Delta during Darkness, seeking the sap from our trees or even to drink it from the blood of those who dwell here.”
    “Why don’t you just hunt them all down and kill them?”             
    “They serve a valuable purpose,” she says thoughtfully. “The Murkovin are a constant reminder to us of how important balance with our world is in order to sustain life.”
    “Everyone talks about balance here, but it seems like a pretty dangerous place from what I’ve seen.”
    “Balance doesn’t imply an absence of danger. In fact, danger may allow balance to properly exist. But I do apologize if you felt threatened.”
    “It’s okay ,” I reply. “The Watchers took care of the Murkovin, and Sash saved me from the tree.”
    “Following the Murkovin intrusion, we were busy with the Watchers at the wall. Otherwise, one of us would have found you. When we learned you were injured and with Sash, we knew you would be safe and well cared for.”
    “I was both,” I comment.
    “The strangest anomaly to me,” Eval says, “is that we’ve yet to have an opportunity to hear of your plane from you, although there’s really no need. A Teller from the planet Earth has visited Krymzyn in the recent past. We learned what we needed to know of your plane from