Taken (Sinful Series - book 1)

Running. Panting. Screaming out her frustration.

There was no way out. Wherever she turned, wherever she went, the smoke and glowing light followed. Regan moved up the hill – a combination between crawling, pulling herself up and climbing out of the sea of flames engulfing the valley.

Tears of happiness rolled down her ash coated cheeks as she reached the top of the hill, only for desperation to set. The forest glowed in an unforgiving glow of light, outshining the stars. The red ribbons of fierily hell crawled, jumped, and fiercely proceeded closer.

The wind carried little golden specks which spread over the darkness, illuminating their path, licking the dry leaves and branches aflame. Miles upon of miles of scorching heat.

If it wasn’t for the pounding of her heart, or the increasingly hard breathing, Regan could have found it picturesque. The smoke snaked up around her ankles, the heat of the burning inferno warming her face as she witnessed the molten lava silencing the trees’ last groan.

The distinct juniper smell gave her some comfort as she desperately searched for a direction, a path out of this pyre.

Regan woke up with a cough, sitting in bed, trying to regain some sort of direction. The sweat beading down her back and the heat of her cheeks were the only reminder of what she had seen. Once her cough settled, a shaky hand reached for the nightstand.

For water.

It was their only salvation.

Regan’s anxiety slowly disappeared as she laid back in bed. But sleep could not come. It wasn’t that she was afraid of reliving her nightmare.

No.

Oracles did not get nightmares.