The

Vision

Jessica Sorensen

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2011 by Jessica Sorensen.

First Paperback Edition: October 2011

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work.

Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

For information:

http://jessicasorensensblog.blogspot.com/

Cover Photo by Shutterstock

Cover Design Jeanie Malone

The Vision—Book 3 of Fallen Star Series Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 1

I kept having these dreams, or maybe they were more like nightmares. In them, Alex and I are standing out by the entrance to The Underworld. The lake is frozen and the trees are iced over with icicles dripping from the branches.

The sky is as dark as a shadow and the air chills me to the bone. Alex is holding me, his arms are wrapped tightly around me. We stay at the edge of the frozen water, clutching onto one another as if our lives depend on it.

The wind is blowing my hair into my face. There is a holl owness to the outside, like nothing is there but Alex and I, as if the whole world is empty. As we hold each other, a thought occurs to me that we are not supposed to be together, and if we don’t let go, we will die. I look up at Alex and tell him my thoughts, but he always shushes me as he brushes my hair away from my face.

“It will be alright,” he whispers, but his bright green eyes tell me the opposite. It won’t be okay, they say.

I open my mouth to tell him that I know he’s lying, but a crackle ripples through the air and sucks the words away from my lips. I see them—the black hooded figures emerging from the trees, like an army of ice-monsters heading to destroy us.

I look at Alex, wanting him to say something—to do something—but he never does. He just sweeps my hair back and pulls me closer to him.

“It will be alright,” he whispers one last time, and then I am suffocated by light. I hold onto Alex and take a deep breath as I am engulfed by warmth.

It will be alright.

But will it? Because every time I have this dream, I always wake up, lying on the floor of the cabin, stuck out in the middle of the snow-buried mountains. And in the snow lies my weakness. Praesidium. The one thing that renders me of my Foreseer power and binds me to the cabin for as long as Stephan wishes. Yes, I always wake up from my dream, but sometimes I wish I wouldn’t.

Chapter 2

The bathroom faucet had the most annoying drip.

Drip…drip…drip…over and over and over again. It was driving me crazy.

I have been stuck in the cabin, where Stephan had left me, for nine days now. And each morning I watch the sun rise through the barred window, is another morning where my sanity is coming to its end. If I thought my life with Marco and Sophia had been lonely, then I had no idea what lonely was. Because this was the mere definition of lonely.

There was nothing in the cabin besides a bathroom.

Stephan left a box of food, I guess, not wanting me to starve to death. He wanted me alive—he made that very clear. He just wanted my mind and emotions gone, which, if things kept going the way they were, would probably happen pretty quickly.

I wasn’t in that great of shape either. The spot where I hit my head on the rock, when Nicholas had shoved me down, constantly hurt, and I worried it might be getting infected.

There was also only one blanket in the cabin and I constantly had to keep it wrapped around me, otherwise, I would freeze to death.

It was the same thing every day for nine days straight. I sat there on the cold, hardwood floor, curled up in a blanket that smelled like dust and moth balls, and stared out at the snowy mountains that were decorated with marble-sized, lavender balls of Praesidium.

But on the ninth day I lost it.

I was lying on the floor tracing the cracks in the floorboards with my fingers, when I suddenly realized something. Before I knew what I was doing, I stood up and went over to the front door. I swung it open and, ignoring the blast of Arctic wind that smacked me in the face, I stepped out into the snow, barefoot and in shorts, with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

I wasn’t sure where I was going, or if I would even make it very far, but I knew I could not stay here and give up.

Stephan would not win. Either I would escape, or I would die trying.

I would not let the world end.

I started down the mountain, shivering, shaking, and chattering until my muscles felt like they were going to break. But I forced myself to keep going, keeping my eyes on the Praesidium as I walked , wishing desperately that the trail of lavender marbles would finally end so I could foresee my way back to Maryland.

But as the wind kicked up, and the air dipped even colder, I knew.

I was going to die.

There have been a few times in my life where I thought I died, but this was different. I had to be dead this time because all I could see was light—everywhere. Warm light.

I’ve been in a light vision before, and Nicholas had informed me that these kinds of visions meant my future was dead. So that meant I was dead right now, right?

Because all I could see was light.

“Gemma,” a voice whispered. “Can you hear me?” My body tensed. “Who is that?” I called out through the light.

“Come toward me?” the voice echoed.

I blinked, searching the light for someone, but I couldn’t tell what was up or down, or if I was even standing or sitting.

“I can’t see you,” I said. “The light’s too bright.”

“Yes, you can,” the voice assured me. “You just have to look harder.”

If the voice didn’t sound so unfamiliar, then I would have thought I was talking to Nicholas, because it seemed like something he would say. But this voice was much deeper and belonged to someone older.

So, not wanting to be difficult to a stranger, I blinked a few times, trying to “look harder.” Strangely enough, the light began to dim. Slowly at first, and then much quicker, until there was nothing left but a faint glow.

I could see now that I was lying on a midnight-blue marble floor, staring up at what looked like a cathedral ceiling. I got to my feet and examined myself over. My skin was its normal pale color and it appeared that the cold hadn’t frostbitten any of my toes or fingers.

“hello!” I called out, turning in a slow circle. The pale light fogged my surroundings, making it hard for me to see. But I could make out a row of columns on each side of me and a statue not too far off in front. I walked toward the statue, taking each step carefully, afraid that at any second someone—or something—was going to jump out from behind one of the columns.