Read Apocalypsis 1.05 Island of the Light for Free Online Page A

speed of merely 15 feet per second. He gripped the two guidance handles of his parafoil and directed himself in a wide bend to the right of the fortress, which he could now clearly see underneath. The wind had increased and was driving him towards the open sea.
    Six hundred feet. Too much altitude to hit the landing.
    Peter turned the parafoil into the wind and took the risk of flying another full circle. Now, the oval-shaped fortress was to his left. Nobody was in sight; no sign that anyone had detected him. Peter could see a wide parapet that abutted two low walls. That was the spot where he had to land. However, he had to do it against the wind, which was unfavorable and made it impossible to land on one of the longer stretches of the battlement. So he had to risk an approach from the side.
    Three hundred feet.
    One last time, Peter readjusted the position of his parafoil and then he started his descent towards the fortress. If the wind whipped up again, or if it changed direction, he would get slammed against the wall or plummet into the water. But Peter did not worry about that, not now. He focused all his energy and attention on the impending landing as he saw the battlements of the fortress getting closer and closer.
    Too close, too fast.
    Only thirty feet above the fortress, Peter pulled the guidance handles again, this time with full force to break his fall. The battlements were right underneath him. Then he hit the ground.
    Harder than he had expected. Peter crouched and rolled over to his side. It was pure luck that he had not slammed into the small parapet wall; he had missed it by a fraction of an inch. As soon as he hit the parapet, he tried to get up again because there was still one danger that hadn’t been averted. The parachute was collapsing over him, turning dangerously into the wind. Peter jumped to his feet and pulled in the cords. It was difficult to move on the narrow parapet but he managed to walk around the chute and rolled it up so that it could not spread out again and drag him out over the ocean.
    When he had managed that, he removed his harness and rolled up the rest of the chute. Only then did he cower down behind the parapet and try to catch his breath.
    In the darkness beyond, the waves roared as if they wanted to announce his forbidden arrival. Peter tried to control his breath and listened for any sounds coming from the fortress. But there was nothing, save for an eerie chanting that seeped from the depths of the building. No footsteps, no shouting, nor any other sign that he had been detected.
    Peter ignored the slight pain in his left temple that had been pulsing like a warning light since he had landed. He pushed the rolled up parachute into a recess in the wall and looked around to get his bearings. The historical illustrations seemed correct. At the far side of the parapet, he recognized the staircase leading into the building. Peter peeked carefully over the edge of the parapet into the inner courtyard of the fortress. Nobody in sight. In absolute silence, he walked down the stairs to the first level of the fortress, where the chanting was louder. He followed the strange sounds through dimly lit corridors with cell doors on either side. The entire structure looked like a prison. With the pain in his head came the images and the weird sense of déjà vu.
    You know where you have to go. You’ve been here before.
    Suddenly, he saw something at the end of the corridor, a figure in a monk’s cowl, and Peter pressed himself up against one of the cell doors, waiting breathlessly.
    Not a prison – a monastery!
    Peter expected to run into other monks at any moment. But nobody came, neither on the first level, nor on the lowest level. He saw the small courtyard in front of him. The chanting that was intermingled with polyphonic murmuring was coming from an open door on the other side. A strong smell of disinfectant hung in the air. The pain in his head got worse as Peter crossed the narrow