Page 10 of A Rising Hope

“I will keep her safe.” Godric promised at last. And I gave him an appreciative nod.

Sorrow and relief flooded into my pained heart at the same time.

She’d be okay.

Finnleah would be okay.

Even if it was without me.

7

GIDEON

Svitar. 8 years ago.

Cold fall rain poured relentlessly. The poor weather only added to my already sour mood. Rolling down the cobbled streets of Svitar, the heavy stream of water quickly washed away my bloody boot prints. The shallow puddles of the pooled water splashed from my rapid steps, small droplets landing on the white limestones of the neatly put together townhomes. Glistening stone reflected bits of the very little moonlight this night had offered. Under the cover of darkness, I made my way to the nondescript two-story townhome with a cascade of blossoming flowers decorating the black front door. With a loud kick, I barged inside.

“What the hell?!” Zora jumped up from the floral lounger, where she had been dozing off just a second prior to my appearance. Rainwater dripped down my soaked cloak as I marched across the open entryway towards the dining room. I swept the grand dining table clean with my arm. The clattering symphony of dropped silverware and broken porcelain against the oak floor was a desperate attempt to silence the screamingthoughts in my head. The limp body I carried on my shoulder thumped with a dull sound as I laid the boy flat in the dim room.

“You are going to have to do this,” I said to Zora, wiping the cold water off my face with my bloodied hand.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Zora stared at the unconscious body of a boy who must have been barely thirteen years old.

“He has a Basalt Glass shard buried deep between his heart and lungs.” I ripped his wet shirt in half, exposing his starved, bony back. My eyes scanned his pale skin, searching for a small incision scar.

“What exactly do you thinkIam going to do?” Zora’s narrow obsidian eyes glared at me. Her lips turned thin at my insinuating tone.

“Your hands are much smaller than mine,” I reasoned, withstanding her stare.

“And that somehow qualifies me to dig through his body scouring for a shard of Basalt Glass?” Zora’s sharp voice cut through. Her menacing face tattoo looked even more grim as she glanced back at the lifeless body.

“Qualifies you more than me.” I shrugged, throwing my wet cloak on the white cushions of the exquisitely carved dining chairs. “Think, Zora, you’d be saving a life.” I reached for a pointed knife at my hip, pulling it out of its hidden sheath.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Zora uncrossed her arms, extending her palm. “Give me the damn knife.”

“Good. Now hurry up before he dies.” I rushed her, handing her the smooth blade. She yanked the knife from me, shoving the tall chairs away from the table until she stood right above his stalky body. Her steady hand centered above his bare back, the blade just a few inches away from his pale skin. “And Zora?” She sent me a wry glance. “Try not to kill him.” I jested, taking a seat in one of the wingback loungers by the window. With aswift motion of my hand, flames burst beneath the wrought iron mantle. I pulled my drenched boots off, welcoming the warmth of the small fire.

My sight never left the unconscious body of the young boy, carefully observing, as my cousin not so silently swore a multitude of profanities under her nose. Her calloused hands ran down his back, feeling the raised scars of different shapes, finding one that was a perfect line. Her finger paused, and she let out a large breath.

“This is going to hurt like hell,” Zora whispered, wincing only once, before she slid her sharp blade through the tender flesh between his shoulder blades, cutting the small incision scar wide open. Rich red blood trickled down the regal table, dripping into the thick, plush white carpet underneath. The metal of the knife clunked with a dull sound against the wood as Zora chucked the knife onto the edge of the table. The sound was accompanied by the loud strike of lightning and thunder behind the tall, curtained windows.

“Fuck.” Zora rolled the long sleeve of her black tunic above her elbow, and then she shoved her entire hand into his body.

Seconds rushed by. The already pale skin of the unconscious boy turned chalk white, his buzzed hair now looking two shades darker against his skin.

“Zora . . . ” My voice raised an alarm. The faint candlelight cast a soft glow on the blood steadily pooling on the floor.

“I can’t fucking find it,” she hissed, as her hand dug deeper into his body, searching for the tiny shard of glass. Relentless rain knocking against the metal roof was the only sound in the room. Our breaths paused and our heartbeats slowed as we both wished for time to stop.

“Anything?” I asked again, my voice taunt. Zora ignored my words, her eyes closed, her arm buried deep into his back.

I forced my clenched fists to relax, leveling my breaths. Each passing moment brought us dangerously close to the last seconds of life for the young boy.

“Zora,” I murmured, my voice laden with a heavy warning, recognizing that we’d just ran out of time, as the trickle of blood slowed down.

“Found it!” Zora shouted with relief, wiggling her wrist out of the body. “It’s so damn slippery.” Her forehead wrinkled with a grimace, and a drop of sweat rolled down her brow. “Got it!” She exhaled, bringing the rounded Basalt Glass piece up closer to the light. The dim candlelight illuminated a shard of black glass, as small as a nail, wedged between her two bloodied fingers.

Freed from the poisonous stone, the boy’s body twisted, his consciousness jolting him painfully awake, as his freed powers flooded his body. An agony filled scream burst our ears as he cried out.

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