Page 129 of A Rising Hope

“I was going to search for their generals to kill but I guess rescuing cats will do,” Orest snickered

I’ve changed.

I knew that.

They knew that.

She knew that.

From the moment I admitted to myself that I loved her, there was no question of my purpose, or my desire, and the eternity that I’d dedicate to her. Everything changed when I met Finnleah.

It’d be foolish to expect it not to; she brought out the parts of me that I fought my entire life to keep hidden. She made me remember my purpose, of who I truly was. She changed my future and gave meaning to the past.

I looked at the looming Svitar walls towering on the horizon.

“After this, I am fucking retiring. You can run the show.”

“Nice try.” Orest slid down the hill. “But I did that already during your so perfectly timed absence and never fucking again.”

The horns sounded on the horizon of the waking city, announcing the impending doom as our first battalions marched towards the shore of the Kinderby River on the northern side of the city.

Soon we’d storm the city. Soon the flames and ash would burst in the skies. Soon, the heavy clang of metal would chime against the white stone. Soon the white streets of the ancient city of Svitar would be tainted with blood.

I scanned the clear skies, not even a ribbon of a cloud.

Soon, but not yet.

All we had to do now was wait.

And waiting was the worst fucking part.

74

FINNLEAH

The tunnels were narrow and low. The few torches that we carried illuminated the ancient stone walls warped in certain places with thick tree roots. Occasionally, small puddles of stagnant water got deeper, reaching above our ankles as we trudged through the labyrinth of tunnels holding our skirts up.

Florian led the group ahead, hunched over at the low ceilings of the crumbing tunnels, followed by Priya’s menacing figure. I walked right behind her, then after me was Zora, followed by the rest of the Ten. Xentar walked last, bent in half, walking mostly sideways as he constantly had to squeeze his big frame through the narrow walls of the tunnels.

We walked in silence, not wasting extra breaths lest we’d run out of air. We reached another small opening with three different paths leading in separate directions.

“This way.” Florian’s voice echoed off the stone walls in the darkness and an almost silent rhythm of steps followed suit.

The space felt tighter each minute we spent buried deep under the ground. The moldy smell of damp air eroded our lungs the longer we stayed.

My mouth was dry. I picked on my lips with my teeth, calming my racing heart. With each blink rapid bursts of forgotten memories from the Rock Quarries cut deep into my thoughts like a sharp knife. And, at times, it felt like it wasn’t the darkness biting at our heels but despair, eager to eat us alive without a moment of respite. I wanted to run; I wanted to claw at the walls. My nails dug into my palms as I forced myself to breathe.

In and out.I reminded myself.

“Are we getting close?” I found myself asking Florian, though regretting it immediately. I knew that question was pointless. It didn’t help us get there any faster. Nor would it help with the heavy silence lingering in the air.

To Florian’s credit, he played nice, “Oh sure, gorgeous, almost there. Is my dazzling smile not bright enough for you in these terrible tunnels?” he cooed, carrying the red cat on his shoulder.

“I just can’t believe your family still uses these,” Cori chipped in, eager for any conversation.

“Usually only on very special occasions. The maps of this labyrinth are very much generational knowledge exclusive the Casteol-only,” Florian replied. The flicker of fire on his torch shook with a small draft of air. “And being surrounded by such strong and unequivocally beautiful women for a couple of hours is a special occasion enough for me, don’t you think?” He glanced back at Xentar who nodded his head, smiling.

“Yes, indeed,” he agreed, his hand softly brushed past protruding dead roots, making them come alive, weaving into the ceiling above us and shielding us from the occasionally crumbling roof.

---