Page 133 of A Rising Hope

The fire on my blades matched the one in my eyes when I found him. General Thynirite. His white feathered helm stood out bright against the dark armor of the soldiers.

I was going to enjoy this moment.

The moment he realized that he lost to some bastard.

Our glares crossed. Matched hatred lingered in the air.

I gave him a smug smirk and plunged both of my burning swords into the water.

A blink.

My powers, unchained and unleashed, ran free.

And the entirety of the Kinderby River evaporated into the air.

The ravinefrom the dried river was enormous, and I sent another wave of heat drying the layers of mud, incinerating the flopping fish.

“Xentar is going to hate you for this giant natural disaster,” Orest mumbled near me as we watched the enemy tremble in fear, staring at where their giant warships were only a few moments prior.

“If I remember correctly, his exact words were ‘Please don’t make it a second Desolate Desert.’ The shores are still intact, so I think I’ve done well.” I yanked both of my swords out of the ground.

Orest observed as enemy battalions flooded between the city walls, frantically preparing for the battle where the river once had been. I put on my helm, hiding a slight wince. Burning the river reminded me of exactly how weak death left my body, my powers hungrily taking a toll on my physical body. I rotated myaching wrist before sending another wave of fire burning their archers.

“Let’s go for a stroll,” I snarled, watching Zora’s father depart, leaving his scrambling soldiers behind. Orest noticed it too, his deep frown—the only sign of his dreadful worry. I knew Orest was eager to get through the city walls to find Zora, each moment away tormenting him. I knew that, because I too found myself desperately fighting against my own thoughts of searching for Finnleah.

He raised his fist up, opening it. A few horns echoed through the battalions, signaling our move forward, and we marched into Svitar. Our steps drummed the ancient song of war. And of triumph.

76

ZORA

The large clock tower chimed a midday beat. The brass bells echoed through the city, matching the sounds of battle horns at the city walls.

Not even a few minutes later, a massive wave of hot and humid air swallowed the capital of Esnox, making it difficult to breathe as the sticky air burned our lungs. But that feeling was short-lived as thick and palpable darkness like a heavy, cold fog creeped over the streets of Svitar, consuming the light of the city inch by inch.

The Casteol smuggler was long gone, departed back to his quarters, as we reached the center of the city.

“Time to shine,” I uttered to the Ten as we dropped our skirts and dresses, unveiling the armor underneath. Our blades and axes were drawn, eager to taste fresh blood. Terror and horror etched on people’s faces as they ran in a panic for any cover from the darkness turning the white stone black, brick by brick, until the entire city of light was turned pitch-black.

“Thank you, Xentar,” I whispered under my breath, begging the gods to keep him safe. Soon the disheveled pedestrians would be replaced by soldiers and Destroyers, and in war therewouldn’t be a trial or a judge. Only split-second decisions—mercy or execution.

And the war we were fighting had no room for mercy.

Not anymore.

It’d be awhile before people realized the smoke that lingered on the streets wasn’t poisonous, that it was simply an imitation of the Black Shadows that plagued us before. But I hoped that the primal fear humans felt of the dark shadows would be enough to keep them away from the cobbled serpentine roads where the fighting would soon erupt. That it’d be enough to keep the streets free of innocent bloodshed.

Each of the Ten stood tall, shoulders squared, weapons waiting, carefully watching the streets leading to the city square.

It was nearly impossible to see in this dark fog. Our eyes strained and narrowed, attempting to decipher the moving figures. Our natural eyes were useless, but so were the eyes of every soldier in the city.

“Now,” I ordered at the first sound of approaching hooves. Each one of us pulled out a small strip of black fabric, blinding our eyes to avoid the distraction.

I wrapped my chain around my arm, holding to the metal handle of my blades. A sudden wave of terror rolled through me, and the air felt heavy in my lungs. The chain bit into my skin as I held it tighter. I let myself adjust. I let myself settle. I let myself remember.

Why I was here.

For whom I was fighting.

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