Page 138 of A Rising Hope

“I should’ve known. The little cockroach survived after all.” His spiteful, thin lips dipped down into a scornful frown.

“Sorry to disappoint.” I clenched my teeth, holding tighter to the hilt of the blade in my hand, my knuckles turning white. His vicious gaze scrutinized me.

A foolish part of me hoped that perhaps after all this, he’d see me for who I was. His daughter.

But the cruel features on his face didn’t soften. No, he assessed me like any other foe he’d come across, his focus wasted on finding my weakest points, contemplating on how many moves it’d take him to kill me.

My heart thudded in my chest loudly, iron coating my tongue from my split lip.

“I don’t want to fight you, father.”

“I stopped being your father long ago,” he spat, and I wished I shielded my heart better, because even after so many years,after so many vows and promises to never let his words wound me, they found their mark. “I shall do what I should’ve done a long time ago. But you shall not die of the Destroyer’s fire, for you are not worthy of such a death, but a mere human death, the death of a commoner by the blade.” With that, he drew his sword.

“Why?” I asked. “After all these years, I just want to know why.” My words were quiet, tainted with hurt only a child would know.

“She died because of you. I will never forgive you for that,” he seethed.

“I was just a child! She died because she drowned in the Numb, and you were never home to see it, or help her through any of it.”

“I loved her with everything I had, and you’ve destroyed my family.”

“Yourfamily?Iwasyourfamily. You lost your wife, but that day I lost both of my parents. I lost my mother, and I lost you.” My chest ached as his angered stare darkened with more abhorrence.

“Enough! You are a disgrace to my name. Nothing but a pest,” he snarled, and I tightened my grip on my chains.

“I don’t want to harm you, father.” I staggered a step back as he raised his sword.

“In war, there is no truce. There are those who win and those who lose. As a self-proclaimed commander, you should know that.” He lunged, and I moved, jumping aside. Blood rushed in my ears, and thoughts crumbled. Bile burned my throat, but I let my chains swing, aiming for him.

He didn’t say another word as the clang of metal rang through the small alley. Little by little, his heavy blows pushed me closer to the walls but I fought back.

Even at his age, my father was nimble, holding the same precision to his blows as I did to mine. A twist and his sword sliced my thigh, pain barking up my leg. I flinched, but didn’t dare look at the wound as I threw the blades at him again.

I fought with all the might I could summon, relentless, as he attacked me without mercy, without a single moment of hesitation.

He had never sparred with me before, never saw it worthy of his time. And perhaps it was his downfall as my crescent blade found its mark on his face. But not deep enough to seriously wound him, just enough to let a trickle of blood run down his cheek.

“You can’t win with children’s toys, Zorianna. You’ve been living in a delusion for far too long,” he muttered, yanking a dagger from the sheath at his side. He dove, his sword going straight for my neck. I sent my chain flying at his sword, but only when his blade aimlessly fell against the ground, wrapped around with my chains, did I realize my mistake.

But it was too late.

His armored fist found my face. Once, then twice. My nose crunched and eyes darkened as I stumbled back, trying to find footing.

The tip of my father’s dagger dug into me as he pinned me between his blade and the wall. He should’ve killed me now, but he hesitated. Blood poured from my nose and pain edged my mind closer to the abyss with each breath.

“I thought you’d beg for your life,” he scoffed. “But it seems even you share the sentiment it’s not worth the words,” he grumped.

“You don’t deserve the honor,” I slurred, choking on the blood running in the back of my throat. His dagger dug deeper, piercing the layers of my leathers, scraping my skin. He looked as if he was searching for something, his eyes piercing mine. Butthat second cost him. I kicked him straight in the groin, twisting the dagger he held with my palms directly into his neck, the blade wedged deep in his throat.

He staggered back, yanking the dagger out in shock before his body fell against the cold stone.

“No . . . no . . . no!” My voice failed and panic recoiled through my entire body at the realization of what I had done. I dashed to him, dropping to the ground as I lifted his motionless head, his eyes frozen wide open. His blood gushed over my bleeding hands as I held him closer.

There were no last words. No professing confessions. Only regret. Only hurt. Only death.

“No, father. No!” I shouldn’t have cried for the man that spent his life hating me. I shouldn’t have cried for the man that broke me with his coldness, with his despise.

But I did.

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