Page 29 of A Rising Hope

My hands.

My eyes darted to my wrists, but in place of the previously shattered bone and blood were two perfect hands. No scratches, no scars or my hard-earned calluses. I wiggled my fingers and clenched my fists. Some of them moved easily, but some fingers didn’t move at all.

“I am still working on recovering them fully,” the strange man added, seeing my shocked expression. “Rebuilding hands from scratch and connecting them to your brain is not an easy task, even for me.”

Everything flooded me at once.

The Queen, the bodies, the blood, her words.

In a panic, I reached for my fire within. No longer blocked.

“Whoa, calm down, Finn.” The stranger backed away at the sight of the little flames in my eyes. “I didn’t spend a week and a ton of my magic pulling out a thousand Basalt Glass shards from your bloodstream just for you to incinerate me.” He glowered, but his words rung hollow.

“Then you’d better answer some questions.” My muscles tensed. “Who are you?”

“I am a Healer. My name is Godric.”

“How did I get here?”

“Gideon is the one who got you here and told me to fix you.” He obediently answered my questions, and though I believed his words, it was that flash of disdain at the mention of Gideon’s name that made my anger flare up brighter, ready to burn him.

“Where is Gideon?” I asked next, observing his every emotion.

“He is gone,” Godric answered.

I didn’t like his answer, not even a bit.

My mind swirled with a million more questions, clashing with each other, messy and unorganized. I rubbed the side of my head, feeling the growing headache.

“You really should take it slow. We can have this conversation later. All you need to know is you are safe here.” The stranger assured, but his words fell flat.

Safe was the least of my fucking concerns.

“When is Gideon coming back?” I tried to level out my tone, fighting the growing unease as he looked away from me as I questioned.

I really needed to see him. To talk to him.

I needed to make sure he was okay. And I desperately needed him close to feel alive.

Whatever had happened to me tainted the warmth within. As if a part of me was still dead, like those black waters had never quite left my lungs.

Oily dread coated the back of my throat as the sudden silence became apparent.

“Where is Gideon, and when is he coming back?” I repeated the question, this time my tone sharp with a hint of a warning, as my breaths turned ragged.

Godric scratched the back of his head before returning his treacherous eyes to me, eyes that were so familiar and yet foreign at the same time.

“When. Is. He. Coming. Back?” My heart paused in my chest as he finally answered.

“He is not coming back, Finn.”

20

GIDEON

20 years ago.

The cold, fall wind mercilessly ruffled our capes. The unsettled war horses underneath us huffed, their hot breath puffing into clouds in the chilly air. My uncle and I observed the victorious armies celebrating down below in the valley.

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