Page 31 of A Rising Hope

One step too far and my uncle’s blade scraped my bare back, making its mark.

I let a low growl rumble, fighting the frustration boiling within me.

“Focus, Gideon.” My uncle’s voice echoed off the cold walls. I forced my thoughts to sharpen, to still. The Basalt Glass piece wedged deep into my skin pushed me towards the edge of absolute madness. No longer shielded by my fire, the wild darkness roamed freely through me.

I moved again, feeling every shift of the air, every speck of dust move.

I had spent days locked behind the thick walls, blinded, enduring all kinds of torture. But I didn’t care about any of that. Every minute my mind held any semblance of reason, I spent on preparing for this fight. All I wanted was to win.

I lunged for my uncle once more. He blocked the attack, just as I thought he would. His fiery shield seared my exposed skin, but I didn’t stop. I pushed past the shield. My skin sizzled, but I held my chin up, standing straight.

I didn’t break.

I wouldn’t break, no matter the cost.

I clenched my teeth, almost shattering them.

My uncle then stabbed me in the stomach with his sword. The ice-cold metal pierced me completely through, almost severing me in half. The taste of iron filled my mouth as blood gurgled onto my blistered lips. I dropped to my knees, then toppled over. My face pressed onto the cold stone covered in my blood, as I laid dying.

“Dying with pride is stilldying, Gideon. Leave heroics for the fools. The world won’t care how honorable you were if you die in the war and let the darkness win.” My uncle’s commanding voice echoed through the chamber as he departed.

Slowly, my consciousness slipped away from me, accompanied by the creaking sound of the heavy iron door being locked.

10 years ago.

I stood still in my uncle’s chambers in the Blackstone Castle. Hands clenched behind my back. A severed head of someone I thought of as a friend laid on his ornate desk.

“One day I won’t be there to protect you, Gideon,” he uttered, his back turned to me, as he observed the soldiers out of his window, standing watch in the court below.

I didn’t reply. All of my muscles relaxed, not a single movement out of place.

“You must always be a few steps ahead. You must plan for every possible scenario. No margin of error.” He turned to me, locking his gaze with mine. “We are all playing the same game, Gideon. I have lost mine, but you must triumph in yours. Win the war before you even start the fighting, do you understand?”

“Yes, uncle.” I nodded.

I gaspedas my lungs painfully expanded, and I sat up. A wave of irritation rolled through me, prickling my skin. I looked at the large gap in my chest from the Basalt Glass arrow, the tissue slowly knitting itself together, bit by bit.

Dying always made me so weak.

My body felt groggy and heavy. Head throbbing. My fire was quiet, though slowly returning.

I assessed the tight chamber I was in.

A dungeon of sorts.

How original.

I cracked my neck, forcing myself back on my feet, despite the extreme nausea and pounding headache.Fucking side effects.The wispy black shadows that surrounded me violently hissed.

“Tell Insanaria I am back,” I snarled to them, and they scattered at my feet.

21

ZORA

“Snap out of it, damn it,” I hissed, passing another soldier who convulsed in pain from his imaginary wounds. The soldier’s agonizing cries suddenly stopped, and his breathing evened out. Orest didn’t make a sound, but I knew he was marching right behind me. “You cannot shield all of them, Orest,” I uttered, but he didn’t respond. I forcefully marched through the long halls of the small chateau we claimed as the stronghold for the armies on the outskirts of the Rosefront town.

Screams, moans and gnashing of teeth echoed through the unnatural darkness that had taken hold of the world. Armies were scattered and broken. Soldiers lost in their own world of nightmares while Orest and I lived in our own.

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