Page 32 of A Rising Hope

There was no end to it.

Neither Destroyer, nor human, nor mage were immune to it. Cities, ports, and towns all fell. Crumbled in mere days. Lives were lost, and souls wandered the land. I wasn’t sure how long it’d been. Days and nights mixed into one. The sun didn’t shine. The stars no longer appeared. Minutes turned into hours and hours into days, perhaps even weeks. This nightmare became our new reality.

I tripped over a dead body in the hall. Orest swiftly caught me without missing a beat. My nostrils flared, but I didn’t dare look at who was dead on the floor, which other soldier we lost today.

We lost so many. But I didn’t have the time to grieve. Didn’t have time to pause.

I stepped down the curved stairs, holding on to the mossy walls of the cellar.

I fumbled for the brass door handle as I reached the basement. Icy air sent a dreadful chill down my spine. Nine bodies wrapped in sheets, tied with thick ropes, hung from the ceiling. Their feminine screams were muffled by the cloth tightly covering their mouth. I shut the pain that rippled through my heart.

Salvation wouldn’t come this time. We had to claw out of this hell on our own.

“You do not have to do this, Zora,” Orest finally spoke up near me. “Let me do it for you,” he offered. I clenched the whip in my hands, forcing the lump in my throat to dissolve.

“I am their Commander. The Ten are my unit, Orest.” I bit my tongue, tasting the iron tang. “Fight those nightmares, ladies. Fight them as you fight me,” I whispered into the darkness and then my whip flew free.

I squeezedthe stained cloth clean. The water dripping into the metal bowl was murky from the layers of blood rinsed as Orest and I cared for the Ten’s wounds. I was glad it was dark, less I’d see my bloodstained hands violently shake. But in this moment, the chamber we were in was silent. Each of their minds momentarily free of the haunted nightmares, as the Ten fixated on the real pain inflicted by my hands.

Physical pain was the only link between this world and whatever reality their minds were stuck in. Pain that I had now mercilessly inflicted day in and out, relying on only a flicker of hope that they’d be able to make their way back to us. That they would fight the nightmares and win.

“Why didn’t the Black Shadows touch you?” I asked Orest the question that had been lingering deep in my mind.

“They have. Many moons ago. The master that made me didn’t believe in simple physical torture; he believed that true Truth Tellers must conquer all terrors to instill one. Using Black Shadows on me was a way for him to ensure that.”

“And you survived?”

Orest paused and though I couldn’t see him through the blinding darkness, I felt his piercing gaze on me.

“I lived,” he replied against the misty fog.

The Ten as if asleep were quiet but their screams still rang in my ears, scars etched into my soul.

“Why did you save me, Orest?” I whispered in the void, fighting the suffocating guilt. “You should’ve saved them. You should’ve saved anyone else but me.” I was not worthy. I should be the one drowning in that wrathful agony. “I should be suffering, not them. There are people far more deserving of saving than me.”

“No. There aren’t. And you know why I saved you.”

I let his words settle before responding in the all-encompassing darkness. “Whatever feelings you are harboring towards me, Orest, they are foolish. You know that. And if you think they will last, I assure you they will not.”

I couldn’t see him, but I felt his persistent gaze on me, vigilant, longing, needful.

“No, Zora.” His deep voice sounded calm and velvety, a gentle whisper. “I saved you because when you’ve walked amidthe shadows and lived in darkness for so long, when you finally see the only light—you do not let go.”

22

GIDEON

Ididn’t bother being quiet or thoughtful as I stridently pushed the double doors wide open, swaggering into the grand room.

Insanaria was seated on one of the two tufted chairs facing the pink velvet couch. Luxurious thick white carpet outlined half the room’s floor, the other filled with marbled black-and-white tile. Pink and purple fuchsia flowers dropped from the ceilings, swirling and alive. The decor of the rest of the room was just as odious. There were nauseating colors of all kinds, marble statues and figurines crawled with flowers and plants, dull stacks of scrolls and tall open trunks. It was like she was hoping to hide her dark and foul heart with the capricious design, her Creator nature trying to bring normality to her eroding world.

My eyes felt like they were on fire, my skin crawling with a million ants. The potent smell of flowers and blooms made my already dizzying headache worse.

I really fucking hated dying. Or more so the side effects of coming back from being dead.

I held back a scoff as I paraded through the room towards her.

“Sit,” the Queen dared to command, and I played along with her demands. For now.

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