Page 37 of A Rising Hope

You choose forgiveness over justice, and it really shows,Priya once said to me.

I scoffed at the memory. The candlelight shook near me.

But Priya was right.

I forgave everything for far too long.

I had taken beating after beating and I had clenched my teeth and lowered my head. I had given so much, and I had lost even more.

Again and again, I had endured everything Fate had thrown me.

But not anymore. My eyes were swallowed in Justice Fire.

Fate was a god.

But even gods must be brought to justice.

And I was going to fucking deliver it.

26

FINNLEAH

“You are up early,” Godric uttered, warily glancing at me as I stood near the window, observing the wild shadows. Black smoke swirled behind a glass-like barrier that surrounded the cottage in a circle reaching far into the sky like a cylinder, exposing the old log cabin to the little rays of sun.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I gave him a short reply, not turning to see him. “There were people at Insanaria’s castle. Who were they?”

“Deadlings?” Godric skewed his brow up. I waited. “They are bodies of Magic Wielders separated from their magic, their souls and physical appearances.”

“Are they still alive?”

“No, Insanaria kills them, but not their bodies, ensuring the safer transfer of their magic. Their bodies are kept alive by her magic, but the moment she drains them completely, they are left as nothing but husks for her vines to feed on.” Godric did not hide the disgust at Insanaria’s name mentioned within the walls of his house.

I wished for the gore, for the horror to phase me, to scare me, but it didn’t. The never-ending atrocities dulled theimpressionable mind I used to have. Now, it was just another burden of grief and more harsh reality for me to carry.

“What are these shadows?” I watched the shadows writhe as if alive outside, vicious, angry and dangerous.

“Black Shadows,” Godric reluctantly answered. “Think of it as a poisonous gas making you lost in your nightmares. Many people feel utterly devoid of hope or happiness, losing their will to live. Some hallucinate their true nightmares, or so people say,” Godric explained, making his way to the kitchen. I waited, letting the prolonged silence linger. After a while he mumbled more, “It’s Creators’ dark magic. I am guessing when Gideon cut off the Mad Queen’s control over the shadows beyond her prison, they had gone wild and since there was no Justice Fire to stop them, they ran free, polluting the entirety of Esnox.” My jaw twisted at the mention of the prison. The prison that Gideon, my ownhusband, and theEmperorof Esnox, was now locked in.

My fists clenched but I eased them, reeling in that fury, letting anger ground me, like a living, breathing thing, now guiding me in my vengeance. My armor, my guide, and my loyal servant.

“I thought now that she is locked in her prison, she can’t reach us. I thought it was the whole point of it, that her magic wouldn’t be able to hurt people anymore.”

Godric scoffed, reaching for the dusty plate off the top shelf. “No, the point was she wouldn’t be able to hurtyou. Other people rarely matter to Gideon.”

My lip curled at his tone, and I stifled a primal growl in my throat. His cowardly voice and his snide remarks irked me. “You seem to be of ‘high’ opinion of him. Aren’t you his older brother?”

“Halfbrother . . . And my relationship with Gideon is rather complicated.” Godric threw his words across the room as if they were nothing.

“And yet here you are”—I turned to see him then, my eyes like daggers pointed straight at his head—“a mage willing to harbor his wife, aDestroyer, and obey all his commands?”

“You must not know him very well, if you think I had any choice in this matter.” Godric returned my stare, but he had none of the bite or warning that I had in mine. “The man rarely likes to negotiate the terms, Finn.” He returned to the counter, grabbing a few of the potatoes from the bowl. The dull sound of the knife echoed through the otherwise silent room as he slowly chopped vegetables for what I only assumed was some kind of stew.

I took a few steps closer, reaching for the same drawer full of knives. But I didn’t bother with a cutting board.

“Howdid you actually keep me safe? I must say I have yet to hear about a Healer that can resurrect the dead,” I mumbled, carefully assessing each knife. My face fixated on the hand crafted blades. Some rusted at the hilt, some were chipped and thinned, some were dull enough that they wouldn’t even cut a freshly baked slice of bread. Godric’s eyes paused on me. Assessing me, as I curiously shuffled through a few of the knives.

I glanced up, meeting his stare, my brows raised, still waiting for his reply. He was easily double my size and yet he feared me.

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