Page 74 of A Rising Hope

“I had suspicions. Most Destroyers burn when I jump in their minds. It’s usually an uncomfortable feeling compared to measly human minds. Your mind felt more like a tingling sensation, less so of a full-on scalding burn. Though there was a time when I did feel that way with you. Once.”

I wasn’t sure why Priya was answering my questions. Perhaps she, too, was fighting through the knot in her stomach as we made our way up the path.

“When?” I probed further.

“The day we got rained on in the village,” she replied, and at the look of confusion on my face she clarified, “The pile of burned bodies, terrible soup . . . And the place with the worst chairs in the world to sleep.”

A little shiver went down my skin, remembering that day.

I recalled exactly the moment she spoke about. The broken rage I had felt that day still burned in my soul, the little embers always keeping the ire and fury fed.

They, too, were on my list to atone for. To bring justice to every single soul.

“What do you think happens after death?” I murmured another question, reaching for the large boulder in our way as we climbed over it.

“How the hell would I know?” she grumbled. “I’ll find out once I am dead and let you know. But I don’t plan on being dead soon, so there is that,” Priya retorted, a step behind. Her tense voice matching my own, apprehension pricking my skin.

“Oh, no need to wait, my dear. I can definitely arrange that for you much,muchsooner.” The Queen appeared out of thin air, standing on a cloud of black shadows in front of us. Her perfect, wicked scowl was a clear indication that we were fucked.

49

OREST

Like a graveyard, the meadows were covered in dead bodies. The tall grass had been stampeded down with battalions’ of horses. The dirt below was soaked in blood and bodily fluids. Dragonflies, horses, and creatures piled high like large rocks in a sea of scattered limbs and torn heads. Banners and spears, shields and swords, laid flat without any use.

A loud screech exploded above me. My fire, like a whip, lashed out at the creature. Its claws and teeth readied to devour me, but before it could make another flap of its giant wings, I twisted my sword, burying it deep into its belly, kicking my horse faster as its struggling body fell behind me, dying a slow death.

My lungs burned, muscles ached, but where my body was weary, my mind was sharp. Darkness and cold rage drummed through every inch of my body, forcing the exhaustion to surrender to my demands. Only power. Only might. Only revenge.

“Cowards!” I thundered at Lachlan’s retreating armies. I propelled my horse further, seeing only the fleeing cape of Lachlan as he abandoned his soldiers in hopes of survival.

Fool. There was no hope for him. He was going to die today. And he was going to die at my hand.

“LACHLAN!” I roared with my entire chest. “I am going to kill you, bastard!” I shouted at his quickly departing figure. His soldiers followed after him, splitting our armies, or what was left of them, in half.

“First, you’d have to survive this slaughter!” Lachlan shouted, glancing back. That small moment had cost him, as a smaller creature dove straight for his horse, severing its head in one bite. Lachlan fell, rolling on the dirt. His cowardly soldiers didn’t stop to help him, running past his fallen figure.

Like an angered animal, my nostrils flared, and pure wrath irradiated from me.

“If I die today, so will you.” Not a threat, but a promise. I sent my flames towards him. A distraction. He shielded, but I was already near him, my swords at his side. He blocked it with his own blade, his flame coming for mine, a spear aimed at my heart.

Our flames burned against each other, shields heated and ready to explode.

My eyes met his, not hiding the disgust and pure hatred that simmered in them at the look on his face. Fear. He was afraid.

“No hard feelings, Orest,” Lachlan snarled. Sweat dropped down his brow as our swords clashed. “I supported Bellator, but he is nowhere to be found and you . . . you are simply not him. I have no plan on dying for a nameless boy.” He lunged with his sword towards me. But Lachlan was a brute, sure a powerful one, but a brute nonetheless. He was no match for my skill. I was a weapon, honed from my first moment of existence, carved and molded into a ruthless machine. Something he’d soon learn no money in the world could buy.

A step, a twist, and my blade was at his throat.

“Yes, I am no Bellator. I am an orphan, a nameless nobody. But do you know what nameless nobodies make best?” I snarled through my clenched teeth, this time replying in his mind. “Truth Tellers.” My powers possessed his mind, crumbling it to pieces as if it were a dry biscuit.

He fought against my hold, my blade scraping his neck as his body trembled. Bright blood trickled down the metal.

You can try to fight it, I whispered into his mind.But you won’t win. Because men like you never win against men like me.

You . . . You forced me!He hissed, realizing at last. I smirked, meeting his quivering, dying gaze.

Forced you to be a coward? No. You did that all on your own. Encouraged you to abandon your post during the battle simply because I needed a good reason to kill you? Yes, indeed.

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