Page 83 of A Rising Hope

She appeared then. Death in all her glory.

But I did not fear.

Dressed in a similar white dress, her black hair fell down in smooth waves, pinned with a simple rose on the side.

“Hello, Finnleah, Daughter of the Dead,” she welcomed me, her melodic voice deep and soothing.

“Hello, Lady Death.” I gave a curt nod.

“I am glad we meet at last.” She gave me a soft smile, as if to an old friend. “You’ve come to bargain with the gods? What for?” Her dark eyes met mine.

“I’ve come to bargain for a lost soul,” I answered.

“And what is it that you are offering?” Death looked at me curiously.

“Myself,” I responded, my voice not wavering, steady and calm, without a single doubt in my heart.

“And ‘yourself’ entails?” Death questioned.

“Everything. My life, my powers, my dreams, the future I could’ve had, the laughs I would’ve laughed, the kisses I would’ve given, the joy I would’ve lived, and peace I would’ve kept. I am bargaining everything,” I answered with absolute surety in my soul, without a flicker of regret.

I had always hoped I’d die for something that truly mattered, and there wouldn’t be a better cause than to bargain my life for those who had nothing more to give.

For those who were hurt and wounded.

For those who fell and stumbled, for those who sought comfort and never found it.

Because, sometimes, to change the world meant to save one troubled soul at a time.

Perhaps I wasn’t a Healer, but I’d give everything for a one soul that needed one the most.

A simple bargain to fix it all.

For justice at times meant mercy, and mercy meant grace.

“I am bargaining everything for one request: to mend the hearts of those that are broken and let hope triumph over despair even in the most lost and wandering souls.”

“Hmmm . . . ” Death paused, pondering. She moved her hand and, to my surprise, beautiful roses of the deepest red blossomed at her fingertips. “You are asking for what has been requested before,” Death softly stated. Her all-knowing gaze returned to me as she shook her head.

“I cannot accept your bargain, Finnleah, Daughter of the Dead.”

“But I have nothing more to give,” I pleaded. “I’ll give you everything I have. Name your price and I shall give it to you.” I took a step forward, my eyes desperate as I silently begged.

“There is nothing more you could pay. But not because it doesn’t have a cost. No, the price for what you ask for has been paid in full by those who came before you.” She paused, giving me an assessing look. “You have already been bargained for.”

“By whom?” I mumbled, brows creased.

Death glanced over her shoulder. She moved her hand, and a shimmering, silver veil appeared.

“The Dead have bargained for their daughter.”

53

OREST

This up close, the elves were much more vicious than I’d ever imagined. Human shaped, though taller, with sharp pointed ears, they looked primal, animalistic. The colors of their eyes were significantly more vibrant, piercing. Their cold sharp stares were similar to the fuming, armored animals they rode.

I clenched my hands behind my back, fingers numb, palms shredded down to their bones, but I forced the tremors to still. My armor was bent and terribly stained. My nose broken, and the hastily seared wound from the arrow in my shoulder made my left arm completely useless, but I held my bruised chin up, compelling myself to stand tall as the King of the elves marched in between his soldiers towards us.

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