Page 1 of A Rising Hope

PART I

THORNS

1

GIDEON

Dead.

They were all dead.

Rows of lifeless bodies, women and men, were all crucified on the cursed, black vines. Their faces frozen in agony and shock. Their torn, rotting corpses were high in the sky, plastered against the soft pink and azure of the quickly approaching dawn.

Blood rushed through my body, and I counted silently.

There had to be hundreds of them here.

It was butchery.

It was horror.

It was Insanaria.

The reek of rot and death slithered up my nose, filling my lungs with decay.

I narrowed my eyes. Between the staggered rows of unrecognizable bodies, shadows moved. Almost indistinguishable amid the morning fog surrounding the old manor my armies were occupying. I let the rage simmer, power rising to the surface, ready to strike at any moment. But I stood still, watching the shadows grow thick and slippery as if theywere alive. Within a breath, they reached my boots, swirling up my legs like enormous snakes.

“Gideon . . . ” Zora’s voice warned behind me, and though it was almost a whisper, I could feel the shouting alarm in her tone. My blood thrummed, fire inching to the surface. Goosebumps covered my skin as the temperature plummeted. With a seamless motion, I drew my sword, the blade lighting up with silver flames as the shadows reached above my face, entirely dimming the first morning light.

Eerie laughter echoed through the dead bodies, vibrating through the fog that now encapsuled me. I cast a sharp look into the nothingness. The chilling sound of her wicked laugh ricocheted from all sides. The flames on my sword bit at the dark shadows swirling around it, hissing at its magic.

“General.” Queen Insanaria appeared out of thin air. As if a shadow herself, she was pale, her hair in a tight knot with a large hat twisted to the side. As a Creator, she was no doubt otherworldly beautiful, but even she wasn’t immune to the touch of time, as small frown lines decorated her face.

“Insanaria,” I snarled. She gave a dismissive glance at my drawn sword, letting out a bored scoff at the flames.

“I’ve come in peace,” she finally said, as our eyes locked. Her deep chestnut eyes matched the rich color of her hair, lest be for the silver streaks outlining her face.

“I think this crowd of the dead might disagree.” Mutual disdain painted across our faces.

“Oh, General, since when are you so sentimental? You know as well as I do, people, lives, are just a common currency of any war. Knowing that and considering that the rest”—She gave a slight nod to the still slumbering camps of my armies—“of your precious, credulous crew are alive and well, for now, of course . . . You should really sound more grateful,” she uttered carelessly.

“What is it you want?” I snarled through my teeth, jaw locked, shoulders tensed.

“I think you’d agree that I’ve let you run around playing your boyish rebellion for quite some time now. Unfortunately for you, I’ve grown tired of feeding your delusions.”

“Do you have a point, or do you just enjoy hearing yourself talk?” I gave her a half smirk, half snarl. She returned the gesture.

“What kind of villain would I be if I didn’t enjoy giving elaborate speeches?” She gave me a poisonous smile, shadows swirling like vipers around her arms as she raised her hand closer to her face, weaving between them. “But all right,” she said, jaded, after I didn’t reply. “You are a straight-to-the-point man. I always respected that about you, General, unlike Hosam or that fool Andrias, who just liked to spew bullshit. I’ll reason with you your way.” She looked at her nails, contemplating. Her lungs expanded in a full breath, inhaling the dark shadows through her nose.

Her eyes returned to mine. Vicious, ready to strike, not hiding the power she held within, as she declared, “I have a deal for you—one I would highly advise you take.”

I let her see the amusement on my face at such a notion.

“Offering a deal to your enemy already? When I’ve only just begun my conquest? Come on Insanaria, you’ll have to play harder than that. Desperation is a terrible look on you.”

She sneered at my words, letting shadows curl around her fingers. A glimpse of anger flashed across her face, illuminated by my silver flames.

“You know nothing of desperation, General. Though now I remember why I never made you the commanding general. It’s that arrogance in you, like poison tainting what little reason you have.” She tilted her head to the side, observing the flaming sword, the giant blood ruby glistening at the hilt. “You naivelymistake my kindness for desperation, General. Unlike you, I do not wish for your people to suffer?—”

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