Page 39 of Hopeless Realm
Silence presses into the room as the heavy steps of Ryder’s boots fill the quiet. He halts in the warm sunlight. The golden hue falls down on his pale hair, kissing his complexion until he’s a blinding image of beauty that the gods themselves would be jealous of.
Until he’s not.
The colors fade from the sky, casting shades of gray and white into the room in a stormy feel of nightfall.
“May the gods lead you forth,” the woman whispers. Tension pulls the white shirt tight against Ryder’s shoulders. “May the gods welcome you into apparitions of your future.” Thunder rumbles through the heavens, shaking the floors of the shack until I stumble into Darrio. His arm wraps tightly around my waist and he holds me against him like he’ll protect me from the gods themselves. The storm strikes through her dark eyes, clouding them until they’re entirely white. “May you have the strength to understand what you can and cannot change.” Violent shaking convulses through her until her knees hit the ground hard, her hands rising to the dark swirling heavens. “May the gods grant peace upon your soul,” she whispers.
May the gods grant peace upon your soul.
Tightness consumes my lungs as I remember Ryder saying that’s what the fae tell someone who will be visiting the gods soon.
The floorboards groan as Ryder’s knees slam against them. His arms fall to his sides, palms up in surrender to the gods. The beautiful color of his eyes is washed out by the darkness of the sky as he tips his head up to the storm. His jaw is tightly strung as he stares at something up above that only he seems to see. His chest heaves rapidly, and as quickly as the storm came, it passes.
Pure unfiltered sunlight falls down on the prince’s beautiful but anguished face. He takes another unsteady breath before he stands, the room watching him in heavy silence.
I reach a hand out to him but he pushes past me, fury and fear roll off of him as his boots stomp from the room. Tension lines his back and the door bangs shut behind him.
What did the gods show Ryder Rourke to make him so irrationally angry?
“Death can cause an ugliness to crawl out of all of us.” The Traveler’s haunting voice trails through the room in Ryder’s wake. My lips part as I consider her words but she doesn’t give pause for my questions. “The coarse commander of the Armed Seven is next.” Another wave of her long fingers and Darrio slowly steps forward.
He’s fearless. Entirely unafraid of what his future holds. Or maybe he’s just pretending to be for me.
My heart beats an erratic strum of anxiety all through me but I force my spine to hold confidence within my appearance.
If Darrio’s valiant, then so am I.
“May the gods lead you forth,” she says once again. Darrio calmly lifts his palms up as if he’s done this a time or two in his long life. “May the gods welcome you into apparitions of your future.” Thunder rumbles through the sky, a telltale sign of what’s to come. I swallow hard, forcing myself to be strong for whatever the gods might show Darrio. Once again, her eyes fade from black to white as if she’s the channel in which these visions are shared through. “May you have the strength to understand what you can and cannot change.”Does that mean we have the ability to change these prophecies?Lightning strikes through the sky in flashing white at the same time as she falls to the floor. “May the gods grant peace upon your soul,” she cries in a weak whisper.
Darrio’s big body slams to the ground as if a greater force is pressing him to his knees. His head tilts up, the blinding lightning highlights every scar that slices across his features as he stares hard at the brooding heavens.
His eyes close slowly, the fuming anger that normally courses through Darrio’s body isn’t in him as he waits patiently for the prophecies to unfold. The muscle that lines his body is relaxed and … humble.
When the clouds part and the light falls across his features in hues of gold and white, I’ve never seen him look more like the legends I grew up hearing. He’s every bit thefaerietale I read about as a child. He’s beautiful and perfect and my breath catches just looking at him.
Exhaustion lines his face as he stands and walks slowly back to me.
His big hand brushes against mine but he doesn’t look at me. The floor holds his attention as he seems to reflect on what he was just shown.
“Zakara Storm. I believe that leaves you.” The Traveler holds her palm out to me, gesturing to the center of the room. The beaming streaks of sunlight are within reach. Only a few feet away, and yet, I don’t move toward it immediately.
Gently, Darrio squeezes my hand and a spark of adrenaline tingles through my palm, his warm magic shivering through my body.
The shifting of my boots scraping across the dry boards is the only sound. I step slowly into the sunlight. It skims across my skin in heavy waves of heat that warm even my bones. I stare up at the unnatural light, my eyes falling closed.
“May the gods lead you forth,” the Traveler begins. Her simple words cause nervous energy to tumble through me just as dark clouds roll like an ocean above.
The ominous statements of the Traveler are drowned out as the thunder builds with every passing second. My long hair whips across my face but I keep my head held high, wanting to give the gods my fullest respect in this terrifying moment.
A power like I’ve never felt falls heavy on my shoulders, forcing me to my knees as my hands drop to my sides. Without warning my wings slice through my shoulder blades, spanning wide around me, exposing me fully to the unseen but all too present gods.
Pelting rain strikes against my skin as the storm takes on a life of its own. Cold precipitation fills my lungs as I breathe in the wrath of the heavens.
And then the visions slice through my mind.
The mortal realm is in burning turmoil. Fire laps up high into the night sky. More fae than I’ve ever seen before rush the muddy coast of the mortal realm. And to my complete terror, thousands of nix crawl from the sea, flooding the land with long limbs and shrieks of chaos. Sharp, angled teeth tear open the flesh of innocent mortals. A man holds a sword like a demon commanding the fires of hell. His pale eyes blaze with power and vengeance and dark magic as he stares directly into my eyes.
“I knew you’d bring us our salvation, Miss Storm. I just didn’t realize it would be me,” Tristan says with a cruel smile that will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.
