Page 29 of A Rising Hope (The Freckled Fate #3)

29

ZORA

M y hand trembled as I held on to the whip tighter, stomach churned with nausea. I twisted my feet into the ground, taking a firm stance, forcing my hand to still. Iron coated my tongue as I bit down on my lip harder. I had to do this.

My arm raised above my head, steadying the force that would rip the Ten’s bodies, bringing them back from their nightmares to reality.

“Wait.” Orest grabbed my wrist before I could unleash it on the last three remaining women that were still buried in their nightmares.

“I must do this.” I clenched my teeth. A moment, and I’d give in to their cries. A second more, and I’d let hesitation win.

“No,” he ordered, his hand not letting go of my wrist, as he held it tight, whip still frozen midair. “Something is happening.” He closed his eyes as if seeing beyond the thick brick walls and the impenetrable darkness of the godforsaken cellars.

I opened my mouth to object, but an ample, rolling wave of fire and heat shuddered through the air, incinerating all the darkness in its wake.

Orest opened his eyes, his piercing gaze meeting mine. His tall figure was no longer a blurred silhouette, the silver in his eyes was no longer just a memory. The whip dropped from my hands, but neither of us moved. We didn’t dare, lest this was another trick of our minds, a dream that we’d wake up from should we blink. But another second passed, another scant breath, and the darkness didn’t return.

My heart flooded with relief at seeing matching reprieve flash through his icy features as he murmured, “Finn . . . She is back.”

Those words liberated me from the impermeable asylum I had kept myself locked in over the last couple of weeks to survive. Finn’s magic purged the chokehold of despair within me, letting a flicker of hope spark once more. “She’s back,” Orest repeated, letting go of my wrist.

And I dropped to my knees and cried.