Page 4 of A Rising Hope (The Freckled Fate #3)

4

GIDEON

A flash of lightning erupted through the stygian sky—the only source of light in the pitch-black night. Thick, heavy clouds laid low, swallowing every flicker of the moonlight. Loud thunder followed a second later, making the unforgiving peaks of the nearby rocky mountains shake with its roar.

My steps disrupted the untouched ground, pebbles rolled down the steep hill to my side, the sound muffled by the clamorous rain. I reached the peak of a steep incline, pausing by a large, rounded boulder. My eyes carefully scanned the empty-looking valley—nothing but darkness and barren land. Wild wind rushed past my ears, crisp cold air sending a chill down my spine, warning me to stay away.

I reached for the dagger at my waist and in one swift motion; the blade cut my skin. I watched a few drops of blood pool together in my palm before letting them fall into an inconspicuous crack in the rock. Only after the wet stone absorbed every single drop did an old log cabin appear in the middle of the glen.

I stepped over the invisible threshold. The wards hissed at my presence but allowed me to enter. The blood magic holding these wards recognized mine, obeyed it as I crossed the circled field towards the cabin. My eyes narrowed on the lightless window.

To a stranger, the cabin might have seemed abandoned. The fields near it—nothing but scattered rocks with the occasional high-altitude wildflowers peeking through, no trail, nor path leading to it.

But I had no doubt its owner was there, wide awake from the moment I let my blood call on the wards.

I reached the door. My knuckles brushed against the weathered wood with a few soft knocks. The sound muffled by the relentless summer storm. I stood on the rustic porch, patiently waiting. The long gable roof finally provided some solace from the heavy rain, shielding my face from the moisture.

“Hell must have broken loose if you are at my doorstep,” a gruff male voice called out from the dark as the door creaked open. Though I could not see his face, I immediately recognized the memorable cynical tone. A streak of light flashed before the thunder. Cold light illuminated his harsh, aged features, similar to mine.

An ominous smirk stretched across my face as our eyes locked.

“Hello, Godric,” I uttered into the night.

“Hello, baby brother,” he replied.