Page 49 of A Rising Hope (The Freckled Fate #3)

49

OREST

L ike a graveyard, the meadows were covered in dead bodies. The tall grass had been stampeded down with battalions’ of horses. The dirt below was soaked in blood and bodily fluids. Dragonflies, horses, and creatures piled high like large rocks in a sea of scattered limbs and torn heads. Banners and spears, shields and swords, laid flat without any use.

A loud screech exploded above me. My fire, like a whip, lashed out at the creature. Its claws and teeth readied to devour me, but before it could make another flap of its giant wings, I twisted my sword, burying it deep into its belly, kicking my horse faster as its struggling body fell behind me, dying a slow death.

My lungs burned, muscles ached, but where my body was weary, my mind was sharp. Darkness and cold rage drummed through every inch of my body, forcing the exhaustion to surrender to my demands. Only power. Only might. Only revenge.

“Cowards!” I thundered at Lachlan’s retreating armies. I propelled my horse further, seeing only the fleeing cape of Lachlan as he abandoned his soldiers in hopes of survival.

Fool. There was no hope for him. He was going to die today. And he was going to die at my hand.

“LACHLAN!” I roared with my entire chest. “I am going to kill you, bastard!” I shouted at his quickly departing figure. His soldiers followed after him, splitting our armies, or what was left of them, in half.

“First, you’d have to survive this slaughter!” Lachlan shouted, glancing back. That small moment had cost him, as a smaller creature dove straight for his horse, severing its head in one bite. Lachlan fell, rolling on the dirt. His cowardly soldiers didn’t stop to help him, running past his fallen figure.

Like an angered animal, my nostrils flared, and pure wrath irradiated from me.

“If I die today, so will you.” Not a threat, but a promise. I sent my flames towards him. A distraction. He shielded, but I was already near him, my swords at his side. He blocked it with his own blade, his flame coming for mine, a spear aimed at my heart.

Our flames burned against each other, shields heated and ready to explode.

My eyes met his, not hiding the disgust and pure hatred that simmered in them at the look on his face. Fear. He was afraid.

“No hard feelings, Orest,” Lachlan snarled. Sweat dropped down his brow as our swords clashed. “I supported Bellator, but he is nowhere to be found and you . . . you are simply not him. I have no plan on dying for a nameless boy.” He lunged with his sword towards me. But Lachlan was a brute, sure a powerful one, but a brute nonetheless. He was no match for my skill. I was a weapon, honed from my first moment of existence, carved and molded into a ruthless machine. Something he’d soon learn no money in the world could buy.

A step, a twist, and my blade was at his throat.

“Yes, I am no Bellator. I am an orphan, a nameless nobody. But do you know what nameless nobodies make best?” I snarled through my clenched teeth, this time replying in his mind. “ Truth Tellers .” My powers possessed his mind, crumbling it to pieces as if it were a dry biscuit.

He fought against my hold, my blade scraping his neck as his body trembled. Bright blood trickled down the metal.

You can try to fight it , I whispered into his mind. But you won’t win. Because men like you never win against men like me.

You . . . You forced me! He hissed, realizing at last. I smirked, meeting his quivering, dying gaze.

Forced you to be a coward? No. You did that all on your own. Encouraged you to abandon your post during the battle simply because I needed a good reason to kill you? Yes, indeed.

She will hate you if you kill me. She will always love me.

I am willing to take that risk.

My eyes darkened as I watched him slowly die , drunk on his fear, on the sheer horror he felt . His mind, stripped of any solace, of any protection, at the mercy of my call. Mercy, I did not grant.

My sword swung, and his head dropped to the ground in an instant.

There was no relief in his death, no easing of the hatred that had grown since I’d learned of his existence.

I let the shields fall around us, letting the creatures hovering over us flock to his fresh body, tearing it apart like vultures. I speared his head on the tip of my sword. His greased hair swayed in the wind as I rose it high above for everyone to see.

“This is what happens to deserters! Fight for your honor or you shall die as cowards!” I shouted. A flick of my fingers and the full strength of my flames ran free, burning everything in their path. “Lachlan is dead. Submit to my rule or die,” I declared, the wind carrying my mighty command. “Bend the knee or die now!” I roared at them and my flames surged higher. Lachlan’s soldiers dropped to their knees, surrounded by my flames.

I didn’t care that the creatures ripped and clawed at their bodies, taking the moment of their submission as a chance to prey on them. Those cowards weren’t going to survive the end of the day either way. I saw their feelings as clear as day. Fear, surrender, defeat.

If they hadn’t bent the knee, they would’ve already died by my hand. No trial, no judgment, just pure unleashed fury.

They feared Death, but they should’ve feared me because I was her executioner.

The muscle in my jaw tensed. But soon enough, they all submitted, returning to their posts, fighting for their survival.

“Kill everyone who crosses that line,” I ordered Broderick and his remaining battalion. A snap of my fingers and a line of burning fire erupted—a clear mark. No retreating back.

But the ones that stayed alive wouldn’t do that. They already knew the only way to leave this battlefield was either victory or death. The head of their general swaying on a spike, a vicious reminder of the cold promise awaiting them should they attempt to retreat.

No retreating. No surrender.

“Our front line broke through!” Voices roared and my eyes darted to the tree line, where our armies mingled in a deadly dance.

“Fuck,” I snarled, fighting off a creature clawing at my face.

My heart thrashed and screamed her name.

Zora. Zora. Zora.

Like a bucket of ice water, my reason sounded the alarms. I pushed through the crowds of racing soldiers for the tree line. Every single soul still alive funneled into the bloodbath exploding between the tall trees. Air laced with guttural, pure craving for survival.

Like lions, every soldier fought the enemy with everything they had. To them it was no longer about winning, or glory, but their existence. That meager line of trees, the only salvation from the demons that haunted the skies. Destroyers were much easier to kill than the monsters with sharp feral teeth and long, curled claws that would maul your body to shreds.

The enemy soldiers fell back, losing the ferocious battle that exploded there. The Destroyers who watched the carnage in their safety knew that those of us who survived the deadly creatures were no match for their useless swords and shields. We craved their souls, their utter and complete destruction.

They were mere soldiers, but the men and women that survived the carnage were their nightmares. Brutal, cruel, savage.

No mercy. No hesitation. No regret. Only death and vengeance.

I frantically searched the waves of crowds for that familiar small figure, silently cursing every god known in hopes that her fate would be spared.

In the blink of an eye, I saw her. She swung her chain at another soldier, never missing a mark, always bringing them to their knees. Like a machine, Zora moved with skillful precision. Her curved blades, like claws, tore into their bodies, killing everyone she confronted without even a moment of contemplation.

I pushed through the bodies of soldiers, my sword and fire cutting a path through the enemy towards her. Heart frozen mid beat until I could reach her, until I’d feel her comforting aura meddling with mine.

My sword swung—another body fell to the ground, his armor melting at the fire I summoned from the depth of the wells I held. Never had I let the rage burn so brightly that it was blinding me. Only led by a single thought. Zora.

Another horn ripped through the sound of clashing metal. An enemy horn. A call for aid.

Fuckers were worried. And they had reason to be. We had pushed them back step by step. Like wild dogs cornering their prey, our swords mercilessly killed everyone in our way, feeding off their fear and the metallic tang of blood that stained the air.

Another loud horn. One that made me glance back. A little chill went over my skin and I knew that there was another army marching towards us.

A new battalion. Fucking calvary. Their horses gained speed. Swords were out ready to harvest the few lives that were left of Gideon’s army.

There would be no survivors here today.

Their banners high in the air were like poison, killing the flicker of hope that shone radiantly only moments ago, extinguishing the light in every single soldier still standing. Because at that moment, we all knew that there was no winning this now.

Our strength wouldn’t matter because no matter how hard we fought, how many we might kill, there were more. More of the enemy steadily marching towards our depleted, exhausted army, eager to destroy us, to wipe us from the face of this earth. Like vultures, they would pick us off one by one, surrounding us, fighting from multiple sides until the very last of us would fall.

I stared at the calvary carving through the bodies making their way towards us.

A soldier crashed into me, and I stumbled a step back before spearing him with my sword.

“Keep moving forward!” Zora’s voice pulled me out of a trance. She shouted commands to the soldiers lost for direction as the two armies closed on us.

For a moment, I felt Zora’s gaze fall upon me. I turned to see her. I was standing too far away and yet close enough to see the hopelessness imprinted in her breathtaking eyes.

She gave me a curt nod—a silent goodbye I did not want to acknowledge.

I gripped the bloodied hilt of my sword tighter, carving my path forward towards her, ignoring the suffocating truth that gnawed at me. Truth and defeat.

Perhaps we were all destined to die in the end.