Page 56 of A Rising Hope (The Freckled Fate #3)

56

FINNLEAH

T he silver veil moved, Death parting the way for me to see beyond.

Four beautiful women, dressed in simple white gowns, smiled at me softly.

“Hello, Finnleah.” The taller and younger one of the group, took a step forward. A little shiver ran down my skin and though I didn’t know her, I knew with certainty that she was a warrior. “I am Diamara.” Her sharp brown eyes wrinkled in the corners as she welcomed me.

I glanced over my shoulder to Death. She nodded, allowing me to step beyond the veil. And I did.

A shimmering spell kissed my skin, and I glowed. My body, as if absorbing the magic beyond the veil, shined like the moon and stars.

“So beautiful,” one of the ladies grinned at me. My brows furrowed as I realized the glow was only radiating from me. My figure illuminated in translucent light.

“Wha—” I opened my mouth to question.

“The light of godhood,” the eldest answered. “You are no mere mortal, Finnleah.” Her matching silver eyes and silver hair, met mine. Her words imprinted on my mind.

The most gorgeous woman I had ever seen interrupted the lady with a wise beyond the stars appearance. “All in due time, Petra.” The stranger smiled at me. Her bright azure eyes made her look almost enchanted. “I am Railin, my dear.” She gave me a curt nod.

“As in Railin the Fair, the High Lady of Creators’?” I stared at all of them, realizing. “And Diamara Bellator , the Destroyer Empress?” A little chill ran down my skin. She nodded.

Four women.

Destroyer. Creator. Seer. Healer.

I looked around again.

“I am Ocsanna.” A full-bodied woman with perfectly rosy cheeks and a set of freckles sheepishly waved at me.

“Healer?” I asked. She grinned in confirmation. I turned to the oldest woman with dark green eyes and silver in her hair. “And I suppose that would make you High Lady of the Seers?”

“Correct.”

All the questions I had turned into incoherent gibberish in my head, and I couldn’t come up with a single complete sentence. I opened my mouth and closed it a few times, unsure of what to ask, what to say, where to even begin.

“I am sure you have lots of questions.” Diamara met my lost stare with illuminating kindness. “And I am sorry we couldn’t answer them sooner. But we shall answer as much as we can in this little glimpse of time we’ve carved out. Come.” She extended her hand to me, and I took it. Her hand felt cold. The tight calluses on her palm were similar to mine.

The white matter around us shifted and with a blink of an eye we appeared on a shore near the deep turquoise waters of an endless ocean. Calm seas rolled lazily in the smallest waves. The crystal-clear water reflected the bright light of the large twin suns above.

“Let’s go for a stroll, shall we?” Diamara pointed with her chin towards the endless strip of sand.

The sand was warm, its tiny white crystals were soft under my bare feet. A perfect gentle breeze caressed my skin, and the flawless kiss of the warm but not overly hot weather immediately calming and relaxing me. Each worry, each question settled by the serenity of this place. A perfect paradise.

“There is so much to tell, so much to say!” Ocsanna started. “Where shall we start?”

“What is that you’d like to know?” Railin asked me.

“Everything?” I said, unsure of where to begin.

“In order to understand the future, you must understand the past,” Petra said. “We like to call ourselves a coven,” the High Lady of Seers explained. “Generations prior to your existence, a powerful Seer called for a counsel, creating a secret pact between powerful women from each magic order. Each woman swore an oath of protection to the magic line, united in maintaining balance in the True Order.”

“Think of it as a backup plan should the True Order fall,” Railin added to Petra’s explanation.

“And fall it did,” Ocsanna sadly remarked.

“United together, the coven’s magic was unparalleled. The raw strength of Destroyers’ fire, the fullness of the Creators, the unyielding Healers’ power, and full the clarity of Seers. We counseled together and worked together to help our people prosper,” Petra continued.

“At least, that’s what we tried to do.” Ocsanna gave a strenuous smile.

“Our rule wasn’t perfect, but we always looked for ways to better the world for everyone,” Railin added.

“We had our challenges keeping the balance and letting magic freely flourish through out the land. Few believed in harmony or in continuous peace.”

“Insanaria’s conviction and dedication resonated with many against the continued, and at times, questionable rule of the Destroyers.”

“But where we strove for balance, she craved ruin, luring many with the promise of power.”

They continued their story, and I quietly listened as we sauntered down the long stretch of sand.

“As she rose to power, she staked her claim on the coven, demanding we yield all the power and authority to her, claiming she’d bring the peace we so desperately craved.” Railin’s melodic words poured out with a hint of sadness.

“I was aware of her past, aware of the dark and broken soul she carried,” Petra stated. “One that demanded justice, and yet required grace. A gift we could not give.”

“She staged a coup, lost and was exiled from our midst,” Railin recounted the story. “Her practice of necromancy and dark magic only grew stronger, her dedication and attempts at power never ceased.”

“And we knew one day she would succeed,” Petra said. “You see, I had two visions.” She waved with her hand and the heavens turned dim as flashes of visions stretched across the sky, in the same fashion as all of my visions. Clear and yet only small snippets. “One of terrible things, never-ending bloodshed and of death.” Rendering screams and gore filled the peaceful paradise like an angry storm. “And one of peace and prosperity.” In a breath, the sky filled with jubilant expressions and cheering crowds. Her curious eyes met mine. “Two visions. One of vengeance and one of mercy.”

“When the Great Fall happened.” Diamara paused. There was no pain nor hurt in her voice, more so a simple memory of the past. “And the Destroyer war swallowed Esnox, we knew we had to do something to fix it, to put an end to it. Insanaria, taking advantage of the Destroyers’ fall, rose to power, at first convincing the Magic Wielders to seek her protection, and then killing them all to steal their magic.”

“None of us were prepared for her to slaughter so many overnight. To betray her kind that way required a soul darker than the darkest of blacks.”

“But she killed them all, taking whatever magic that she could submit to her will.”

“In a span of weeks, the world as we knew it crumbled. Magic Wielders were hunted and killed; the True Order destroyed, Destroyers no longer united.” Diamara sorrowfully looked at me. “We had a choice to make. One we did not take lightly.”

We stopped in our stroll for a moment, watching the two bright suns above us shift, switching places, causing the waves to roll backwards from the shore.

“We could summon our forces. Rally the little armies we had and fight a war that would stretch over the generations to come and destroy our people even more.”

“Or”—Petra looked me in the eyes—“there was another way to end it all.”

Railin took a long breath. “Insanaria wanted to become a god. We knew that much. On the surface, that seemed to be the pinnacle of her quest. Become powerful, all-knowing, demand absolute control.”

“But her pursuit was just a creation of our broken world.” Ocsanna watched the inversed waves, her voice a timeless song. “A cruel monster formed by a cruel domain.”

“Yes, we could summon the armies. But even if we defeated Insanaria, there would always be more lost souls eager to follow in her footsteps. There would be no end, no unity. The crack in the foundation was already destroying the house we had built.”

“What Insanaria did was wicked and wrong, and she had to pay for her transgressions.” Petra’s tone was somber. “But so did we.” Her piercing gaze landed on me. “Insanaria wasn’t far off from her pursuit of the divine powers. Powers that could make everything right. Powers we needed just as much. So we all agreed that the sacrifice must be made to give our people the best chance at salvation. A godhood must be created to bring balance. So, we succumbed to hiding, secretly looking for a person that would fit such a role. Years went by and we were left fruitless. All our efforts were in vain. For the sacrifice to work, we had to find a soul in perfect balance. Full of joy and sorrow. Imperfect and yet pure. Wounded and yet all enduring.”

“At that point, Insanaria discovered our plan. Fearing that we could create a god that might defeat her, she sent her armies hunting after us.”

“But none of it mattered, because by then we finally found the perfect soul. A young Healer. A perfect candidate. We trained her, and we prepared her for what was to come.”

“It was the day we planned to confer to her the godhood, to dedicate her and then at last make the sacrifice, devoting our lives and powers to her as she made a claim to deity, when Insanaria’s armies found us. We fought them that day just like we had fought them on so many other occasions. Our offenders died. But so did our only hope of salvation, killed without the chance at life.”

Diamara turned to face me, her expression solemn and weighted by the memory.

“We searched through all our wounded, healing them as much as we could to save their lives. That is when we found her.” Ocsanna’s gaze froze on me.

All four of them paused. And so did my heart as I realized who they were speaking of.

“Your mother was the captain of my guard.” Diamara was the first to speak. “She fought many battles. A valiant warrior with a kind heart.”

I bit the bottom of my lip, hoping it’d stop the tears from dropping down my face. Tears that filled my eyes to the brim as Diamara spoke.

“I urged your mother to leave, to run, seeing that she was with child and the battalions attacking us were numerous. But she stayed, refusing to abandon her duties even then.”

“The wounds she received were extensive. I could have fixed them and saved her life . . . ” Ocsanna stumbled over the words.

“But she refused,” Diamara stated instead. “Demanding that you be saved instead.”

I couldn’t breathe, heart frozen as their words, like tattoos, were engraved into my soul.

Ocsanna paused, sad lines deepened on her soft features.

“I could repair her body, but you wouldn’t have survived the strength of the magic. I told her to save herself. You were too young. Too small. But in spite of my pleas to her, she still refused to be treated, demanding we save her child at any cost.”

“Her Soulbond, your father, died in the battle just mere months prior. Before either one of them knew she was carrying their first child. A child they very much wanted and loved even before they knew of your existence.”

“You mother was a valiant warrior, Finn, but even the strongest of warriors need hope. And you were hers. Hope that all the death and destruction were not in vane. Hope of a brighter day. Hope that even in the darkest of the worlds there would be undeniable, living proof of the strongest, purest love. A child of love, a child of truth, and a child of hope. Hope that Insanaria could never destroy. For as long as there was love, as long as there were those courageous enough to live it, the world would withstand even the most violent of storms.”

“So, we did as she demanded. I eased her pain and helped her through labor in the last hours of her life.”

Petra motioned with her hand, and the sky turned dark with the vision.

And I cried.

A woman bloodied and bruised and, in her arms, just as bloody, was a tiny infant, cord still attached.

My mother.

My mother.

Uncontrollable tears rolled down my face, but I didn’t dare blink, memorizing her every curve, her every feature.

My mother. My soul trembled and revered at the same time.

“She believed you’d change the world even then,” Petra said solemnly, looking at the image of the woman and her child.

“The moment after you were born, I tried to save her. But regardless of how much magic I used, her life was too far gone.” Ocsanna cried with me. “Her last breath was just moments after your first.”

My chest cleaved in two, as I watched my mother whisper in her last breath for a better life. As she landed a single kiss on my cheek her soul ascended and her body went limp.

“We cared for you; but you were so small, so weak,” Railin added, silver streaks in her eyes. “You lived all but an hour when Death had come to collect your soul as well. Ocsanna had labored with all her magic to fight Death’s call. But magic or not, mortals could not outrun their fate.”

“But gods could create their own,” Petra said.

My tears froze as realization at what they were implying quaked through me.

“You were a perfect indication of hope and despair, of joy, of new life and yet also sorrow and death. One of pure heart and yet with a wounded soul.”

“Perhaps we were desperate. Perhaps we believed in your mother’s words of hope. But we took a stance.”

I speechlessly watched the little flashes of visions.

All four of the same women held to the newly born motionless babe with their right hand. One by one, they each cut their left hands with a Basalt Glass dagger, Heart Piercer. Each one of them clasped their cut hands above the child. Their blood united in a stream, falling directly onto the babe’s heart.

They chanted words I didn’t recognize, but now, like a forgotten lullaby, they echoed in my memory. One by one their magic united. Justice Fire, floral vines, silver threads of time, and golden veins of healing, all intertwined into a shimmering light that pierced the child’s heart like a needle.

I watched as they chanted, draining themselves of their magic entirely until one by one their bodies dropped one by one, nothing but rotting husks, empty of life.

Diamara was the last to remain chanting, her powers seemingly endless as she ensured I’d receive every drop. “Live child, live,” she whispered, landing a gentle kiss before her body dropped to the ground, withering into a rotting husk. A moment passed, and the motionless child erupted in a loud cry. Its abrasive sound echoed in the room full of dead bodies.

Only then did I notice a shadow in the corner, a tall figure. Cloaked, she looked around the room, before finally daring to approach the crying babe laying on the table.

Her pale ivory hands pulled the hood down.

A gasp escaped my lips as I recognized someone I hadn’t seen in a long time.

Tuluma.

My Tuluma.

“Little human, you are so filthy,” she hissed in Elvish. She reached for a stained blanket nearby the round table, wiping me clean of the blood. “Shush now, Daughter of the Dead, your screaming is hurting my ears,” she scowled, glaring at the child. And the child stopped, mesmerized by the elf’s vivid turquoise eyes. “That’s better,” she grumbled with dismay. “Now, we must go far away from this cursed place,” she whispered, scurrying away from the room.

The vision had ended, and I couldn’t stop the flow of tears rapidly slipping down my cheeks.

“I met Tuluma when I first became the Creator’s High Lady. I voyaged to the Desolate Desert, hoping to restore the land,” Railin spoke. “On my journey, I found her unconscious, stranded in the desert, parched and starving. I brought her with me and nourished her back to health. Though I asked for nothing in return, she claimed that she owed me her life. A debt I had no desire to collect. But one I asked to trade in exchange for yours.”

“We knew Insanaria would look for you. We knew she’d know what we had done the moment she’d discover our bodies, so Tuluma was going to take you to Elfland and raise you there, protected and hidden away from Insanaria until you were ready. But Tuluma’s father never granted passage home. So she stayed in Esnox, discarded, constantly on the run.”

I wish there had been something to grab onto, something to steady myself with, because my knees buckled as understanding hit me like a ton of bricks.

I stumbled back.

“So am I a goddess ?” I asked. My tongue felt heavy saying the words. My thoughts quieted under the weight of the truth.

“Yes, you are,” Petra affirmed. “But the process obtaining godhood isn’t linear. By gifting you all our magic, we made our claim to the gods to accept you and anoint you as such. But to fully become a god, you must go through the process of ascension.”

Railin smiled, noticing my forehead wrinkled in confusion. “A fancy word for a divine death. A ritual performed with a special Basalt Glass dagger.”

My head was heavy.

“Gods receive power, but their power comes with responsibility. They receive immortality, but are also forever yoked by its demands.”

“Once you die, you must take a seat on your godly throne to rule through the eternities.”

“Is that what’s happening to me now?” I asked, an inkling of worry ripped through the sea of calm within me.

“Not quite,” Railin smiled. I opened my mouth to ask, but she went on, “Diamara had a plan. You see, we knew though you were worthy of such a sacrifice, we were forcing a newborn babe to be a goddess. She, you , were never given a choice in the matter; there was no training, no knowledge or understanding of what that meant for you, of what was to come had you been instructed prior to making the decision. One that will impact your eternity. One that we chose for you.”

“So, as we died and our souls were met with the Goddess of the Dead, Lady Death herself, we offered her a bargain,” Ocsanna continued.

“Our four souls in exchange for time,” Petra’s features softened.

“We knew we couldn’t save you from the eternity of duties to come. But we wanted to give you time. Time to live, time to fall in love, time to be mortal. Time to laugh and to cry. To feel the brightest joy.”

“We had already given up all of our magic and our lives, so we bargained the only thing we had left—our souls—for your freedom of choice, for you to pick when you were ready to ascend.”

“But what about you, your eternities?” I turned to the quieted Diamara, shocked and surprised. “If you give up your souls, you’d have no Afterlife. No place for your souls to exist, for your memories to rest.” I shook my head. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh, our dear, sweet dear girl, that is the least we could do for you,” Railin squeezed my hand.

“For the girl that lost everything and yet survived.”

“For the girl that gave hope even in the moment of deepest grief.”

“For our daughter, we’d bargain it all over again,” Diamara said, and I knew that she truly meant it.