Forest of Lies

Chapter 26-A Woman's Wrath

😭 So sorry for the long wait everyone! I had a busy month and a half with a small summer job and flying off to New York and traveling to Maine to see family and find a permanent job. It has been a little difficult but things are slowly working out. It will probably be another month before I have the next chapter ready.
(You guys will find out why at the end of this chapter 🤭)

But, I'm still grateful for all the support I've been given and I'm excited to also announce, I finally have an official version of Ghost of the Alpha available for purchase on Amazon!

Alright, enough catchup, time for reading. Yay! 😁

————————————————————————-
I am numb to all sound and sight. Watching Evander from the corner of my right eye, keeping my sole focus on the sandy ground of the Arena's center. Celeste, Aloutte, Amira, and Ersa stand behind us in the archway, with Tanith behind them, her gaze wary and my friends' cold as iron. I and the king sit in the carved stone thrones placed in the Royal Box and inlaid with veins of gold and uncut gems.

The dead bear has been removed, the only remnant left is large dark whirl of blood and sand. Several priestess in the silvery gray robes kneel around this stain. A stain now covered high with logs and sticks brought in by several burly sweat stained gladiators.

Those very wooden limbs are now aflame, the Arena silent expert for the chanting of the priestesses. Their hands raised above their hands, eyes closed, faces serene as the twisted bones Prince Mordue's corpse burn down to ashes. A gentle yet strong wind blowing past the walls and stone arches down into the Arena bowl. Taking away his ashes, sending them up and up over the walls and into the open blue sky.

The unfairness of it all has me clenching my teeth tight enough to nearly make them crack. My people could not get Minerva such an honor. We had to hide her, swiftly bury her with no ceremony or recognition of her passing. Lest the other soldiers that had accompanied their deceased prince learned of it.

Then they would have gone to find the source of the sound. Would have discovered the disturbed earth, the blood, and the body left behind by the battle between human and beast that ended in the death of both. Would have connected the dots, and then reaped vengeance upon us all.

Mordue was supposed to stay in that grave. Cursed by my Mother's hand to have his corpse slowly turned into stone that would never burn. Thus never allowing his soul to be free. Keeping him trapped forever, as he had planned to do with Minerva.

But that mere curse was not enough, for his bones still burn as Mordue's corpse and the logs are turned to a pile of smoldering ash. The ashes are then gathered by the priestess and strewn throughout the Arena. Turning the once blood strewn sand into a mixture of gold and gray dust. Consecrating this place of death with the remnants of their dead prince. Their revered and celebrated Blood General. Killer of over a thousand runaway slaves. The Butcher of the Ice Wastes.

The need to scream at such a tranquil and somber affair for a creature who destroyed my life with such noise and pain, struggles to break out past my lips. The want, the desire to turn toward their king and sink my nails into his eyes is a heady poisonous beautiful possibility.

I let my mind wander with visions of such an act. And more importantly, the consequences that bring an end to that wish. All the ways it would go wrong, all the ways I would place my friends in danger. All the ways we would die and bring an end to our people, and all the enslaved humans.

The time to strike has not arrived yet. There is still more to arrange, more information to gather, more allies to bring into the fold, and enemies to turn to our side. I've already selected the first as she has already extended out her hand to me.