D Fischer [Fischer - Rift

RIFT

B ook T hree of

R ISE OF THE R EALMS

D. FISCHER

Rift (Rise of the Realms: Book Three)

Copyright 2019 by D. Fischer

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any printed or electronical form without written consent from the author. This book is fictional. All names, characters, and incidents within are pure fiction, produced by the authors vivid imagination.

This book contains adult content. Mature readers only. The author will not be held responsible if a minor reads this book.

ISBN: 9781794360204

BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Epic

D. Fischer

19 published books

|THE CLOVEN PACK|

A Gifted Curse Out of the Darkness

Above This Grave Caught in the Crossfire

|RISE OF THE REALMS|

Reborn Disobedient Rift The Vault

Decimate and Ruin coming 2019

|NIGHT OF TERROR|

Book One Book Two Book Three

|GRIM FAIRYTALES|

When Hope Was Forgotten Cure The Enemy

A Cold Soul

FIND MORE

at D. Fischer's Amazon

Everything in this book is fictional. It is not based on true events, persons, or creatures that go bump in the night, no matter how much we wish it were

To K. Bond

You have given me the power to be courageous.

CONTENTS

I never thought this would be my life. I never imagined Id be the center of destruction. The choices Ive made, and will make, will be the end of the beginning. And now, in the middle of our rift between fear and fate, were out for blood to save those we love. Can you blame us? Katriane DuPont

CHAPTER ONE

TEMBER

DEATH REALM

Was that necessary? Jaemes asks. Disgust flattens his lips as though his tongue is glazed with a bitter bite, and his throat bobs, suppressing a gag.

The immediate threat gone, I dim my halos glow and observe him with narrowed eyes. Halo gone, were cast back into ill-lit darkness which weakens the evidence of his disgust inside the Colosseum's tunnel.

Jaemes underlying contemptuous expression reminds me of Ermas angelic features twisted in a snarl, the one shed been sneaking my direction when she believed me to be unaware. But I felt it like nails raking the back of my neck. Under her scrutiny, it chisels at my heart, but with Jaemes, it raises invisible hackles along the knobs of my spine. If I still had them, my feathers would ruffle, and I can almost hear the sound of them rubbing against one another in telling agitation.

I miss Ermas affections more than my discarded wings, though. My heart needs her more than an angel needs flight.

Squatting to the floor, Jaemes smears black vampire blood from the tip of his arrow to the stone floor. Its different than normal creature blood, more thick and sticky with the lingering stench of rotting flesh. He grunts with further disgust when his efforts have no effect. The goop smudges along the arrow, already partially dried.

My right eyelid twitches in annoyance to Jaemes question, and I take in our surroundings to quiet my clicking tongue. Since weve ventured away from his village together under the orders of Mitus, his father, hes continued to taunt me with words meant to break my spirit. My reactions provide him with entertainment.

To our left, rows of cells are filled with people while our shoulders hug the wall on our right. The tunnels are skinny yet well-constructed with low, smooth archways instead of corners or squares. Its what I had envisioned this structure to look like while we stood on the outside of this maze, but nothing compares to seeing it with my own eyes. Even I, a creature whos lived many a year, wasnt prepared for this.

Precisely every ten feet is a candle on top of a plain metal candelabra, the flames too small to provide sufficient light. The details of the metal wax holders are absent and plain, providing no beauty for the prisoners to gaze upon before theyre marched to their deaths.

I wasnt yet created when the first Colosseum was built, but I know a few who were. Jax, an angel disgusted with my adoration for Erma, was one of them. The angels who were present in that era often recounted the devastation with sorrow etched on their handsome features. To this day, theyre still traumatized by the loss of their charges.

During that precarious time, they had been forbidden to interfere by Erline and Erma, for fear of possible discovery, though angels have stepped in before and after, continually, throughout history. And each time we had raced to the rescue, devastation would soon follow. Its a lesson we cant learn, doomed to repeat our mistakes over and over again in hopes to save one, or many, lives.

Erma believes it best to pull the strings from behind the curtain, and I fully agree with her. But its times like this, observing the helpless in the Death Realm, I want nothing more than to call the evidence a liar.

My fixed stare lingers too long on the humans, concern wrinkling my forehead and stiffening my shoulder blades. Theyre no longer shades. Instead, theyre owners of a brand-new beating heart inside a solid body. My brain screams at the impossibility, and my shock is clear, leaving me speechless for several moments. Now that they are once again human, are they subjected to never have a guardian - an angel - forever?

How has this slipped through my species regard?

Charges are divided among angels by Ermas decree. She wouldnt have left these resurrected humans to fend for themselves in a realm where they cannot. Perhaps she has no jurisdiction here, no way of knowing whats happening under Kheelans watchful eyes and ham-fisted agenda.

Death isnt supposed to be like this. Guardians shouldnt have the need to protect the dead, and I know with certainty Erma would have done something about it if she knew.

Angling my head, I look as far down as I can see, Jaemes question momentarily forgotten. Theyre all human. Every. Last. One.

A few sit, slouched against the wall with a blank expression. Theyre most likely contemplating their very grim futures while coming to terms with enduring another death. Others try to reach through the electrified bars, the bright cackling lights mixing with shadows and casting flickering reflections along the walls behind them. As soon as they touch lights, however, theyre physically shocked back into their cells with their legs knocked out from beneath them.

Fearful hope crosses the closest cell members faces when they notice we arent the typical creatures roaming this realm, and their spines straighten to attention. Aside from the echoes of battle rumbling through the tunnel, silence stretches as they study us, the two who had massacred a handful of vampires with swift ease.

A gangly man slowly stands and shuffles his bare feet across the gritty floor until hes inches from the bars which hiss their warning. His dusty blonde hair is unkempt as though hes been pulling at the roots repeatedly. The clothes he wore, when his first death transpired, hang from him in tattered strips, and his old lifes blood stains them with splotches of burgundy.

His guardian must have been absent the day he first died. It happens from time to time. We all have multiple charges, except for me, who had given mine to another when I sawed off my wings.

Please, he whimpers and then swallows with difficulty as though hes perpetually parched. The blue bolts cast dancing hues along the empty valley of his thick, pinched together eyebrows. Help us.

I take a scramble back and bump into the wall, recoiling internally at the plea. The edges of the stone dig into my skin and jar the length of my spine.

Neither Jaemes nor I have the power to help him, or them, and the last thing I desire is to make it seem as though were here to free everyone. Even if we could lower the bars, where would they run? Where would they hide? Nowhere is safe. Our mission is Katriane. Retrieve her and bring her home. Theres nothing we can do for this hostile realm and those who must endure it.