An Heir Comes to Rise (An Heir Comes to Rise, #1)

by C.C. Peñaranda

She always did have a horrible sense of other people’s emotions, and it was a curse she’d learned to live with.

Faythe had never liked the forest. She didn’t trust it.

When she closed her eyes, a pair of bright green irises flashed, and she wondered why she couldn’t get them out of her head.

Faythe always had vivid dreams and usually awoke feeling more exhausted than when she went to bed.

as if it had been made for her alone and no one else could wield it.

“It is not your fault,” it said. “There is so much you are yet to discover, Heir of Marvellas. So much you are destined for.”

“Stay true to yourself, Faythe. Aurialis will be your guide.”

she had chosen the word of the old language from a book her mother often read to her as a child.

“We don’t know what you are yet, Faythe.”

“What in the damned Spirits happened?” Nik stormed up to her, scanning her body for signs of physical injury. “Who hurt you?” he snarled, catching her jaw, which still ached.

yet Nik had a daunting feeling he was yet to scrape the surface of what truly lay dormant beneath her beauty and innocence.

by the Gods, Faythe, your existence becomes more inconceivable by the day.”

“The suit is straight from Rhyenelle. The female warrior fae wear such a garment. It was not an easy thing to get hold of.”

She would not be weak. She would not cower. She would not lose.

“You need the Riscillius, Faythe.”

Spirits of the Realm, there were three; A balance of life, soul, and death. And all together they would agree To balance the world until their last breath. One to guide the light, Her temple stands tall, In a wood that begins in fright. A fear is the key, or thou shalt fall. One to tame the dark, Her temple sinks low. In a black labyrinth stark, Blood is the key to chase away foe. One to connect the souls, Her temple rises high. A winding path not without ghouls, A bond is the key to touch the sky. Each hold power of mighty great, But together they form one. The Riscillius is needed to open each gate, To retrieve the pieces and undo what was done.

The heir of souls will rise again, Their fate lies in her palms. With rings of gold and will of mind, She’ll save the lives of men.

“If you do not, your soul will belong to my woods for all eternity.”

“I shall see you again soon, Heir of Marvellas.”

“You are the last hope.”

Do not be fearful, Faythe, and be wary of colorless eyes.”

That was when it clicked. I’d once read a story about the Heirs of Marvellas—the gold-eyed children.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Faythe, but maybe not in the way you think.”

Her heart shattered, and the world tilted as she looked straight into the expressionless eyes…of Nik.

Trust built on the foundation of a lie is always doomed to fall.”