Beautiful Hell (Draft 1)

For almost one hundred years, a brutal and bloody struggle for dominance between the kingdom of Ra'Ziel and the plains of Torath has torn the world asunder, raining death and destruction upon the earth. But this war is coming to an end. With only a few descendants of both royal lines living, will there finally be peace? Alexandra Ra'Ziel wants nothing more than to end the feud that took her older brothers from her, but Tristan Torath has different plans. He wants - he needs - retribution for the wrongs he has suffered. And so their story begins. Because anyone can find vengeance, but only a rare few achieve true justice.

Ok yeah, so here's the thing. I'm rewriting this story, so anybody who wants to read the new chapters (as I edit and revise them) can find them on my page. The Movella is titled Beautiful Hell (Re-imagined). And yeah, it's way way way better than this one, but also way more graphic too.

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28. Tristan Torath IV

            “My Lord, they are forming up! They’re going to attack!” Tris rolled out of his father’s bed, fully dressed and ready. Of course the Ra’Ziel army was attacking. Tris didn’t know why he had expected the snakes to have any honor. After all, they must think by now that he had raped Ali. They were here to avenge her honor.

            “Have every man and boy mount. I want us ready by the time the sun crosses the horizon. Send the women and children toward the northern pastures. Hopefully they meet up with a caravan on the way.”

            Tris spent the morning overseeing the furious action that preluded death. Everyone knew they were going to die. There were only three thousand nomads fit to fight, against twenty thousand Ra’Zielians. But everyone would fight their hardest, trying to buy time for the women and children to escape.

            When the first rays of dawn lit the valley with their bloody light, the armies of Ra’Ziel and Torath faced off. Tris felt his hopeless despair build in his chest. He wouldn’t have the chance to go mad. He would die this morning. His only legacy: he was the prince who led the nomads to their annihilation.

            Then a pure white horse broke away from the Ra’Ziel army. It was followed by a half-dozen others, but the wild horse easily outpaced them. Dodging and racing, Nikarae  galloped down the hill, toward the center of the valley. Tris, seeing the small shape of a rider, immediately spurred Dragon forward.

            He met Ali exactly between the armies. She practically threw herself from Nikarae’s back at him. Tris caught her with a laugh that was perilously close to tears. Behind her, he could see the other riders, only a few moments out, but she was all that mattered.

            Ali’s scream was the only warning before the hot stab of pain hit his arm. Tris drew back to see a deep gash spilling blood onto the grass. It extended from his elbow to his wrist. When he looked back up, William was already drawing back his arm to finish it.

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