Rise of the Fallen (Second Death Book 3) Read online

  Rise of the Fallen

  Book Three of the Second Death

  Brian Rella

  Illustrated by

  Jake Logsdon

  Elder and King

  Contents

  Free Starter Library

  PROLOGUE

  1. FRANK

  2. DAVID

  3. ROY

  4. TITUS

  5. RAND

  6. FALLSTON

  7. JESSIE

  8. DELPHINE

  9. JACK

  10. DAVID

  11. TITUS

  12. FRANK

  13. JESSIE

  14. FRANK

  15. FRANK

  16. DAVID

  17. FRANK

  18. FRANK

  19. JESSIE

  20. FRANK

  21. TITUS

  22. FRANK

  23. TITUS

  24. FRANK

  25. ARTIMUS

  26. FRANK

  27. FRANK

  28. NALSUU

  29. FRANK

  30. FRANK

  31. AMAN-GAL

  32. DALKHU

  33. AMAN-GAL

  34. DELPHINE

  35. ARTIMUS

  36. NALSUU

  37. JACK

  38. DELPHINE

  39. JACK

  40. JACK

  41. FRANK

  42. JACK

  43. JACK

  44. NALSUU

  45. FRANK

  46. JESSIE

  EPILOGUE

  Free Starter Library

  Thank You for Reading!

  Also by Brian Rella

  About the Author

  Free Starter Library

  Sign up for Brian Rella’s Reader’s Group and get Rising: The Second Death Prequel and two short stories for FREE. You’ll also be the first to know when Brian releases a new book, receive subscriber-only-giveaways, and get the chance to receive advanced reader copies of new releases for FREE.

  You can unsubscribe at any time and Brian never shares your email address with anyone.

  CLICK HERE TO GET STARTED!

  PROLOGUE

  Arizona Desert

  An orchestra of chaos played across the desert. The high-pitched shrieks and wails of the soulless feeding on the living were the strings, the crunch of frosted sand under Jessie’s feet the percussion. Her army of soulless warriors had spread out in every direction as far as her eyes could see, and their hunger to feed and fill the hole played a sweet song of death to their Queen.

  She had marched her army southwest for a day and a night, following Dalkhu, the Shepherd of the Soulless, toward the resting place of the Stone of Serr’rah. In her wake lay scores of dead: human soldiers instructed to kill her and her throng of wicked warriors. But their mission would end in their own deaths. She would not be stopped. Could not be. Not with her growing army and the power of Nalsuu, the King of the Fallen, within her. In her mind’s eye, she saw Him now, in His beating flesh, as He waited for her to free Him from the scorched wasteland of the Second Death that was His prison. They spoke in images shared between their planes of reality, and she saw clearly that the Stone of Serr’rah was close at hand; and along with it, the power of the human souls that would free Nalsuu and the Fallen from the Realm of the Second Death. And once free, she and her King would reshape the world in their image. Her eyes burned with malice and a chilling smile spread across her face at the thought of the Kingdom they would create together.

  Pasmet screeched from above, pulling her from her dark fantasy. His icy breath flowed over the soldiers who confronted Jessie and her army as they marched—their hopeless attempts to stop the Fallen ending in arctic death. To her right, Arraziel landed with a ground-shaking thud. His hulking mass now towered over her at thirty feet, having grown after the failed attempt by the humans to destroy him with their weapon. She gazed up at him with wicked pleasure.

  A man in army fatigues flailed in Arraziel’s enormous clawed hand. The fool snarled and wriggled, freeing his hand and firing his pistol into Arraziel’s eye. Jessie heard the demon’s gravelly laughter through their telepathic connection before he sucked the life from the man. Through Arraziel’s eyes she witnessed the shock and horror on the man’s face as his life-force was drained from him. She clenched her hand as Arraziel clenched his, and felt the man crumpling in Arraziel’s grasp as if it were her own hand wrapped around him. Satisfaction filled her as the soft thump of his broken body resounded behind her. Arraziel grunted and evaporated, reforming back on the battlefield in search of another victim to quench his thirst.

  Jessie faced forward, her spirit brimming with lust and power, as the shadow of Pasmet glided over the blood-stained land like creeping doom—and Nalsuu’s deep voice filled her head as He stirred within her.

  You have done well, Jessie. See how our army has grown, how the humans are no match for our power. It is as I have foretold, is it not? You share in My great power now, and soon our rule over the land of the living will begin.

  His words brought comfort and joy to her soul, her skin prickling with thoughts of depravity and malevolence. And she knew nothing from this world could pierce the shield of His love and protection. She had given all of her being to Him. She was His; a vessel of His will in this land of the living. And anything that stood in the way of His will, she would destroy—for He was ruler of this world, of all worlds, and the half-breed usurpers would kneel before Him or die. He would rule the Earth as He had in the past; and this time, there would be no force to stop Him, no prison to hold Him. She would make sure of that.

  The sun crested the horizon, and her eyes narrowed at the sounds of the approaching aircraft from behind them. Fools. This barren desert shall be their grave. She reached out to Pasmet with her mind and instructed him: Destroy it. The beast acknowledged her command and let loose a chilling cry before turning its massive wings toward their enemies in the air. Then she turned her gaze up at Dalkhu.

  “How much further?” she asked.

  “We are near, my Queen,” Dalkhu growled, his snout curving toward his eyes in a dog-like smile.

  “Do you hear that, my King?” she said aloud, her voice exultant. “You are almost free. We are coming.”

  A jet rumbled overhead, splitting the sky with a sonic boom. She saw the aircraft through Pasmet’s jade eyes as it flew straight at the dragon-like beast like a kamikaze—and then it was engulfed in Pasmet’s emerald ice-breath before it plummeted to the desert below like a giant ball of hail.

  She turned her attention back to the path in front of her, absorbing the scenes of bloodshed she and her army wrought, and saw through her King’s eyes what He witnessed from His prison.

  Realm of the Second Death

  His call echoed to the far corners of the Second Death, and they came, scampering, flying, crawling, and slithering on their bellies. They could not ignore Him. His will was their command, for it had been from Him that all of them had come. He was the Father of All Monsters, the Leech of the Aeons, the King of the Fallen—and He had called His servants to His presence, and they had obeyed.

  As they gathered, He cast a bone-chilling quiet over them. Only the crackle of the ever-burning fires of the Realm of the Second Death could be heard. Upon His throne of rock and bone, He hovered on coils of thick veins, high above them on the raised lip of the Canyon of Dread. His shimmering purple-black flesh thrummed softly, glistening in the red rays of the forever-setting sun. And He spoke to them.

  My sons and daughters of darkness and chaos, our time has come. The false prophecy is upon us. My Queen has awakened My army in the land of the living and only the false prophet and a small band of usurpers stand in the way of
our return! He boomed over the crowd of evil spawn.

  The Fallen murmured and shrieked before Him, fear and anxiety floating through the masses that had gathered. He heard their consternation of the false prophecy echoing through their thoughts and scowled at their frailty. Absorbing their weakness through His four chambers, He spat back at them with venom and red-hot anger, speaking directly to their minds.

  You feeble-minded fools! You once ruled the land of the living with strength and terror, yet now you quiver before Me as we sit on the precipice of our return!

  You are the darkness they fear! You are the forever night of their dreams! You shall return and they shall all bend a knee, or their blood and flesh shall fill your bellies! Those who confront us shall know pain and suffering like never before! We are the malefic monsters and the destroyers of the light, and we shall rule the Earth once again!

  Their murmurs rolled into howls of approval. Nalsuu’s veins stretched out around Him, forming a web-like embrace of the crowd from His throne. Lightning split the sky behind Him and thunder boomed.

  Nalsuu extended His tendrils over them and His thunderous voice was filled with dark exuberance. You, My spawn of the night, My army of Fallen warriors! Too long have you been imprisoned in the suffering of this place. Too long have you waited for the blood and souls of man, and the freedom to roam the land of the living. But see—the end is in sight!

  His chambers thumped with power; His veins quivered with rancorous contempt. The crowds continued to howl and shower Him with praise.

  My children of the night, there are usurpers among us, invaders in our Second Death, and you will bring them to Me, He hissed, His dark aortic tentacles wavering menacingly against the blood-red sky. And, by My power, they who have imprisoned us shall unlock the chains that bind us to this place. From Me, you shall be set free as you were millennia ago.

  Now find them! Find the usurpers called Shizu and David Bishop, invaders from the land of the living, and bring them to Me! Find them and I shall set us FREE!

  The crowd of beasts and bastards roared and shrieked, their cries echoing over the Realm of the Second Death. And the slithering, scratching, flying beasts went forth to find the usurpers and bring them before their King.

  1

  FRANK

  Temple of the Highlands

  After breakfast, the boys’ excitement spilled over into bubbling whispers as they dressed in their warmest clothes and quietly ran for the Temple doors. They had been training without break for months, but not today. This was not a day to train. This was a day to play, and they had decided to skip classes for the morning. Snow like this would have definitely led to a snow day before their world was opened to the magic and horror of the Watchers and the Fallen, and they were going to pretend things were the way they had been for at least one day. The lessons would be put aside for a needed pause in the serious business of the war against the Fallen, and they would play in the snow like children, and they would forget it all for the moment. They would be…normal, at least for today.

  Outside, the snow was almost to David’s waist. Frank forged a path through the fluffy powder as snowflakes continued to fall around them. David trudged behind him, placing his boots in his brother’s wake. They waded through the drifts to the open area in front of the temple, their cheeks red, their breath steaming, and the exhilaration of young boys cutting school flowing through them.

  “Let’s go a little further,” Frank said.

  “Why?” David asked.

  “So the grown-ups don’t hear us,” he said, grinning.

  David grinned, too, and they went further into the woods to keep out of earshot of the adults.

  The sky was piercing blue and majestic in its morning glory. The sun was rising and glared off the cold white pillows as they played. Frank made snowballs between his mittens and threw them at his brother.

  “No fair,” David whined. “Make one for me. Come on, Frank…”

  Frank grinned, packing the snow between his hands. “Here. This one’s for you,” he said, handing David a roundish ball of snow.

  A devilish grin appeared from under David’s wool scarf and he tossed the snow back at Frank, striking him in the face.

  “Hey!” Frank shouted, the snow already creeping down his neck and freezing his bare skin.

  David cackled and pointed at his brother, his cheeks flushing redder. Frank glared at him. “I wasn’t ready!” he shouted and lunged at David.

  Frank hit him full force in the chest with his shoulder, and David grunted, falling on his back and sending a puff of tiny, shimmering snowflakes into the sun.

  It was Frank’s turn to cackle as he covered his brother in snow—until he heard the cries and whimpers beneath the white.

  “Stop…F-Frank…s-stop it…”

  Frank blanched. He’d gone too far—like his father had with him on many occasions—and David was upset and buried in the snow. He glanced down and started brushing the snow away, sorrow and guilt spreading through him, but there was no sign of his brother.

  Frank kept clearing away the snow, and a small shock of fright leapt into his chest when his younger brother failed to emerge beneath the blanket of white. His arms were frantic windmills as he searched for his brother, scanning for any sign of his jacket, his scarf, an arm—anything. Dread filled him and a heartbeat resounded in his head.

  “David?” The worry in his own voice alarmed him even more. Finally, his now bare hand touched his brother’s jacket, but David’s whimpers had stopped and he wasn’t moving. Frank cried out, panicked.

  “David!” he shouted. His brother’s hands were limp and red. He glanced up, looking wildly around for help. His heartbeat thundered in his head. The light around him had turned gray and eerie, like dusk had suddenly overcome the day.

  A shadow crept over him and a chill went up his spine. It hadn’t been his own heartbeat he had heard, he realized suddenly. A paralyzing sensation crawled over him, and a voice he felt rather than heard, a voice as black as night and as deep as the ocean, spoke to him:

  HE IS MINE.

  Frank trembled and glanced back down at his brother. His face was as white as the snow. David wasn’t moving—and the voice came again, forceful, guttural, in his ear.

  MINE.

  Frank jerked his head around, but no one was there. His brother was still unmoving, and this thing was still growling at him inside his head.

  The wind howled, the snow swirled, branches snapped from the evergreens. And then he saw it. It stood dozens of feet tall in front of Frank — an enormous shimmering purple-black heart with thick, spongy veins that looked like unfurling, slithering coils. They were coming for Frank, and he froze, paralyzed with fear.

  The veins touched David, reaching under his jacket and scarf. David sucked in a breath and his eyes popped open.

  The monstrous heart thrummed a deafening cadence. Frank heard nothing else but its voice and eardrum-shattering thumping.

  HE IS MINE! it boomed.

  Other veins reached for Frank. “NO!” Frank shouted, the paralyzing fear overcome by the desire to live. Raising his hands in the air at it, blue lightning shot from Frank’s palms and struck the heart. A roar echoed through the forest, sending huge clumps of snow falling from the trees, and the heart exploded before him—the thunderous heartbeat abruptly silenced.

  Frank sucked in air, his chest heaving violently. A mumbling noise came from the ground in front of him. David was trying to sit up.

  “Come on,” Frank croaked, pulling his brother to his feet.

  Something was wrong. His brother’s hand… He glanced down. David’s arm had become a thick, spongy vein—

  A faint growl of laughter echoed through the Highland forest. “No,” Frank whimpered.

  Veins burst through his brother’s jacket and wrapped around Frank’s arm. Their ends winked open at him, revealing rows of sharp yellow teeth that reached as far back as he could see. Green liquid oozed from the corner of the veins’ mouths a
nd dropped to the ground, sizzling.

  A vein lunged at Frank and his whole body convulsed. His vision blurred, and then slowly came back into focus—

  He was sitting in a chair in a dark room. He could sense the presence of someone else in the room. As his vision cleared, his eyes moved across the room, adjusting to the light. The soft sounds of breathing reached his ears. A small form lay in a bed, under the covers. A fire crackled somewhere beyond him. Dank, underground smells filled his nose.

  The Temple. Jack, he remembered foggily. I’m in the Temple and Jack is still unconscious from Brennan’s Last Breath.

  He rubbed his eyes and pushed his shoulder-length brown hair out of his face. His hand came away slick with cold sweat. A sense of despair lingered inside him as the huge heart’s laughter echoed in his ears. How long have I been like this? How long has Jack been out of it? God, is he okay? Please, let him be okay…

  Frank had been wedged in the doorway of the boy’s room, watching over him like a guardian angel, only leaving the boy’s side to use the bathroom. He pulled on his Marlboro, then cursed as something stung his fingers. He dropped the smoldering filter on top of the pile of cigarette butts between his feet, realizing he’d just smoked part of his own fingers.