Chapter 45
Callan
We’ve only just made it through the gates when the explosions stop.
I notice. Devon notices. And so does my father.
His grey eyes dart to mine, the only evidence of any alarm. He keeps his pace even, his stance strong, but there’s panic all over his face, and it takes monumental effort to keep it off mine.
My initial worry is for Pax and Phoenix. They wouldn’t have stopped without good reason, and the fear of something having happened makes me sick to my stomach.
Breaking my father’s stare, I nod to Devon, who promptly falls back to the end of the group.
The city is eerily quiet now that the explosions have ceased, and I can hear him at the back of the line, instructing everyone to huddle closer as we walk.
He helps them into more of a square formation, allowing us a better chance at guarding them all should someone find us.
Devon stays at the back of the group, and I shift towards my father. “Here,” I whisper when I’m close enough, reaching for the chains around his wrists.
He offers it willingly, and I make quick work of digging the tip of my knife into the keyhole. It’s scratched enough from his previous attempts at setting himself free that it’s easy to slip the blade inside and turn.
With some pressure, the shackle gives, and he exhales a relieved breath when one of his wrists comes free. We’ll have to do the other later.
“Do you have any magic?” I ask, though I’m fairly certain I already know the answer.
“A little,” he tells me, which means he has none.
He tucks the knives into his waistband, and I’m about to gift him a generous portion of my own magic when he says, “Lucina gave it to us. As much as she was able. We rationed it between us.” My father gestures to the group behind him.
“It’s the only reason they’re able to walk. ”
Hearing her name soothes a growing ache in my chest, grounding me to the torn-up cobblestone we’re walking across. But hearing what she did for them? I’m torn between being proud and being afraid.
If I know Lucina, I know there was no limit to what she would have given them, and I know there is a slim chance that she left anything for herself.
And now I’m just as worried about her reserves as I am about her safety, but I sever that stream of thought before it can spiral any further, and extend a hand to my father. “Take more.”
There’s a slight protest in his eyes as they meet mine, but he knows without me having to say it that he needs it more than I do.
When he takes my hand, I delve into my power, gathering a large portion of it and pulling it to the surface. It moves like a hot beam of sunlight through my veins, pooling at my fingertips, and when it melts into his skin, there’s immediate relief in his posture.
He straightens, his steps get stronger, and even his eyes regain a fraction of their familiar glimmer.
“Thank you,” he exhales.
“The sun will rise soon.” I let go of his hand. “We just have to make it until then.”
Until the sun can shine down on the withered group behind us, reviving their ashen skin and sickly complexions. It’s barbaric—the punishment they were sentenced to—depriving the Sol of the very thing that fuels them. No wonder Iris died as young as she did.
My father nods in agreement but says nothing else as he shifts to the right, and I move left. We guard the front while Devon takes the back. It’s the best it’s going to get with just three of us. We just have to make it to the bunker where Hunter and Easton are waiting.
With that destination in mind, I increase our pace. Enough to make a difference but not enough to cause alarm. Even still, it doesn’t take long for panicked whispers to break out behind us.
“Shh,” my father urges them. “It’s alright. Stay close.”
His plea pacifies the swelling murmurs, and for a while, the only sound is our footsteps against the crumbled stone of our city streets. Dawn is still on the edge of breaking, but the sky is getting brighter every second.
I keep my head on a swivel, knowing Devon is doing the same, and when I start to spiral into the thought of how we would even protect all these people, I force the worry away.
I focus instead on my steps, one after the other, scanning the perimeter, and keeping magic at my disposal.
We’re halfway into the city, and I’m about to shift my gaze right when a stone falls to my left.
My father hears it too, coming to a halt in front of his side of the group, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary in the direction the sound came from. Nothing but a crumbled line of burnt buildings and vendor shops that have been destroyed.
There’s a flash of movement in my peripheral, and my fingers tighten around the knife at my waist. A few Sol gasp behind me, and when I snap my gaze forward—
“Cal,” Pax calls out, his voice breathless as he limps towards us.
At first glance, he appears to be okay. His skin and clothes are dirty, with mud on the knees of his uniform and a mess of sticks and leaves caught in his hair.
Nix, however…
One arm slung over Pax’s shoulder, Phoenix’s head is slumped forward, but he keeps trying to lift it, and a heavy wave of fear crashes through me at the lack of color on his face.
I rush forward to help.
He’s clutching a wound at his side, his uniform torn across his ribs. Pax is carrying most of his weight, but Nix is still trying to keep up, the toe of his boots catching loose stone.
As soon as I’m close enough, I take his weight off Pax. “What the hell happened?”
Phoenix lifts his head, half-lidded eyes struggling to focus. “I’m…f-fine,” he stutters, lips twitching in a poor attempt at a smile. “Cross my…h-heart.”
“Rogue,” Pax supplies, wiping sweat off his forehead. “A group of them caught up to us too fast. He needs a mender pill…like now.”
I’d already reached that conclusion myself, barking the order to Devon, who has already swung his bag around his front and is digging through one of the pockets. When he finally pulls a yellow pull free, my relief is palpable.
Nix slumps forward, all his weight falling back on Pax.
“Hey,” Pax urges, tapping his cheek a few times. “Hey, open up, Nix.”
He does well at hiding the panic in his tone, and after a few agonizing seconds, Phoenix slackens his jaw, allowing me enough room to push the pill past his colorless lips. Holding his mouth shut, I tilt his head back, not letting go until I see his throat work through his swallow.
As soon as the pill goes down, his head rolls forward, falling into my shoulder.
I begin counting in my head. It shouldn’t take more than a few seconds for the pill to dissolve, but I’m nearing a full minute when real fear takes root, my heart pounding out of my chest.
Phoenix would be more than willing to die for this cause. No part of him would regret it. But I’ll shove ten mender pills down his throat before I accept that reality.
He’s my brother. All of them are. Losing one would be like losing a limb.
“Nix.” I tap his shoulder, patience wearing thin. “Nix,” I say again, feeling the weight of Pax and Devon’s stare, but I’m unable to look at either of them. “Nix,” I call his name sharper this time, grabbing his shoulders to pull him off my chest.
Phoenix drags in a gasping breath, and we all let loose heavy exhales.
The bastard takes his sweet time inhaling a few more lungfuls, letting go of the slow-healing wound at his side, and when he finally cracks open his mismatched eyes, his mouth splits into a smile.
“Phew,” Nix whistles, clapping me on the shoulder. “That was a close one.”
“A close one,” Pax mocks.
I glare back at Phoenix, but his attention has drifted to the group behind me. His giddy expression instantly falls into a grave seriousness.
Nix pulls out of my grip, pushing past me as if he’s in some kind of trance.
“Cal,” Pax breathes, taking a cautious step to my side. “Is that…?”
Phoenix makes it to the former Captain first, shocking us all when he throws his arms around his shoulders.
Eyes wide, my father stumbles back a step, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a smile when, over Nix’s shoulder, he sees Pax. “Little Paxton,” he says.
Beside me, Pax shakes his head in disbelief. “Grey.”
Phoenix pulls away, moving silently towards the huddled group of Sol, and they watch him reverently as he stares back at them.
Nix stares with the same heartbroken worry that I felt when I first saw them all.
Thin and frail, but alive. Their bodies and minds were thoroughly ruined, but alive, nonetheless.
“I’m glad to see you,” I hear my father say to Pax.
“Oh, the feeling is mutual, Captain. Very mutual.” Pax glances at me, gauging how I’m handling all of it, and I manage a smile. That seems to be enough for him.
“Alright,” I exhale, “we’ve got to keep moving.”
Turning towards Devon, he seems to know what I’m going to say before I’ve even said it. “You and Nix take the back. Pax, you take the left, I’ll stay up front, and Dad—” The order dies on my tongue. It feels inherently wrong to give the former Captain orders.
My father smirks. “I’ll take right,” he says.
Devon and Phoenix move to the back, and Pax nudges my shoulder as he passes, keeping his voice low, “Cin?”
“She should be on her way now,” I tell him. “She’ll meet us at the bunker.” I can’t speak any other alternative into existence.
Pax nods in agreement, scanning the path we’d come from before turning on his heel and disappearing to the left side of the huddled group.
I take the front, centering myself with the group before I start walking, setting a decent pace through the city. Without the distraction of the explosions, I know we don’t have much time, but we have a better chance of protecting the Sol with Pax and Nix added to the mix.
Just as the border comes into view, dawn breaks. The cloud covering over Streatham ends just a few feet short of the boundary, and the first of the sunlight flickers through the ruined buildings ahead, catching the immediate attention of the Sol.
A few gasps break out behind me, followed by the hurried shuffle of feet and the loud clink of chains.