44. When Heaven Falls #2
Marx suddenly jerked to a stop, her head whipping around. I followed her gaze and saw him—a young man standing in the smoke, his face gentle despite the chaos around us. He had dark hair and kind eyes, one hand extended toward us.
"Finn?" The name tore from Marx's throat.
She wrenched free of my grip, stumbling toward the figure. The man—Finn—smiled at her, that same gentle expression never wavering as he beckoned her closer. He was moving backward, toward where the flames burned brightest.
"Marx, no!" I lunged after her, catching her arm just as she reached for him. "He's not real!"
"Let me go!" She fought against my hold, her voice breaking. "He's right there—Finn, wait!"
The illusion kept beckoning, kept smiling, kept drawing her toward the fire.
"Marx, look at me." I grabbed her face with both hands, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Finn is dead. You told me yourself—the priests killed him. This isn't him."
"No." Tears streamed down her face, cutting tracks through the ash and grime. "No, he's—he's right there. He came back for me. He always said he would?—"
"The Trial is using your memories against you." My voice cracked as I held her tighter, feeling her shake apart in my hands. "Just like it showed me and Thatcher our parents. Just like it's showing everyone what they want most. It's not real."
Marx's legs gave out. I caught her as she crumpled, her hands fisting in my shirt as sobs wracked her body.
"I couldn't save him," she whispered against my shoulder. "I just stood there and let them?—"
"You were trying to survive." I held her tighter, my own eyes burning. "There's no shame in that."
The illusion of Finn stood patient in the smoke, still smiling, still waiting.
"He's not talking," she said, her voice hollow. "Finn never could shut up. Always had some terrible joke..."
"Because it's not him," I said gently.
Marx pulled back, wiping her face with shaking hands. She looked at the illusion one more time, and I saw her eyes harden with the same determination that had kept her alive all these years.
"Fuck you," she told the false Finn.
The illusion flickered, its smile faltering for just a moment before resuming its beckoning gesture .
"We need to go," Kyren urged from behind us. "The fire's spreading."
Marx nodded. She let me pull her away, but her eyes kept drifting back to where Finn stood in the smoke.
"Don't look back," I murmured. "It only makes it worse."
"Speaking from experience?" she asked, her attempt at humor falling flat.
"Yeah," I admitted. "Yeah, I am."
Kyren and I each took one of our companions by the wrist and pushed forward, seeking any path that might lead to safety.
"There!" Kyren pointed toward a massive doorway ahead, smoke billowing from it in thick plumes. "That has to be an exit."
We were nearly there when a desperate cry stopped us.
"Help! Please, someone help me!"
A contestant I vaguely recognized stood before a woman pinned beneath a fallen beam, her hand outstretched. Her face was a mask of pain and terror.
“She’s another illusion,” Kyren murmured.
"Don't worry, I'll save you," the man sobbed, straining against the beam. He spotted us approaching and his expression lit up. "Help me lift this! She's dying!"
Kyren released Marx's arm and lunged forward, but not to help with the beam. Instead, he grabbed the contestant by his shirt and yanked him backward just as another section of ceiling crashed down, missing them by inches.
"Let go of me!" the man howled, thrashing against Kyren's hold. "She needs me!"
"It's not real," Kyren insisted, struggling to maintain his grip on the larger man. "She's an illusion."
"We need to go," I urged, my eyes fixed on the exit ahead, beyond which I could see nothing but stars and clouds. "Now!"
But Kyren wouldn't relent. "I'm not leaving him," he grunted, still wrestling with the increasingly violent contestant. "He'll die if we do. "
Despite every instinct screaming at me to run, to save myself and those I loved, I found myself grabbing the man's other arm. Together, we dragged him toward the exit, his screams of protest mingling with the roar of the flames and the groaning of the palace as it tore itself apart around us.
We burst through the doorway just as an explosion rocked the structure behind us, the force of it propelling us forward onto a wide terrace. The contestant collapsed to his knees, all fight draining from him as he crumpled to the ground in sobs.
For a moment, we all simply gasped for breath, the clean air a blessing after the smoke-filled corridors. Then, slowly, I looked around.
The terrace hung suspended in the sky, surrounded on all sides by nothing but clouds and the distant sparkle of stars. Behind us, the palace continued to burn, flames reaching higher with each passing second. Before us lay... emptiness. Endless, infinite emptiness.
"The rules," I panted, my mind racing back to the gilded script I'd seen. "They were written on the walls inside. When heaven falls, only the sky remains.” I recited the cryptic phrase.
Kyren's eyes widened. "We have to jump," he said, his voice oddly calm given the madness of the suggestion. "It's the only way forward."
"Jump?" Marx echoed. "Into what?"
"It's either jump or burn," Thatcher said quietly, his gaze fixed on the encroaching flames. "Not much of a choice, is it?"
A sliver of panic wedged itself between my ribs. If we were wrong, we'd all plummet to our deaths, contestants and trial both concluded in a single, fatal mistake. But Kyren's certainty was contagious, and as the heat at our backs intensified, the options dwindled to none.
I turned to include the other contestant in our desperate plan, but the space where he'd been kneeling was empty.
"Where did he—" I began, whirling around.
The world seemed to slow as I caught sight of him, his face contorted with grief and rage, a jagged shard of metal floating just ahead of him. It was pointed straight at Kyren. I lunged, but it was too late.
The shard struck Kyren's temple with a sickening thud. His eyes widened in surprise, a small, confused sound escaping his lips before he crumpled backward, blood already streaming from the wound.
"No!" I screamed, diving toward him, my hands finding his face, his neck, searching desperately for a pulse that wasn't there. His eyes stared sightlessly at the star-strewn sky.
Fury erupted within me, molten and all-consuming. I rose in one fluid movement, drawing down a starblade. I launched myself at the contestant.
I tackled him to the ground, the blade pressed against his throat, hard enough to draw a thin line of blood but not yet deep enough to kill.
"He saved your life, you fucking idiot," I snarled, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.
"He dragged you out of there when he could have left you to burn. "
The man's eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but there was no remorse in them, only a hollow anger. "He stopped me," he choked out. "My wife... she's dead now because of him."
I pressed the blade harder, feeling his pulse flutter beneath the edge. It would be so easy. One quick slice and he would pay for what he'd done. Kyren would be avenged.
But even through my rage, I could see the man was too far gone to reason with, lost in a grief that consumed him as surely as the flames had consumed others.
"Thais!" Thatcher's voice cut through my murderous haze. "The fire—it's coming. It's now or never!"
I looked back to see flames licking at the terrace's edge. The choice had been made for me.
With a final, disgusted look at the broken man beneath me, I shoved myself to my feet and ran to join Thatcher and Marx. Behind us, the man made no move to follow, still lying where I'd left him, as though waiting for the flames to claim him too.
We stood at the precipice, the three of us, looking down at nothing but stars and clouds stretching endlessly below. Thatcher took my hand in his right, Marx's in his left, binding us together.
"If this doesn't work," Marx said, her voice steadier than it had been since I'd found her, "I just want you both to know?—"
"Save it," Thatcher interrupted. "You can tell us when we survive this."
We shared one last look.
Then, together, we stepped off the edge of the world and into the oblivion below.