Chapter 24 Mance, Without Heart, Asset, Poise, and Livid
Mance, Without Heart, Asset, Poise, and Livid
I stay up all night. Between Reltas’s plans for domination and the knowledge that his actions at the Citadel have been corrupting the magic for everyone, I have two solid reasons for every single realm to join me in declaring war.
I split and send each part of myself to a different realm, all at once, and then I even drag myself to the last one so that no realm is left uncovered. We meet back in the war room at dawn.
It’s beyond excruciating to merge all of us back at once.
It’s so clear now that the magic is worsening, because every split and merge feels like being ripped apart and smashed back together, and that pain goes deeper and lingers longer than it ever did before.
Unsure if I can stomach the merges one after another, I elect to do them all at once and end up flat on my back, the room spinning around me as I scream hoarsely through the pain.
But when it all settles and I catch my breath, a slow smile spreads across my face, even through the ache that still sears across my skin.
Because every single realm said yes. They’re all coming. They will all take my side.
Shakily, I haul myself up and approach the Victory’s Herald where it now hangs on the wall, intending to do something silly and symbolic, like hoist it into the air in triumph.
But as I reach for it, I falter.
I remember stealing this sword, months ago, with Silver.
I try not to dwell on the secrets we shared that night, or the way he reached for my hand, because those memories only bring on a fresh wave of anguish.
But I do let myself linger on how desperate I was to avoid bloodshed back then.
The efforts I put into keeping my father from doing exactly what I’m doing now.
After everything . . . is a war between all the realms really how we end this?
I understand that it’s a just and necessary one, that we are trying to prevent atrocities.
But when I look out the window at the walls that surround my castle, all I can think about is standing in front of them and making vows to my realm when I took this crown.
I told them that I would seek peace for them.
Yet here I am leading the whole Continent into war only three months into my reign.
Was my father right?
Is it all just inevitable?
I wrap my fingers around the hilt of the sword and lift it, feeling its weight.
Through the window, the first tendrils of the sunrise gasp for life on the horizon, grim and wan.
They pale next to the vividness of the green magic that looms above them, and my heart sinks as I watch that sickening light rally against the pale morning.
It’s getting bigger. I can see that now. The magic has stretched farther, reached higher, than it ever has before. It even looks deeper. Darker.
Insurmountable.
I sit with that for a minute.
But only for a minute. Because if I go too far down that train of thought, I’ll end up gasping for breath on the floor again, and I don’t have time for that.
So I sheathe the sword at my waist and stride out of the room, tucking all my negative feelings away. The ones about the war, the ones about the breakup, all of it.
I’ll do what I have to do.
Like I always have.