Thirteen #4
“My Mana is weak too,” she says, voice trembling but clear. “But I’m not giving up. I’m not going to stop trying. I want to live for as long as I can.”
Fen looks at her as if she has spoken from another world. “Good for you, Marissa. But I can’t say the same.”
Fen twists out of Alaris’s grip. Before I can reach for him, he channels his Mana, unleashing the same gust of air he claimed was all he could manage. The force knocks Alaris and me backwards.
He runs, boots sliding on the smooth stone, but he still finds enough traction to break into a sprint.
He stops at the edge and looks back at Alaris. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
Then he jumps.
Alaris makes a sound I have never heard from a human throat.
For several breaths, nothing happens. We watch, waiting for the number on the Mother Shard to increase. But it doesn’t. Instead, the pink crystal pulses darker, glowing magenta, and the number four turns an inky black.
Wrongness crawls over my skin. The wind screams. The island shakes so hard that I’m thrown to my knees. Marissa clamps her hands over her ears. Alaris stands frozen, his face drained of colour.
The wind pummels the island, pelting grit and loose stones at my face.
Something rises from the mist below. It is Fen’s body, but it’s not Fen.
His limbs are twisted, his skin waxen, his hair plastered to his skull.
His eyes are milky white, and his lips are blue.
When he lands on the ground, the impact is silent.
For a second, we just stare.
Then Fen’s corpse moves.
It lifts a hand, and the air around us collapses.
I am slammed to the ground, my ribs squeezed as though caught in the fist of a giant.
Marissa is pinned beside me, her mouth open in a silent scream.
I cannot even move my fingers to reach for her.
Lyssandra and Morwen lie thrown together, limbs tangled.
Alaris is the only one standing.
He looks at Fen, his cheeks tear-stained. “Please stop,” he begs. “This isn’t you.”
But the thing that was Fen only stares, its white eyes blind and endless. It raises its arm, and the pressure increases. Beside me, something in Marissa creaks. I gasp for air, my vision going black at the edges.
A shape shimmers above us—an Overseer, glass-faced and blank. It floats down, hovering beside Fen’s body. Its voice is almost gentle.
“Death must come at another’s hand,” it intones. Then it screeches, “These are the rules!”
No one moves.
Alaris looks at me, then at Marissa, and finally at Fen. “I won’t do it,” he cries. “You can’t ask that of me.”
The corpse shrugs.
The Overseer tilts its head. “The boy will remain this way until the count is true.”
Then it phases into the ground.
Fen’s corpse raises its hands again, and the air bends. My own bones creak beneath the force. Beside me, Marissa gurgles. I try to reach for my Mana, but it stays locked down.
“Alaris!” I manage to scream. “You have to—”
Alaris shudders. “I can’t—”
Marissa’s body spasms, her eyes rolling back, and something breaks in me: a wild, thoughtless rage. Every breath feels like knives in my lungs—except one. A single breath comes clean and deep, like the eye of a storm, before the pressure crushes back in. I use it.
“He’s already gone,” I shout. “Please—”
He stares at me, and whatever is left of him crumples. He is not a killer. Just a friend with no other mercy left to give.
He steps forward.
“Fen,” he says, voice broken. “I’m sorry, brother.”
He lifts two fingers, and a concentrated blast of air punches straight through Fen’s heart.
The body staggers back, black goo leaking from the wound.
It looks at Alaris, head tilted, and for a second, I think the real Fen is still in there.
But then it crumbles, skin peeling away in ribbons, bones dissolving to dust. Black mist flakes off him and evaporates.
Then the golden-red light of Fen’s life force pulls free and rises into the sky.
For a heartbeat, Fen’s essence trembles in the air, caught between two masters.
Then it tears free and flies to the Mother Shard.
The Overseer returns briefly, rising through the ground and bowing to Alaris before floating away.
The Mother Shard’s death counter flickers back to gold, and the number four becomes a five.
Marissa sobs, gasping for breath. I crawl to her, cradling her head in my lap.
“It’s alright,” I say, shushing her as I stroke her hair. “It’s over.”
Alaris falls to his knees, head in his hands, and wails.
No one speaks for a long time.
Lyssandra finally stands and places a hand on Alaris’ back. “He is free now,” she says, and it is both true and meaningless.
She helps Callen sit Morwen upright again, and the Waterborn return to their prayers.
I stare at the sky, the wind calm once again. The truth settles with perfect clarity: there is no escape. Only death. Only the slow, relentless grind towards the end.
The Mother Shard has placed us here, but in the end, it is not she who will kill us.
It is each other.
And next time, it might be me.