Chapter 38 Fate’s Begging To Be Destroyed
Fate’s Begging To Be Destroyed
Desdemona
I
s this rage worthless, or is it what drives me?
“I believe this will be the last time we see one another,” my mom says. But I know better now, enough to count my fingers and see the green where Mom’s eyes should be brown.
She isn’t really my mom.
“Then let’s get it over with,” I say, cracking my knuckles.
“I didn’t want us to end here.” She steps closer. “I planned to stick with you for a long time. But there are some fates even I can’t handle.”
I pick up my gown, mirroring her predatory movements.
“You know you must kill me,” she says, nodding slowly as if she understands—as if she accepts her fate. “But even the spirit of a god doesn’t know how to give up a fight. So we will fight.”
“I don’t mind.” I shrug. “Never believed much in you anyhow.”
I should have known from the beginning—from the moment Mial said what she was stealing from me. My sanity.
But if I kill the hallucination now, she loses. All of this ends, and I remain sane.
Battle over.
“No?” Zola asks, the goddess of balance, here to destroy me and claim her due.
“No.” I sneer. “Why would I believe in your power when so many of us suffer?”
“That’s your first misconception. I am the most powerful of us, but I don’t do worldly bidding.”
I smirk, glancing at her, a goddess on a world, worrying about little old me. “Doesn’t look like that right now.”
“I focus on things more… at large.” The way Zola smiles in my mom’s body is uncanny. I’ll never forget this image—it’s worse than the look Mom gave me when I knew she hated me. “Such as you.”
“Me?” I ask, eyes widening.
Zola approaches, holding my cheek the way my mom used to. I lean into her, feeling momentarily whole. I missed my mom’s touch.
“My dear girl. My precious baby.” It’s Isa’s voice, but when I look up into her eyes, they’re not my mom’s. There is no warmth.
I inch away.
Zola smiles. “Your mother was right: you were created for balance. I was young, for a god, when I crafted this universe. I made it flawless. My mistake was clear only after.” She gestures to me, her fingers outstretched. “I created you to be my flaw.”
I laugh. It’s hard to take her seriously—to take anything seriously. But it answers a lifelong question. It makes sense why fate always seems to make fun of me.
Zola’s hands move up and down as if appraising me. “You will destroy everything, or everything will destroy you. But I had to give the universe a chance of collapsing.”
My lip twitches. I don’t know if I’m about to cry or kill her. Haven’t I thought something like that my entire life? I’ve always assumed I was destructive. Unworthy.
Have I not always been what she says I am?
I lower to a knee, searching for the knife. I took it from Lucian but dropped it when it burned my skin. This time, when I pick it up, it’s nothing but steel—no longer the Soul Ruby in this hallucination. Which is convenient for me.
I lunge at her, feeling the blood moving through her body. Can I control a god’s blood?
I land on top of my mom’s body—but a god is beneath the skin. She doesn’t resist as I pin her down, raising the knife. Will it take more than one strike?
“Desdemona. Desdemona, please!” My mom’s voice shakes. “Please don’t do this.”
I step back, hands trembling as if they’re already coated in blood. Why would I want to hurt my mother?
She extends an arm to her side. Just to her left, a branch breaks off from a tree, moving through the air into her palm.
It’s razor-sharp.
“Mom?” I whisper.
“I love you,” she says. “I’ve always loved you. Remember that, baby girl.”
My mom weighs the branch between her hands. My attention is drawn to it momentarily, and when I look up, my mother is gone, replaced by a boy I once knew.
Damien.
“Hey, Red,” he says.
My composure falls like rain. The knife slips from my hand, and I step toward my best friend. Unlike the last time I saw him, there is no contempt in his gaze. He’s not scared of me anymore.
He smiles. “Long time no see.”
“Damien!” I race to him, jumping into his arms. He picks me up and spins us. I laugh, clutching both his cheeks as we turn. “Why are you here?”
“Did you think I’d let you go for that long? You’re not getting rid of me, Des.”
At first, his touch is gentle, soft. It takes a moment to realize the point at my side, but the pressure grows, and something in me gives way—my skin and muscles.
The damn branch pushes deeper and deeper, all the way through to my ribs, and Damien drops me.
I lie on the floor, my hands rising to the wound.
Warmth spreads, blood coats my clothes, and I crawl, nails digging into dirt as I search for my knife.
Zola’s doing something to my mind—it’s the only explanation. I’d never be so stupid. I know it’s the enemy in Damien’s body. I know that. But when I retrieve my knife and look up again, it’s Leiholan standing over me.
“How you doin’, sweetheart?” He leans against a tree while I grasp at another, struggling to pull my weary body upright. “How’s the whole ‘the universe forgot me’ thing?”
I lean against the bark, panting and clutching the wound at my side. Blood continues to pour, but I can’t remember why.
“It’s superb,” I say sarcastically, releasing my hands from my sides, forgetting why I was clutching them so tightly.
No.
If I forget about this wound and it doesn’t cauterize, I’ll bleed out. Something else is happening. I’m being hunted; it’s why I’m wounded. But I can hardly remember what. Maybe this is Leiholan’s blood. Maybe he’s hurt. I look at him, searching for a wound.
“Are you okay?” I ask him. “Is someone trying to hurt you?”
“No,” he whispers, walking closer. His footsteps crush the dry, dead leaves. He rests a hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”
I drop my hand, looking into his gray eyes.
It feels like we’ve been through so much—and like he remembers it.
I wrap my arms around him, leaning into a hug.
My mind spins, my body lethargic. But why?
As I glance over his shoulder, I spot a bloody tree branch.
Wasn’t someone holding it? Isn’t that what they used to hurt me?
I remember my mom. Zola.
I shove Leiholan away, and he twists, trying to stay upright, but ultimately falls to the ground.
But one of his legs is missing.
I remember that—he lost it protecting me. So why am I hurting him? Haven’t I done enough?
“What are you doing, kiddo?” Leiholan groans.
Is this really him? It sounds like him. It seems like him. It could be him. He could have walked into the woods.
No. It’s Zola. I raise my knife, aiming for his heart. Leiholan grabs it by the hilt, his strength surpassing mine. My biceps burn as I struggle against him. But he twists the knife toward my chest, pushing it into my heart. The moment he smiles, Leiholan’s body is replaced.
With Lucian’s.
He controls the knife, moving it away from my heart—and his. I try to press it to his chest, but Lucian is stronger. He points the blade toward the ground.
“What are we doing now, darling?” Lucian drawls.
“I’m gonna kill you,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Wouldn’t kissing be much more fun?”
I freeze, leaning back, looking at him carefully. He smiles in response. Dimples.
It’s him.
The hallucination—all of it—is over. I lean back, my back hitting the ground. My side feels uncomfortable, slick. I reach for the wound, but there isn’t one. I’m not bleeding. It’s over.
How is it over?
“Is everything all right?” he asks.
I squint, watching him. Nothing is all right. But it’s always been easy to pretend. I’ve been lying my entire life, slipping back into my old ways like forgotten clothes. They still fit fine.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, looking back to the sky. “Yeah, it’s all right.”
“That’s good.” As he speaks, my vision dims, darkness casting over the world around me. “I want you to have a peaceful death.”
Shadows creep around me, stealing my sight. They crawl down my throat, filling me like a taxidermy doll. I try to speak, but can barely choke. I’m full of cold shadows, freezing me from the inside out as my body slowly gives out.
Frantically, I look from side to side, barely catching sight of Lucian looking down at me. I should have known this is how it would end. He never got over me being an Arcane.
I reach for his ankle, yanking hard and sending him crashing to the floor. I try to crawl to him, to stop him, but the shadows thicken. They solidify like shackles around my ankles, holding me still as Lucian steps closer.
“Oh, darling,” he whispers, his voice soft—nearly pitying. “You didn’t think this would end any other way, did you?”
My head shakes furiously. Muffled screams escape my mouth, but no air fills my lungs in return. I’m only killing myself faster. Clawing at my ankles, I try to release the shadows. My hands pass right through the darkness.
Lucian climbs on top of me, a knife shining in his hands. Is this really how he’s gonna do it? Stab me to death? There are so many better ways—more merciful ways. But he’s going to make me bleed out in the cold woods. That proves it, then. He never cared. It doesn’t matter if I did—or if I do.
I have to fight.
His knees press sharply against my wrists, shoving my bones deep into the dry dirt. The knife presses against my chest. I twist viciously, gasping as the blade sinks into my heart.
Dying, I’m dying. Specks fill my vision, ghosts fill my eyes. But this is temporary, right? It has to be. It doesn’t feel like it.
Lucian looms over me, watching while I bleed and leaning closer. His lips find their way to my ear. I push against him, trying to sit up—to get away. His knees dig into my wrists.
“There is a way to kill Arcanes,” he whispers. “I’ve known. I was waiting.”
A grunt like a cry comes up my shadow-stuffed throat.
“You put out their fire when they come to life.”
My eyes widen. My heart stops. This is it. Lucian—a boy I care for, might have even loved if he let me—is going to be the one to kill me. Blood rushes out of my chest, swelling over my heart. The pain is overbearing. I won’t let him have the satisfaction.
Lucian leans back, and as he moves, I push forward.
My forehead hits his, sending stars across my vision.
For just a second, one of his knees releases one of my wrists.
I pull my hand free, punch Lucian in the nose, and yank the knife out of my chest. I scream, a blood-curdling sound I imagine the entire school can hear.
I sit up, blade in hand, aimed at his heart.
He grabs the hilt again—the way someone might hold a hand. But I aim for his stomach.
I stab once. Twice. Three times.
Enough to kill him.
And when I pull the knife out, it’s red again. But not from blood. I hiss as I drop the blade—the Soul Ruby. Burns stretch over my other hand, once unscathed. And my chest… my chest is no longer bleeding. I look down at Lucian—his mouth is.
Then, a drop of water. Two, three, four, all falling from my hair, soaking wet.
Like it never stopped raining. I glance up at the pouring clouds, then reach for my chest. There’s no wound.
Nothing stabbed me. But Lucian clutches his stomach, his grasp growing weak.
My heart stops—or maybe it beats faster.
I meet Lucian’s gaze, searching, desperate. This is a hallucination. It all was.
“Aibek?” I whisper, panicking.
He chokes. I do, too. My breath catches, burning in my chest. The rain pelts against my skin, mocking.
I sit up, covering his wounds with my hands. The blood spills right through my fingers. I consider praying—but to who? To what? The god that did this? The god that haunts me?
“What do I do? Who should I get?”
Lucian meets my gaze. Blood drips from his open mouth as he shakes his head. “You warned me.”
“No—” My voice cracks. He didn’t try to kill me. Did he?
Zola won.
“You told me it was a life for a life.” He coughs, blood collecting at the corner of his lips.
I try to rise, ready to run and find someone who can fix him. But Lucian grabs my wrist before I make it off my knees. “Don’t,” he chokes. “They’ll put you in a dungeon forever. Your entire immortal life.”
He didn’t do this. No man who tried to kill me would spare my life after I took his. It was all Zola. I was supposed to win. I killed her. I stopped the hallucinations.
But this isn’t victory.
“No.” Tears fall from my eyes. “Someone can save you.” I try to stand again, but Lucian holds me tighter, surprisingly strong for his state.
“It’s all right,” he whispers. His hands move up my face, holding my cheek and wiping my tears. “It’ll be all right.”
I heave, pathetically unable to get my words out while he’s bleeding in front of me and still speaking. “Lucian,” I cry. That’s all I can do.
He smiles. Smiles. It reminds me of the moon—bright enough to give light to even the darkest of nights. This is his darkest moment. The darkness is going to take him. But he holds my wrist tighter, refusing to let me save him.
“Even if I had the time to get used to you saying my name…” He strokes my cheek, moves his fingers through my hair. “I never would.”
My chest heaves, breaths unsteady, hands shaking. Shaking so hard I can’t breathe.
He’s supposed to be my ruin. He’s supposed to survive.
“I will never blame you,” he says. “It’s all right.” He holds me tighter. “Desdemona—”
“Don’t.” I shake. My name doesn’t deserve to be spoken. Not when he’s dying.
“I had to say it once before—” His voice falters, his chest shuddering with a deep, unnatural rattle.
But what I never expected was that my chest would do the same, a hollow rattle stealing my breath.
And when he exhales for the last time, the air leaves my lungs, too.