Chapter 41 And I Fall
And I Fall
Lucian
M
y body is pinned to a cold, steel bed.
I try to yank against the restraints on my wrists, but every ligament is clutched by cold, relentless metal. My struggle is pointless, yet I can’t stop. My body moves on instinct, straining until I’m sure I’ve fueled my panic, sending my heart rate dangerously high.
The room is empty from my perspective, with nothing but white walls. The familiar clicking of shoes sounds behind me, drawing closer. My panic stirs, though I maintain my stillness. I must play her game.
My gaze remains fixed on the wall in front of me as Leiana and Labyrinth step into view. I attempt to wield my shadows and attack, but no darkness appears.
“What is this?” I seethe.
“Only a precaution,” Labyrinth says, clutching his staff. The Stone of Light at the top no longer shines.
“You’ll be free in moments.” Leiana smiles. “All you have to do is kill a prisoner.”
I clench my jaw, finding it hard to believe she locked me up just to make me kill. Though, if that’s truly all she wants, so be it. It’s far from the worst she’s asked of me.
Meeting Leiana’s eyes, I mutter, “Consider it done.”
Leiana nods in approval, and Labyrinth’s expression darkens as they turn, disappearing.
This room is unfamiliar. It’s not the dungeon, nor does it resemble it. A bright light shines overhead, white and pounding against my eyes. I didn’t think it possible to be unaware of a room in my kingdom. Perhaps that was naive.
The door opens again, creaking behind me. No light enters with it; we’re underground. Six guards walk in front of me, holding no prisoner. They each look down at me with smug faces. It seems everyone wants to see me fall these days.
“On with it, then,” I spit.
The guards only look at each other, smirking. Two more appear, dragging along the bloodied and still prisoner. Before I fully grasp what I’m seeing, I shake my head.
By a single strand of orange hair, I recognize her.
By the coating of freckles, I know her.
By the length of her fingers, I remember her.
Desdemona.
I remember.
Her hair is longer. It hasn’t changed since the last time I saw her, but months ago it barely brushed her shoulders. Now it falls nearly to her ribs.
Her eyes are shut. Her beautiful eyes. Red eyes that I’ve known before, seen before. I remember what I thought then—and I think it now.
She’s the enemy, and I would fall for her. A tornado opens in my chest, down to the pit of my stomach. Desdemona Marquees.
Arcane. Fire Folk. Foe. Friend.
Something grander.
And I know I would do it again—I would endure this imprisonment, this relentless incarceration—just to look at her and remember.
A guard approaches me, avoiding my eyes as he unclasps my shackles. The moment the metal falls, the chill of magic enters my body once more. The darkness in my blood thickens. The shadows at the corners of the room hum, waiting for my command.
I rise to my feet, trying to reach Desdemona. The metal clamps around my ankles the moment I try.
I’m not going anywhere.
There’s a gaping wound in Desdemona’s stomach, blood still drizzling slowly, though she’s not breathing. I recall her sitting in a chair, dead in my room in those moments after I’d done this to her. After I’d killed her—snapped her neck, spine, and stabbed her through the heart.
The first time I saw her again, I killed her. And she knows that. She knew me. She raced toward me through the halls moments before I killed her.
It feels like someone’s stabbed me in the heart. How could I have done this? How could I have ever hurt her?
How did I not recognize this woman the moment I saw her again?
No wonder she’s treated me the way she has. She has every reason to.
“She isn’t breathing,” I whisper, unable to take my eyes off her.
“You’re meant to extinguish the fire she is reborn from,” a guard tells me. Each of them has their eyes on her. None of them watch the way I do. They look with fear and disgust.
I may look with fear, yet it’s balanced by reverence.
This is her. The girl I fell for. The woman living in memories I can barely recall. One of the strongest creatures to ever exist.
No wonder.
My hand reaches for her, mindlessly. The metal clamps down, but it’s quick to release me once I’ve settled.
Each time I try to move, the same thing happens—a game of cat and mouse.
I can’t touch her. I’m only permitted to watch her.
And watch her I do, waiting, wanting. If I can distract everyone, we can escape together when she comes back.
I can only hope she’ll want to follow me.
Fire crackles around her hands, curling around her fingers like grand rings. I remember this. I’ve seen her die twice—not just in my room, but also in the ballroom of the academy. Not in reality, but in my dreams. The image is too fuzzy to be a memory, yet too distinct to be forgotten.
The fire engulfs Desdemona’s entire chest, her legs, and hair.
Desdemona! I had screamed once, watching this exact image unfold, surrounded by Arcanes.
Hadn’t I?
“Now!” a guard shouts. “Before the beast awakens!”
The shadows in the room rise around me—a show I hide behind while I await our reunion. The darkness lingers just on the outskirts of Desdemona’s fire.
I wouldn’t do anything to compromise her resurrection.
Desdemona. Could it be true? Could there have been an us before now? I feel my hands in her hair, taste her in my mouth, hear her laugh while the guards scream—both in dreams and reality.
My shadows move away from Desdemona as her fire grows.
Quickly, I draw them to the guards, wrapping them around their necks with lethal intent.
They rise from the floor, feet dangling uselessly, kicking the air and reaching for purchase.
The magic tightens in my shoulders as they dangle.
The darkness writhes, coiling around their necks with precision.
Eight necks crack in unison.
Eight bodies fall to the floor.
Their thuds echo as I rise, once more trying to reach Desdemona—as if I never learned my lesson. The shackles fasten themselves back in place. Only this time, the metal fastens over my chest, as well. As if Leiana believes I’ll be stronger now, knowing someone I care for is in danger.
She knows me well—too well for my own good.
I can’t help but strain, pushing and pulling, trying to break free. Desdemona’s fire goes out, and for the first time, I realize I will see her. I’m not sure which feels more foreign: the version of me who knew her, or the one who forgot her.
Gods, I could stare forever. I would wait here forever for her to pull herself out of the ashes. I long to run to her.
I need to help her.
The metal tightens as I press against it. At once, there’s no room to breathe, the relentless steel compressing my chest.
“Des,” I cry. “Des!”
First, her fingers poke out, breaking the casket of ash. She has to be ready to fight. She has to try. I don’t know what they will do to her—only that they want her dead.
The muscles across her shoulders tense as Desdemona pulls herself free. She sits up, ash piling around her lower body, and glances around the room. Her eyelids appear heavy, her mouth opening just slightly when she sees me.
Then Leiana walks in, kneeling behind her.
With my last bit of air, I shout, “Do not dare!”
Leiana bludgeons Desdemona’s skull with the blunt end of Labyrinth’s staff. Blood drips from the back of Desdemona’s head as she slumps to the floor, the metal around my chest offering a small amount of leeway. I try to sit up.
“How dare you touch her?” The words burst out, pressing against my chest, full of a rage I’ve always managed to restrain.
Leiana raises her hand, fingers curling. Two guards enter, barely glancing at the eight bodies as they grab Desdemona. Unceremoniously, they drag her, limbs scraping against the floor.
Two powerful people, put to shame. Desdemona and I, laid low by a legion, an army, a kingdom. Laid low by the woman who once wanted me to call her mother.
Her shadows press toward me, taking the shape of a demented, skeletal hand. Long, bony fingers pry my mouth open, cold against my insides as the darkness climbs down my throat like cotton in a corpse.
I cough, choking. The shadows continue to pour in.
With each breath, the metal clutches me tighter. I try to move, to beg for air. With each plea, I lose more. The world frays at the edges, swallowed by darkness.
No, I want to say. Let Desdemona go. Leiana has no respect for me, fine. She never did. She’s taking my most basic human right. She’s taking my air.
But she can’t take Desdemona.
My fight leaves me, taking with it all my pleas of desperation and hope for Desdemona. It all abandons me, the darkness taking over.
Leiana wins, as always.
?
The room spins, and a face hovers over me. It vanishes in an instant, replaced by the twisting plain white ceiling.
“Freedom is so simple.” It’s Leiana—but her voice is distant and distorted. “Are you going to put your feelings for the enemy above yourself?”
Freedom, she says, as if it were ever an option for me. As if she would grant it to me now.
My eyes burn, tears forming at the corners. The cold seeps into my chest and torso. I can scarcely breathe, unable to strain against the metal that holds me and the shadows within. I can barely see.
Yet I manage to catch sight of the puddle of blood among the ash. The spot where Desdemona resurrected. She’s all right. Not safe, but alive—Leiana wouldn’t continue to torture me otherwise.
Freedom, she says, as if it would mean anything without Desdemona.
“Yes,” I choke.
All feeling in my body ceases.
?
Darkness envelops me when I awaken—though ‘awaken’ is a generous exaggeration. The darkness surrounding me is being sucked away, my shadows drawn out, siphoned from my very soul. My life force is what encircles me.
My chest caves in as my lungs falter—a sensation I’ve known since boyhood. A pain so familiar, so constant, that I don’t scream anymore. I don’t cry, even as my sternum rattles and the pressure deepens past my core—right into my soul.
Leiana’s form sharpens in the gloom, her face becoming clear. My life force is drawn into her like a magnet. Can she use it to harm Desdemona?
“Leiana,” Labyrinth whispers, his voice all around me, yet nowhere at all.
“We must kill her. Or will reason hold you back?”
“He’s our son.”
“He’s your nephew,” Leiana hisses. “If he falters, the deed falls on us.”
No words, just deep breaths. A sigh. The scuffle of boots.
“You’re taking too much,” Labyrinth says.
“He’ll regenerate.”
No one can regenerate life force.
The darkness swallows me again.