Chapter 55 A Reign of Ruin
A Reign of Ruin
Desdemona
E
ven though I’ve had the memories back for months, it feels like they’re happening for the first time again—killing Bernice and Nova, being tied to a post and whipped.
Dying.
I feel it all, like water in my lungs, coming up my throat. All over again, Nova screams my name when I accidentally light her hair on fire. Bernice calls me a monster.
Then, someone shouts my name, over and over.
The sound gets closer as Nova screams.
There’s scratching, like a possum’s claws digging into bark, climbing the edges of my mind. The memories stop playing, but a piece of my shattered psyche is left in the Welding Village. All I can see are the decaying wooden buildings and looming trees.
A bird lands on the crooked roof of a nearby dwelling, talons tapping the brick. The sound reverberates through my mind as if the bird landed on me.
I clutch my temples.
“Desdemona!”
I search for the voice, trying to escape the village and return to my body, until I realize I’m in the Welding Village.
Then I’m pulled up. Lucian drags me through my old home. I watch my feet as we run, each step leaving little cracks in the packed dirt. It almost feels like the world is shaking beneath me; I can nearly hear the echo.
“Wait,” I say, pulling away from Lucian. He turns to me, eyes wide, and I stop running. “Where are we going?”
“We’re getting out of here.” Lucian reaches for my hand again.
I pull it back. “I—I can’t leave yet—“
“Des?”
My head snaps up. My heart plunges to my stomach.
His voice is just like I remember, except for the desperation—the cracks when he says my name.
“Damien?” I whisper, walking toward him.
He doesn’t run to me like he used to. He stops and stares, but he doesn’t run.
“You are one of them,” he mutters. His voice is softer now, still shaking but more careful.
I stop in my tracks. Just like last time, his gaze lands on my eyes and stays there. All he sees is their red pigment, despite everything that’s happened—all the memories stolen and returned.
“It’s me—” I start. But the words feel wrong.
I’m far removed from the girl he knew. I am one of them. Arcane, through and through. It isn’t a problem for Lucian anymore, even after what they did to his family.
But it’s still a problem for the boy I’ve known for years.
“Yeah,” I finally whisper. “I’m one of them.”
Damien straightens but doesn’t look away, as if he’s afraid that if he does, I’ll lunge. The title Arcane and the color of my eyes erase years of friendship, turning me into something I never was in his mind.
“Althenia,” Lucian says, his voice low, but I don’t look at him. I step closer to Damien.
Damien doesn’t move at all, frozen solid in fear.
“It doesn’t change who I am,” I whisper, wondering if it’s true.
Then, Damien looks over my shoulder. His eyes widen.
I turn.
A mob closes the distance, wielding butcher knives and sharpened wood.
Some Fire Folk stalk closer, their hands glowing a shade of orange like molten metal.
Tiny sparks of electricity—like broken bolts of lightning—flicker between the Light Folk’s fingers.
Their magic is unlike anything I saw on Visnatus, The Void, or in any of the kingdoms. They’ve been kept in the dark about their abilities for so long.
Just like I was.
Some of them are missing limbs—people I recognize. People who used to have their arms and hands. I turn back to Damien.
“What happened here?” I ask, glancing back at the angry mob. “Why are they— Where are the keepers?” The realization settles in my chest. I haven’t seen a single Nepenthe here.
Damien meets my gaze. His jaw is set tight, and there’s a darkness in his eyes I hadn’t noticed before—too distracted by the relief of seeing him, of being remembered.
He doesn’t answer, and his fingers flex at his sides.
I think of what Piphany said before bringing me to Kai. The Folk were employed.
“There’s another battle?” My voice drops without my permission.
Damien shakes his head, but it’s slow.
I look once more at the mob. Their weapons are weak, their powers more so. If they’re coming for me, it won’t take much to put them down.
But I can’t.
My head pounds, like something is trying to get in—the guilt I’ve been keeping out.
“Your sisters,” I rush, stepping toward Damien, “are they okay?”
He twists away from me, taking a small step back. The clamoring swells, getting closer, and Lucian raises a hand. The shadows beneath the trees swirl like angry monsters.
I catch Lucian’s wrist in my hand and pull his arm down. His head snaps in my direction, and I say, “I know them.”
The shadows return to docility.
I turn back to Damien. The mob’s a few feet away. “Your sisters?”
His throat works before he speaks. “They’re alive.”
I hold out a hand to him, but he moves away. “I’m Des, Damien. I always have been.” He clenches his jaw. I point behind me at them. “Are they here to hurt me?”
After a moment, Damien nods, the movement stiff, like his head isn’t screwed on right.
I turn to the mob, putting my hands over my head, showing them I mean no harm. I can’t hurt them.
I have to at least try to get back the girl I was.
Don’t I?
I step forward, pushing Damien and Lucian behind me.
“You all know me!” I shout, scanning the faces until I stop on an older woman with dark brown hair. “Alice,” I say. “You used to buy the birds from Damien and me when we caught them.”
Alice stops walking mid-stride. Some of the people around her freeze, but I don’t know if it’s because they don’t want to push her out of the way or because they’re listening.
My eyes keep moving, and I see the short graying hair of Sevyn. “We used to sit by the campfire with Marice. He’d tell your stories. We were family.” Sevyn stops, as do the people around her, and some ahead. She and Marice were always respected here.
My gaze stops on a girl my age. “Meredith, I sat behind you in class, next to Elliae. You used to ask about my hunting.” Meredith stops, and I sweep my gaze over them. “I’m still Desdemona! I still remember you.”
Only a few Folk continue approaching, and one of them shouts, “It doesn’t matter if she knows us!”
“She could have been a spy the whole time.”
They keep moving forward. I have to move back. I raise both my arms, protecting Lucian and Damien—but Lucian tries to step between me and the mob. I press my palm to his chest. The last thing I need is him trying to protect me.
To the crowd, I say, “I’m not. I’m Isa’s daughter.”
From the back, Sevyn steps forward again. Those who stopped follow her lead, and I worry she’s no longer on my side. As she moves forward, she says, “The Arcanes have done a lot of damage here.”
I wish I still had those glasses.
The last time I was here, a keeper told me the Arcanes had raided the village looking for me. What damage did they do?
“But you all remember Desdemona,” she says, looking out over the mob.
Is she on my side? “She and Damien helped feed us in the poor seasons. This young woman sacrificed her food so we wouldn’t starve.
” She points to a man. I can hardly see him through the crowd.
“Gave your girls food from her own suppers plenty of time.” She glances in the other direction, tsking. “And yours.”
The clearing goes still when she meets my gaze. “You’re a good girl, Desdemona.”
I smile at Sevyn, my chest warming. She believes in me. She thinks I’m good.
“Thank you,” I whisper, moving my gaze over the people. “I’m here to help. I want to help!”
“How could you?” a man shouts from the front.
I step forward, the space between me and the frozen mob shrinking. It would take just a second for one of them to stab me or set me on fire. But my proximity is a show of faith.
“Because I am the thing they fear.” I turn to Lucian and look at him for a long moment. Tears prick my eyes, and my breath catches in my throat. “I am the thing he fears.”
Almost imperceptibly, Lucian shakes his head. But the tilt of his eyes—the frown on his lips—tells me I’m right. He does fear me, no matter how little. He probably should.
“That’s the prince of Ilyria,” I say. “And I’m the only one as strong as him. Because I’m an Arcane, and I know how to use that strength. I will. I promise you all, I’ll do it for you. For every face I recognize, and every face I don’t.”
Lucian shakes his head, a subtle movement.
“It’s okay,” I say. I don’t mean it. I expect nothing. I just hope they let me go. Because I can’t kill these people. I can’t.
Then, to my surprise, Damien drops to a knee.
“You know me,” he shouts to the crowd before meeting my gaze. “And I know her.”
He bows his head as if I am a Royal, a queen. Sevyn follows.
“Please, don’t,” I say. “I don’t need this. I’m no Royal—”
“You’re more dignified than they ever were,” Sevyn says.
Meredith ducks, a slow, aching descent to one knee. She tips her head down, and Alice follows. Everyone follows, even those who first opposed me. They bow like they believe in me.
I look at Lucian—the real prince—expecting him to be annoyed that they bow to me and not him.
But he lowers himself to one knee, too.
I’m powerful, and I can use that power for more than just survival. I always could have—maybe I would have if my memories hadn’t been taken. But they’ve been restored. I don’t have to be angry about the past. I can change my future. For everyone who deserves it a million times more than me.
That’s when I smile.
I can save people. I can make up for what I’ve done.
I lower myself to a knee before them all, meeting their gazes.
“I’m with you!” I shout, my voice echoing through the clearing. In that moment, I realize how deeply I mean it.
These are my people. They scream at the sound of my voice. And I am with them.
I always wanted power—wanted to reclaim what was constantly taken from me. But maybe beneath it all, what I really wanted was change. Something simple. For my people to never starve again, to never long for clean air and fresh water, for clothes or medicine.
I want to give them even a fraction of the abundance I found in Visnatus.
I scream with them.
My voice cracks as a chill settles in the air.
Something lands on my hand. I glance down.
A snowflake melts into my skin.