Thirteen #3
The ground here is veined with pale blue, colder and smoother beneath my feet, almost slick.
The wind is softer here, filtered through mist that hangs over everything like homespun gauze.
In the centre of the island, Lyssandra and Morwen kneel, hands clasped.
Lyssandra’s hair hangs in a long plait down her back, while Morwen’s is coiled around her head and clipped in place.
They do not look up as we approach, their lips moving in prayer, their eyes closed against the world.
Callen sits beside Morwen, not quite touching but close enough to guard her. Marissa stares at the scene, then glances at me.
“That was fast,” she says bitterly. “Not the safest bet for an alliance, though, since they don’t do anything but pray.”
I can only shrug.
Callen doesn’t acknowledge us. His face is turned towards Morwen, her skin glowing faintly blue through the mist. Maybe he came here for comfort, borrowing faith because he has none left of his own. Maybe he’s afraid of being alone. Just not afraid enough to stand with me.
“Are they praying for a miracle?” Marissa asks quietly.
“No,” I say. “I think they’re praying for a quick death.”
Lyssandra opens her eyes, her gaze piercing through the haze. She fixes me with that same unbreakable look.
“You’re still alive, it seems,” she says, her voice empty of emotion. “Despite yourself.”
I bow my head, though I don’t know why. It feels necessary.
“You bring violence wherever you walk,” she continues, without cruelty. “No doubt it will follow you here too. Perhaps it is just as well.”
“That’s not what I want,” I say.
“It may not be what you want, but it is what you are,” Lyssandra says.
She tilts her head, as if studying a rare and somewhat disappointing specimen.
“You will have to choose soon, Luceris. The god beneath the waves whispers to the children of water. The Mother Shard watches.”
“Not you too,” I sigh.
Marissa shifts beside me. “What does that mean?”
I shake my head. “I honestly don’t know. They’ve been saying shit like this since the moment I met them.”
Lyssandra gives me a small, knowing smile tinged with sadness, then resumes her prayer.
The island shifts beneath us, and the wind gusts hard enough that Marissa nearly topples over.
She lets out a small shriek and grabs my arm.
I steady her, but the mist is already thickening, tasting of salt and iron, like the air in a slaughterhouse.
Just as quickly, the wind dies, and in the silence, I hear soft sobbing.
Fen stumbles through the mist, hanging off Alaris. He looks ruined—eyes hollow, body trembling, his uniform burned away in patches as though he’s been fighting the Fireborn. When he sees us, he wails, high and broken.
“I can’t do it,” Fen sobs, clinging to Alaris. “I can’t. Don’t make me.”
Alaris is crying too, though he keeps his jaw clenched like he can hold it back by force.
“You promised,” he hisses through his teeth. “You said you’d try.”
Fen shakes his head, tears streaming. “I lied. I always lie. I can’t do this.”
I don’t want to interrupt, but there is no time to be gentle.
“What happened to you?” I ask, looking at the burns in Fen’s uniform.
“We got caught between the Shadowborn and the Fireborn,” Alaris says. “We were trying to hide. We thought everyone would come for you after dinner, so we stayed out of the way.” His mouth twists. “That didn’t go to plan.”
Lyssandra rises, graceful and slow, moving to stand over Fen. She places a hand on his shoulder.
“There is no shame in surrender,” she says. “The Mother Shard accepts us all. Our life renews the Dominions.”
“I don’t care about renewing the Dominions,” Fen moans. “I just want it to stop. I’m not going to win, so what’s the point?”
Alaris looks at me, desperate, both hands still locked around Fen as if he might vanish if he lets go. “Can you help? You talk to people. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
I freeze. I barely know Fen. But Alaris’ eyes beg me to try, so I kneel beside them, ignoring the cold seeping from the stone into my bones.
“Fen, no one wants to die here,” I say, then falter, because that is clearly not true.
I’m making this worse. But I push on anyway. “You’re not alone. We can get through this together—”
Fen’s laughter cracks at the edges. “No, we can’t. There is no together. There’s just the winner, and everyone else is dead.”
I have to force myself not to recoil.
“What’s your plan, huh? Kill everyone from Earth, Fire, and Shadow? Then what? We all live happily ever after in the Embrace?” His laugh breaks into something uglier. “The Mother Shard is just as happy to kill us herself, or have you forgotten the wave?”
I put my hands on his shoulders, trying to steady him, but he’s shaking so hard I feel it in my palms.
“You’re right,” I say, because lying to him would be worse. “Maybe there isn’t a way out. But there’s still a choice before the end. Who we stand with. Who we protect.”
He glares at me. “Who am I going to help exactly? My Mana lets me make a gust of wind at best.”
I want to answer, but I can’t. It is Marissa who speaks.