Fourteen #3
The world shudders with a grinding roar.
Golden-red light arcs through the air, merging with the Mother Shard’s crystalline crown.
The death counter flickers, and the five becomes a six.
Far in the distance, the Earth island splits open down its centre.
It collapses inwards, then plummets into the cloud below. Rask is dead.
Our own island groans in protest, my Mana’s aftershock still destabilising the ground beneath us. With the mist blown clear, a thunderous crack echoes through the air. A huge wedge of the island begins to tilt, shearing away from the main body and taking Lyssandra with it.
I don’t think. I just run.
More stone splits underfoot, but I leap over the widening cracks.
I land on the edge, arms outstretched, and catch Lyssandra’s wrist as she drops.
The force of her fall yanks me flat onto my stomach, slamming me into the rocks.
Something cracks inside me, and my vision goes white.
A rib, I think. I almost let go out of reflex.
The pain is excruciating. I can’t breathe.
But I hold on, gasping, my fingers digging into her wrist.
Below us is nothing. Mist, empty air, and the cold promise of death.
Lyssandra looks up at me, her expression suddenly calm again. “You have to let me go,” she says, not pleading but merely stating a fact.
I shake my head, grinding my teeth together. “No.”
“You cannot save me,” she says.
“I have to.”
We hang like that, locked in a brutal tug of war. It feels like an eternity, but it is only seconds. My shoulder starts to burn, the muscles straining past what they can bear. The ground beneath me is smooth, offering no friction, and millimetre by millimetre, we slip closer to death.
“This is silly,” Lyssandra says. “You’ll die too.”
“I thought you said that was the point.”
From behind me, someone shouts my name. A familiar, rough voice. I turn my head enough to see Kael, battered and bloodied, sprinting across the unstable ground. For once, there is no elegance in his movements, just urgency and panic.
The ledge finally gives way. I don’t even have time to scream. I can only grip Lyssandra’s wrist tighter as we plunge into free fall.
We stop descending almost as soon as we begin. My body jerks violently, and she nearly slips from my grasp. I look up to see a smooth tendril of shadow wrapped around my ankle, the other end gripped in Kael’s hands, anchoring me.
“I’ve got you, little rabbit,” he grunts, but there’s no time to feel the relief of it.
We dangle in open air, a grotesque chain: Kael braced on the edge by sheer force of will alone, me hanging by a thread of darkness, Lyssandra’s fate in my hand.
“You cannot save everyone,” Kael says, eyes wild, teeth bared. “If you fall, I fall.”
“No!” I scream back, the word tearing free of my throat.
Kael’s fingers are turning blue. The shadows around his arms are flickering. “Please,” he says, desperate. “Let her go. Choose me.”
His voice breaks.
“I can’t,” I say. “I saw the way she clung to the edge. She wants to live.”
Lyssandra’s gaze flicks between us. There is something like pity in her eyes. She gives the tiniest shake of her head.
“You’re wrong,” she says. There is no give in it. “This is my choice.”
Her other hand, dangling free, moves in a gesture I’ve never seen. A quick, sharp movement of the fingers across her chest before touching them to her lips. It feels like goodbye.
For the first time since meeting her, I feel her Mana—cool, clear, the sensation of splashing water on a summer’s day. Water gathers around my wrist, slick and alive, making it easier—so much easier—to let go.
I try to tighten my grip, but it’s useless. The water is everywhere, between our hands, chilling my bones. The pain recedes, replaced by a cold that numbs all sensation.
I look her in the eyes, willing her to stop this. To stay. “You matter,” I whisper.
She smiles and lets herself slip free.
The water seems to stretch between us, connecting us like a rope. For a second I think it might pull taut.
But it doesn’t.
Her eyes flash wide, as if she understands something I don’t.
Then she falls without a scream. Just a flicker of white and blue, vanishing into the clouds.
Kael pulls me up, hauling me onto solid ground. I collapse onto him, our limbs tangling in a heap of exhaustion and spent Mana.
We don’t speak.
A spiralling flow of golden-red light shoots into the air from beneath the clouds and races towards the Mother Shard.
The death counter burns seven.
I think I hear her prayer echoing from below.
I’m staring into Kael’s eyes, breathing his air, when the world flickers. The island, the sky, Kael—everything dissolves in blinding light.
When I open my eyes again, I’m back in the Embrace, lying on the floor of my room.
My hands are slick and wet, though my wounds and burns are already fading. Water pools in my palm, and I can’t tell if it’s a gift from Lyssandra or my own tears.
I stare at it, willing myself to stop crying.
I can’t.
I don’t think I ever will.