Twenty #2
Atheron lets the silence hang. Then, softer, almost to himself, he says, “She learns quickly.”
A third wave of fire—not a burst, but a sustained stream—rolls from his palm. Marissa gathers her light, forming a full dome shield, but it’s thin as gossamer. The fire licks around it, testing for weak spots. The blue glow of the pillars pulses faster, as if feeding on the heat.
Marissa’s shield cracks, and pain ripples through her, but she holds on, chin tucked, eyes never leaving mine.
It’s too much. The pressure builds inside me until I feel like I might split in half.
“Take me!” I scream at Atheron. “Stop this. Please. Just—take me!”
Below me, Kael makes a broken sound. “No.”
Atheron only laughs. Cruel. Bored. “No,” he says simply, as if I’m a child asking for more supper. “Your time will come.”
The Overseers move in unison, every head turning towards Marissa. Their masks reflect the fire, the fractures in their faces momentarily catching blue and orange. They begin to hum, low and meditative. It sounds like bees trapped in a jar.
Atheron launches another wave at Marissa. This time, the fire comes in pulses, hammering at her shield in rhythm. She brings both arms up to brace it, her body bending backwards under the force.
A fissure in the ground opens beneath her, splitting the ground into two grassy ledges.
She loses her balance, toppling sideways.
The shield flickers out, the fire singeing her sleeve before she can get out of the way.
She shrieks, but instead of crumbling, she pushes herself upright, both hands pressing into the earth.
Atheron paces behind her, never touching, always just two steps away.
“Very good,” he says, voice almost gentle. “But you’re still nothing.”
She spits at him, the blood bright on her teeth. “You’re the one who’s empty.”
He smirks. “Still some bite, I see.”
She looks up at me. “I’m not afraid.”
Atheron’s eyes narrow. “Misguided,” he tuts. “I’ll show you real fear.”
He steps back, letting the spectacle linger. All eyes are on Marissa.
Kael grabs my ankle, and I look down. “You have to help her,” he groans.
I shake my head, tears and sweat and snot all mixing on my face. “I can’t. I—”
“You can,” he says, voice hoarse but urgent.
But I am so afraid. Not of death—never of that—but of losing control. Of becoming a monster.
Atheron lifts both hands. The flames rise, forming a double helix that wraps around Marissa. She braces, bringing her hands together in front of her chest, as if praying.
The light comes. Brighter than ever.
It bursts from within her—a shimmering dome that grows to cover her whole body. It’s perfect: complete, strong, beautiful. The helices morph into a swirling tornado of flame, slamming into the shield.
It cracks, fractures racing across its surface like glass struck with a hammer.
But she doesn't break. She closes her eyes, every muscle in her body tensing.
Atheron steps in, his silhouette warped by heat. “I’m almost impressed.”
I look at the Overseers. They are perfectly still now, faces turned to me. Their hum grows louder, and something in my skull clicks into alignment—like a gear locking into place.
For a moment, I see myself from above: a broken boy standing in a burning world, everyone he cares about in agony because of him. Because of his shame. Because of his inaction.
I make my choice and plunge into my core, dragging every fibre of Mana I have from the depths. Every secret. Every hurt. Every buried moment.
Atheron glances at me—and smiles. “You’re too late,” he taunts.
Marissa’s shield cracks.
The fractures race. Converge. Shatter.
Light warps, and fire tears across her body. She screams, falling to her knees as flame engulfs her.
It’s him or her.
And I already know who I’m choosing.
Time is up.
The light builds in my chest, a crushing crescendo behind my ribs.
For a fraction of a second—
I falter.
Because I know what this will make me.
Because I know I won’t come back from it.
Atheron smiles. Marissa screams.
And I choose.
I erupt.
The world doesn't just go white—it detonates.
Light erupts from my chest in a single, ruthless column, the kind that ignores rules and makes its own. It slices across the clearing: a hard line that turns the darkness into seething, golden daylight. It is not a gentle thing. It is violent, honed to a single point.
The beam tears through Atheron’s side—no, lower.
His thigh. Flesh unravels. Bone liquefies.
The air reeks of singed hair and burning flesh.
The light carves a groove through the grass, through stone and tree, vaporising everything in its path.
Atheron’s mouth is an open howl, and the sound is not human.
The rest of him falls, tumbling away from his severed leg.
The cauterised stump where his leg used to be is blackened and slick with molten blood.
His hands claw at the dirt, wild and panicking, all dignity stripped away.
He looks down, sees what’s missing, and something inside him simply leaves.
He scrambles, dragging himself backwards, his eyes filled with a fear I’ve never seen in him before.
He flees, propelling himself backwards with jets of fire from his hands until the darkness swallows him.
The Overseers scatter, their unified litany lost in the violence.
I look up—
Eleven.
Still there. Like nothing I did mattered.
Marissa collapses like her body has finally given up. She lands hard, hands splayed in the dirt, the tips of her fingers split and bleeding.
The air is thick with ash and electricity. Every breath sears my throat.
Kael is staring at me, silent with shock.
Atheron is gone. His howls fade, replaced by the unending hush of the aftermath.
I’m on my knees before I know I’ve moved.
I want to reach for Marissa. I want to gather her up and hold her, but the memory of my outburst—the impossibility of my light—has hollowed me out. My hands are numb and useless. All I can do is crawl.
I drag myself to her side.
She is not whole. The skin on her arms and neck is blistered and ruptured, melted in places. Her hair, what’s left, is scorched to the scalp. The air stinks of boiled flesh. She isn’t crying, but her mouth is locked in a grimace, teeth stained pink with blood. Her good eye rolls up to find mine.
There is no pain in her gaze. Only relief.
I failed her.
I reach for her, then stop. I’m afraid to touch her. Afraid that my touch will shatter her.
Her voice is threadbare, but it comes out strong. “Did you see me?” she rasps.
I nod.
The death counter above us burns a little brighter. I hear Kael drag himself closer, his shadow stretching long and broken beside mine.
He says nothing. He just places a hand on my back, and I shrug it off.
It’s petty and childish and exactly what I want to do.
Marissa tries to smile, but her face cracks with the effort. “It hurts,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say, though I don’t. My pain is nothing compared to hers.
She tries to shift her hand towards mine. I hesitate, then give in, letting her fingers wrap around my own. Her palm is burned raw, blood leaking between her knuckles. She winces but holds on with everything she has.
Kael moves closer, tries to steady me, but I can’t bear to be touched.
I kneel, gathering Marissa into my lap, cradling her like the dying thing she is. She blinks slowly, her gaze drifting up to the death counter.
“Did I... do well?” she asks. “I practised.” It’s the tiniest sound in the world.
“You did,” I say, because it’s true. “You did better than any of us.”
She relaxes in my grip. Her chest moves, ragged, once, twice.
Then it stops.
Her face goes slack, the last breath seeping out of her with a sound like the end of a story.
She is gone.
Her body unspools as she rises. Threads of golden-red light peel from her skin, leaving behind a perfect, barren copy, and then even that vanishes into dust. The light spirals up, a beacon of warmth that dances towards the Mother Shard’s crown before dissolving into it.
The number flickers and morphs.
Eleven becomes twelve.
And the trial ends.
I hit the floor in my room, knees first, then hands, then forehead. I stay there for a long time.
The Mother Shard’s healing begins, painting over bruises and scrapes, but it can’t fix the emptiness in my chest.
I vomit on the stone. The taste is acid and blood.
Above me, the golden cracks glow in time with my pulse. The light is too bright, and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to suffocate in the dark.
But the world doesn't go away.
Marissa’s face is burned into the back of my skull. The question—did I do well?—keeps replaying, over and over, until the words lose all meaning.
Kael is not here.
Nobody is.
The silence is devastating.
I turn my face to the wall and weep until I have nothing left.