Epilogue
MARIK
The first breath I take is pointless. Dirt fills my mouth and nose, and panic flares. I swallow it and force myself to stop breathing. I was trained for this. Mother and Father made sure of it.
Father’s words come back in a rush. This body isn’t real. They can’t kill you here.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel the pain of it. Of my lungs suffocating but never asphyxiating.
I punch upward, feeling the kiss of scorching air against my fists. I grab whatever I can and pull, fingernails cracking as I haul myself from the shallow grave.
My face hits the air next. I gasp, inhaling air roiling with heat. The only kind of heat one place can provide.
The one place I swore I’d never come back to.
I bellow. The ground shakes. The sky alights—in welcome or in protest.
I push myself to my feet and begin the trek back to a throne I abandoned long ago.
The End