Chapter 4
KALLIE
On her hands and knees, Kallie heaved. Her breaths came in a torrent, rushed and labored. Each intake of air threatened to burst through her ribcage. But no matter how much oxygen she pulled into her lungs, it wasn't enough.
Kallie didn't know how long she had been training, but every muscle screamed at her to take a break. Nonetheless, she couldn't stop. Not when her father wrapped his hand around her arm and demanded she continue, his shouts drowning out the intense ache shaking her to her core.
The king yanked her off the floor, and Kallie's very being begged to fall back to the ground as her legs shook beneath her. Sweat dripped down her neck beneath the haggard braid and coated her back, dampening her blouse.
He tightened his grip, his fingers pressing deeper against her skin, bruising. "If your body is weak, your mind will be too!" Domitius shouted at her, the whites of his eyes streaked with red.
Kallie's eyes watered, but she kept her mouth closed and silently begged for the tears to vanish.
The king shoved her forward with a snarl, and Kallie fell to her knees. "You are despicable! You must push through the pain. Have I taught you nothing?"
She struggled to answer, "I--I'm--"
"No excuses!" he roared.
Kallie dropped her gaze, landing on her arm where the red imprint of her father's fingers slowly faded.
"Again!" The king's command echoed in the large, cold space beneath the marble castle.
Kallie's arms trembled beneath her, and she bit her lip. She took a deep breath and began to count silently to herself.
One.
Two.
Three.
Exhale.
Four.
Five--
"I said again !" he spat.
Kallie wiped the bead of sweat from her forehead. Every muscle cried out for her to take a rest. But she couldn't until she had proven herself--until she had shown her father what she could do.
On trembling limbs, Kallie pushed off the floor and wiped the sweat from her palms onto her trousers. Then she ran, head-first. Her arms pumped at her sides as she weaved through the obstacle course the king had built beneath the castle.
"Faster!" the king shouted. Although Kallie could no longer see him because of the walls of the maze, she heard his words clearly enough, as if he were beside her.
She ran faster.
She ran harder.
She dove as the triggered arrows came for her, biting back tears as an arrow whizzed by too close to her head.
Kallie gasped, her eyes shooting open.
The waterfall of the Whispering Springs roared, a rush of noise filling her ears. But the sound of the water was not the reason for her body growing more numb by the minute. It wasn't the reason her hands trembled or her teeth chattered. Neither was it the reason for the buzzing that filled her head.
No, it was the person sitting cross-legged atop one of the boulders at the edge of the small lake--the man who should not have been there at all.
Kallie knew in every bone in her body that her brother was dead. However, Fynn looked just as alive as the night they were on the ship before everything went wrong. Before Sebastian and his crew surrounded him and slaughtered him.
His brown hair was disheveled as if he had been running his hands through it incessantly, a habit not unlike him. His clothes were as immaculate as always, perfectly pressed with his collar angled. A smirk plastered across his face. Yet when she met his deep brown eyes, a chilling emptiness caused her to shiver despite the brilliant, warm sun overhead.
"I don't understand," Kallie whispered, her body shaking and her feet sinking into the sand. She wrapped her arms around herself.
Fynn sighed and raked his fingers through his chestnut waves. "That's because you do not wish to hear the truth."
"No," she argued. "I already know the truth. My father--"
"Is a liar," Fynn said, interrupting. "He has been manipulating you, sister. He never cared about your well-being, only what you could provide him."
"You're wrong," she spat, nails biting into the sides of her arms as she squeezed herself tight.
None of this made sense.
Not Fynn being here, not this lucid dream that felt all too real.
Nothing her brother said made sense--not the words he claimed to be true--the words attempting to unwrite her story, tangling what she once thought true. Fynn claimed that her father was not to be trusted and was not the person she believed him to be--that he did not care about her.
But her brother was wrong, so incredibly wrong.
Kallie pressed her palms against her temples and rocked back and forth. Her chest tightened with each loud thud of her heart. Her breaths grew more shallow as her lungs constricted and the world threatened to close in around her.
Her father would never lie to her.
He would never betray her.
Kallie couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She couldn't make sense of anything anymore.
As hot tears burned the back of her eyes, she coughed, trying to clear her throat and steady her racing heart. However, as she inhaled, smoke filled her lungs and only made the shaking worse as she tried and failed to breathe in fresh air.
None of this was right, she thought. Everything was wrong.
From the way the sun beat down upon the sand, to the picturesque clear skies, to Fynn staring at her, to the very words coming from his mouth.
It was all wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
"Terin?"
Kallie blinked as Fynn's voice cut through the air like a knife, piercing and sharp. Through tear-stained eyes, she stared at her brother. Her hands fell from her head, and she pressed her palms into the sand in a feeble attempt to ground herself.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Kallie asked, her voice trembling.
Fynn stood upon the boulder, looking up, his eyes bouncing across the sky as if searching for something. As if Terin was looking down upon them.
For a moment, Fynn's gaze remained fixed on the too-blue sky.
Then, he nodded once before returning his attention to Kallie. Sorrow filled his gaze, every curve of his features seeping with pity.
Kallie hated it, yet she could not erase the expression from Fynn's face.
"I already told you, Kallie," he murmured. "You are not listening. I thought that..." Fynn sighed and shook his head, his gaze dropping to the sand momentarily. When he looked at her once more, something flashed across his countenance, stirring an inexplicable emotion within her. "It is clear that you are not ready to see the truth."
"What truth?" Kallie asked, furrowing her brows in confusion.
"Once you are ready, you will know. But you need to gain control of yourself first."
"I am in control," Kallie shouted.
Fynn offered her a sad smile. "Unfortunately, dear sister, you are gravely mistaken."
Kallie dug her hands into the sand, the grains filling the space beneath her nails. "What are you saying?" she demanded.
But before Fynn could respond, a sharp pain spiked at the back of her head, and Kallie squeezed her eyes shut.
This isn't real, Kallie told herself. It can't be real. Fynn isn't here. Fynn is dead.
"Kalisandre, look at me," Fynn's voice beckoned her.
Kallie ignored him, though, keeping her hands pressed into the sand as if she could will the sight away. She sat there, reeling as the confusion spun in her stomach and gave way to nausea.
Fynn was wrong.
He had to be.
Because if he was right, her entire life had been a lie.
But that could not be possible.
Even contemplating that what he spoke was the truth made her sick to her stomach. He didn't know what he was talking about. He didn't know her father. He didn't know her .
"Kallie," he whispered, voice pained.
Then, as the seconds passed, ever so slowly, Kallie peeled her eyes open. As she looked up at the man who shared her blood, the golden hue around Fynn's head began to fade as the colors of this world melted.
Dark shadows were now cast across Fynn's face. His eyes had since dulled, and his brown waves had lost their sheen. When she looked at the sky, she noticed even the sun had dimmed, its brilliance having dulled to a muted hue as if a film covered the world.
"You must fight it, Kallie," Fynn said.
"Fight what?" Kallie screamed, slapping a fist against the sand. "What are you talking about?"
A smile flicked at the corner of Fynn's lips, and sadness coated his eyes as he said, "The truth is always hard to hear, especially when we have spent our entire lives looking the other way, not knowing what stood before us. But Kallie, you need to look. You cannot hide from it anymore."
"Hide from what? Speak plainly!" Anger rose in her throat, and her body began to shake again.
Fynn sighed, his chest rising as he brushed a hand through his hair. "When you're ready, perhaps I will explain, but for now, there is no use. You will only push the truth away and bury it far too deep where you cannot reach it."
"Ready for what ? What truth?" Tears streamed down her face as she begged for an answer, for an explanation, for anything that didn't feel wrong.
Every limb, every ounce of her blood screamed at her, shouting about the wrongness of his words, his voice, this place. And yet, the wrongness didn't prevent the tears from falling. The wrongness didn't keep her from reaching out a hand.
"I have already told you," Fynn said with a shake of his head. "I cannot do anything for you until you're ready."
Kallie attempted to stand, but her legs failed her, sending her crashing to the ground.
Still, she would not give up. She needed answers.
Kallie crawled, her nails clawing at the sand as she hurried forward. But every yard she gained, every inch she came forward, the more Fynn seemed to fade away.
With her panic rising, Kallie reached forward, her anguished cry filling the air, "Fynn!" Tears continued to fall down her face as she struggled against time to reach him before he vanished. "Don't--Don't leave me!"
Fynn made no move to reach out to her, nor did he take a step toward her. Instead, he only gave her a small smile that struck her in the chest.
"Please, Fynn!" Kallie yelled. "I'm ready! Whatever it is, I'm ready!" Yet, as loud as she shouted the words, they were heavy on her tongue. As if even her voice knew she was lying. Because how could she be ready if she didn't even know what she needed to be prepared for?
Kallie pushed herself onto shaking legs but couldn't gain purchase and fell face-first into the sand. The sand began to melt beneath her, and Kallie's eyes widened in horror. The more she struggled and the more she tried to reach him, the deeper she sunk.
She looked up at Fynn, pleading, begging.
Still, Fynn did not move, his body slowly fading from existence. As he stared down at her, no light shone in his eyes. No sparkle, no smirk.
"You are more capable than you believe yourself to be, Kalisandre," he said, his voice growing more distant, just like his form. "I only hope that you will realize that before it is too late."
Fynn's voice swept over her, wrapping around her like a warm blanket.
Kallie tried to grab it and hold onto it, but it slipped through her grasp. Desperate, she lunged, screaming as she attempted to wrap her arms around her brother and force him to stay. But her foot sunk further into the sand, and the edge of the rock slammed into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.
When she blinked and pushed herself up, Fynn was gone.
Then, the world was inked in black once more.