Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Orelle?”
A fuzzy, whooshing sound ebbs in my ears, disturbing the peaceful void. Something jostles my shoulder, but that’s not my body anymore. I’m no longer imprisoned.
“Orelle!” A feminine voice breaks through the darkness shrouding me like an endless blanket. “Stay with me.”
Why? Why would I want to stay here in this place of pain and monsters when I could surrender to blissful numbness?
Vaguely, I sense a warm hand pressing against my neck, luring me away from the shadows’ sedative embrace.
No.
I’m not ready to feel—not when feeling is accompanied by ceaseless pain.
Hot pressure builds beneath the touch, and I fear the flames have returned to claim me, to scorch and devour from the inside out.
Yet the inferno takes its time traveling through my veins, like it’s searching for something.
It gathers leisurely near my knees and throat before winding around my skull.
Flashing orbs dance behind my closed lids as the fire pulls back, leaving an incessant tingling in its wake.
My eyes snap open to a vivid blue expanse and three suns, two of which are creased with worry.
The sight of such strong emotion breaking through Kalden’s usually controlled mask—and the thought that I might be the cause of it—jars me awake. I reach up to brush my fingertips along his downturned lips.
At my touch, his features smooth and settle.
“Thank the shadows you’re okay,” Gem breathes, pushing aside Kalden to lower her head into the nook between my neck and shoulder.
“It’s not the shadows you should be thanking,” says an unfamiliar masculine voice, coming from somewhere behind Kalden.
Gem stiffens and backs away from the stranger approaching at Kalden’s side.
I move to sit up, pleased to find both the dizziness and numbness are gone.
Even my earlier tension and nausea have subsided, though the familiar pressure behind my eyes lingers.
I reach a hand across my neck, where the Sol had pierced my skin with its talons, but there’s no blood on my leather gloves. No fresh blood, anyway.
My gaze lifts to Kalden’s.
“You healed me,” I say, more of a statement than a question.
He dips his chin.
“The bruises and lacerations were easy enough, but the concussion took a bit more focus.” The gentle smile pulling at his lips falls.
“I couldn’t do anything for the deeper ailments.
Wounds like that—ones that have lived within you for nearly your whole life—often intertwine themselves with your core essence.
You are who you are because of them. Your resilience.
Your resourcefulness. Both were born from a refusal to surrender to your perceived weaknesses.
And it would take a healer much more skilled than I to even think about treating them without fracturing your soul. ”
“It’s okay.” I offer him a smile, though he can’t see it through the deep black tint of my helmet. “I think you’re the first person to talk about my condition in a way that makes me feel . . . whole.”
“You are whole.” Kalden grabs my hand, flipping it palm-side-up and rubbing a thumb along the slit in my glove. The motion sends a different kind of warmth flaring through my core.
“You can heal?” Someone chokes back a sob behind me, dousing the new fire within me like a bucket of cold water.
I turn around, surprised to see we’re now a mere two dozen feet from the ocean, which explains the whooshing white noise. Demi sits near the edge of the ebbing water, cradling a too-still Yvonne in her arms.
“Your friend is past the point of healing.” Kalden bows his head. “I’m sorry.”
I stare at Yvonne’s unmoving form and notice what I haven’t before.
Unlike her prior puncture wounds, a gaping hole now runs clear through her chest. The jagged tips of her broken rib cage protrude through her torn leathers.
Like the Sol ripped her heart straight out of her body instead of slowly draining her.
Her second chance at life, gone.
Demi hunches over, body heaving. Gem strides to her side in a wordless show of comfort.
My teeth grind together, and I wish I could go back and send out the surge of fire that first moment the Sols broke through the forest.
As if I’ve conjured one from memory, a guttural wail echoes across the sand, and my body goes rigid.
“Is that—”
“Sounds like Joss needs a hand with the Pyre.” A man with bright blond hair and an even brighter smile walks around Kalden to kneel in front of me. “Glad to see you up and moving, little nova.”
Like Kalden, his irises are alight with a brilliant gold, as are the veins running along his half-naked body . . . or three-quarters naked, considering the sheerness of his pants.
As if he can sense me staring through my helmet at his semi-transparent bottoms, he shoots me a wink.
Cheeks heating, I ask, “‘Little nova’?”
The indecently dressed stranger’s smile turns lopsided. “A nova is a strong, rapid outburst of a new star. Or, technically, a star that already existed, but was too dim to really see before.”
He pats my legs, then rises.
Was that supposed to be a compliment, or is being likened to a dim star having an outburst some type of ambiguous insult? Whatever the case, this hardly feels like the time for brevity, and I’m not sure how the hell to respond.
Luckily, I don’t have to, because Kalden cuts in to tell him, “I’ll join you two in a minute.”
The blond man nods before jogging towards the other side of the dune.
I push myself to my feet, brushing off the sand from my backside, and nod to the stranger’s retreating form. “I take it you know him.”
Kalden’s features go blank, mask returning. “That’s Niles. He’s a friend.”
“Joss, too?”
He nods once.
My brows pull together. “You have friends who live up here? Aboveground?”
“I do,” he answers curtly.
“And they aren’t Sols?”
He goes quiet for several seconds. “We aren’t the monsters you’ve been taught to fear.”
We. Not they.
“I-I don’t understand. Are you or are you not a Sol?”
Kalden leans closer. “We can talk about this la—”
“It’s a simple question,” I say, stepping back.
His shoulders roll forward, but he allows me my space. “I am.”
“You’re what?” I press, needing him to stop being so vague for once.
“A Sol.”
“You can’t be,” I whisper, though I know it’s true. I feel it in my gut, hear the honest steadiness of his tone. “Your skin . . . It’s . . . It’s not all charred and cracked. You can talk and think and . . . feel. Sols can’t do that.”
His jaw twitches. “The creatures you know as Sols are actually Pyres.”
“Pyres?” I test the foreign word with a grimace.
“There is some truth to what they teach you down there. Sols are humans who’ve learned to harness the sun’s energy.
But we aren’t bloodthirsty monsters. Our humanity stays intact unless we channel too much power and push ourselves to burnout.
” Kalden’s tone darkens, as do his irises.
“When a Sol crosses that line—when they let too much of the sun’s power course through them—it incinerates their soul until all that’s left is an empty shell of burnt flesh, a mockery of who they once were, with an insatiable hunger for what they lost.”
My chest squeezes in on itself.
“You lied to me,” I begin, voice shaking as I recall the promise he made during our first training session. “When you vowed that I wouldn’t become a monster, you knew I’d assume you meant I wouldn’t become a Sol, didn’t you?”
His silence is enough of an answer.
“This whole time, you’ve been telling me a little bit of sun exposure won’t take away my humanity.”
Gem reappears at my side, voice unsteady as she asks, “How could you expose yourself?”
I squeeze my arms around myself. “Remember what I told you about what happened in the transport tunnel? Well, Kalden saw it. My hand, when it was still glowing. He confronted me during our first training session, then told me there was a way I could harness the sun’s power in moderation to fight back without turning into a monster.
He even made a pulse promise, but I guess that was a lie. ”
Black strands spill over Kalden’s sweat-streaked temples as he shakes his head. “It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely.”
“Not entirely?” I mock. “Sun’s pits, Kalden! Can you stop being so vague and be honest with me? Are Sols fucking allergic to the truth, or is that just you?”
“I meant what I said,” he snaps, then takes a breath before adding more calmly, “Sols aren’t monsters. You are not a monster.”
Gem holds up a palm. “Wait. Are you saying Orelle is a Sol?”
More screeching precedes the sound of Kalden’s name being called from the opposite side of the nearest dune.
The afternoon sun casts a golden silhouette against his dark curls as he turns away from us, peering in the direction that Niles took.
And when his glittering eyes return to mine, I kick myself mentally for believing the man in front of me was just a mere human.
“Temporarily, yes. You’ll return to your normal human form shortly after sunset, as we all do.
The sun bestows its power as a daily gift—one we don’t get to keep in its absence.
” Kalden casts another glance over his shoulder.
“I need to go help Joss and Niles with the Pyre, but I promise I’ll answer all of your questions later. ”
Kalden turns and hides his true self no longer, hands extending towards the ground as he launches bolts of energy. His golden-streaked form rapidly retreats through the warm air, taking sand and dust with him.
Once he leaves us, Gem and I don’t speak for what feels like the longest minute of my life.
My eyes drift to the lapping waves while my mind processes through the facts, each one its own brand of grim.
Seafoam spills across the sand.
Yvonne is dead.
The water recedes, taking with it the stream of crimson flowing from her corpse.
Gabe, Aruna, and Twilynn are still missing.
Shimmering waves writhe forward.
Kalden’s been lying to me this entire time.
The ocean cowers back.
I’ve been lying to Gem. Or omitting the truth, which isn’t much better.
A roiling wave splashes farther up the beach, catapulting fizzy white droplets into the salty sea air.
The Sols of my nightmares are actually Pyres.
The bubbling foam dissolves, revealing several shells in the sand.
And I’m a Sol.
I peel my attention from the water to find Gem’s covered head tilting down at my hands.
Radiant beams cut through the slits in my black leather gloves like the first peek of the morning sunrise over the horizon.
Its warmth courses beneath my skin, and I crave more of it, like an itch demanding to be satiated.
Whatever it takes—that’s what I’d been willing to do to finally feel useful. To prove I’m capable, or maybe even strong. But where’s the strength in risking my humanity? What good am I to Gem, or to anyone else, if I become the thing we’re fighting against?
Perhaps my death would be preferable.
Backing away, I squeeze my fingers into fists, focusing on the mechanical release of the blades instead of the craving. Because if what Kalden said is true, that Pyres are born when a Sol harnesses too much power, then the last thing I need to do is indulge.
Or I will become a monster.
If I’m not already becoming one.