Chapter 34 Cassy
Cassy
We tear through the winding corridors, torchlight slashing shadows across the walls. The breath runs ragged in my throat, and my heart hammers so hard that I think it might split my ribs.
“This way!” the cluster of tiny fairies cry, their wings a blur of gold. Keiren and I race up the slick onyx stairs toward the ramparts.
Mae’s voice slices through the wind. “There!”
I skid to the parapet’s edge. Cassy is standing on the narrow ledge, her white gown whipping in the storm, the abyss yawning black below.
“Cassy!” I shout, reaching out.
She turns slowly, hair veiling her face like smoke. Her eyes, wide and wild, catch mine. Her lips move as if tasting the wind. “All is death. All is woe… I cannot escape the flames,” she whispers, her voice hollow as a grave.
My throat tightens. “Please, Cassy… come back!” I turn to Keiren. “We have to get her.”
“The stone’s too worn. It’ll crumble under our weight,” he warns me.
I turn to the fairies. “Go! Fly to her! All of you, together—you could lift her.”
They nod and zoom out, only to be knocked back by a fierce gust of wind. They try again but only crash at our feet in a colorful heap, their faces grim.
“We can’t,” Marb cries helplessly.
The mist below churns around the rocks like a hungry sea.
I take a step toward the ledge. Don’t look down, I tell myself, then take a deep breath and climb over.
“Fire—don’t!” Keiren’s voice roars as I step beyond his reach onto the thin parapet.
Only a few paces separate us now. Cassy stares skyward as dawn breaks, silver light spilling through the fog.
“It’s okay,” I soothe her, voice shaking. “You’re going to be okay.”
Her head tilts toward me. Her eyes are glazed over, as if she can’t see. “Come, god of flame… take me away.”
“No. No, you have to stay with us,” I plead. “Stay with me, with Mariel cursed is the heart… Destined to heal, cursed to destroy.”
Her heel slips, and the stone groans.
“Hold on!” I lunge forward, my fingers catching her silken sleeve, but it slides from my grip.
Without even a gasp, she falls.
“NO!” I scream after her.
The world tilts as stars, mist, and shadow spin together. I teeter on the edge.
Then Keiren’s arms slam around me, yanking me back just as the ledge collapses. Stone shears away and vanishes into the dark below.
He drags me against him, his cloak flaring around us like wings. His heart pounds wildly against my cheek. “You mustn’t—”
I shove him away. “Don’t touch me!”
He freezes.
“This is your fault!” I scream, the words tearing out of me before I can stop them. “We’re just pieces in your cursed game!”
Pain flashes across his face, but he doesn’t raise his voice. “You know that’s not true.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. I’m already backing away, the corridor swallowing me whole.
He doesn’t follow.
***
I stand shoulder to shoulder with Mariel and Vivian on the windswept cliff. The lake ripples below us. A pyre smolders at its edge, draped with driftwood and Cassy’s cloak. There’s nothing else left to burn.
I press a white rose into Mariel’s hand, wrapping it in both of mine. Our fingers tremble.
Mae and Arther stand hand in hand next to Lyra and Cassian. Seraphina is nowhere to be seen. Across the flames, Keiren watches, motionless, his cloak pooling black as the smoke rising from the funeral pyre.
When the fairies begin their final prayer, Mariel and I place our roses on the pyre. The petals vanish in fire, their scent swallowed by a surge of icy wind.
Mariel’s hand finds mine again. We turn away as the last sparks fade, two sisters bound by loss.
***
The castle feels colder in the days that follow, as though it’s mourning with us. I keep to my chamber, leaving only to check on Mariel and Vivian—making sure they still eat, still speak, still breathe.
Keiren comes every day, sometimes with food, sometimes with flowers or tea, but I don’t let him in. I know it isn’t his fault, not truly, but I can’t bear to meet his gaze or allow myself the mercy of comfort.
I finish The Tale of the Fire Spirit and the Snow Fairy, but sleep refuses to come.
All traces of warmth and goodness feel stripped away, replaced by ghosts and guilt. I lie awake staring into the darkness, and this time it isn’t fear that keeps me restless; it’s fury. It seethes beneath my skin like molten metal, too hot to cry out, too wild to contain.
My fists clench. My chest aches.
I want to scream. To strike. To burn something down.
But the castle is built of stone and silence, and there is nowhere to release the fire rattling in my bones.
So I walk.
Barefoot and breathless, I storm through the empty halls, down to the training chamber. It feels like it’s been waiting for me.
I reach for a sword instead of my usual daggers. It’s heavier than it looks, but the hilt fits my hand perfectly, as if it were made for me.
And then I move.
Slash. Parry. Strike.
Again.
Again.
Steel sings against the dummy’s fabric, a cruel rhythm echoing off the walls. I move faster, harder, striking until the seams split, until stuffing pours out like entrails, until the sword slips from my fingers and hits the floor with a deafening clatter.
I drop to my knees and let out a primal scream until the fury burns itself hollow. Then I sob.
The castle watches in silence. And doesn’t close the door.
By the time I stumble back to my room, sweat slicks my skin. I collapse into bed without washing, too spent to care what Marb will say about “unladylike habits.”
I’ve never been a lady, and I’m not starting now.