Chapter 53
“Worthiness is planted within virtue.
So be virtuous in life, and perhaps worthiness will find you.”
- The Old Book
Rowan
Alarms wailed through the corridor like a chorus of mourning wraiths. Red lights pulsed across the ceiling in sickening flashes, bathing the icy walls in color that felt too cruel, too loud for the silence inside me.
“She’s gone,” I whispered, though no one had asked.
I knelt on the floor, cradling Mavis in my arms, her body limp and far too still. My forehead rested against hers, and I inhaled the remnants of her scent—rosemary, old parchment, and something uniquely hers that had never been defined by words.
Sam’s voice was distant, like it echoed from behind glass. “Rowan, we have to go! Now!”
I couldn’t hear him—not truly. My heartbeat had fractured, split down the middle, and now only half of it beat. The other half had died in my arms.
I had whispered Netali’s vow into her ear, binding my soul to hers. And now that hers had fled, mine was unraveling. I felt it—like the universe had turned inward, like the stars themselves mourned her.
“She’s all I had,” I murmured, unaware I’d spoken aloud.
Renata crouched in front of me, her face both fierce and soft. “I know,” she said, her voice barely audible over the alarms. “But if you want to bury her yourself—if you want to lay her to rest the way she deserves—we have to move.”
Her words sliced through the haze.
My breath caught. The thought of her being left behind, dissected or discarded was unbearable. They wouldn’t bury her the way Anam demands it, to spite me, and so her soul would never know peace. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
I nodded once.
We moved quickly after that.
Sam took point. Naia and Renata flanked our rear. I carried Mavis’s body close to my chest, wrapped in my cloak, her pale face tucked under my chin like a fragile secret.
Every step was torturous. I had never known true agony quite like this. My heart felt hollow—my soul alone—and yet I was forced to carry on. I was forced to endure.
We were almost to the elevator when they found us.
Marcum’s voice echoed through the hall like poisoned honey. “Going somewhere, Commander?”
I stopped.
He stepped forward with a dozen Veiled Ones at his back, each of them armed and alert.
Marcum looked proud of himself, and I bet he was. I wanted nothing more than to rip that smug smile off his face and slit his throat. He was a plague, and the reason I was in this godsforsaken place.
“I was rooting for you, you know,” Marcum continued, eyes locked on me.
“The two of you. I thought maybe this time, love might be strong enough to keep her alive. How sad.” He smirked at my visible flinch.
“Did you think I didn’t notice the disappearances?
Or the way you looked at her when you thought no one was around? How naive of you. I see everything.”
I said nothing. He didn’t deserve a retort.
Marcum tilted his head. “What am I going to tell your parents? They’ll be so disappointed.”
I looked up at him through the red haze of the alarm light.
“Then I guess they’ll stay disappointed.”
The first blade came for Sam.
We exploded into motion. Renata surged forward, blades flashing. Naia used her knives and precision to take two off their feet. Sam parried with brutal grace, his movements calculated and deadly.
I ran.
Call me a coward for not fighting, but my team knew what I had to do. I had to lay Mavis to rest, to give her a chance at a peaceful afterlife. Failure was not an option. It was something I was willing to die over—even though death meant very little to me anymore.
Mavis’ weight in my arms was a prayer. I never wanted to let her go. I kept my eyes on the elevator at the corridor’s end and didn’t look back, even when I heard someone scream.
I reached the panel and hit the button. The doors creaked open just as Renata, Naia, and bloodied Sam came hurtling into view.
I quickly glanced Sam over. It wasn’t his blood.
“Go!” Sam shouted, dragging a nearly unconscious Renata in behind him.
As the doors shut, Marcum’s voice rang out one last time. “There’s nowhere you can hide. We will find you—and when we do—you’ll wish you’d died with her.”
Our eyes met in a blazing fury.
My next words were low and grave.
“May the salt burn.”
The doors shut, and the elevator shuddered as it lurched upward. Once we reached the top, I slammed my fist into the control panel, and sparks flew. The damage would buy us time—hopefully enough.
We surfaced into the chilled open night.
The air was crisp and clean, a far cry from the recycled staleness of the facility. Stars blinked overhead, indifferent and eternal.
I was barely two steps out of the elevator when I dropped to my knees.
Still cradling her lifeless form.
The tears came without shame. Silent and savage, I wept for her. For what she had endured. For what she had never been given.
“I’m so sorry I failed you,” I whispered. “I tried. I really fucking tried.”
I reached out and touched her cheek, my bloodied hand painting her porcelain face with crimson streaks. I brushed a lock of icy white hair behind her ear and kissed her temple. Her skin was cold now, her expression hauntingly serene.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to pull myself together. I had a team I needed to be responsible for, one I had to get to safety. Yet I couldn’t drag myself away from the sorrow threatening to drown me.
I opened my eyes, wanting to steal one last look—
Only to see a set of familiar blue eyes, now flecked with gold, staring back at me.
She was alive.