14
His armor gleams silver. His own sword is not drawn, though I know it could be in just seconds.
An instinctual fear grips my bones, everything in me telling me to run.
Run where? I’m surrounded by enemies.
I wonder which is worse. A burning forest full of challengers and dragons
hunting me down … or Harlan Raker?
Definitely Harlan Raker.
Still, I don’t move an inch. I just stare at his reflection in my blade, metal trembling.
“Leave” is all he says, in a deep, gravelly voice forged from the strongest
steel.
He says it like it’s an order.
But I’m dead down there. And I guess I really am actively trying to find my death, or whatever he said in the inn, because I summon every shred of courage I have left and whirl around to face him, blade still drawn. “I’m not going anywhere.”
There is a moment of silence. I can hear my own breathing. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I stand firm, spine straight, even though my heart is beating so wildly, I can feel the strain in my chest.
He takes a step forward. There’s another type of gravity around him, a force that thickens the air and quiets the incoming night. I lift my chin, refusing to show an ounce of fear, but still, I swallow. This close … I’m reminded of how much bigger he is. How much stronger.
Harlan Raker. The destroyer. The battle ender. The ancient sword wielder.
He is known by many names, and all of them mean death.
I can’t see his face, but I can feel his gaze on me, sharp as a sword’s edge. “Either you leave of your own will. Or mine.”
I can imagine grown men tremble under his notice. They piss themselves, apparently. But I’ve made it this far. A warrior I despise with every ounce of my being is not going to be the one to make me fail at my purpose.
“Then I guess you’re going to have to finally kill me,” I say, my voice as vicious as his. My stomach tightens, as if predicting the metal that will slice
through it.
But he doesn’t move.
We stay like that, staring each other down for a moment. Two. Twenty.
Sweat slides along my spine. Still, I refuse to look away first. I refuse to lower this sword that has numbed my arms with its weight.
Just when I think he’s going to cut me down, he sighs and turns instead.
There’s a slight rustling as he gets his things. Then he’s back. He makes to move past me, toward the mouth of the cave.
I blink, shock rendering me useless.
It isn’t the fact that he didn’t actually kill me. It isn’t that he clearly let me win. That’s surprising, sure. But what’s even more surprising is that he would rather leave this spot than be in my presence.
I should be relieved. I should watch him go.
Instead, I’m reminded that I’m alone, in the middle of a strange land, without a creature. Surrounded by fire and enemies hunting me down.
Standing in nearly extinguished sunlight, unsure if I’m about to be torn apart by mysterious night demons.
He’s my enemy. I’ve hated him for years. I remember that day in the rain.
The day he could have taken mercy but didn’t. The scars on my lower back are proof of that. The fact that he caught me on the stairs doesn’t change any of it.
But enemies often make the strongest allies.
“Work with me,” I say, before my pride can silence me.
Those words were gathered from the very pit of my desperation, but he doesn’t stop. It’s as if I haven’t spoken at all. My fury melts into prickling shame. I used to think hatred was the worst thing someone could feel for another. Now I know it’s apathy.
He’s almost at the cliff’s edge. He’s almost gone. I don’t know why I do it.
But before he can leave, I raise my sword to strike him.
He turns in an instant. His weapon is unsheathed in half a second, his
metal hitting mine, and— Music. It’s like music, the ringing.
Two glorious swords meeting. Neither yielding.
A bolt races down my arm, spearing through my stomach, down my legs, and into the ground. The very world seems to tremble.
I wonder if he feels it too. I wouldn’t know. The hood blocks everything.
But not his voice.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he snarls, the words like rocks grinding together.
Yes. Almost certainly so, for being bold enough to try to strike Harlan Raker, the warrior without marks on his armor.
“Work with me” is all I say, panting from the simple movement.
Our blades are still touching.
His voice is even deeper and more chilling than I remember. He takes a step forward, and our blades scrape together, emitting a high pitch that echoes around us. “Why would I ever work with someone as pathetic as you?”
Fury and shame burn my face, but I swallow them down. I’ll do anything to make it to the gods—even if it means working with this bastard.
I glare at him, trying not to let the strain reach my expression. Both of my hands are gripped on my hilt—he’s only holding his with one. “We have the same sword. Clearly, I’m not as pathetic as you think.”
I can almost feel his revulsion. He spits out his words. “Our swords are not the same.”
“I don’t see any cracks,” I say in a sharp whisper. Silence. Our swords are still together. A shred of moonlight gleams between them.
Both are unmarred. As if they are equally matched.
He quickly sheaths his, as if he can’t bear to face that fact, his sparkling metal disappearing like all the stars guttering out at once. I lower mine, trying hard not to drop it, but don’t sheath it.
He turns to leave again, but the words are out of me before I can stop them. “I have a map.”
That makes him pause. He turns, very slowly. I carefully reach into my pocket and pull it out, my sword still between us. I shake it open. “It’s all here. Everything.”
I imagine he’s looking at it. I can almost tell from the direction of his head.
Then he turns slightly, toward me. I keep my posture straight, my skin prickling beneath his study.
“I could kill you and take it.” He says the words without feeling, as though it would take little effort, time, or space in his conscious. If he even has one.
I was expecting that. So I curl the map into a ball— And throw it past him, right off the cliff. We both watch as it falls into the fire and burns into embers. “You fool, you—”
“I memorized it.” If he wants that knowledge, he can’t kill me. Not until we reach the end of the quest, at least. I stand there watching him, the darkness of his hood like a second mask.
He tilts his head at me. There is something predatory in the way he does it, like a beast staring down prey. He looks like a demon. A nightmare. His cruelty is not just a rumor. I’ve experienced it firsthand.
And he doesn’t even remember.
“You will regret this,” he says, before taking a step forward. It’s not a threat as much as it is a promise. But it isn’t a no. His hands are halfway curled into fists. “If you slow me down, I will kill you. If I find another way across the land without you, I will kill you. If you try to touch my sword, I will kill you. Understood?”
I know I should feel fear, but instead, all I feel is crushing relief. He’ll help me reach the end of this. I know it.
“Same to you,” I say, because he, I think, will be the one to regret ever underestimating me.
He doesn’t even look at me as he walks past, deeper into the cave. I remain fixed in place, refusing to follow.
I don’t plan on getting anywhere near him for the rest of the night, but then I hear it. The faint gurgling of a water source far behind me. In the direction he went.
I swallow, my throat rough with thirst. Now that he’s gone, now that I’m not running, the full force of my hunger and exhaustion hits me at once. My knees nearly buckle. Don’t show your weakness, I think. You’ve gone this long without water. You can last a few more minutes.
I try. I stand, battling with my pride, but I lose. I turn and rush toward the sound, not even looking for the demon knight, eyes and mind and senses
solely focused on a stream of water so blue, it’s almost glowing.
Fuck it. I’m so thirsty, I fall to my knees and drink from my hands. I gulp it down greedily, the water streaming down my neck, soaking my shirt until my throat is finally smooth again.
That’s when I finally notice him. He’s turned toward me, leaning against the side of the cave. He’s still wearing his hood. Of course. Does he ever take it off? How about the mask? Is there even a face beneath it? If the rumors are true, there isn’t. He’s a beast. A true devil. I might not be able to see his expression, but disdain is clear in the way he looks down at me. He thinks he’s better than me. He’s probably right.
What he doesn’t understand is that I will do anything to reach the end. I will do everything he said he would do to me and more.
I can’t see his eyes—which I know he has, because I’ve seen them, beneath a silver helmet—but mine aren’t obstructed. I glare at him, and I hope that he can feel my hatred. It hasn’t dimmed in years. If anything, it’s grown.
I will use him the same way he’s using me, and then I will kill him for what he did. And he’ll deserve it.
My mind shifts to a flash of him in the rain. The hatred in his eyes, his metal against my neck, and— My hands tense against the cold stone floor before I slowly start to wash my face. Then, when I feel relatively clean, I sit back against the smooth cave wall.
No way I’m sleeping tonight. Not when I’m half convinced Raker is going to gut me in my sleep and take my sword, map be damned.
He could do that even if I was awake, I think, but I’m not risking it. I grip my blade against my chest and stare out at the opening of the cave.
Darkness has nearly swallowed the sky. The moon is out. Shrieks echo as creatures take off into the fading light, the forest still roaring with flames.
They’ve stopped hunting me. For now.
My head falls back against the stone, my body going boneless, relief rushing in, my fight leaving me. I’m tired, so tired. And I’m not even a fifth of the way there.
My body might be worn out, but my mind races. Before, all I could think about was survival. Now all my thoughts catch up.
My dragon. My flameless dragon.
I hope she’s okay. I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid like look for me.
Not when trouble always tends to find me.
Some part of me grieves, even though we didn’t know each other for long. She is beautiful and powerful—but I could tell some shred of her needed a shred of me. And that maybe … maybe, if we’d had a little more time, we could have found our fire together.
Kira. She must be on the other side now. I wonder how her leg is doing.
Xara helped her. I know she did. I hope she did.
Zane. I wonder if he claimed a Helmhawk. I can almost imagine him on the back of one, blue feathers turning silvery beneath the moonlight.
I can also imagine him mangled in the tree branches, an arrow through his forehead.
My eyes tighten against the image. No. Zane is strong. So is Kira. So is my dragon. And so am I. This will kill me, but not yet.
Not yet.
I continue to stare at the sky, lost in my mind, until the stars break through the darkness, sparkling like my sword. They shine brighter here on this side. There are so many, a galaxy, like infinite versions of the freckles across my cheeks in summer. My sister had more. She had them all over. I used to count them, one by one, to help her fall asleep. I used to sleep beside her, because she feared the dark. She used to sleep with an arm banded around me, because she was convinced one day someone would try to take me away in the middle of the night, and she told me she wouldn’t let them.
I laughed. “What is your arm going to do if a demon is intent on taking me?”
I’ll wake up, she said with pure conviction. I’ll save you.
I believed her. I believed she would save me from anything.
If only I could have saved her.
My eyes close against the memories. A tear slides down my face. It’s incredible I have any left. But they are endless, just like this agony. Just like this guilt.
Because I’m not just doing this for them. I’m doing it for me too. Maybe —maybe if I kill the goddess that ended them, maybe that will absolve me just the slightest bit. Because I’m the reason they’re dead.
I’m the reason they’re all dead.
I used to crave sleep, because in my dreams, they were still alive. But over time, the memories dimmed. As much as I fought to keep them clear, they were like sand in my palms, falling through my fingers. I tried everything to strengthen my memory. I memorized pointless things, read books then recited them backward, trying to train my memory like a muscle. It worked, partially. But still, with every year that goes by, I remember less.
Now I have more nightmares than dreams. For even though the memories of the good times have faded, those of that night never have. They are still as real as when they happened. I relive that night all the time. It always has the same ending.
And I wish. I wish I had anything of value to give to the gods, to try to go back and change it all. But even the gods can’t do that. So I’ll kill them instead.
My mind cycles through the memories. There are ten of them, the ones I treasure the most. The ones I refuse to forget.
Number one is the first time I held my sister. I was only three years old, but I remember the way she looked at me and smiled. When her tiny fingers curled around one of mine, I thought, You. I would do anything for you.
She never stopped looking at me like that—like I was someone to be trusted. Someone to be admired. Someone worthy of anything at all.
Even in the end, she didn’t doubt me. She didn’t blame me.
She— A whisper. It barely breaks through the crackling of the forest fire. It’s so
gentle, it could be the wind.
But I would know that voice anywhere.
“Aris.”
I don’t dare breathe. My imagination. It’s a memory. It’s my head,
messing with me, it’s— “Aris, it’s me.”
I stand. Raker is hunched over, asleep against the wall. His sword is dug into the ground in front of him like a guard.
I know it’s impossible. I know it’s not real. Still, I turn toward the sound.
I walk all the way to the mouth of the cave, and then a sob spills from my lips.
Because right there on the forest floor is my sister.
She looks just like she did that last night. Same white sleeping gown.
Same ribbons in her hair.
My sister.
She smiles when she sees me. Smiles.
“You look so different,” she says, her face lighting up. “So beautiful, Aris.”
She’s here. I know it’s impossible, but she’s here. And she’s never said those exact words before, so this can’t be a memory. It’s real. It must be.
My arms are trembling. I choke on a sob. “You look the same,” I say, eyes burning. Behind her, the forest is on fire. She shimmers like moonlight.
A specter. She must be a specter, like the ones in the king’s palace.
This is Starside, the land of magic. Somehow, she’s here. She’s been here this whole time, waiting for me.
“I miss you so much,” she says, and the words are claws, curling through me, piercing and hooking. “I’ve seen everything. You’ve been so brave.”
I shake my head, my vision smudged with tears. They bleed into the fabric at my neck.
“It should have been me,” I tell her, sinking to my knees. The words have cycled through my mind for years. I’ve wanted to tell her this, needed to tell her this. “I’m sorry. Please—please forgive me.”
My sister only smiles. “No, it shouldn’t have. You were meant for this.
You know that, right?”
I don’t know anything. I don’t know anything but this blinding, all- consuming, swallowing rage I’ve felt since that night.
She frowns, as if she hears something I can’t. “I have to go,” she says.
I get up. Go? Go where? “No,” I say. Not again. “Please, please stay—”
“I can’t,” she says. She turns as if to walk through the flaming forest. To walk through the fire again, like that’s where she lives. Like that’s where she’s been this whole time, trapped in the flames that took her away from me.
I move without thinking. I crawl out of the cave and climb, then leap to the ground, my muscles seizing as I land. But I don’t care. I barely feel it. I turn and run toward her.
I couldn’t save her that night. But I won’t let her burn again. I won’t let them take her from me.
She’s right there, her glimmering nightgown twirling behind her as she walks. Her hair is falling out of its braid. I tied it. It was one of the last things I ever did for her.
I reach out, my fingers uncurling, as if I could rip her from death’s grip.
My fingers brush against her sleeve. She turns.
But it’s not my sister. It’s a creature, with blood-crusted fangs and claws
like daggers.
I scream.
My sword is in my hand in an instant. I cut the beast down without hesitation, the weight of the metal helping strengthen my downward blow.
The creature falls onto the forest floor.
When it lands, it’s my sister again.
I fall to my knees with a sob that rattles my bones. Rattles the world. My fingers dig into the ground, my veins igniting with every thornlike feeling I’ve buried, every jagged piece of pain and anguish that will never go away.
It’s all too much, overtaking me, pulling me under, a sea of agony.
A hand grips my shoulder.
Tears streaming down my face, I look up into darkness. Into a hood like a rippling shadow. The voice is harsh. It’s brutal, like a truth shoved down my
throat. “Get up. This isn’t real.”
I bare my teeth at him— And the forest … Even aflame, the forest stills, as if it’s taking a breath.
Raker looks up. A second of silence.
Before he can say a word, the darkness splits open. High-pitched screams sound from everywhere. Tremors throw me to the side, like a hundred
creatures are rising up at once.
“Idiot,” Raker barks above me.
We run.
The ground is uneven. It’s undulating, like a wave of beasts are crawling just beneath the surface.
Demons. Finally, the first breaks through. Then, the next. Then, them all.
Dirt sputters as dark, night-spun creatures emerge all around us, sprouting like wicked plants. They’re made of dried, rotted skin, fitted tightly over mangled bones. They’re the devils my mother would tell stories
about, the God of Death’s underlings.
Killing one awoke more. So many more.
Raker reaches the rock face first and climbs. I’m right behind him, tiny stones falling onto my face from his boots, dirt clouding my vision. I can’t see the creatures, but I hear them when they reach the cliffside, their claws scraping against it, just below me, the sound piercing my skull.
The cave—we need to get to the cave. I blink through the darkness and dirt and watch as Raker moves toward it—but beasts are already blocking the entrance. One parts its mouth in a mind-piercing shriek, revealing rows
and rows of fangs.
Fuck.
Raker shifts immediately, as if he’s going to climb the whole rock face.
My arms tremble as I take in the distance to the top. My fingers are already slick with sweat. I’m not sure I’ll make it all the way.
Something grabs my ankle.
I don’t turn around as I kick, dislodging its hold, and then I’m climbing for my life, following the glint of Raker’s sword like a guiding star, my own heavy on my back. Tears blur my vision as I remember my sister, or whatever demon it was that crawled into her skin. She wasn’t real, but this pain is. The memories are.
This time, instead of letting the grief choke me, I let it ignite me. For her.
I will fight until every bone breaks and I can’t stand anymore, and even then I will crawl to the edge of this world for her.
Those memories from before, I cling to them as I grip each ledge, as I ignore the shrieks below me, as nails scrape my ankles. My mind narrows to arrow-like focus, and I climb until we reach the top, and then I’m pulling myself up, and panting as I run as fast as I ever have before.
Far ahead, something sparkles silver—the moon, reflected off water.
That’s where Raker is headed.
Water.
I remember the small moat around the village. The fact that Xara said we would be safe on the boat. The stream in the cave. Of course. The beasts must not be able to pass water. Raker must know that.
Hope flares in my chest. We just have to reach the lake.
My legs burn as I push them, as dirt sputters behind me, as I use my arms to take me farther. Raker isn’t in front of me anymore. Did he take a turn?
Did he go off in a different direction?
I finally look over my shoulder, only to see teeth, glistening like metal. I gasp and run—
Until my feet leave the ground. For a moment, I’m weightless, as if gravity has taken pity on me and released its hold. I’m free. Floating.
Then I’m falling.
I hit the water, and it swallows me whole.
I gasp, my lungs filling as I sink. My arms reach for the surface—but it’s gone. With my sword on my back, I’m going down quickly. The lake is black as ink. My blade pulses against my spine, as if in panic.
The moonlight fades, giving way to an almost comforting darkness.
Dying is peaceful. It’s so quiet. So cold. It is like flying. I seize, my lungs burning with water, my throat contracting.
If I die, I’ll be with her. But will I be able to face her, and my parents, and Stellan, without anything to show for it? Will I be able to explain that I failed them all yet again?
Their deaths cannot be meaningless. They will be the spark of the flame that ends the gods once and for all, and then, maybe, all this suffering will
have had a purpose.
I can’t die. Not yet.
I reach—reach. For in me is a flame desperate to live. Wanting to see just how far this rage might take me.
But I’m too far down. I kick my legs, but it’s useless. I’m fighting so hard, but I have no idea how to make it mean something.
My fingers are numb. They separate as my reaching hand begins to sink.
My chest lurches. My heartbeat stutters.
The fire in me begins to die, every ember burning out, one by one. The world goes still and silent.
Far above, the water parts as something heavy breaks through it. Death
has come to claim me.
He wears a hood.
It slips off his head as he swims, revealing a mask of glinting metal.
That’s when I see them. Steel-gray eyes alit with fury, just like they were that day in the rain. I fight to keep hold of reality, so I can see more of him.
But I can’t. I blink and see only impending darkness. Only fingertips, inches apart, reaching—reaching—but not touching. Too late.
The water rushes in to fill my lungs as the darkness wins.