Page 96 of Forging Darkness

“Some acts are beyond forgiveness.”

A fissure rends my heart. I ache to comfort him. He truly believes that forgiveness is an impossibility. If I could give it to him myself, I would. Especially now, when we’re both facing the end. But it’s not something I can force until he’s willing to accept it.

I open my mouth, ready to offer a weak drop of comfort, when footsteps sound from down the darkened corridor. Both Steel and I shuffle to our feet, wanting to face whatever is coming for us standing.

A group of six Forsaken march into view wrapped in armor uncharacteristic for their race. They each hold a single gold-tipped spear and swords are sheathed at their waist. This is the first time I’ve seen Forsaken decked out in weapons.

When they come to a stop in front of my cell, one of them breaks rank. Stepping forward, the female Forsaken inserts a key into the lock on her side of my cage. When it catches and clicks, letting me know the lock is disengaged, the other five warriors point their spears at me.

The door swings open with a rusty screech.

“It will be easier on everyone if you come quietly,” she says before a wicked smile splits her face. “But we would enjoy the fight. We’re not supposed to injure the merchandise unless provoked.”

“Hey, you. The extra ugly one in the front.” Steel rattles the bars on his cell. “Take me instead.”

She only spares him a side-glance and a sneer, but it’s enough of a distraction to give me an opening. Bursting from the cell, I take her out first. She doesn’t have time to block my blow, and I catch her across the jaw.

She recovers quickly, but not fast enough. Taking her head between my hands I twist, breaking her neck. She’s not dead, but she’s not getting up to fight anytime soon either.

The rest of the Forsaken come at me as a pack, using their spears to nick my skin here and there, but never a full thrust. Of course they’ve been ordered not to kill me, and that works to my advantage.

I manage to duck under the strike of one and come up behind two of the warriors. I take them out one at a time. Part of me marvels at how easily it’s done and wonder if Thorne’s lessons the last few days have made the difference.

Swiveling to face my next opponent, I’m cracked on the back of the head by the butt of a spear. I fall to a knee, but shake off the blurred vision. I’m ready to enter the fight a moment later when an arm wraps around my throat from behind, pressing on my airway.

“We were ordered not to kill you, but we didn’t get the same order for him.”

My heart jumps to my throat. The battle has brought me several cells down the hall in the opposite direction of Steel. There are three remaining Forsaken warriors. One holds me captive; another pants in front of me, saliva dripping from his mouth because my blood is flowing. And the third is at the mouth of Steel’s cell. Long spear pointed forward, ready to jab at a moment’s notice.

Steel beats against the bars and shouts my name. I still can’t see his face, only his hands as they rattle and pound the iron rods he’s trapped behind.

Closing my eyes, I raise my hands in front of me. The pressure eases up on my throat, but not much. Instead of letting me walk freely, the Forsaken hauls me down the hall, away from Steel. I try to call back, but the arm clamps down again against my neck and my words are cut off. We walk forever before I can’t hear the echoes of Steel’s bellows as he calls my name.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I’m fairly certain it’s the same day when I’m led through the pathways under the arena floor by four Forsaken I don’t recognize. Two at my back, and two in front. I have a weird sense of déjà vu as we march through the darkened tunnels. The sounds from above shake the walls and the ground beneath my feet. Fine stone powder trickles down from above as the very foundation of the coliseum quakes.

The merchandise is going to get dirty, I think as dust settles on my bare shoulder.

The Forsaken they’d assigned to ready me had all been human at one time. It was evident in their hair and skin coloring, as well as their stature. I wondered where they’d been hiding during the days Thorne had paraded me around the compound. They were another reminder of the lies he spoon-fed me, and further sealed my motivation.

After the initial shock, I didn’t fight the Forsaken stripping and washing my body. Conserving my energy was more important than modesty. They’d spent hours scrubbing and preparing me, and I endured it all without complaint.

My skin was pink and shiny when they finally finished. My hair was brushed until it glistened, the top part braided into a red and blonde crown. The rest falls in loose waves down my back. An overly generous amount of makeup was applied to my face.

When I caught a look at myself in a mirror when they were finished, an ethereal, unfamiliar creature blinked back. Onyx-lined cat eyes sat above silver tinted cheekbones and bee-stung, pale pink lips. My skin radiated a dewy sheen unnatural for either the spectrum or mortal worlds.

After I was scrubbed, brushed, and powdered to near perfection, they dressed me in an outfit worthy of a warrior queen.

Even with a cursory look at myself in the mirror, I can’t help but feel as if I was unmade and put back together again as a different being altogether. But I suppose that was the point. Seraphim ordered her vessel to be prepared to her standards, after all. I’m not meant to feel like myself anymore.

The sheer fabric of the white cape attached to the low back of my corseted breastplate, and the red overlay skirt belted around my waist, billow behind me on unseen currents of wind as I move forward. The Forsaken surrounding me have set a brisk pace. I have to speed-walk to keep up. Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t be as quick to rush to my own demise, but I’m anxious to find out what happened to Steel.

We ascend another spiral staircase, going up up up until I’m sure we’ll emerge into the gold spectrum clouds.

My nerves are locked tightly away, buried so deeply inside I’ll have to dig to unearth them. My mental shields are up as high as they can go as I prepare for what’s to come. I don’t plan on giving Seraphim the satisfaction of seeing me come undone.

I haven’t admitted defeat, but I also haven’t figured out how to achieve victory. My mind stalls when my thoughts trail to Steel, my concern for him outweighing my need for self-preservation. His convictions on becoming a Forsaken are more than clear—he’d rather die. With that perspective, there’s no way he’ll overcome the Fallen who claims him as a vessel. For there to be any hope, I have to make something happen before the merging begins.

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