Page 44 of Bright Blinding Ruin

Invictis’s monstrously deep voice fills the sky above us as his golden form appears, his six-winged figure blocking out the sun’s rays, “How touching. A family reunion. I truly did wonder when you would figure it out. Took you long enough, truly.”

I can’t tear my eyes away from the dragon, from my mom. Still feels weird to call her that. All I can focus on is the way her slit, metallic eye stares back at me.

It’s inside. I can feel it: the withering away, the slowing of her breath. I know what’s coming, and that’s why I can’t stop myself from leaning over her snout, tears beginning to fall from my eyes. I hold onto her even though the position hurts my stomach. The grip I have on her is a vice, a death grip, and I don’t want to let her go.

“You’ll get better,” I say, although I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince. “You can’t leave. There’s so much I want to talk to you about, so much I—” My voice cracks, and I shut my eyes.

“Rey.” It’s my mom’s voice, but it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the dragon.

I open my eyes to find I’m no longer hunched over the dragon’s head. I’m on my own two feet, staring directly into Krotas’s eyes. Her human eyes. The world around us has stopped; even Invictis in the sky hovers without a single movement. To my right, I see the body of a dragon and the body of a girl hugging the beast’s scaled face.

Us. That’s us, which means this must be in my head. A vision or something. Maybe one last show of magic on my mom’s behalf.

When I bring my stare back to Krotas, I whisper, “Mom.” The word still feels wrong, like I shouldn’t be saying it. All my life I thought the woman who was my mom didn’t deserve to be called a mother; how could you be a mother when you forsake your child?

But she didn’t. She was doing what she had to. She thought she was keeping me safe.

Krotas wears the same flowing robes I’ve seen her in before, though her figure is much smaller inside them—you know, since she’s not pregnant with me anymore. Metal plates are fixed to her shoulders with straps. In the sunlight, her hair is more of an auburn color, a light, warm brown graced with red, long enough to fall well past her shoulders. She wears no added jewelry, no crown.

She smiles at me, and I can hardly breathe. Krotas lifts a hand, her bare fingertips brushing along my cheek and then tucking my hair behind my ear. She studies me like it’s the first time she’s ever seen me.

“My Aurelia,” she whispers, her voice luminous and faint, like she’s halfway gone already. “You are more beautiful than I ever imagined.” Her hand falls away from my face as she sighs. “If only fate would have been kinder to us.”

There is so much I want to say. So much I want to talk to her about, but I don’t, because I know we don’t have much time. AsI look at her, I can see her figure fading, becoming less tangible and less solid.

“My sisters and I could not win this war. We did what we could. It is up to you now.” Krotas’s lips tug in a faint smile, and she leans in to me and presses her mouth on my forehead, giving me her blessing and what’s left of her love. As Krotas fades away before my eyes, the last thing I hear her say is, “I love you. You are so much stronger than you know.”

And then she’s gone, and when I blink again, I’m back inside my body, with a bloody wound on my gut and nothing but an empty space in front of me, where my mom’s dragon body used to be.

“No,” I whisper, falling forward, barely catching myself on my hands once I realize she’s gone. My bloody hands curl. There’s nothing but mashed-down grass and dark blood where she used to be. I got my mom back only to lose her right away.

I’m alone, more alone than ever.

Although, that’s not entirely true. I can feel her inside me, just like I can feel Gladus and Morimento. Their magic in me combines, twists, and collides to form something new.

But together they stood no chance against Invictis. What hope do I have? I’m mostly dead already—and besides that, I’m so fucking tired. More tired than I’ve ever been in my life. I just want to close my eyes and…

Invictis lands on the ground, a few feet in front of me, but I’m too busy wrestling with inner demons to pay him any attention. “All the empresses of Laconia are now dead,” he tells me, his voice deep enough to give me goosebumps. He waits a moment before saying, “Is this the part where you say,They might be dead, but I’m not and I’m going to beat your golden ass?” He mocks me, pretending to be me with gusto, but I still can’t look at him.

My body is bent over, my head down. It hurts so much. I can’t… I just can’t.

He chuckles. “Well? If you want to be the hero, Rey, you must get up and face me. Let us finish this! By killing you, I will be one step closer toward fulfilling my purpose here. You will die knowing those fools in Laconia will meet their end with no champion in sight to protect them.”

Everyone wants me to fight. They expect it. The empresses, my mom… fuck, I’ve been fighting my whole life, and I’ve never gotten a break before. I’ve never just sat down and given up.

That’s what I feel like doing now. I’m cold. I hurt all over. I have a literal hole in my gut. I just found out who my mom is, and then I lost her. How much can be pushed upon one person before that person decides they had enough? How much can one person take?

I roll onto my side, facing away from Invictis. I don’t apply any more pressure to my stomach. Everything I pushed my body to do since getting stabbed is weighing on me now, and it’s getting hard to breathe. Nothing like the weight of the world to make you feel more helpless than ever.

If three empresses could not defeat him, what hope do I really have? How many times did I say I’m no fucking hero, that I don’t want to be one? I’m not. I haven’t changed. I’m still the same me, just with more scars.

“Get up,” Invictis growls out. “Stand and face me.” He wants a fight. He’s a weapon, so that’s not surprising. Getting up and facing him, trying my hardest to fight him and win; it’s what everyone else wants me to do, too.

But I never asked for any of this. I don’t want that kind of responsibility.

“No.” The word leaves me with a soft groan as I roll onto my back. Through slits, I can see the blue sky. I suppose there areworse things to see during your final moments alive. “Just finish it already.”

How can I get up and fight him when the weariness is in my bones? When my body is cold all over and I feel like sleeping for an eternity? How can I fight him when I know it in my soul: I’ve given up?

---