Page 117 of Spark of the Everflame

Why hadn’t I fought harder? Why hadn’t I run faster?

A choked sob caught in my throat.

I did this. This is my fault.

I took the man’s hand in my own and leaned in close. “You’re going to be alright,” I whispered. “You’re going to heal in no time. Soon, this will be a distant memory.”

“Hel... m...” he moaned again. His fingers trembled against my arm—or maybe I was the one shaking.

“We’re going to get you to someone who can help you. Just hold on, be strong for a little longer.”

His shoulders began to shudder, his attempts at words turning into long, desperate wails. I spotted a patch of unburnt skin along his ribs, and I laid my other palm on top of it, grazing my thumb in light brushing motions.

“You’re not alone. I’m here with you. You’re going to be alright.”

In the back of my mind, I felt the weight of Luther’s eyes watching my every move, even as the group once again enveloped him into its fold. His voice carried over to me as he issued orders, calm but firm, his confidence steadfast despite the madness around him. The sound of it was oddly comforting.

I sat with the man and whispered reassurances until his sobs eased, then turned silent. His hand went limp and fell away from my wrist. For a moment I feared the worst, but the beat of his heart under my palm remained steady and strong, if concerningly fast. The pain had pulled him into unconsciousness—a small mercy.

On my other side, a female guard convulsed with the effects of shock. I followed the same pattern, clutching her hands and offering a promise that help would arrive soon. Another lie—something I’d become all too practiced at doing these days—but it seemed to offer enough solace to still her trembling body and slow her heaving gasps.

I made my way from Descended to Descended, offering these insignificant gestures in whatever way I could. Occasionally I was able to offer more—Luther directed a guard to bring me fresh water and alcohol, which I used to clean some wounds, and I cut off a leather belt to use as a makeshift tourniquet for a man whose leg was missing from the thigh down.

I came to the final guard, whose body had remained motionless since my arrival. I’d been avoiding looking too closely, convincing myself it was better to focus on the patients who were awake and more consciously suffering, but the truth was I was terrified of what I might find—and now my cowardice could wait no longer.

The guard was female... or so I guessed. Her entire body was burned, hair singed to ash. The fire had claimed both feet and her entire left arm. It was difficult to tell whether her clothing had burned away or merely melted to her skin.

For a long time, I watched her chest, begging any god who would listen that I might see even the weakest of movement.

But there was only stillness.

Terrible, eternal stillness.

I did this. This is my fault.

Tears spilled in freefall as I leaned forward and closed what was left of her eyelids. I held her remaining hand and whispered the Rite of Endings, with a prayer to the divine to take mercy on her soul.

I didn’t bother asking the same for my own.

Eventually, the awful quiet in my head began to subside, and the voices of the crowd that had gathered around Luther edged into my thoughts.

“...thought we got everyone out...”

“...still a few trapped...”

“...undetonated rebel bombs...”

“...opening could collapse at any moment...”

I turned my attention back to Luther. His eyes were still on me, some clouded expression that I couldn’t read etched into his features. He blinked, as if meeting my gaze had shaken him from his own tempestuous thoughts.

Two Descended crowded near his side—a bison of a man with messy golden waves and a slim, stern-faced woman whose midnight blue bob came to a knife-like point at her chin. Both stared at him with grim resignation.

“If we surround the building with shadow magic, we can extinguish the fire, but it might kill any survivors left inside,” the man said, wearing a deep frown that didn’t quite seem to fit his face.

“The armory was built with only two doors for security purposes,” the woman added. Her myriad piercings glittered in the firelight as she shook her head. “The back entrance just collapsed, and the front is in such bad shape, no one can fit through it. We could burn a new one open, but the integrity of the building is badly compromised. It could bring the whole building down.”

The man nodded bleakly at her assessment.

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