Page 2 of Crowned

“He’s fallen!” I scream at them, my voice raw with desperation. “Leave him alone!”

But even as I plead with them, my own body betrays me, mirroring his descent. I become a crumpled heap on the unforgiving ground, the impact of the landing lost in the overwhelming agony of losing him. My heart is shattering into a million pieces, each shard tearing through my skin and spilling pain and sorrow onto the ground below.

Bruised knees are inconsequential compared to the devastation ripping through me, my grief threatening to consume every inch of my being. Tears stream down my face, leaving trails of anguish in their wake, while the weight of sorrow crushes my lungs until breathing becomes a struggle.

I didn’t know I had any blood left to bleed, and yet here I am, bleeding out because I’m losing him.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

My sacrifice was meant to save them all – him, our people, both of our worlds. And yet, here I am, watching him fall, feeling like I’ve failed in the most fundamental way.

“Vance!” I cry out his name, the sound torn from the depths of my soul. It’s a plea, a desperate prayer for him to be okay, for the sacrifice to have meaning, for him to live.

“No!” The sob that tears free of my throat is raw. Devastated.

Pain ravages every cell in my body and grief crushes my lungs until they’re no longer working.

One small inconsequential girl in exchange for saving two worlds.

Why have I failed? What did I do wrong?

“Professor,” I beg, a hoarse broken whisper. I need him to be okay.

I need the sacrifice to have been worth it.

I need him to live.

Dragging myself across the blood-stained stones, I reach for him, my fingers trembling with fear and desperation. But as I try to touch him, my hand passes right through his ethereal form, leaving me grasping at empty air. I try again and again, until frustration overwhelms me, tears of helplessness streaming down my cheeks.

Why? Why must fate be so cruel as to allow me to witness his fall and then deny me the chance to ensure his survival?

Heartbreak threatens to suffocate me as I collapse beside him, the cold ground offering little comfort. His once vibrant eyes stare back at me, now empty and lifeless, reflecting the darkness of the night sky above.

“I love you, Vance,” I whisper through choked, anguished sobs.

I’m swallowed whole by the overwhelming weight of losing him. But even in this moment of unbearable pain, something stirs inside me, flickering to life. An anger that seems to revive my spirit, a burning desire to fight. Every tear that falls becomes a tiny flame, a spark that fuels my resolve. It’s a flame born of loss, a fire fueled by a fierce determination to seek justice.

I will avenge him.

Even from beyond the grave, I will not rest until the Shikari pay for their crimes.

But amidst the tumult of emotions, memories flood my mind like a torrential downpour. I recall the moments we shared, each one a bittersweet reminder of what we’ve lost, and now, all of that feels like a distant echo, drowned out by the cacophony of war and loss. As I gaze into Vance’s lifeless eyes, I can’t help but wonder if it was all worth it. If our love, our sacrifices, our dreams were nothing more than fleeting illusions in the face of an unforgiving reality.

But then, like a beacon in the darkness, a glimmer of hope emerges from the depths of despair. It’s a small, fragile thing, barely more than a whisper on the wind, but it’s enough to reignite the fire within me.

I may have lost Vance, but I refuse to let his death be in vain. I will carry his memory with me, a guiding light in the darkest of times…later.

First, I need to grieve for all that is lost.

I wake in more pain than I’ve ever felt in my life, but that isn’t what concerns me.

The small girl, woman really, crumpled on the floor beside me, sobbing like her entire world is broken, is what causes my heart rate to spike.

Every sob is like a dagger to my chest, each tear a stark witness of the agony she’s enduring. I struggle to push past my own pain, the throbbing ache in my body a constant reminder of the chaos that surrounds us.

“Miss Van der Zee? Why are you crying?” The words are painful and barely above a rasp. My throat feels raw, as if I’ve been screaming for hours, and yet I can’t remember uttering a sound.

Her head snaps up, and she stares at me with wide, astonished eyes. The fear etched across her face is plain as day, as if she’s witnessing a ghost rise from the dead. Her tears glisten in beautiful silver tracks on her cheeks, reflecting the pain that has consumed her fragile heart.

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