Page 177 of What Blooms from Death

Several times since I’d been thrown into this prison, I had woken up to find myself still in the dark. My powers waned a little more each time I shifted in and out of consciousness, keeping the encroaching void at bay for less and less time. The silence here was stark, but the memory of the Light Keepers’ voices rang through my skull, loud and unceasing. Cold, cruel, mocking voices.

The darkness only wins if you fail to conquer it.

Don’t fail us, Aleksander.

I’d lost track of the minutes, the hours, the days.

I’d lost track of the number of times I’d failed and slipped out of awareness, only to resurface in an even weaker state than before.

I was getting close to slipping again, now. No more light came to my hands, no matter how hard I tried to summon it. The room was fading around me, its shadows deepening, consuming everything in their path.

Maybe I can just stay unconscious, this time, I thought—no, Ihoped.

Then a door opened somewhere in the distance, the groan of metal dragging over stone pulling me back into awareness. I blinked, and I saw a figure approaching me.

Nova.

For a moment, I thought I’d already fainted again; that she had taken up residence in that quiet, safe corner of my mind that I escaped to. It was a comforting thought, being able to meet her there.

Except, I wasn’t…there.

I was awake. The stone beneath me was solid. Cold. And Nova’s face was clear, her features sharp—not like the hazy, drifting details of my unconscious mind.

She carried a small lantern, dispelling the darkness as she came. Without any hesitation, she dropped to my side and started examining me, pushing the hair from my face, cupping my jaw, trying to get my eyes to meet hers. I didn’t realize how cold I truly was until I felt her warm hands upon my skin.

Setting the lantern down, she frantically searched the space around us. She seemed to be trying to figure out what to do next. Her lips quivered. Her eyes were bright in the grimness, the anxiety in them clear.

I’m fine, I said—at least in my head. I don’t think the words actually made it past my dry, cracked lips.

She fixed her gaze on a metal cup near my boot, grabbing it and bringing it carefully to my mouth.

I managed a single sip before turning my head away. It was water—some repressed, rational part of me knew that—but it burned like poison as it slid down my throat.

She reached for the plate of bread, next. A stale loaf sliced into rough, but relatively even pieces. I didn’t remember breaking it into those pieces, but I suspected I’d been the one to do it. My bleary eyes scanned the plate. My fingers twitched as I fought the compulsion to continue scraping at that crusty bread,to create more even lines. I should have been neater to begin with. More precise. More controlled.

“You haven’t been eating, have you?”

I’m fine.

“Here,” she said, pushing a piece gently into my hands.

I caught it tightly between my fingers—panicked at the thought of letting it hit the ground, for some reason—but I didn’t lift it to my mouth.

“Please,” she whispered.

I’m fine.

“I know it probably feels like you need to control this, like you might not have another chance to eat anything else, but they aren’t going to starve you like the Keepers did. I won’t let them.”

She pressed her hand to my jaw once more.

The warmth of her palm was…overwhelming.

I attempted to focus on it. But her face was rapidly becoming a distant, blurred canvas of shadow and light. Her words grew more and more muddled—as if I was underwater, sinking away from her. I tried to swim back. But my body was too tired, too heavy. The water pulled, wrapping me up, dragging me deeper and deeper, down into the depths, where I was met with voices. Familiar voices rebuking me with familiar lines.

You’ve failed.

Then my own voice joined them, repeating the line, as if it was a lesson I had to recite over and over until I got it right—

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