Page 146 of A Blightress of Wrath
Iwas shoved to the ground, shielded byThevin’sbody from the rocks that flew through the air, crashing across the stone.
Ilifted my head to see my mother kiss my father once, one single last time, her hands shaking as she rose from the ground, gazing upon his broken body.
IfeltThevin’sheaving chest as he continued to cover me as a human shield, a man not born to the power ofFelgren, but born to the gift of protection for those he loved.
Mymother’s face turned to rage as she spoke low in the din of battle, facing a force of powerIcould sense, but could not see.
“ITISMINETOWIELD!” she screamed. “GIVEITTOMENOW!”
Isaw him then.
Aman, or the shape of one, sitting beside my father in a ghostly form, staring up at my mother with hatred in his hazel eyes.Hislip fell into a snarl and something oozed from his fingers, black and solid, folding across my mother’s figure as she held her hands out before her, accepting the darkness into her skin.
Hiseyes flickered to me then, andIcaught his stare.
Iknew him.Somehow,Iknew him.
“Itried,Saelyn,” he whispered through my mind. “Yourtime has come.”Awash of sorrow pooled over his face.Henodded once before fading into nothing more than a whisper of black smoke.
Thevinwas yelling, but allIheard was the drip.
Theheart continued to beat, continued to live, wounded, but strong enough to stay aloft, the slice at its side slowly closing, healing over as if my father’s death meant its awaited salvation.
Drip.
Sae.
Drip.
No.
Iwatched the last bead of crimson splash into the puddle of blood at my father’s side.Confused,Iwondered where the black vines had come from as they tore through the rocky floor, upheaving the basalt and creeping across the ground around us.
Iblinked at my mother as she stepped toward us.Shelooked at me once.Justone time with eyes fully black, dark pools of wrath thatIknew were her own seeping from the rocks below her.Ifelt in my heart that theFelgrengreen of her power would never return, her soul too broken, too much asked of her to endure since the day of my birth and my father’s leaving.
Shestepped around us, black slicked over her hands in billowing oil, sliding down her skirts to her boots.Sheleft a trail of ink in her wake, andItwisted underThevinto see the chaos of battle behind me.
TheBlightressreigned midway up the rocky stairs, her hair of white a mirror to my mother’s, both of their robes black, both of them waging war and hatred, neither conceding to the other’s demands.Neitherof them ever would.Thiswar would rage eternal.
TheBlightwas vicious—sharp thorns jutting from the thick woody trunks as they burst from the ground, growing tall and separating the soldiers who had followed us.Theyfought them off with swords and magic whileBlightbeasts ravaged through the maze, taking the few soldiers we had down quickly with unrelenting rage.
Twoportals from my mother appeared beside us, black and flickering at the edges.Thevinhad not retreated from covering my body on the ground, but added to the commands given by my uncle who lit a third of theBlighton fire.Thetorrent of vines fell to ash as three simulated suns lit the cave, causing even more of theBlightto fall.
“Sae!”Thevinshook me, rousing me from my daze. “Wehave to go!Yourmother has ordered us out!”
Ilooked at the portals of black, understanding where they led.
Thoseportals led to a future of running.
Alife of hiding—doing everything we could to escape theBlightressas she took her final steps to consume all of the isle for herself.
Inmoments of great suffering comes great clarity.
Inmoments of my name whispered on the wind, in a night of birthday check lists, and summers of running through the fields ofFelgrenwith the friendI’dcome to love.
Andin those moments,Iunderstood whatIhad to let go.
Itwas my turn to risk, my turn to deny the futureIsaw laid bare before me where everything stayed the same.
