Page 117 of The Last One
Yeah, and I think I know that reason. “Why is Elyn sending otherworldly to kill me?”
Sybel gazes at me with squinting, inquisitive eyes. “Is that what she’s doing?” Then her eyes drop to my chest. “Whose armor is that?”
“My Renrian host let me wear it,” I answer. “Hedoesn’t want to see me hurt.”
Her eyebrows lift, and she nods at the sword. “And your weapon? Another gift from this compassionate Renrian?”
I scoff and lift Fury. “No. This is a gift from a Mafordian blacksmith. The same man who this one”—I nod down at the battawhale—“and the others…” The accusation dies on my tongue. I have no idea what happened to Jadon. My anger flags and drifts from rage to dread. What did they do to him? Where did they leave him in this dank, dark cave?
Sybel removes her hand from the battawhale’s chest and places it on his snout.
The battawhale closes his red eyes.
“Is he… Is he dying?” I ask, stepping forward.
“Not yet, but he requires healing.”
“Maybe death is better,” I say. “You claim that he’s the last one of his kind here in Vallendor. How lonely and miserable must that be? No companionship. Living in the dark. Attacking everything that moves—”
“And here you are,” Sybel replies, “lonely and miserable. No companionship. Living in the dark. Attacking everything that moves.” Her gaze smashes into mine. “And if the blacksmith and the Renrian are companions, if they cared so much, why did they send you to this cavern? Didn’t you say that burnu almost killed you? If that’s so, what kind of friends would put your life in danger yet again? Your scars haven’t even aged and here you are, fighting for them?”
“That doesn’t matter,” I say.
“Oh yes, it does,” she counters.
Fresh tears scald my eyes. “Why is this creature more deserving of kindness than me?”
Sybel glares at me with her stony face, the cords of her neck tight. “Compassion is all we’ve shown you. Me, more than anyone. You are still taking breaths because of my compassion. Yet you do nothing but destroy—”
“Thatthingattacked—”
“Kai,” the woman says, holding up a hand, her voice as soft as new grass. “You must seek another path. To protect not only those you consider companions but all of Vallendor. That is why you’re here. Not to do…this.”
The battawhale now glows with amber light. His chest isn’t moving.
“He means you no harm, Kai,” she says, nodding to the creature on the ground. “He fights only to survive, as you do. Men have encroached upon these forests, and he is only defending his kin—he’s the last king of his kind, striving to preserve their lives.”
“But the Renrian’s cottage—”
“Was built scores of years after these creatures were loosed upon Vallendor.”
Is Sybel saying that the predecessors of this battawhale originated from anotherrealm?
I tilt my head. “What does that mean? Loosed? They weren’t born here? You’re telling me that I’m not to defend myself or the peoples of Vallendor but instead defend creatures who aren’t even from this realm? You just told me to protect not only my friends but all of Vallendor. These two things cannot be true at once.”
“Small thinker,” she admonishes.
“Tell me, then! How do I protect Vallendor in that way? Tell me!”
“Kai, this isn’t you.” Sybel’s whisper carries the mass of mountains. “Ultimately, violence is not what you stand for.”
Her words strike deep, igniting a firestorm within me. “Then what in Supreme’s namedoI stand for?” Weary, I hold out my arms. “If I’m not a fighter, then who am I? How do you evenknowme? Can you tell me that instead of telling me what I stand for and that I must repent? Can you tell me who I am and what I’ve done?”
My tears finally break and spill down my face as my body sags with frustration. Weak, I sink to my knees, every piece of me—my heart, my eyes, my breath—heavy and impossible. This dirt has more strength than me. The filthy air has more direction than me. The space between my ears feels bulbous, expanding with every breath I take. I lift my hands to press against my eyes but stop. My hands are filthy, shit-stained, and bloody, and I gag just looking at them.
The battawhale takes a deep, wheezy breath.
“Elyn is justified in hunting for you,” Sybel says, her attention back to the battawhale.
