Page 159 of The Last One
Sinth is making his eventual death altogether worse.
I kick the Dashmala’s shoulder.
His back is against the earth again.
I stand over him and set my foot on top of his armored chest. I lift the pike he used to kill Veril.
Sinth’s bloodred eyes, so shiny with hate and pride, watch me, as he prepares for a quick and valiant death that his people will write songs about.
No. I refuse to bless him with immediacy. He deserves something less. I drive the pike into his mouth, stopping at the back of his tongue.
I take a step back and another step back, and another, and then I hurl fireball after fireball at the dying Dashmala. They will never find his bones, they will never know he stood here and fought me, they will not write songs about him, and if they do, I will silence those songs forever.
And I’m shaking, and I’m shaking.
48
Someone’s shouting. So far away. Shouting.
And I’m shaking, and I blink—
The sky is dark, but this black smoke is darker as it reels off the flames.
Jadon fills my vision, tears bright in his eyes. “What did you do? Wake up, Kai!”
My breath feels overgrown and rough in my chest. Is Veril alive? Is this all a dream? My eyes skip across the clearing now consumed with flames, past the burning trees, only stopping…
Veril.
I crawl over to my friend, my eyes wet and wild, and shout, “No,” but I’m so hoarse, nothing but harsh air comes out. “No!”
Philia wraps her arms around me.
I shove her away and pull the old man into my arms. His blood seeps from his back and mouth, and I hold him to my chest and force every part of my body to abandon me and to fill him. And I know this is futile, that he is gone from this realm. I don’t scream; I weep. All of me shudders with pain and grief and loss and anger and—
Philia’s behind me again. Her anguish tugs at me.
Jadon hides his sooty face in his hands.
The fire roars as the battalion of soldiers, the emperor’s men, turns into nothing.
My flame does not fuck around. And my tears and hope do not bring Veril back to me.
The Renrian’s face…the enchantment released…wrinkles and crevices and dark spots and scars and wisdom, so much wisdom.
They stole him from Vallendor. They stole him from me, this man I’ve known all my life, the one who taught me Renrian as a child…
Emperor Wake—he and his empire will meet my flame, too. That is my vow.
We stay there, Jadon, Philia, and me, breathing, one of us nevermore. The fire continues to die, the roar slipping into crackles and pops.
“What happened?” Jadon’s voice is weary.
I take a breath and slowly lay the old man back down by my knees. “We were behind you.” My voice sounds smoky and deep. “We were talking, and then he gasped. Such an awful sound. There he was, behind us, the Dashmala.”
“Sinth?” Jadon whispers.
I nod. “He used a pike.”
