Page 143 of The Cruel Dawn
I’m still so tired, and I can’t move or speak.
If I can’t speak, how will I speak the word? If I can’t move, how will I punish those who helped bring Vallendor to her end?
One of the daxinea’s tail feathers could save me, but that would kill her. But if I’m now in Anathema, she, too, must be dead. The living do not abide with the dead.
Something heavy lies across my bare stomach. I glance down to see…Cruel Dawn. I didn’t realize that she hadn’t left me—with my body decaying, I just couldn’t feel her presence. This sword…the only gift I have left of my father, proof that someone loved me. Even in Anathema, I must fight.
I need to move.
The daxinea flies closer, lifting her wings, shielding me from some of the rain that tears away my skin. The air warms because she’s near. My bones and muscles no longer ache. I close my eyes, but that light still grows brighter and whiter… I still want to turn my head, but I can’t because I’m dead.
It is my time.
Loosen me from the glades.
Let not the sting
And wonder of death’s blades
Keep me realm-side…
At least I still have my memory of that prayer.
Do I need to use my time here to avenge Vallendor? Is that what’s expected of me? Am I ready to see what’s beyond this realm?
I close the eyes of my mind because I’m ready now. I’m ready with my whole heart.
Maybe my body will help grow a new realm, a place of life and love. Maybe Supreme will take all the best parts of me to seed this place, sprinkle my blood—the Blood of All—to spark new life.
But am I a good seed?
The daxinea pokes me with her crimson beak and bends to peer at me with bright golden eyes.“Arise, Lady.”
But I can’t rise.
The daxinea nudges me again.“I will take you to the healing place.”
But I’m beyond healing now.
The Aetherium moves on, but where are the others?
“You are here for a purpose.”
Tears stream from the corners of my eyes and slip into my ears.
“Come, Lady.”The daxinea prods and pokes and forces me to sit up.
My armor’s gone. Even my bandeau and leather breeches have disintegrated like strips of old skin. In Anathema, one is naked as a newborn again—
My head pounds, filled with tiny explosions.
“Come, Lady.”The daxinea pries my arms apart and drapes one of my arms over her neck.“Come.”
I shift onto my creaky knees as she lifts her wing to roll me onto her back.
With one hand, I clutch Cruel Dawn, and with the other, I hold on to her neck, nestling my face into her soft, shimmering blue-and-gold feathers.
“Where are we going, Lovely?” I whisper.
