Page 39 of Storm of Stars
The rotted wood would surely give out, but then again, I’d die if I didn’t try.
I slid under the railing, gritting my teeth as I eased onto the brittle, splintering wood. Every step had to be deliberate, precise. I didn’t reinforce a damn thing up here, a fact I was now regretting. I kept the torch held high above my head, terrified of brushing it against the dry, crackling boards underfoot.
I spared a glance outward and immediately regretted it. The fire had reached the perimeter of my makeshift barrier. It roared and spat in defiance, wicked and bright. To my left and right, across the water, matching infernos danced on matching islands, consuming everything in sight. It looked like the whole world was burning.
I forced myself to look back at the lantern. Focus. Get it done.
I edged forward, one careful step at a time. A board beneath my foot snapped with a loud crack.
I gasped as my leg plunged through the floor. Sharp wood tore into my shin, slicing deep. Pain exploded up my leg. I screamed, the sound ripping free of my raw throat, but somehow, somehow, I kept the torch aloft.
Tears blurred my vision as I hauled myself up, my blood dripping steadily down my ruined leg. Every part of me shook, my nerves fraying, but I staggered the last few feet and shoved the torch into the lantern.
The flame roared to life.
Light burst outward, caught and magnified by the polished mirrors around it. It was bright enough to cut through the heavy smoke, bright enough to be seen even from miles away.
I stumbled back against the railing, nearly collapsing. Through the haze, I spotted the small black eye of a camera mounted in the corner of the tower, its cold lens watching me. Watching and recording every miserable second.
Good. Let them watch.
With what little strength I had left, I hurled the torch out beyond the defensive ring, praying it wouldn’t land inside it. It landed with a thud and sputtered out into darkness beyond my barrier.
And then there was nothing to do but stand there.
Blood poured hot and fast down my leg. My burned arm throbbed with every heartbeat. My lungs, scraped raw and broken, strained with each shallow breath.
I stood there, broken and burning, the tower creaking beneath me, and stared toward the horizon, waiting for the first fragile light of dawn to break.
Waiting to be saved.
My makeshift barrier had held for longer than I'd dared to hope, the fire slowing at the edge, dancing hungrily along the rim of scorched branches and half-burnt wood. But already, itwas beginning to breach, licking over the trench I’d dug like it barely existed.
The horizon began to glow. Pale light bled over the glistening water, the deep purple of night giving way to bruised orange and gold. Dawn was here.
But where was the rescue?
I clung to the railing, scanning the line where sea met sky, heart hammering against my ribs so violently it hurt. I searched desperately for any sign, any shimmer of wings, any flash of silver, but there was nothing. Only the rising sun and the thick columns of smoke billowing from the islands.
Six lanterns burned against the creeping fire, small stars of hope in a sea of smoke and devastation. I sent a silent prayer for the others. Please let my Wildguard be among those six. Please let them have lit their lanterns. Please let them be waiting like I was, perched at the tops of their towers, injured maybe, terrified definitely, but alive.
The minutes dragged on. The sun rose higher, gilding the world in indifferent light. Still, no rescue.
Fury bubbled up inside me, raw and bitter.
“We’ve passed your trial!” I screamed, my voice ripping through the smoke and up toward the camera still mounted in the corner. “We did what you asked!”
My blood, sticky and dark, was pooling around my boots as I gripped the railing, each word soaked in desperation.
Below me, the fire surged forward. The barrier finally gave way completely, and the flames spilled into the clearing. I watched helplessly as they danced toward the tower from every side, embers spinning like vengeful spirits.
“No,” I whispered, my voice cracking as the fire crept closer.
Was this it? Was this the punishment Veritas had planned all along? Was this the cost of rebellion? Would they make me burn, live on camera, to warn the others what disobedience meant?
Would I ever see Jax again? Ava? My Wildguard?
I staggered upright, coughing violently as I pulled the strip of cloth from around my face. The smoke filled my mouth and nose immediately, harsh and searing, but I forced myself to meet the camera’s unblinking gaze.
