Page 70 of The Curse of Ophelia

Though I hated myself for it, I would do it again. Because what I did, I did for her. I would do anything for her.

She may never know it, but it was all for her.

Chapter Thirty-One

Ophelia

My legs ached by the time we arrived at the rim of the Spirit Volcano; my throat was raw. That final ten feet stretching above me felt like a mile, but we had come so far—I had come so far—for this moment. We traveled through the Mystique Territory, fought enemies, and brushed blades with death for this.

The moment I had trained for my entire life, the one on which I staked my dreams.

I had fantasized of this since my father first explained a Mystique Warrior’s destiny and placed my first practice sword in my hand. Yet, I suddenly felt a trickle of fear snake through my body. Fear of what that plunge into the unknown held for me and what I could lose in the process.

I gripped my Cursed wrist as doubt spread through me. Completing the Undertaking was my destiny, and I was not scared that I would fail. I had always known I would succeed. But how would that trial change me? What warriors faced in the volcano was rumored to be horrific, aimed at exposing your weaknesses and guiding you through them. My father told tales of warriors who emerged scarred. Damaged. Incapable of overcoming those challenges.

Some did not return at all.

At the onset of this journey, I had thought I would face death in a matter of days. I didn’t think I had anything to lose beyond my life itself, and I was at peace with that risk. Now—I looked at the four people at my back—my eyes had been opened, and I saw how truly wrong I was. How much I would be sacrificing in this dive into ash and flame.

But I didn’t have room for fear of the inevitable.

The stars were barely visible among the smoke and ash, the lack of midnight light pressing on my shoulders like an omen. Much like the snow falling on Malakai’s final day, this felt like a sign of change.

Jezebel stepped forward, uncurling my fingers from my Cursed wrist and wrapping them between her own. Over the rumble of the lava, she said, “I am proud of you, Ophelia. I know I have not always supported you, but you held true in your beliefs. Never forget how far you have come. Trust in your strength, sister, and we will see you on the other side.” With one hand, she raised my Cursed wrist to her lips, kissing the linen wrap I had fastened around it.

I blinked away the tears rising to my eyes. “I love you, Jezzie. I would not be here without you.” The unsaid goodbye hung heavy between us as she squeezed her hand around my wrist.

Jezebel smiled sheepishly as I removed my pack. I dug inside, my fingers brushing the pin from my grandmother that I’d hidden away, until I found the piece of soiled parchment on which I had written my final words to them all. Tucking it into her palm, I curled her fingers around it and dropped my pack at her feet. I would not be permitted to take it with me. Only the weapons strapped to my body were allowed.

Jezebel’s hands shook as she clasped them both around the note, her eyes filling with tears of mixed denial and understanding.

I tugged her to me, dropping my voice to a whisper in her ear. “Carry on my mission, Jez, if I cannot myself. Find him.”

She pulled back and for a moment I thought she’d insist it was impossible, but she nodded, tears streaking down her face now. Squaring her shoulders under the weight of farewell, Jezebel stepped back beside our friends.

Cypherion approached next, wrapping his strong arms around me. “You’re breaking barriers, Ophelia. Give the Spirits hell.”

I laughed into his chest. “If I have even a small piece of your silent strength, I will be fine.”

“Tell the Spirits that we’ll all be there one day,” he affirmed, stepping back with his hands braced on my shoulders. He ducked his head to look me in the eyes. “Once we’re out of this mess, I’m going in.”

“You will be next, Cyph. Mark my words.” If anyone was strong enough to complete the Undertaking, it was Cypherion Kastroff.

He squeezed my shoulder and stepped aside for Santorina to say goodbye. Before she could speak, I opened my mouth. “Thank you, Rina. Thank you for never backing down when I needed to hear a harsh truth. For not placating my decisions, but fighting the wrong ones.”

Her lips quivered as she pulled me to her, her black hair loose from her ponytail and falling around both of us. I allowed one silent tear to drip onto her borrowed leathers before pushing myself back.

“Good luck, Ophelia,” she said. And in those three small words I felt everything she longed to say to me. Her need of me in her life and her distress at what I was about to endure. But she wouldn’t voice any of it, forever the steadfast soul.

Then, it was only Tolek. He stood apart from our friends, hands clasped behind his back, dejected eyes burrowing into mine. With slow steps that prolonged the inevitable, he walked to me. I inspected his eyes, his pallor—no signs of symptoms, yet.

“There’s nothing I can say to convince you to stay? Or to let me go with you?” He sighed, already reading my answer in my eyes.

“You know this is how it must be, Tol.”

His arms curled around me, cradling my head against his chest. I wrapped my own arms around his waist and locked my hands behind him, reluctant to say goodbye. If something did happen to me in there and I truly never saw him again…I couldn’t consider it. I swore that if I survived this, I’d find a cure for this Curse. I would not let it take him. My best friend through it all, something deeper between us. He was my guiding light in the darkness that had consumed my life, the tether tying me to reality, and I refused to be ripped from him.

Tol’s chin rested on my head, and he whispered, “You carry a piece of my heart. Whatever happens in there, that will always be yours.”

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