Page 7 of A War of Embers

“A pawn.” I agree. “With no knowledge of how I became one.”

“Yet you’ve never thought about seeking death from another,” he points out. “Why not flee to another District? Why now?”

Slowly I run my fingers in a figure eight over the grain of the counter. “I do not blink at death any longer when I inflict it. I don’t react as I should.”

“According to your rules or societies? We are a violent population on a normal day. Mortals can be conniving fools and quick to rush judgment. We destroy our lives so easily. It’s why others search for eternal grace; to ease their fears. It is when mortals fear, they react. So I’ll ask again, are you not reacting the way you want or the way society would?”

“Both.”

“And because of this you are seeking to end your cycle through drastic means?”

I scoff at his belittling tone. “The other gods in outside Districts rule in fear of Lady Gwenyth and you know it. She is their leader. My options are limited on what I can do. If I run to another District, I’ll be returned here. Killing a god is next to impossible and she would merely keep me in a mindless role as one of her plethora of assassins than grant me the death I want. It leaves me little options. Either I accept this life for what it is and do nothing about it or I find a way to die on my terms. Death shouldn’t be a thing to bargain over, yet my life has been reduced to doing exactly that. What choices do I really have left, Franklin? Because from where I’m standing, there are none.”

“So you’ll choose something reckless like the Blood Witch to end your problems.”

Without hesitation, I answer, “Yes.”

For a long moment, he simply stares at me. The lines on his haggard face begin to deepen as the reality of my words take hold. I have chosen to do this. I will do it to escape this hell I’m trapped in. Finally he sighs. “So, when will you go?”

I bite the inside of my cheek while I think about it. Every minute I waste here is another minute before a soul inside of me can be activated. The longer I continue debating about this, the more I’ll go back and forth on whether to believe I can end this game of killing eventually or end it once and for all. But the longer I stay, the longer the goddess’ hooks embed in my skin, dragging me further away from the prospect of the Blood Sea.

Suddenly this feels like a now or never situation. Either I’m willing to change my destiny or accept my place in life. My fingers grip the bar, tightening until they lose their color, but the pain never registers telling me to let go.

Fuck it, this is my choice to make.

Might as well go full throttle.

“When I’m ready,” I declare but inside the adrenaline begins to thrum in my veins. Battle ready, my mind starts whirling with ideas of what may happen once my plan is in motion. Things could turn out horrifically or I could find myself exactly where I need to be. All I have to do is make a decision on when.

Now.

Taking a step away from the bar, I watch my hands steady, not showing my internal struggle to keep from sprinting away. “I’ll see you around.”

Franklin nods, recognizing the liar in me for what I am. There’s no hiding my intentions to him, so I don’t bother. Placing my coins on the counter, I offer him a smirk as I tug the hood of my jacket back over my face and head towards the exit.

Outside in the heavy downpour, any mortal walking by wouldn’t blink twice at my unhurried exit from the bar. No one notices the way I saunter without care in a stroll through the storm ravaging the skies towards the edge of Cinnabar. Where the iron railing keeping people away from their fate meets the unforgiving sea.

There’s no one around as I grip the cool, slick railing in my hands. The steady, rapid pulse beating in my chest is almost soothing as I hook my foot in the rung and swing my leg over. For a brief moment, the wind stops screaming, the rain lightens to a mist, and the anticipation of the thunder vibrates my bones.

Something beyond this life is waiting for me. All I have to do is jump.

Then the whisper of my name on the wind calls me, drawing me out to sea. I drop my other foot onto the rung on the other side, balancing my hands on the iron to keep myself from falling. Beneath me, the sea eases its rough waters, like it knows my plans.

Easing around, I turn my back to the water, staring out at the town I was born in. The one I was meant to die in. To the twinkling lights of the city and the reddish tinge to the dirt lining the walkways, the essence of Cinnabar.

The adrenaline leaks out of my system slowly, filling me with a peacefulness unbeknown before now. Then, with my head tilted back towards the sky, I push off the railing and fall backwards into the sea. The wind picks back up, the sea raging once again. My name screaming in the wind as the entirety of my life slips away in one moment. It takes ten years or fourteen seconds, I don’t know which, before I hit the icy water. This is it, the start to my new path.

It’s time to find my death.

Air is ripped from my lungs. There’s a moment when panic mixes with the peaceful tranquility filling my mind as my body starts to debate fight or flight. Demand my limbs push upwards for air or accept the darkness? Choices, choices.

The option is stolen from me as my ears pop, my body seems to tumble in the murky water when suddenly I land hard on damp sand in a misty area. Air burns my lungs as I drag in a breath, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

I’m alive.

My body is freezing as if I waded in the sea for too long. Hair soaking and clinging to my face while my clothes mold to my body, sealing the icy feeling into my bones. Even my veins on my hands are muted, not glowing like usual.

My gaze tilts back and I watch as the sky ripple violently. It takes a moment for my eyes to fully accept what I’m seeing.

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