Chapter 15

Dear Mother,

The sunset is beautiful today. The sky is a blend of cyan, orange, and magenta, with wispy clouds that look like crystals in the sky that were lit by the flame of the sun.

I feel like I owe you an apology for believing in a reality that never existed. I know I couldn’t really help it; why wouldn’t have I believed what Father told me? There’s just this feeling that I should have known. If I admit it to myself, I always knew you were gone. Why wouldn’t you be here with us if you weren’t?

I debated whether I should write this tonight, after all, you’re never going to see this and I will never get to meet you again. Is it weird that I’m grieving someone I never had? Or at least someone I can’t remember? The question I’ve had has finally been answered, and that place that just wondered before is now empty and I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t feel I have the right to grieve your death. It’s been so long, and Jacob lost so much. He knew his mother, loved her deeply, and I’ve lost nothing.

I feel like I should be angry, and part of me is. I should have known about all of this from the start; it’s part of my past and my identity too. I just can’t bring myself to be so, though. I just feel lost and anxious. What more is there that I don’t know? I’m faced with an entire world of things I’ve only seen glimpses of before- and then I didn’t know what I was looking at.

I wonder what my life would have been like if I had known, or even what it would have been like if that day hadn’t happened. Would I have even known about human life? Would you have taught me about it like I’m learning about Hecathian culture now? I would have been a princess? Rather than a nobody who never stayed in one place long enough to have anyone remember my name? That world is so far away from reality that I can’t believe that it could have been real.

Everything is so sudden, and I can’t help but fear that everything I’ve known is going to be gone forever. I’m most afraid because everything already has changed. The only thing that hasn’t is that I’m still the outsider who will never belong, and I’m okay with that. I just wish it would go back to no one knowing who I was too, so I could, at least, do it in peace.

What is the cost of learning the truth?

Everything.

Annamarie (Allenesaia) Olson

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Anna adjusted her grip on the training stick, its surprising weight causing it to waver in her hands despite its small size. She shifted her weight to her right leg; her eyes were glued to the base of the stick where her tired hands gripped the smooth, solid wood. Sucking in a breath, she swung it down to second position, stepping forward with her left foot to hit her mark.

The weight of Jacob’s eyes on her sent heat to her face as she transitioned into third, extremely conscious of not tripping over her own feet as he watched. She was definitely doing something wrong. His narrowed gaze, crossed arms, and general aura of judgement were not helping and sent her nerves crawling up her spine. She pushed down the bubbling frustration in her gut as she leaned into position four, her tired muscles straining after repeating the same steps for nearly hours.

Jacob had knocked on her door three hours after the sun had set, just as everyone else in their building was settling down for bed. For the first thirty minutes, he had her run in circles around the training room before proceeding to lead her through a series of stretches that twisted her into unnatural and nearly painful positions while she gasped to regain her breath. He then launched into what she could only describe as a lecture about the ‘mindset of a warrior,’ which she admittedly had difficulty following as she spent the majority of the time trying not to yawn in his face.

He must have noticed the glazed look in her eyes or her slumping shoulders as she sat on the cold stone floor, as she was startled to attention by a semi-loud shriek that echoed off the panelled walls. His eyes sparkled with mischief when they met hers, and he released a chuckle at his own antics. “Lesson one,” he offered her a hand to help her stand; she took it. “Always pay attention to what your opponent is doing.”

He pulled her up, her eyes flying wide as her feet almost flew off the ground. Once she regained her footing, he turned to grab their supplies. At that point, she had been ready to curl up under her blankets and sleep like any sane person would do at midnight.

Jacob was not sane though, as they were still here, with him critiquing everything she did. In the span of a couple hours, she had learned that the way she stood made it too easy for her to be pushed over, her wrists might as well have been poles with how stiff they were, and her manner of moving made her look tiny and fragile- an easy target. Never mind the fact that she was kind of small-framed and perhaps a little short, and physical education was one of her worst subjects. She didn’t really know what Jacob was expecting from her, after all, he did have eyes that could see she was far from being athletic.

“Stop watching your hands,” his reminder rang around the room as she cut through the transition from four to five. She imagined knocking his knees out from under him, before immediately taking the thought back. The hazy glow of the overhead light along with her heavy eyelids made it feel as though she were pushing her body through water. The large windows around the room were painted black by the complete darkness of the night, with barely a speck of stars visible from her position.

As she pulled her arms up to position six, her eyes flew wide as she felt the outer edge of her shoe caught on the other. She stumbled forward, slamming her foot down to stop herself from faceplanting. She winced at how the noise echoed, the sound vibrating in her ears. Slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder, meeting Jacob’s raised eyebrows. She puffed out a breath, subtly hoping he would recognise just how tired she had become. “This isn’t helping,” she sighed.

He said nothing while his stare held that slightly amused glint in his eyes that only boiled her frustration more.

“We’ve been here for hours,” she told him like he wouldn’t have known that. “And I just feel like I’m waving around a stick.”

“You are waving around a stick,” his matter-of-fact tone brought back that tiny urge she had locked away in her subconscious to smack him with said stick. “It takes more than two hours to master the art of waving around a stick.”

She pursed her lips, unamused. It’s not like anyone can become a dualist in a single night, she mused to herself. Instead of saying so, she nodded and broke eye contact. She waved the stick back and forth in her hand listlessly, listening to the soft whistle it left in its wake. “Okay,” she turned on her heel, resetting to begin once again.

“This time, angle your elbows more. You have noodle arms and you’re not giving yourself the space you could have.” He’d said it before, probably an hour ago. Part of her wondered if he had just wanted to say ‘noodle arms’ again. “Also, stop locking your knees or you’ll really end up flat on your face.”

She shot him a look, one she could only hope conveyed every ounce of irritation and exhaustion that ran through her small frame at that exact moment. Her muscles screamed at her as she took her stance, ignoring how her thighs were shaking from the effort of keeping her upright, and once again, she wondered if she would get the reward of her room’s soft blankets afterwards.

“Turn out your toes more,” his voice cut into her daydream of sleep yet again. “Angle your weight forward. Shifting your weight as you take each step gives your opponent those seconds to catch you off guard.”

She knew this point was important, she really did. This was the third time he had said something of the sort. Her understanding of this fact did not stop her from shooting him another look that told him how little she cared about being there at the immoral hour of two o’clock in the morning. The intrusive urge to smack him with the stick arose once again, paired with the unfortunate thought of how hitting him would actually take effort and energy.

The amused sparkle was back in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a bad attempt at concealing his laughter. He was definitely onto what was left of her thought processes. The part of her that was awake enough to mind her inappropriately violent thoughts shrivelled with guilt and shame while the hazy side took greater pride in his awareness of her silent threats.

“I’ll cut you a deal,” Jacob let a soft laugh escape into the night, a bemused smile lighting up his features. “Three more sets and we can be done for the night.”

“One,” she countered, blinking her eyes so he would notice the redness that was surely there.

“Two,” he leaned forward slightly, his gaze softening. “Final offer, and only if you fix those issues we talked about.”

She narrowed her eyes in an attempt to glare, but only earned another chuckle from him. Why is he always laughing like that? She mused to herself halfheartedly. She somehow knew he wasn’t making fun of her, but it still irked her a little bit.

“Better start over,” he gestured for her to begin. “The longer you wait, the longer we’ll be here.”

Anna tossed her hair away from her face, almost expecting her curls to hit her back like they used to. She bent her knees, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet, holding the stick at the forty-five-degree angle of first position with her right foot forward in preparation to advance. One. Remembering his words, she boxed out her elbows, strengthening the angles in a way that made her feel like a mannequin. She lunged forward, her arms straightening as they carved downward. Two. She felt the twist in her sides as she crossed the stick over to her right. Three. Her wrists were stiff and clumsy as they twisted to cross to her left, her thighs burning with effort with her slightly lowered position. Four. She winced as she clipped her shoulder as it whirled along her side, leaving the ghost of a cut as if it were a real blade. Five. As her arms straightened, she glanced back at Jacob, expecting to see the chiding look he had directed at her for most of the night. Six. Instead, his eyes were unfocused; distant. His brows were furrowed, and his fingers dug into the black sleeves of his shirt. Anna refocused, her arms raising above her head in the prep position. Seven. She sliced downward, her final step hitting the floor with a sense of finality. Eight.

She paused, waiting for Jacob’s criticism, only to be met by passing seconds of silence. She dropped her stance, turning to fully face him. He had barely moved, as though he had been frozen. His face was pale, arms slipped from his tight posture to now dangle helplessly at his sides. His face was slack, but his eyes were ablaze with unadulterated golden light. His lips suddenly moved, forming a single word that Anna had to strain to hear; a name.

“Adara,” Jacob’s broken whisper sent a chill down her spine. Anna was suddenly thrown back into the small office she had been in the first time she had heard that name, spoken with the same broken fear as he did now. She watched as the glow in his eyes fizzled out. He stayed for a couple seconds longer, and she could hear his breath shaking from where she stood, his face twisting with fear as he sought her gaze.

“I have to go,” his voice was soft, barely there. His feet stuttered as he turned; not to the door, but to the small room which stored their armour and weapons.

Anna watched him with wide eyes, suddenly wide awake. He emerged moments later, strapping on his armour as he walked and the deceptive golden rod tightly gripped in his hand. He moved to the main door, only stopping as he seemingly remembered she was there. His intense gold eyes bore down on her from across the room, communicating indiscernible things she couldn’t comprehend.

“Stay inside,” he ordered, urgency coating his words. “Don’t go out until I come back.” He hesitated, his lips twitching as though he were contemplating saying more. “If I’m not back by morning,” he swallowed. “Go to Cameron. Don’t trust anyone else, do you understand?”

Anna blinked at him, her lips parted as dozens of questions swarmed her mind. She nodded anyway, and then he was gone, leaving her alone in the dim light as his footsteps faded into the darkness of the night.

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Amber’s burgundy eyes flicked up from where they had been tracking the tip of her pen glide across paper. She blinked at the clock on the opposite wall, barely registering the position of the hour hand hitting the two as its faint ticking rang loudly through the silent stone building. She stared blankly at it, watching the seconds tick by one at a time.

She swallowed and sucked in a breath, closing her eyes and gripping her pen so tightly in her hand it almost hurt. After a moment, she was able to lower her gaze back to scan over her encoded notes. It was hardly something of genius, as she had purposefully made it easy to crack. It only made it difficult to read as it was English written with the Hecathian alphabet; gibberish to anyone not paying attention, and a wealth of information for anyone who was. Her intended codebreaker would only take seconds to realize what it was, and he would take up the mantel of her investigation.

She lowered the tip of the pen once more, her ears soothed by the scratching as she wrote faster, line by line, pushing back against the exhaustion and pain fighting to overtake her. She grit her teeth, bracing herself against the dark wood, ignoring how her breath hitched and hissed out through her teeth. In her chest, she could feel her heart fluttering, as though she were in the battle of her life. Her insides burned.

Pain was an old friend; it was only fitting that it would accompany her on what was likely her last living day. She had to admit: poisoning was the last way she saw him finally pinning her down, yet here she was. He always enjoyed the more violent deaths, but she supposed it would have been difficult to ambush her in a fortress. It was a shame she didn’t plan for this occasion.

She continued scribbling her thoughts, a crashing wave of nausea wracking her body as she hunched over further in her chair, leaving her face only inches from where ink still dried. She could feel her hands shaking, her pen strokes slipping as she covered more of the page. She had to finish soon. It wouldn’t be long before she wouldn’t be able to make the trip. One hand reached back to swoop her loose hair over one shoulder, her fingers brushing against her damp, sweaty skin.

Was it really him who would do this to her? Amber found herself thinking as she wrote her suspicions. Or is it the one I’ve been hunting? The whispers of someone sneaking past guards to leave the grounds had not slipped her notice. The ever-present fear that more would follow the ways of the Yakeillen traitors arose once again. But why target me? She paused, blinking as her eyes refused to focus. She shook her head clear, wincing at her effort of concentrating harder on the page.

Since she had begun her fight, she knew that she could easily be the next one to fall. Documenting everything she knew, her suspicions, and the events of the game of power around her, was all she had left after they had all refused to listen to her. She had thought she was ready after being surrounded by death and consumed by grief.

She had been wrong. Now facing death, she was more afraid than she had ever been. Not for herself though, as death held a promise of peace she had never known. She feared leaving Elaine alone in their cruel world. She feared no one would take the neurotic ramblings of a teenager any more seriously than they did her voice. Most of all, she feared who would stand up for those who no longer had voices, and how many more would be silenced before justice would be won.

The pen tumbled from her hand, smacking down onto the page with a thud that signaled her finality. She watched it roll off the edge, circling around to teeter on the edge of the desk before falling to the floor below. She sat for a moment, glassy eyes darting about the words scrawled before her.

Then she whirled out of her seat, snapping her journal closed and tucking it under her arm. Stumbling forward, she left her room. Her footsteps echoed off the stone walls, even as she carefully made it down the flight of stairs between her and the front door.

She exploded out into the night, her feet dragging as she trudged the path she knew by heart to her former home. Above her, the half-moon winked at her from between the branches, granting her company on her journey. Her legs shook from the effort of holding her up, her feet buckling to the side. Her shoulder slammed into a tree, saving her from falling, but sending a shockwave through her that released a soft cry from her lips.

She could see light ahead, dim, but streaming out through the familiar windows of the training room. She attempted to push one of her feet forward, still bracing her weight against the trunk. Her muscles screamed in protest, and another wave of pain sent a shock of electricity through her spine. She stared helplessly ahead, so close, yet too far.

She could feel her mind fogging over, darkness at the edge of her vision. She closed her eyes, concentrating what little consciousness she had left on the one person capable of hearing her. She knew where he was; there was only one person in that building crazy enough to be training in the dead of night.

She silently screamed for him to hear her as her breath grew more labored, her legs giving way to let her sink down onto the moist soil beneath her. It was ironic, she thought, for him to be her last hope. She could now only hope they would listen.

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Ryan woke to frantic pounding on his door, powerful enough for the heavy wood to shake on its hinges. He bolted upright, blinking his blurred eyes out into the pitch darkness. Only a second passed by before the rattling began again, and now he had no doubt who was on the other side.

He pushed himself out into the room, his feet slapping against the wooden flooring as he rushed to silence the urgent demand. He threw open the door to see a surprisingly unharmed Jacob, his eyes wide with horror. He was wearing part of his armor, which was normal for one of his late-night visits, but the way he shifted on his feet set off alarm bells in Ryan’s sleep-addled brain.

“Come with me,” Jacob spat out, his piercing stare pleaded with him. “Now.”

“What do I need?” Ryan was now wide awake. Jacob had been training the new girl earlier; had things gone awry and she skewered herself?

Jacob’s eyes darted for a moment, his mouth opening with no sound before he landed on: “I don’t know.”

Ryan gestured for him to lead the way, following him into the common area in his nightwear, poised to follow the path to the training room. His eyes went wide when he continued forward instead, leading them out into the night and onto the forested path. They turned off the main route, to a narrower path to the right. They had only traveled a few meters before Jacob swooped down over a dark heap half-hidden by the undergrowth.

His heart contracted when he realized that heap was a person, and his breath just about left him completely when he saw her face. Amber was pale- too pale. Her arms were limp at her sides, legs bent before her while the rest of her body slumped listlessly against a tree. Chunks of her hair were caught on the rough texture of the trunk, leaving bits to hang down over her head. Her eyes were closed and her face slack. If it weren’t for her shallow breathing, Ryan would have assumed her to be dead.

She might be if he didn’t act quickly. He rushed to Jacob’s side, instantly taking her wrist to check her pulse. He could feel it fluttering rapidly under his fingers, her skin hot and clammy to the touch. “What happened to her?” He checked over her figure, looking for any external indication of what could be causing this. When he found none, he reached to pull back her eyelids, noting her wide-blown pupils blacking out her already dark eyes.

“I don’t know,” his companion’s voice was hardly a whisper, unable to take his eyes off of his sister’s still form. “She’s only been here for a few minutes. I heard her calling for me, but my connection cut off. She was like this when I found her.”

“We need to get her to the medical center,” Ryan glanced over at him. “There’s not much I can do out here without knowing what’s wrong.” He placed his hand on his friend’s arm to ground him back to reality. “She’s alive,” he told him once they made eye contact. “For now. I’m going to need your help to safely move her. Can you do that for me?”

Jacob gave a shaky nod and rose to his feet. It was then that Ryan noticed the small book lying untouched by Amber’s side. He lifted it, hardly glancing at it before tucking it into the pocket in his robe. If it was important, they might need it later. He then braced an arm under her knees, waiting for Jacob to adjust his grip under her arms to begin lifting. His other arm went to brace her hips, and together, they hoisted her up.

They set a pace to the main trail, careful of their footing. Moonlight lit their way, the sound of their breathing, and the rustle of long dead leaves from last fall under their feet filled the air, occasionally broken by the snap of a fallen twig. Ryan was still barefooted, internally wincing at the small rocks and sticks underfoot and the mud sticking to him as they went. He just grit his teeth and continued on, adjusting his grip on Amber as he walked, nearly sideways from his positioning.

Behind him, he knew Jacob was only half present, his eyes glazed over as he stared unseeing at the path ahead of them. His hold on his older sister was firm to keep her from falling, her head propped onto his shoulder. Ryan got the sense that he felt as though touching her was forbidden, as afraid for her as he was, he ensured that he looped his arms around her rather than using his hands at all. Mixed with his shock and worry were mannerisms of carrying a lit dynamite stick. If they were in any less a dire situation, Ryan might have had a laugh at his predicament of having to carry around the sister who wanted him dead. 

Ryan breathed a sigh of relief when the large clearing came into view. It was still too early for anyone besides border guards to be about, meaning no prying eyes or potential run-ins with Jacob’s father.

His arms were beginning to ache under Amber’s weight; luckily, their quick pace would have them at the door to the medical facility within minutes. Without his hands freed, Ryan turned and slammed his shoulder onto the door to announce their presence. Seconds passed, long and silent, and Ryan could only look back at his friends with bated breath.

It was Danielle who opened the door, her gray eyes flying wide at the sight before her. The girl ushered them inside, directing them to the nearest cot in the otherwise empty center. They deposited her, rather haphazardly, down onto the flat surface, her head lolling back until Jacob reached to support her neck.

“I need a blood draw,” Ryan ordered as he reached behind the cot to attach their vital monitoring devices. “Check for any toxins that might be causing this.” He moved to adjust her position, elevating her head slightly as he checked it over for any impact he may have missed in the dark. He only found light scrapes beneath her hair, likely from the tree.

He grabbed the small flashlight on the side table next to him, once again checking her eyes. There was no response, even under the direct light. Ryan released a rushed breath, placing the light back as Danielle appeared beside him. He straightened Amber’s arm, feeling the jumping tremors in her otherwise still muscles as he held it tight for the needle to enter smoothly.

Her breathing was still shallow, but there was a tiny twitch in her cheeks as Danielle pulled the needle back. Ryan released a mental sigh of relief at the confirmation that she was not entirely unresponsive. To be safe, he hooked her up to oxygen. He rounded the cot, barely glancing at Jacob who still stood, arms hanging uselessly at his sides. “Hold her arm,” he directed him.

He scrambled into motion, his hands hovering over her arm for a split second before he replicated Ryan’s earlier grip on the opposite side. Jacob’s golden eyes sought his, asking silent questions that Ryan couldn’t begin to answer.

He slipped the IV into her vein, once again noting Amber’s flinch of discomfort, though there was still no sign of her regaining consciousness. Ryan stepped back, his lips pursed as he checked her over again, listening to the fast, but steady beeping of the heart monitor.

Jacob was still holding onto her, his face ashen and twisted with unconcealed despair. He slowly lowered himself down onto his knees at her side, bowing his head down to press against her hand. “Will she be okay?” His muffled voice was cracked but rang out steadily as his friend tried to keep his composure.

“I don’t know,” Ryan breathed out, watching him gently press his sister’s hand in his.

Jacob raised his head, his glassy eyes meeting his. “What do we do?”

“We wait.”