Forced against the wall in a darkened room, I’m beat for disobeying. A hand covers my mouth, and the only sounds come from my tears meeting a hardwood floor…along with his pants.
“No! Don’t! Please–don’t,” I scream at my memories as a deep sob muffles my cry to the mother sworn to protect me–but never did. All this torture within holds a vigorous grip, making it impossible to fight back.
I need Rosie.
An abyss washes over me, taking me under. She alone was the only one willing to save me during a time I didn’t want to be saved–or knew how.
“Rosie,” I whisper, tasting a mixture of tears and blood. “Please, I’m drowning. Death, you can have me, just give her back.” My thoughts provide each failure I’ve experienced. Now too many to count.
As if she hears my plea, or Death accepts this bargain, I feel warm arms embrace me, and every ounce of despair pours out. “Fight it.”Ahopeful voice is dimmed by the raging storm. But I can’t, and a shattering cry almost rips my vocal cords.
“Fight it.”
The twitch of my muscles sends my frail body into a state of convulsions, and my vision fades to black, but Rosie wraps around me, holding tight…
And everything stops.
Chapter 27
A White flag stained with Blood
KYRA
How much timepassed before my eyes open is unknown, but the sky has changed from scarlet to a deep midnight shade, riddled with stars.“Blaiiiise.”His name flutters once again.
What or who the hell is saying that?I become more annoyed the more it happens.
A crisp breeze kisses me, and I rotate my head down, shaking off the intrusion and finding scorched marks etched into the distance.What happened, and what am I leaning against?Blinking and wiping clumps of dried tears from my face, I realize I’m sore, but the pain is tolerable. Reaching for my side reveals newly mended bones. Somewhat mended.
I have use of both arms, and my breathing is better. Why am I not dead? A better question is how was I healed? Or rather, who healed me?
A groan sounds to my right, and I see Ethan perched atop a tree stump, watching with questioning eyes, still holding his spear.Shit.
Bits of my energy feel restored. Why he chose not to kill me while in a vulnerable state, I don’t know, but he won’t get a second chance.
Not at a speed I much care for, but one I can work with, I pressboth hands onto the ground and stand as bark nibbles my back. As I create a shield, two large, crescent blades come forth on each side.
“Stop,” he says, not moving a muscle, and his spear fades. Foolish. Now he is at a disadvantage. “You can put those away. Our fight’s over.” Ethan sighs and turns towards the temple, now a singed pile of rubble.Is it really, or is he waiting to replenish his energy?“Can you come here?” His question reaches me without changing his focus, but I’m not falling for any traps.
“Why should I?”
“Because for once, I’m asking you, Kyra. Not demanding.”
Ethan turns, finally connecting those rich gold and red orbs to my hazel ones. A truce if there ever was one. Him demanding things is what I’m used to, so now when he asks instead, it feels…unsettling. Anxiety births for a pulse, and I wait.What’s your angle?But the moment is gone once he returns his focus towards the temple.
*Sigh* Both shield and crescent blades dissolve, and I reach to dust off the back of my tights. Taking this brief millisecond to summon a metal dagger, I tuck it into my waistband. *Sigh*
Burned leaves crack as I approach. My pace is slow, and I never lose sight of him. “Sit,” he orders, and I frown.
“I’m not a pet. You don’t command me, Ethan.” Rolling my eyes, I add, “Plus, I don’t trust you, so no, I’ll stand.”
Unsatisfied, he waves a hand, growing an identical sitting stump, which sweeps me off my feet, forcing me tosit.Upon doing so, it evolves into a full rocking chair, seat cushion and back pad included.
“Damn it, of course you have Earth magic.” Not the slightest bit surprised, however, annoyed is another thing. I’ve come to accept that Ethan is a bottomless pit, not to mention my grim reaper, but I still haven’t placed a finger on why he is being–cordial.Went from trying to kill me to whatever this is. I’m not falling for it.
“Language, Kyra,” he huffs like I’m being insufferable. “Do you know what tonight is?”
“No.” Why guess when I’ll for sure be wrong?
