I hear my father in my head.
Weak. Pathetic. Worthless.
Maybe he’s right. Here I am, weak and dying. Not even able to protect my own people.
Then I hear something else.
My name. It’s a blade through the screams and voices in my head.
That voice. I would know it anywhere. I wrench my eyes open and there she is, kneeling in front of me the same way I knelt in front of her, in the forest, when she was covered in thorns. I don’t look at her for long. If I do, I might never stop. I might let this entire room fall around us just to stare at my favorite color one last time before I die.
She won’t let me die, apparently.
She grabs my shoulders and yells right into my face, “Get up! People are dying. They need you!”
It’s true. Still, I can’t find the will to keep trying. I’m not strong enough. And I’m tired. So very tired. She should go. She should save herself.
She’s not moving. She’s not running. She’s not leaving me here. Against my will, my gaze slowly raises and meets hers again.
Green. Searing, fiery green, like a world on fire.
Pain strikes me like lightning again, and I growl, my fingers digging into the stone.
Then she says a word I never imagined would leave her lips, not directed toward me, anyway. “Please,” she says.
“Leave,” I say through gritted teeth. I’m not as strong as she thinks I am. If I die ... maybe she won’t. She’s Wildling; she isn’t connected to this land as much as the other realms. Maybe when the island is rubble at the bottom of the sea, some shred of beauty will have survived.
She doesn’t move a muscle.
No. She’s not going anywhere. I can see that in the frustrated curl of her lip. With a growl, she takes my shirt in her fists and shoves me back with surprising strength, snapping me out of my numb trance.
Then she says, “You might be dying, but you’re not dead yet, you miserable wretch, now get up and do something before you allowyour brother’s sacrifice and everything we all have lost to be for nothing.”
My brother. Egan. He was always the better between us. He deserved to live. Not me. Pain lances through me.
Then it’s replaced by something even more powerful. Love.
Even after what he did, I never stopped loving him. Even after centuries, I never forgot my mother. My love for my friends never wavered. My love for this place ... this island that holds all my memories, the best and worst of them, is endless.
I love my land. I love my people. It glows within me in a flame my mother taught me to find. I groan as I reach for it, fumbling through the darkness and pain. I clutch it in my hands and let it shoot through my blood. Using emotions to fuel power is reckless. Dangerous. But I don’t have a choice. Not anymore. Not when this island is breaking around me.
For them—for them I will find my fire. Every time.
Until I am all but extinguished.
I dig my hands into the marble and force out every ounce of power I never should have gotten, every beautiful and painful memory with my family, everything I do and don’t deserve, until the room finally goes still.
Then, all I see is darkness.
“He’s breathing.”
Enya’s arms are wrapped around me, squeezing. Her red hair is in my face. Her heart is racing against my skin.
“I won’t be, if you keep holding me so tightly,” I manage to croak, and her laugh is mixed with a relieved sob. She pulls back and I blink, seeing the red rimming her eyes. She doesn’t cry. Not ever.
“Was it really that close?” I ask.
Even Zed is solemn. “You have no idea. For a moment—for a moment we didn’t think you were breathing.”
