Sylph made it out, along with her new husband. I recognize a few other faces of girls I knew in Life Skills. Melkin’s wife made it out too. I’m grateful, even though the sight of her fills me with suffocating dread.
When those who hate us leave to seek asylum in another city-state, I don’t try to stop them. Neither does Logan.
The rest of them elect Logan as their new leader. Some of them simply because he rescued them by blowing up the gate. But most of them want him as their leader because he publicly stood up to the Commander at the Claiming ceremony, an unprecedented act of courage he then trumped by escaping from the dungeon.
There’s talk of rebuilding elsewhere. Quinn and Willow join our group, and Willow quickly finds a kindred spirit in Nola. As Drake, Logan, Willow, and Nola organize teams of survivors to search the ruins for salvageable goods, I slip away and enter what’s left of Baalboden.
The city is a carcass of bones and ash. Hollowed out. Every vestige of life burned into silence.
We understand each other.
The magnitude of what I’ve caused is a crushing weight I refuse to lift. Let it consume me. Let it drive me to my knees. It’s less than I deserve.
I leave the rubble of the gate behind and walk the charred, twisted streets until I reach the ruins of the home I shared with Dad. The home where Logan first joined us as an apprentice. Where Oliver visited regularly with sticky buns and fairy tales.
The ash clings to me as I sink down to sit where our kitchen table used to be. If I close my eyes, it can all go back to the way it used to be. If I close my eyes, I can see Dad, his gray eyes shining with pride as I find my first target with a bow and arrow. Oliver opening his arms wide for me as he walks up to the front door.
If I close my eyes, I’m still whole.
But I can’t close my eyes. I don’t dare. I need to see this. To sear it into my brain so I never forget. When seeing isn’t enough, I dig my fingers into the ash and let the silky texture cling to me like a scar I’ll wear for the rest of my life.
“Rachel.”
Logan drops down into the ash beside me and grabs a handful too.
“This is where I signed a contract with Jared. I had to work hard to look only at the paper and not get caught staring at his beautiful daughter.” He looks to the right. “And that’s where I suffered my first defeat in combat at the hands of a girl two years younger than me. You knocked my feet out from under me. I never saw it coming, because it never occurred to me a girl would know how to fight.”
I follow his gaze and see us. Fighting. Laughing. Living.
There’s no life here now.
“Someone else wanted this to happen. Someone else pushed the controls that sent the Cursed One into the city. It wasn’t your fault,” he says, and the silence within me shivers like pieces of broken glass.
“I started it all. Don’t you see that? I tried to climb over the Wall and got caught, and look at the result.” I fling my hand to encompass the blackened ruins around us. The wind tugs gently at the ash I hold and it floats away like bits of silver.
“No.” He scoots closer to me, and takes my chin in between his thumb and forefinger. “You wouldn’t have tried to get over the Wall if I’d told you what I was working on. I thought I was protecting you, but I should’ve trusted you.”
His eyes are steady, and a world of pain and resolve lives inside them.
“But beyond all that, none of this would’ve happened if the Commander hadn’t tried to steal something that didn’t belong to him. We aren’t done, Rachel. He needs to be found and stopped. The other city-states need to be warned about the weapons Rowansmark has. If there is a master device out there capable of controlling the Cursed One, we need to find and destroy it. And there are people depending on us for leadership.” He looks over his shoulder.
I follow his gaze and see Sylph, her face resolute, a newfound gravity carved into her by everything she’s lost. Beside her, Smithson stands tall and steady, his arm curved around her shoulders. Nola, Willow, and Quinn are next to him, looking fierce and ready. Drake and Thom stand slightly behind them, their eyes trained on me, while behind them teams of survivors comb the wreckage for anything we can use to start over. I look at them and realize I see something I never thought I’d see again.
Hope.
They’re broken, but they aren’t beaten. They want to live. Not just breathe in and out, watching one day fade into the next. They want to live.
And they want us to help them do it.
I’m so tired. I want to lie down, sink beneath the ashes, let them slide gently into my lungs and carry me to Dad and Oliver. I want to, but I can’t. Because Logan is right. We have to find the Commander. Warn the other leaders. And bring whoever invented the hellish device that started all of this to his knees.
My debts have yet to be paid.
Tugging at the leather pouch I wear, I let the ashes I hold trickle inside to become one with the dirt from my father’s grave. Logan reaches for me, and together we stand and walk toward the group waiting for us. Linking arms with Sylph on one side and Logan on the other, I lean my head against him in the ruins of what once was as the sun sets one last time on Baalboden.
When those who hate us leave to seek asylum in another city-state, I don’t try to stop them. Neither does Logan.
The rest of them elect Logan as their new leader. Some of them simply because he rescued them by blowing up the gate. But most of them want him as their leader because he publicly stood up to the Commander at the Claiming ceremony, an unprecedented act of courage he then trumped by escaping from the dungeon.
There’s talk of rebuilding elsewhere. Quinn and Willow join our group, and Willow quickly finds a kindred spirit in Nola. As Drake, Logan, Willow, and Nola organize teams of survivors to search the ruins for salvageable goods, I slip away and enter what’s left of Baalboden.
The city is a carcass of bones and ash. Hollowed out. Every vestige of life burned into silence.
We understand each other.
The magnitude of what I’ve caused is a crushing weight I refuse to lift. Let it consume me. Let it drive me to my knees. It’s less than I deserve.
I leave the rubble of the gate behind and walk the charred, twisted streets until I reach the ruins of the home I shared with Dad. The home where Logan first joined us as an apprentice. Where Oliver visited regularly with sticky buns and fairy tales.
The ash clings to me as I sink down to sit where our kitchen table used to be. If I close my eyes, it can all go back to the way it used to be. If I close my eyes, I can see Dad, his gray eyes shining with pride as I find my first target with a bow and arrow. Oliver opening his arms wide for me as he walks up to the front door.
If I close my eyes, I’m still whole.
But I can’t close my eyes. I don’t dare. I need to see this. To sear it into my brain so I never forget. When seeing isn’t enough, I dig my fingers into the ash and let the silky texture cling to me like a scar I’ll wear for the rest of my life.
“Rachel.”
Logan drops down into the ash beside me and grabs a handful too.
“This is where I signed a contract with Jared. I had to work hard to look only at the paper and not get caught staring at his beautiful daughter.” He looks to the right. “And that’s where I suffered my first defeat in combat at the hands of a girl two years younger than me. You knocked my feet out from under me. I never saw it coming, because it never occurred to me a girl would know how to fight.”
I follow his gaze and see us. Fighting. Laughing. Living.
There’s no life here now.
“Someone else wanted this to happen. Someone else pushed the controls that sent the Cursed One into the city. It wasn’t your fault,” he says, and the silence within me shivers like pieces of broken glass.
“I started it all. Don’t you see that? I tried to climb over the Wall and got caught, and look at the result.” I fling my hand to encompass the blackened ruins around us. The wind tugs gently at the ash I hold and it floats away like bits of silver.
“No.” He scoots closer to me, and takes my chin in between his thumb and forefinger. “You wouldn’t have tried to get over the Wall if I’d told you what I was working on. I thought I was protecting you, but I should’ve trusted you.”
His eyes are steady, and a world of pain and resolve lives inside them.
“But beyond all that, none of this would’ve happened if the Commander hadn’t tried to steal something that didn’t belong to him. We aren’t done, Rachel. He needs to be found and stopped. The other city-states need to be warned about the weapons Rowansmark has. If there is a master device out there capable of controlling the Cursed One, we need to find and destroy it. And there are people depending on us for leadership.” He looks over his shoulder.
I follow his gaze and see Sylph, her face resolute, a newfound gravity carved into her by everything she’s lost. Beside her, Smithson stands tall and steady, his arm curved around her shoulders. Nola, Willow, and Quinn are next to him, looking fierce and ready. Drake and Thom stand slightly behind them, their eyes trained on me, while behind them teams of survivors comb the wreckage for anything we can use to start over. I look at them and realize I see something I never thought I’d see again.
Hope.
They’re broken, but they aren’t beaten. They want to live. Not just breathe in and out, watching one day fade into the next. They want to live.
And they want us to help them do it.
I’m so tired. I want to lie down, sink beneath the ashes, let them slide gently into my lungs and carry me to Dad and Oliver. I want to, but I can’t. Because Logan is right. We have to find the Commander. Warn the other leaders. And bring whoever invented the hellish device that started all of this to his knees.
My debts have yet to be paid.
Tugging at the leather pouch I wear, I let the ashes I hold trickle inside to become one with the dirt from my father’s grave. Logan reaches for me, and together we stand and walk toward the group waiting for us. Linking arms with Sylph on one side and Logan on the other, I lean my head against him in the ruins of what once was as the sun sets one last time on Baalboden.
