A Dawn of Onyx (The Sacred Stones, #1)(104)

She had so little time left.

“I am proud of you, Arwen. I always have been, and always will be. Wherever I am.” I buried my face in her neck. There was no pain, no suffering greater than the looks on Leigh and Ryder’s faces.

“My beautiful babies,” she whispered. “Take care of each other. There will be—”

She went limp before she could finish her last words.

Then it was only the sound of our weeping.

My mother was dead.

I had failed her completely.

The sun was peeking through a pastel, clouded sky. The choppy water rocked below us, a calm rhythmic melody.

And my mother was dead.

I could not endure this. I wasn’t strong enough.

Ryder’s crumpled face heaved over her still body, as Leigh just stared in shock. Her simple tears and uneven breaths were the only signs she was even conscious. I wanted to reach for them both. To hold them close to me. Tell them it would be all right. But I could barely even think, let alone speak.

Let alone lie.

Without feeling my legs bend beneath me, I stood. My heart was a dull thump, my mind clear. I might have heard Ryder behind me. Calling to me. But there was no way to tell for sure.

I left the captain’s quarters in a daze and stood at the stern of the ship, facing the shore. Arrows still rained down on the deck, missing those who were ducking for cover, but none pierced my skin. Garnet and Amber’s ships followed us in the uneven waters. The salamanders were retreating from the beach, leaving remains of the carnage behind them. Husks of armor, discarded weapons, sand mottled by blood. The dark skies above were filled with purple clouds amid a sunrise that promised rain. Sky-bound creatures fought, talons and scales clashing among the mist.

A pure, white-hot rage was consuming me. Filling me from my feet to my palms. I vibrated with fury and sorrow.

But not fear.

A torrent of raw, brutal power unleashed from my soul, spilling from my eyes, palms, and heart. I could feel it flowing from me like a dam breaking open. I screamed, unable to control it, my lungs burning with exertion.

White light and a gusting wind as sharp as blades cut across the sea and decimated the soldiers. Amber and Garnet, battalions on the shore and ships at sea alike lit up in golden, hot, shimmering light. Their screams were my fuel. Their suffering my spirit. And I drank and drank and drank.

Raising my arms to the sky, I pulled from the air around me. The rain-tinged ether, the lightning, the clouds. They filled my veins and lungs and eyes. I brought the remaining ghastly winged creatures above me down into the sea one by one until the salt water turned red and the waves churned with their blood. I felt the horror radiate from those around me on the deck. I heard screams, even from those I loved.

But I was powerless to stop it.

I thought of all the innocent citizens of Siren’s Cove. Dead, wounded, without homes. The injustice of it all.

I thought of Leigh and Ryder, without a mother. The horrors they had to witness all for kingly greed. The nights of nightmares and days spent crying that stretched ahead of them.

I thought of Powell. The sickly smell of his clothing. The tight, confined space of his shed. The agony of each lash, both his belt and his words. All that his abuse had cost me. A sheltered, pitiful life.

I thought of my mother. The sweet children she had raised almost entirely alone. The small life she had lived. Her lifelong pain and suffering. Her one shot at health, squandered. How her own daughter, blessed with the gift of healing, had never been able to heal her. And the undignified, excruciating, arbitrary way in which she had died.

And then, I thought of myself. Every exploitation, manipulation, blow, insult. Everything that had shaped my childhood and these past few years. A life wasted in fear, hiding from what was outside, terrified of being alone yet always feeling lonely. Betrayal from the only person who had shown me what anything else could feel like. A prophecy that promised my death.

I finally had a profound understanding of my purpose in this world, and it was to die.

I wailed and purged—

Sputtering the pain outward as it bled from my fingers, my heart, my mouth—

Power shuddered through me, decimating, destroying, unending. I screamed my suffering into the skies and brought down a merciless hail of fire on the enemy soldiers.

The world was too cruel.

Nobody deserved to live to see another day.

I would annihilate them all.

I would—

“You showed extraordinary bravery when you had no hope it would save you.”

“What you call fear is indeed power, and you can wield it for good.”

“I did not want to live in a world without you in it.”

“You are a bright light, Arwen.”

“I have always known what you are and loved you just the same.”

I collapsed on the deck in a heap, sobbing and gasping for breath.





THIRTY-ONE


The next thing I remembered was a cool compress on my forehead. The angry, morning sun beat down on my shoulders and prickled my skin.

“There she is,” said a soft, familiar voice. My eyes were heavy with sleep and sorrow. I blinked up at Mari’s kind, somber face, her mass of red curls looming above me. I sat up slowly, head pounding, and realized we were still on the deck of the ship. By the sun’s place in the sky, I guessed I had been out for hours.

I turned to look out at the sea, letting the salt spray across my face. Peridot was long behind us. There was no land for miles.