Confronting Death

  The first thing Ty remembered to do after seeing light again was to breathe. Her lungs were burning, ravenous for air she thought she had not a few seconds ago when she was in front of the Headmistress and—and Nate, who was still beside her.

  “Phew,” chirped a singsong voice. “Right on time.”

  She looked to her left. The Academy gates. Her senior—no, Halle. Halle, who had cursed her.

  Seth and Pia, books in hand, hand in hand.

  Chel. A singular tome against her chest. Silent, still. Watching.

  Why are we at the gates? There was no one around, just like in the courtyard. Lockdown, her mind reminded her. It’s a lockdown drill. She had practiced it during first-year orientation, never thinking that she’d ever be on the other side of the wall.

  …What’s going to happen to me?

  “Get on with it.” Recovering quickly after the Warp, Nate gave one last order before letting go of Ty. He walked up to the tiny Chel, grabbed her tome, then swiftly latched it onto a strap underneath his coat.

  Wasting no time, Halle walked up to Ty to usher her away. “You’ve got some visitors, Tyche,” she laughed lightly with that perpetual smile on her face. “Let’s go see them.”

  Who are they? What are they doing here for? Why? she didn’t ask.

  Theo’s forceful words from earlier returned to her as she watched Nate speak to Chel. Reach into his pocket, take out pieces of spellpaper.

  I am a weapon, not a person.

  You didn’t ask?

  No.

  The tactician turned to Halle and her false smile. “I’m not moving until you tell me who.”

  Seth and Pia, already halfway to the gates, stopped mid-stride and looked back in unison. “Who else but the Ancients?” Seth called. “Now let’s go before she kills off Nate’s afterimages and the bloodbath really starts,” Pia added.

  The Ancients.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Nate put the pieces back after receiving a hesitant, reserved nod from Chel, and then exchanged a few short words before leaning in to kiss her. Then, as if no one else existed, he walked past everyone and back toward the Academy.

  …The Ancients.

  “There’s no use staring; there’s no one else who can do it but him,” called the healer, who started making her way to the gates as well, past the physician with tears running down her face. “Take too long, and who knows? Maybe the devil will take more than just his soul this time.”

  Go back. Back to them. Your people. Your people who abandoned you. Your people who forsook you.

  I can’t do nothing.

  Is that the truth?

  I’m scared.

  She walked. To the others. Past Chel, who stood motionless staring at the Academy; past the gates that Halle easily opened for them from afar, past the twins, who were now holding swords instead of books, past where she had said goodbye to her mother for the last time.

  To the present, midway down the hill to the village. Where she stopped. Where there was a group of hooded individuals.

  There were nine.

  “Blessed Child of Hope,” proclaimed the one at the front, lowering their hood and prostrating themselves to her.

  Their auras. I can see their auras.

  Everyone else in the party followed suit.

  This has to be a dream.

  Seth and Pia came around, reciting words as clear as day. Their swords dragging in the dirt, encircling the group. A warding spell. They were hiding them.

  A hand touched her back.

  Too stunned to do anything but watch the ritual, Ty could only stare as Halle pushed her toward the devout Ancients.

  “They’re here for you, Tyche,” she whispered into her ear, voice beginning to feel as matronly and deceitful as the Earth Mother’s. “They need you to help them.”

  Help them what?

  “They need you to help absolve their sins.”

  How?

  The false Earth Mother did not continue. Instead, she put something into the so-called Child of Hope’s hands. Something cold. Something familiar.

  The child looked down.

  The child looked up.

  She saw the first Ancient, whose eyes were focused on her. Tears were in their eyes. Sorrow. Grief. Pain. Age. A time long past.

  Courage.

  “Deliver us unto the Earth Mother,” they begged. “Return us to the land.”

  Silence.

  One, two, three, four, five, recited Ty. One, two, three, four, five.

  “You can do this,” the false Mother spoke, rubbing her back with her hand, bent down so her whispers reached her ear. Lowering herself to her.

  The child looked down at her sword again and saw it shake. What it was from, she could not tell. Was it her, the potion, or the lies?

  This must not be real.

  “Just one swift movement,” cooed the Matriarch. “Right through the heart.” She tapped her on the chest lightly, where her heart was counting all wrong. “One.”

  Two.

  “Deliver us unto the Earth Mother,” came the old ones’ words again. Except they were now standing. Facing her, hands clasped at their diaphragm, right below the heart. Eyes closed in prayer.

  One, two, three, four.

  Silence.

  The child lifted her immaculate golden rapier. Tried to steady it in front of her, as if going into battle. A simple duel against another classmate.

  The vengeful Matriarch spoke again.

  “This is your purpose. This is why you were born.”

  With her free hand, she steadied her trembling sword, gripping the hilt with both hands.

  The monster she was born to be.

  Courage.

  Cold hands around hers.

  The devil’s whisper.

  “If it makes it easier, you can pretend you’re pricking flowers.”

  Forward.