The memory of the general’s threats and his mention of Dane Weller’s death sucked her even deeper into guilt, to think that if the man spoke the truth, Lorena would have lost her entire family. Suddenly, another life seemed to be added to the list of deaths she brought onto the people she cared about.
It’s all my fault.
It’s all because of me.
Because of her. Because Freyah followed her outside that wall as she had offered countless times when they were kids. Because Freyah would always follow her, and she should have known better before dragging her out of Bryniard. Because of her naivety in trusting Desi when she was nothing but a stranger. Because of her stubbornness in listening to Eldric’s intuition.
Alissa sat on the cold, hard ground of the hidden cave, her knees held close to her chest. Nothing would make losing Freyah easier. Alissa fathomed it then: why Thayan brought Karine back to life, even when he knew the implications.
She understood it because she wished she had the power to do the same for Freyah, to allow her the decades she still had left to live that had been taken from her so abruptly. To give her the time she had left to fall in love and discover the world. She wished they could find out together how their journey would end and what Bryniard would look like once it was free from this damn curse.
She wished they could become old ladies together, reminiscing over cups of tea and squinting their eyes at the pages of books. She aspired for them to save the world side by side, but apparently, happily ever afters were only made for fairy tales.
In a life marked by loss, Alissa had never been fortunate enough to call her existence easy. Yet despite all the hardships, she had always prayed to the higher powers for a long life. She wanted to live, to experience everything the world had to offer. Her spirit was too free to be confined within walls, so she aspired to see and do everything before her permission to walk this world was revoked.
For the first time, Alissa found herself wishing for a short life. The thought of living another fifty or sixty years filled her with sheer panic. The idea of outliving her friend by so many decades terrified her, knowing that by then, she would have forgotten somuch about Freyah. The details of her face, height, the thickness of her hair, or how bright it once was. She would no longer remember the things that made her who she was: her dimples, her scar, her poetic sense of humor, and her love for all things alive.
And what a crime it would be to let the memory of Freyah Weller—who was half of her soul—fade from her mind. To have a flawed human brain be the sole keeper of all that remained of her, vulnerable to the erosion of time, seemed a cruel injustice. Memories that could so easily be stolen or forgotten, leaving behind only a shadow of the person she once was.
The unfairness of such a precious creature vanishing along with all traces of her felt unbearable. Any proof of Freyah’s life would rely on those who had loved her, those who refused to let her memory fade. Those who would carry the burden of keeping the flame of her story alive in their hearts, never allowing it to be extinguished, even when her body had long been swallowed by the soil of Heldraine.
Alissa would have given her life in her stead in a heartbeat.
As the world around her blurred into a chaotic whirlwind, Alissa sobbed. Her heart was racing, threatening to burst through her chest. Each breath she took felt suffocating, as if the air itself had turned against her. A cold sweat drenched her trembling hands. Her legs were numb.
Waves of terror crashed over her, each one more suffocating than the last. Her mind spun with a thousand panicked thoughts, a cacophony of fears and insecurities swallowing her spirit. She clutched desperately at her chest, as if trying to contain the storm within her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the world into a hazy, indistinct mess. All she wanted was to escape, to flee from the overwhelming onslaught threatening to swallow her being, but nothing would make this right again because there were no second chances in death, therewas no do-over, there was nothing she could do now that her friend was gone.
She was helpless, heartbroken, shattered.
Alissa made a promise to herself to avenge her friend. She could even hear Freyah say, “Revenge is for the weak, Lissa. Forgiveness is the art of liberating ourselves from the resentment of the past.”
Freyah and her stupid poetic wisdom. Forgiveness was definitely not in Alissa’s plans. Desi had taken too much from her. She envisioned her hands clasping the healer’s neck, breaking it with her bare hands to see her body rot.
She should be feeling hopeful and relieved that she finally had the answers she came all this way for, but Desi also took that from her.
The image of Eldric came next. His severed arm falling on the ground, the Iron Claws striking him viciously before he lost consciousness. He looked so different from the loving man who had held her tight at the beach earlier that day. She thought of the kiss they had shared the night before and how, in his arms, she felt shielded from any harm. Alissa was undeniably in love with him, and that was why it hurt so deeply to imagine Eldric being tortured somewhere out there, in pain, in fear, alone.
If this had been in the past, Alissa would have turned away and run to Bryniard to save her daughter. She would have left everything behind before she was caught in the searches of the Iron Claws as they swept the town after her, especially when she was reminded every day of the clock ticking against her efforts. But she couldn’t do that now, not if it meant leaving Eldric in the hands of those men. Not after everything he had done for her and everything he had become to her.
She had lost too much, so the decision to fight for his life wasn’t one Alissa had second-guessed or hesitated over. She would fight for him because she loved him deeply. She wouldfight for him because she hadn’t been given the chance to fight for Freyah.
Chapter 33
Allies
88 DAYS UNTIL DHALIA’S DEATH DATE.
Alissa’s fingers snapped, then twisted and turned, making odd gestures as they wove through the air, grasping at it with clenched fists. When nothing happened, she lifted her arms, waving her hands in exasperation, but that didn’t work either, so she let them down. Her gaze remained focused ahead. She poured so much effort into whatever she decided to do with her hands that her face began to turn a dark shade of red. For some reason, she thought holding her breath would be helpful, but when her lungs finally begged for air and still no flicker of magic appeared, she gave up.
“I can’t do this!” she exclaimed in frustration.
“With that attitude, you certainly cannot,” Mrs. Ilden noted, her arms crossed over her chest. “Try again.”
The teacher had insisted that Alissa begin her practice by trying to summon theKsarenmagic. She had resisted at first—theKsarenpower would be of no use to saving her daughter—but according to Mrs. Ilden, the magic of elements was easier to control, and trying theZeitypower right away was too risky.
After hours of trying to move the water from a glass, Alissa focused on the air around them, attempting to shift its direction north. But the breeze that followed felt more like nature’s mockery than a successful attempt to wieldKsarenpower.
“We’ve been trying this for days, Mrs. Ilden,” she sighed. “You must have been mistaken. I can’t wield magic.”