When the will to give up and surrender crossed her mind and the pain of her losses paralyzed every part of herself, the only thing that drove Alissa to keep moving was the rage she had been nurturing. Rage that was born from grief and guilt, but that also came from a heart shattered by betrayal and the regret of having been blind to the signs of their downfall.
In the beginning, Alissa was driven by love: love for her daughter, her family, and her people. Love was the force that had pulled her into this mess. Now, however, something else weighed on her willpower, pushing her to dive deeper into the chaos. The only consequence of giving in to this new driving force was the risk of losing herself in the process.
74 DAYS UNTIL DHALIA’S DEATH DATE.
Unfortunately, the mastery of the magic living inside her proved to be harder work as the days passed. Alissa had already learned from experience that referring to the magic as a parasite was not a metaphor. The more her power grew with practice, the more it wished to unleash itself, like a leech. Luckily, practice has also given her awareness of how to better control it. She still felt the pain, but not nearly as strongly as the first time.
The other day, Alissa accidentally broke a flying bird’s wing with her magic. The poor animal was left a mess of feathers and blood as it hit the ground. She stared at the dead animal—one more among the countless she had killed in a lifetime as a huntress. Alissa then understood the true extent of her power, realizing she could just as easily do the same to a person. She contemplated how simple it must be to lose one’s essence when a power this immense was literally in the palm of one’s hand. The rules created long ago to maintain order had never made so much sense.
Mrs. Ilden had said that Alissa would only be able to wield her power when she truly understood who she was. Alissa wasn’t sure if she had reached that goal. All she knew was that the person she once was had died with Freyah, and she was trying to rebuild herself. Her motivations leaned more toward bitterness than genuineness, and that concerned her. She knew how easily this power she carried could infiltrate her mind; it was like a drug.
Meditation had become her key, her best ally, the one thing that helped her establish a clear boundary between her spirit and her power. It was like a mental wall she had crafted herself, preventing the burning magic in her veins from spreading and corrupting her character—that was, if it wasn’t already corrupted.
But magic wasn’t her only focus. Alissa had already learned the pattern of Eldric’s exposure downtown. They would hang him by the arm near Thayan’s statue for twelve hours, guarded by the same number of guards on the seventh day of each week. Every time Alissa saw him, he looked less the man she knew; the light in his eyes and his gentle smile were completely gone, replaced by the pain he endured from the multiple scars covering his body. A body that was alive, hosting a soul that seemed almost entirely gone.
Alissa wondered if it was the torture, Freyah’s death, or believing she had also been murdered that shattered him little by little. It ached her seeing him suffer, but trying to save him with no strategy would be the death of them both. She was in no way skilled enough to take down twelve experienced guards on her own, and she would not drag the teacher any further into her problems.
Every night before sleep, she was left on her own as Mrs. Ilden went back to spend the night at her place. From the inside of the dark cave and the starless night outside, she couldn’t see anything. The sound of breaking twigs and heavy footsteps approaching woke her up. She snapped upright when the cracks became closer. All she had was her dagger, a bag filled with books, and her magic.
She hid under the shadow of the stone wall, her back against the harsh surface, her dagger in hand to put into practice everything Eldric had taught her. She was ready to strike when a strong, tall figure emerged. Alissa ran yelling in the invader’s direction, but the person soon stopped her hand midair with a strong grip on her wrists. They immobilized her with such dexterity that Alissa could very well be a child.
“It’s me,” the woman said.
The sight of the faint violet hair instantly embraced Alissa with the warmth of relief.
“Olga?” she whispered, her hands still shaking. “How did you find me?”
“I followed you from where Eldric is being held. You should be more careful. If the Iron Claws weren’t so stupid, they would have found you already.”
Since harboring fugitives of the Crown, Olga had also been hiding, learning to live in the shadows. There was no official search for her in Heldraine—yet. But King Luwrel was not the forgiving kind, and she had no intention of waiting to find out ifshe was being hunted. She walked inside, dropping the bags she had carried all the way there.
“What are these?” Alissa asked, though the question felt redundant as she immediately recognized her bow, her quiver full of arrows, and Eldric’s sword. She gasped and murmured a prayer.
“I also thought you would like to have this.” Olga handed her a satchel. Most of the light-brown leather was stained with blood.
The delicate scent of green tea wafted from Freyah’s satchel, enveloping the dirty cavern with the power of her friend’s memory. She blinked away tears as she opened it to find several eyepatches in different styles inside. Her voice quivered when emotions insisted on erupting.
“Thank you, Olga. This means a lot to me.”
Olga shifted uncomfortably where she stood. Sentimentality and vulnerability were not something she knew how to process. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Why did you come?”
“Revenge.”
The memory of Breno’s dead body crumbling beside Freyah flashed through Alissa’s mind. She had been so caught up in her own grief that she had forgotten Olga was fighting the same corrosive feelings inside her. Even though she might not know how to demonstrate them, she languished, too.
Alissa knelt to the hard ground of the cave when guilt struck her, tears escaping even when her eyes squeezed shut. “It’s all my fault!” she cried, dropping her face to her hands. “Kill me if you must, but please, I beg of you to save Eldric and my daughter. She’s in Bryniard, you must go and?—”
A sharp smack interrupted her plea, and the burn on her right cheek left an uncomfortable heat lingering. Alissa openedher mouth in shock, her palm gently rubbing the sensitive area that was left stinging by the slap.
“Pathetic,” Olga grunted.
Alissa sucked in a breath, standing at the outrageous offense. “Excuse me?”
“The people you love are either dead or about to die, and you are here crying in self-pity?” Olga bared her teeth. “I expected better from you.”
“People have died, Olga. People have died because of me!”