By the time one of the knights threw her into a cell, Isla’s mind had been melted down. The wall she had formed in her head was only barely holding steady. She could hardly find the strength to cry, let alone catch herself, and her head smacked against the cold, damp stone.
She hadn’t realized how much she had relied on those ties to Grim and Oro to keep her strong, until they were gone.
She heard a rasped laugh. “I told you, you are an idiot.”
Lark. Isla didn’t have the energy to even look at her. Barely found the voice to grind out, “Wow. You really can’t be killed.” Her ancestor had been in a hundred ribbons the last time she saw her.
Judging by the rattling, wheezing sound of Lark’s breathing, she hadn’t been left unaffected. “In this state, I wish I could be.”
Isla should be reveling in Lark’s suffering, after everything she had done to her and her world. But here, against Cronan...they were almost allies, aligned in their hatred of him.
Besides, even if Isla knew how to kill Lark and absorb her power, she wasn’t sure how to use her abilities to bring back all the people she had killed. The people Lark had resurrected on her world had turned into shells of themselves, monsters intent on destruction. Here, it was supposed to be possible to truly bring someone back to life, exactly as they were. But was that before Cronan’s ruination?
She wasn’t sure of anything other than her own uncertainty.
Isla dragged herself painfully into a sitting position against the wall. It hurt to think. To breathe. When she finally saw Lark, slumped against the opposite corner, hidden in shadows, she nearly gasped.
Her ancestor had barely stitched herself together. She was gaping in several places, her abdomen barely containing her innards. Her ribs were visible through her patchworked skin, the broken bones almost glowing in the darkness. Her face was just a cruel mosaic of blood and flesh. He had done this to her. Without a thought.
Cronan was the most powerful person Isla had ever met...but everyone had a weakness. And Lark knew him better than most.
There is a key to every lock.
“What happened?” Isla asked. “Between you and Cronan. You loved him.”
Lark scowled as best she could. “And look where that got me.”
Even before this new tortured existence Cronan had inflicted upon Lark, Isla knew that they had a long history of betrayals. He had buried her beneath Nightshade for centuries and siphoned her for power.
“We need to work together to defeat him,” Isla said, trying to reason with her. Not that she was sure Lark could be reasoned with. “That’s the only chance we have.”
Lark gave her a withering look, clearly not moved by Isla’s words. “I don’t care that you’re of my line. If I had the strength, I’d kill you right now.”
“I know,” Isla said. “If I knew how to kill you, I would too.”
Lark just stared up at the ceiling. Isla didn’t think she would say anything else, but after nothing but the sound of something dripping and the scuttling of small vermin between them, she whispered, “He wasn’t always like this.”
Isla couldn’t imagine him any other way. His eyes were fathomless, just an immortal blankness.
Lark must have sensed her doubt. “He was always cold, yes, but there was something buried below. I could feel it. There was life, in him. Light.”
Isla blinked at her ancestor. It was hard to believe thatLarkwas ever anything but merciless and cruel. She had tried to end her world to make a new one. She had tried to killeveryone. “You killed hundreds. Wren. Remlar. You are the opposite of light and life.”
“So narrow-minded.” Lark scoffed. “Nature iscruel. Life cannot exist without death. It is an endless, inevitable cycle.” She smirked. “You think being Wildling is only about creation. Butallliving things must die, in order to create more. Life is built on bones and ashes. A new world grows from the ruins of an old one. Death has always been a natural process.”
“So that’s what it was?” Isla asked, trying her best to bury her rage. “You both decided you wanted to create a world together?”
Lark gazed at her for a long while. “I knew Horus first. He was like you...he wanted only the easy part of creation. He didn’t realize that death was necessary to make something new. I was a worldbuilder. I could create entire lands, in realms that already existed. We dreamed of somewhere else, somewhere we could make the rules...Then, there was Cronan. And he understood the sacrifices that have to be made. He was willing to do what Horus was not. Together...the three of us could create something new.”
Lark sighed heavily. “Of course, I didn’t think Cronan would be the end of this place. What I didn’t know, was that he had his own reasons for wanting to create Lightlark. The world we went to already existed. It was a prison between galaxies. There was little there...so I created the island. The life. He used both of us to get to that world, to find a power he had already been searching for...” Her eyes slipped to Isla’s neck. “That diamond...you have no idea what you wear around your neck.”
Isla swallowed, remembering how Cronan had looked at it—hungrily, like it was truly the key to everything. “Then tell me.”
Maybe if Isla knew what it was Cronan was after—
Lark laughed. It was a sputtering, painful sound. “You think there’s still hope. You think you could possibly defeat him.” She smiled humorlessly. “Foolish, foolish girl. You’re going to give him everything he ever wanted. You are nothing but a pawn. It’s all you’ve ever been...and all you ever will be.”
GRIM
