Celeste rolled her eyes. When the Starling lost a game of cards, fireworks went off in her room, glittering ribbons that fell to sparkling ashes.
“I’m sure creating flowers is much more impressive,” Celeste said. “You can paint the world with color. Isn’t that exciting?”
As Isla watched, she could remember how Celeste’s words made her chest tighten.
“Okay, I’m done. Go look at yourself,” she said, sounding proud.
Isla got up and walked over to Celeste’s mirror. She looked at her reflection, studying the intricate design her friend had made. One large braid that circled her head, where her crown should be. Celeste had added flecks of stars, brightening the dark brown strands.
It was one of Celeste’s favorite things to do, whenever Isla came over. Isla always had to undo it before going back to her realm, of course. But it was fun while it lasted.
Celeste’s face fell as she noticed Isla’s frown. “You don’t like it.”
Isla blinked and forced a smile. “No, no. I love it.”
“Then what’s wrong?” Celeste demanded.
This was the moment when Isla had decided to trust Celeste with her biggest secret. After all, she knew her. She knew her favorite games. She knew when she’d had a bad day, because her room would be slightly messy. She knew that her friend spent hours in her own markets, in search of rare relics. She knew that, as assured and confident as the Starling was, she had needed Isla too.
Her secret affected her entire realm, but maybe she didn’t have to carry the weight of it alone. “Can I tell you something? And do you promise...do you promise you’ll never tell anyone?”
Celeste nodded, taking Isla’s hands. “You’re my best friend. You can tell me anything.”
It took minutes to even get the words out, but the Starling was patient. Her eyes remained locked on Isla’s, steady with strength. And some of that strength seeped into her. It made the truth finally spill from her lips. “I don’t have power,” she said.
Celeste just blinked, confused. “What do you—”
Isla took a deep breath and said, “I can’t wield nature. I’ve never been able to. There’s...there’s nothing there. I’ve tried. And...and I don’t have the curse either.”
Celeste bit the inside of her lip in thought.
Isla smiled weakly, tears sliding down her cheeks. “It means I don’t really have a shot at the Centennial. And that’s fine, because...because maybe if my death breaks the curses, then you won’t die.” It had been looming over her that her best friend was just a few short years away from her death. This Centennial was Celeste’s only chance to live.
At that, Celeste’s face hardened. Her grip on Isla’s hands tightened. “No,” she said. “I refuse. You are not going to die at the Centennial. And I’m not dying either.” She pulled Isla into a crushing embrace. “We’re going to come up with a plan. Together. You’re not alone. You have me, forever,” she said.
And Isla believed her.
“How foolish...” Cronan said, his voice echoing through her head. “You can never trust anyone,” he said. “Not unless you control them.”
One minute, Isla was watching herself holding her best friend, the next, he had flipped to her last memory with Celeste—Isla stabbing her right in the heart. He hummed again.
“Good,” he said, voice echoing. “But too late. You should’ve killed herbeforeshe hurt you. Anything can be broken. Especially friendships.” He said the word like it was stupid.
Isla hadn’t let herself remember how much Celeste’s friendship had meant to her. Like so many other things in her life, she had pushed it down. But seeing it all play out before her made her heart feel like it was shattering.
“Such pain...” Cronan drawled. “Let me in. I will teach you to never hurt again...”
She was filled with sorrow. And regret. She questioned every decision she had made. She was supposed to be fighting him, giving him only the memories she could part with, trying to protect the people she truly cared about from Cronan, but how could she when all she did was make mistake after mistake? Trusting Celeste. Cominghereand giving Cronan everything he needed to destroy Lightlark.
Lark was right. Terra was right. She was a fool. Weak.
She had never felt more alone. The two halves of her split heart were a world away, her connection severed.
Perhaps she was always destined to be alone. It was what she deserved. She had killed so many people—even her parents, with her first cry in this world. She had been a curse from the very beginning. The world she had left was better without her. Sure, she had broken the curses...but with everything that had happened afterward—the war, the destruction—it was clear she was nothing but a plague.
Give up, Cronan’s shadows seemed to urge, easily slithering through her mind now that her resolve was slipping.
Give up. Cronan was bringing all this agony to the forefront. Manipulating her thoughts and emotions.
