My thoughts plead for him to see me, for him to sneak past my fortitude of defenses. I want to scream at him if only to get him to understand why I was fighting.
He doesn’t look at me though, just continues to watch the horizon, jaw clenched.
Gods, there is no escape. Kina calls out again, causing me to pull my eyes from The Devourer. We’ve come out of the long alley into the town center.
The makeshift gallows come into view, a small crowd forming around them. The knotted rope leers at me, and my throat constricts as if the noose is already placed.
My eyes flit to The Devourer again, trying to read his expression. Surely he wouldn’t seem so upset if he thought this was right? Why else would he look like he was suffering the same fate? Why else would Caym send Kina if not to save me?
A thousand thoughts rally in my mind. The dark beast in my brain howls and snarls as the caged monster demands to break free. My breathing begins to falter, and I realize my vision has started to tunnel, the outer edges blackening.
My magic begins to thrum beneath my skin and it takes all my strength to conceal it. It wouldn’t save me, it couldn’t.
I’m useless when it comes to my own magic, I have no idea how to harness or shape it. Gods it's pathetic that the fates would give me the power of illusion, it’s wasted on me.
If I was only stronger, smarter, and truly worthy of the gift, maybe I wouldn’t be here. Maybe I would be able to fight the fates. Hanin would have had a chance to grow past his adolescence. But he didn’t, because I failed.
Because I’m weak.
Because I’m undeserving of being saved.
Because I’m an embarrassment.
Wetness falls from my face again and I can’t help the tears this time. The silence of the crowd only makes my anxiety rampage.
I’ve lost.
We’ve reached the wooden planks that step up to the gallows’s platform, the structure solidly built and stained on the deck from unthinkable horrors.
I dig my nails into my palm as hard as I can. Enough to pierce the skin like I’ve done time and time again until I feel the sting lengthen into a burning sensation and then I pressharder. Until I’m sure that the dampness in my palms isn’t from the humidity in the air.
Time seems to stall, my body threatening to give out.
“Goddess be with me. Usher me into the great plains and welcome me with open arms.” I sniffle the prayer out in a whisper.
Looking around at the crowd that surrounds me, I see no one familiar. Only dull faces, faces of anger and hatred, faces of sorrow, faces of condemnation.
My feet falter as I attempt to step, my body is refusing to move.
“Let me help you walk up the steps with dignity, Alora.” My vision bleeds into darkness and I feel like I could faint.
The Devourer’s warm hand comes around mine and icy cold shock travels to my toes. This means death. The Mors Finalem.
Except I’m not dead. I see him clearly. His touch hasn’t killed me… but it’s not possible. The realization brings me out of my panic. How can I bear his touch?
“Take my hand, little warrior. Let me help you up the steps. Allow me to do this for you.”
His eyes shine with unshed tears. He looks as devastated as I feel.
My voice cracks, “stay with me, Devourer?” My plea is small, broken.
I don’t know why I asked him this. I guess I feel as alone as I did when Hanin and my parents were found.
“Until the end.” His throat bobs with a swallow and he nods his head, his dark locks neatly knotted at the nape of his neck.
I’m close enough to see the shadows under his eyes, the hair forming again on his face as if he hadn’t shaved today. I watch his throat and my eyes fall down to his shirt collar again, the mysterious black band around his throat pulsing with shadowed ink, as if it was breathing and alive.
He begins to walk up the steps, going slowly, allowing me to not trip even with the weight of the iron around my wrists and chain dragging.
