I’d like to think people would take their own fate into their own hands, but will the truth be enough to break through the generational grooming? Or are they so far gone that they perceive lies as truth and truth as lies?
I truly don’t know. But what I do know is that I won’t be able to return to find out. Because there’s no way the full footage from Kalden’s revelations will make it to the edited episode to be presented to the masses. Whatever the cameras caught will be warped to fit the usual narrative.
I can practically envision it now. Flashes of Kalden’s golden veinsand my own glowing palms underscored by dramatic instrumentation. Maybe even a voice-over lamenting our betrayal and demanding our execution. A line drawn with Caligo on one side and me on the other.
“I can never go back,” I say, finally answering Gem’s question.
She nods, as if she suspected as much, but offers nothing further than her steady presence as I roam aimlessly up the rolling sand, maneuvering around the patches of marram grass.
I’ll never see Taurance again. I won’t be there to witness her transformation into a mother, to see if her baby gets those glittering jade irises or her infectious laugh. And if Gem returns, I won’t see her again, either. Just like that, the women who’ve become my sisters—the family that picked me up and patched my heart back together when I needed them most—will be forever out of my reach.
A strong gust of wind douses me in the ocean’s salty air, but my cheeks are already stained by the bitterness of grief.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It isn’tuntil I nearly walk straight into Kalden that I realize I must’ve subconsciously followed the ever-present pull of his energy. He steadies me with a hand on my shoulder, pupils flicking to Gem, who halts a few paces behind, before returning to mine.
“Are you okay?”
My raw, red-rimmed eyes lift to his through the shadowed lens of my helmet, and I again wonder how he’s able to see past the deep, polarized tint. I shake my head, the only answer I can give right now.
Not pushing for clarification, he keeps his steadying palm on my shoulder. I lean into it, into him, knowing I probably shouldn’t let my guard down around the man who intentionally misled me. But Kalden’s not alone in his deception. At least he chose to lie to a stranger, not his best friend.
I’m so lost in the spiraling thoughts that it takes me another minute for the scene to register. Standing next to Niles is quite possibly the most striking woman I’ve ever seen. Like her companion, the woman’s attire is borderline indecent, with a thin iridescent band offabric stretching across her breasts and a second, slightly larger band wrapping across her waist. The sun bathes practically every inch of her well-endowed figure in mesmerizing patterns of gold, tracing from her bare feet up to her short black curls that hang over the side of her angular face, framing large upturned eyes straining to focus on the Pyre kneeling before her. Its feral black-and-gold gaze glowers at the ground, but it makes no attempt to free itself from the hands that clench either side of its head.
My mouth falls open at seeing the charred creature’s submissive posture.
Predicting my questions, Kalden explains, “Joss is skilled at controlling certain electrical signals. She can temporarily disrupt the pathways between the brain and the body to immobilize an opponent while sifting through the electrophysiological activity corresponding to specific memories.”
“In simpler terms, she can read minds,” Niles clarifies with an eye roll from Joss’s side, holding one of his hands atop hers while the other rests on a pair of cuffs dangling from his back pocket.
Kalden’s jaw twitches. “There’s more to it than that. Joss sees the frequencies almost like a static montage. Not every memory is as clear and whole as others. It takes immense effort to weave through all the signals and form a coherent image of what the bearer of the memory truly experienced. That type of mental energy can quickly burn through her borrowed power, which is why Niles is lending Joss some of his own.”
I blink slowly, trying to wrap my mind around the revelation that Sols can read memories. “Is it safe for her to be that close to the Pyre?”
“As long as she maintains control, it’ll believe it’s restrained. But I got these, in case things get a little feisty,” Niles says, tapping on the cuffs.
“What memory is she looking for?”
Niles lifts a blond brow, letting Kalden take the lead.
“There’s been a significant increase in both Sol disappearances and Pyre sightings. It’s not uncommon to lose a Sol or two a year to burnout. Though most of us learn from a young age to recognize the signs that we’re nearing that edge and how to deescalate, there are some who take on more than they should and ignore the warning until it’s too late. But in the past fifteen or so years, the annual number of Sols succumbing into Pyres has shot up to a couple dozen. This anomaly seems to be localized to the villages surrounding Caligo. That’s why I went there in the first place. To investigate?—”
The high-pitched whistle of an object cutting through the air silences Kalden. He barrels into my side, sending us both toppling into the sand and narrowly avoiding the missile arcing towards Joss, Niles, and the Pyre.
Niles’s eyes go wide. He tugs on Joss’s hand seconds before impact, and a translucent aura of gold pulsates out from them. But the two Sols aren’t fast enough to escape the thick bloom of smoke that explodes from the missile as it strikes the Pyre’s skull.
The black particles ascend into the sky, rapidly expanding into a cloud of false night, pluming over Kalden and me. The dense nightstone air is like prickling ice. It crawls down my throat and settles on my bits of exposed skin, intent on extinguishing any trace of the sun’s warmth. Pushing up on all fours, I heave out a violent cough, struggling to breathe past the claustrophobia of the nightstone merging forcefully into my lungs.
Kalden does the same at my side, spitting out wads of black-tinted mucus while limping into the heart of the smoke, where his friends last stood.
A minute passes, and the fog begins to lift, revealing three motionless bodies in the sand.
The first is the Pyre, or what remains of it, which isn’t much beyond a mutilated lower half.
Several feet away lie Niles and Joss. Their once-beaming veins flicker as the nightstone eats away at the sunlight’s energy. But it’s Joss’s arms that make my stomach churn. Her forearms end abruptly in severed stumps of sinew and bone where her hands were mere minutes ago, now cleaved by the blast.
Kalden reaches his palms over both of their hearts and closes his eyes in concentration. The remnants of his magic flood to his hands before pouring into the Sols. Through their tarnished skin, thick golden cords wrap around the faintly beating organs, bolstering them with the borrowed power.
