"I found him. Gods, Maines!" I scream back toward the boat, their full attention already on me.
He shifted. He made it as far as he could before crashing into the water, his body visibly broken. That water begins to turn red around him the closer I swim. "Don’t you dare be dead," I command, closing the distance between us. I grab onto his lifeless body, the coppery smell of blood hitting my nose.
As I look above the roaring waves back to the shoreline in the distance, the boat approaches. Three figures stand on the dock, intensely focused on the boat. We must hurry.
Maines leans over the ship's edge, a long ladder falling into the freezing water. She screams below, "If you can get me his hand, I can shift us to the middle of the deck." Her voice was barely a whisper over the crashing waves against the ship.
I drag Silas to the side, as Maines is already halfway down the ladder. I clutch his arm as he disappears into a mist and rises to the ship’s deck.
I grab onto the ladder, Oak behind Maines to drag me up as exhaustion weighs heavy on my body. The sun warms the ship as we fall onto the wooden planks. Maines's back faces me, making it impossible to see around her to see the state Silas is in. I ignore my body, screaming at me to rest, and look down at my hands. The black veins aren’t fading like normal as they continue to stay present on my fingers and palms.
Crawling around Maines, Silas lies unmoving. I gasp when I see the state his arm is in. It’s burned and black, and the smell of burnt flesh makes me gag. "Maines, help him. Now!" I begin to cry. I can feel the panic rising in my throat.
"Don’t look, Briar. I’m going to try," her voice panicked. "I refuse to let him die," she speaks as if she’s trying to convince herself. Her eyes well with tears, and I know the trauma of Barlowe’s death is flooding her. Maines's piercing eyes gaze at mine, the brightest blue contrasting against the red, "You aren’t going to lose someone else that you love on my watch. I’ll never cause you that pain again."
Her hands move over his body with grace, magic flowing into his body. Even unconscious, Silas flinches against the magic and pain. Oak grabs my body, pulling me in, his muscular body engulfing mine as I bury my face in his chest.
"He’s going to make it. He’s going to hang on like he always does," Oak whispers in my ear.
Maines continues to work, her hands slamming black magic from her palms. Silas’s body stops reacting to the jolts of magic hitting him. "Come on, Nastronde. You must fight!" Maines shouts as she works.
"Don’t look, Briar. Close your eyes," Oak whispers, pulling me tighter against his chest.
I turn back to face the shore once more. The figures are gone, but the feeling of them remains as if they are watching and waiting for us to return. My world spins—the waves crashing against the boat don’t drown out my horrible thoughts. Even with Oak’s strong arms around me, my legs give out. I hear my name being called as my world goes black, and I feel myself slipping away.
My eyes snap open.
I stand in ruin and destruction, and the feeling of despair hangs heavy in the thick air. I glance around my familiar surroundings. The kingdom of Daramveer is destroyed, as it always is in my nightmares. Black ash coats the ground, and a fog travels low around me. The forest still crackles from the once roaring fire, but most trees are burned and much shorter than before.
Wake up, Briar. Wake up.
My senses immediately notice the silence. No screams fill the air. No shrieks or panic swirl around me. Just the howling sound of the wind. No figures before me. And no magic pounds against my mind.
Silas.
Just silence lives here. I’m alone.
"Hello, Briar," an angelic voice calls from behind.
My entire body trembles. Too frightened to turn around, I keep my gaze on the forest. The forest that is so dear to my heart. So many fond memories of my friends and family before me.
Barlowe. Maines.
Rohhit.
“It’s quiet, isn’t it?” the voice continues.
I slowly turn, prepared to gaze upon a horrifying creature, but before me stands a woman cloaked in a black dress. Her raven hair falls long beside her hips, mixing with the dark fabric. Her skin is porcelain against the darkness of her hair, and her eyes are such a pale green that they closely resemble clear crystal.
She speaks again. "We haven’t had the proper chance to meet yet, although I feel as if we know each other very well." She smiles.
My mouth slightly parts, and I step a few paces back. Something powerful oozes from her—a power that would make any man desperate to rule, drunk on her very presence.
"Kalix," I whisper.
She nods, slightly bowing. "Yes. And it is very nice to meet you, Briar Blackbyrne."
Kalix stands a bit taller with my recognition. The Great Wiitch before me, somehow in the flesh. I slowly lower my chin, my gaze peeking through my eyelids. Maybe if I can kill her, all of this will end. The teasing, the torment I feel daily—it can all be over.
