by A J Gala
She swallowed her food and stared down at the rest of her pie. She’d lost her appetite. “I don’t know. It was never something they told me. There was a lot they never told me.”
Phio shot his friend a glance. “Well, what are you thinking?”
“They can’t possibly know,” Centa said. “House Hallenar. I’m sure Allanis has no idea Hunters are waltzing in and out of the Marble Palace.”
“Would she even believe you if you told her?”
Centa paused to imagine the Hallenars receiving the news in a letter. Then, he imagined their faces when they would inevitably see his name signed at the end. Anger. Disgust. Disbelief.
“I should still take the chance.” He grabbed the hand pie from Meeka’s slipping grasp. “If you aren’t gonna eat it, give it to me.”
“Okay, Dad.”
Phio’s eyes shifted up and down the street, mapping out their route for the morning. The Post and Roost was only several blocks from the Marble Palace.
“We can get word to Allanis in the morning,” he said. “We’ll wake up, get horses and prep for travel, send the letter, and then leave. Leave and never look back.”
Centa stared down the hand pie, having lost his appetite as well.
“Never look back,” he mumbled.
The sky was a shade of blue Tizzy would never forget. Old blue slate, with more and more glittering diamonds appearing every minute. Not a cloud in sight for miles. Trees were pitch black silhouettes reaching out into the deep dusk.
Nothing felt real. Every step she took through the forest felt a hundred miles away. Maybe she had spent too much time in the Ethereal Realm, she thought. Or maybe it was something else.
She had been so sure of herself earlier, so confident and proud, but now the weight of the situation had reached her, and there was only grim purpose. She couldn’t back out now. She would never forgive herself for losing her nerve.
Deep in the woods of the plateau, Torah made his venture away from the Convent again. He had completely lost his spark for it. Those who had been his friends for decades now looked at him with distant smiles. They could talk and even laugh, but it never felt as real as it once had. He chanced upon a group of them exchanging stories in the mess hall—Aleth was there, as carefree as could be, bolder and more self-assured than he’d ever been. But the second Torah came into view, he smiled and excused himself, disappearing into the abbey.
And that’s how it would always be, Torah knew. If he left now, he could be miles away, maybe to an inn on the outskirts of Davrkton or a nearby village by sunrise. But the clear sky begged him to spend one more night in the chapel under the stars.
He stood in its doorway, staring straight down the aisle where the now pitch-black backdrop above peeked through the gaps and holes in the roof.
“I could have cleaned this place up,” he whispered to himself. He hadn’t realized before what a mess it was. An enormous canvas banner, once a valiant shade of red, lay in a corner bleached by years of sun and rain. “Instead, I just soaked you up in my misery.”
He sighed and walked down the aisle a few more steps, stopping at a pile of debris from one of the pews. Just beyond it was a quaint stone podium in ruins. He wondered if anyone had ever been married at it and shook his head. “Doubt it.”
The Convent had been his home. For years. Even though he’d left it for months, he always knew he’d return. And now he would leave it once and for all, never looking back. He turned back toward the doors, then jumped.
Tizzy stood before him in her Ethereal form.
“I didn’t know you came here too,” he said, grinning as he caught his breath. “I’m sure once it was quite nice here.”
“Doesn’t matter what it used to be. It’s a gaunt place now.”
He looked her over for a moment. “When you were away with the bloodslave a little while ago, Tal boasted about your Ethereal ability. It’s impressive.”
“That’s a very polite lie.” Her lips turned up, but they were tight. “It’s about the only thing I can do.”
Torah gazed down at the ground and rubbed his hands. “You want something from me, don’t you?”
“I have a question,” she said. “How much do you know about Aleth and me?”
“He’s never said it, but I’ve long suspected you were his maker. That boy’s healing abilities far surpass the rest of ours. There were times I thought we’d lost him, but after a grueling recovery, he would be back to normal. Mostly.”
She wet her lips. “I see.”
“You two remind me of Korrena and myself when we were younger. We both have the same maker, though. It’s a slightly different dynamic, but I’m sure there are still a lot of similarities.”
“Is that what you think?”
Her change in tone almost warmed him. She was so much like Korrena. “I wish we’d had more time to get to know each other, Tizzy. Aleth loves you more than anything. But I need to be alone with my thoughts right now. I’m sorry. You should leave.”
She faded out right before his eyes. He sighed. Only a few years ago, he’d imagined meeting her, being introduced by Aleth, and the three of them enjoying a fire somewhere and sharing stories of the past.
He had let so many people down. But that was his task. He had done as he was told.
When he turned around to face the podium, Tizzy reappeared. Her Ethereal form flickered in and out of existence.
“Actually,” she said, “I would like to say a few more things. You can tough it out, can’t you?”
Her apathetic gaze shifted to a glare.
“Yes,” he said. “I can. Speak openly, please. I know what I have coming.”
“Good. I know what you did.”
“Be careful, Tizzy. Not everything is as it seems.”
“What is that? An excuse?” She narrowed her eyes. “I think you need to speak openly while you’ve still got time.”
“I can’t,” he said. “I made a promise. There is a reason for everything, and if you would just pay attention, you could rise above all this bullshit—”
“If you can’t spell that out for me and are going to keep being cryptic, then this has reached its end. You get no forgiveness.”
He threw his arms out. “Trust me, I am aware!” he growled. “I have tried, and even though I shouldn’t have expected forgiveness—because it’s not what I deserve—I did expect it because that’s the kind of person your brother is. He can forgive a lot of people for a lot of misdeeds. But not me. And that’s exactly what I earned.”
“You earned a lot worse than that.”
Her Ethereal form vanished. Before he could think to turn around, he heard the canvas banner slide and shift behind him. And then a black blade burst through his chest.
“You were hiding.” He stared down at Wish, at his thick, dark blood oozing from the wound and dripping from the blade. He tried to catch his breath, but sharp, suffocating pain stopped him. The blade slid out, and he stumbled forward.
When he looked over his shoulder, she stood in physical form without a trace of emotion.
“You’d better fight back,” she said. “Or else I’m going to make this hurt much more than it needs to.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do this.” He had no weapon on him but a knife. He willed his claws out instead and waited for her next move.
“Anyone in your position would say that.” She closed in on him and drove Wish through his chest a second time, impaling his heart like she had wanted. She looked up, watching blood seep from his clenched teeth and run down his lips.
“You did everything she wanted.” He swallowed, but his throat was already full of blood from the first wound, and more spilled out. “You did everything you were supposed to. Don’t feel bad. It’s okay.”
Tizzy felt him die on her blade. His heart fought to knit itself back together, but after just seconds, it gave out. Wish carried the full weight of his body. Tizzy pulled the blade from his chest, and he collapsed onto the ground.
&nb
sp; His last words didn’t leave her. Like ice-cold rain on her neck, the sinking, prickling dread came upon her. The chill was in every bone. The sky was still clear as could be.
“What did he mean?”
His blood trickled down the blade and onto the brick below. She thought she could see her face in the pool’s red reflection, but it was only the cracked roof and the stars. Everything happened slowly—the blood dripping, the wood creaking, the breeze whistling, her mind slogging, everything. And then her heart suddenly raced.
“What did he mean?”
Outside, the bushes rustled. A twig snapped. Tizzy turned around, and Louvita stood in the doorway and clapped slowly, three times.
“You actually did it.” Her black eyes lit up with a grin. “You did it! I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”
Tizzy shivered. “What’s going on?”
Louvita walked over, the small sharp heels on her boots clacking on the brick. “You have to understand, Tizzy, I had to be sure I wasn’t wasting my time.” She laid her hand on Tizzy’s shoulder. “Not every Protégé is created equal. You need the abilities, and you need the nerve.”
“This was a test?”
Louvita beamed. “And you passed.”
Tizzy’s gut lurched. “You planned this?”
“Oh, don’t feel bad. Torah knew what he was getting into a long time ago. He chose to do it. He knew this could happen.”
In an instant, Tizzy felt fire wash over her. She looked Louvita dead in her eyes. “How much of this was planned?”
Louvita smirked. “Do you mean Aleth? Let me guess… Eidi tearfully revealed to you the incident. The one where Torah pinned him down, sucked him dry, and then f—”
“Did that even happen?” She fought to keep the rage buried, but hot tears welled up, threatening to bleed out.
“Oh, it happened. I needed something that would drive you to action. Aleth always talked about you in great detail, and I had it all relayed back to me, and I realized that you wouldn’t care about anything unless it happened to him. I studied you. You should be flattered.”
She ground her teeth and shut her eyes, her lashes damp with unfallen tears. “Does he know? About all of this? Was it just some kind of fucking act?”
Louvita laughed, then fanned herself and nudged Torah’s body with her boot. “Aleth? Act? If he knew, you would have known in a second. I was very careful, Tizzy, to craft this trial. And I am very pleased with the results.”
Tizzy balled up her fists. “You pulled all of these strings, put him through hell after hell, just to see if I was worthy of your time?” she yelled. “And you thought that after all of this was said and done, that I would just be okay with it? And become a tool for you?”
Louvita felt a sharp pain in her head and winced. “I knew—” she blinked fast and refocused, “—I knew you would be upset at first, but I had also hoped the event would show you how special you are, how much more important you are. I hoped you would finally understand.”
Tizzy couldn’t take one more second of it and broke. A sob wracked her body, and she ran from the chapel, escaping into the trees.
Louvita watched her go with a furrowed brow. Then, she tasted something warm and coppery on her upper lip. She touched below her nose, and when she brought her fingers away, they were stained with blood.
“A nosebleed?”
She wiped her nose and left, putting the strange incident out of her mind, and sought out Ziaul to help with Torah’s body.
Tizzy raced through the forest. Her legs moved so fast she thought she was flying, and when the branches scratched and gouged her, she barely felt a thing. She had to run away as fast as possible. Nowhere would be far away enough.
Her thoughts had abandoned her, or perhaps she had abandoned them. Her lungs burned, but she couldn’t stop. Her tears were relentless.
“Lady Tizzy! Please, wait, it’s me!”
She stopped, and her ears rang. She couldn’t catch her breath. “Maran?”
“Yes! I’m here, I’m here. You’re too quick for me.” Maran’s boots crunched lightly, and at last, she appeared with a soft glow bouncing off the tree trunks. She dangled a lantern in front of her and then waved.
Tizzy went to her, each step automatic. As soon as her hand reached the woman, she held on and crumbled into an embrace.
“Maran, what are you doing out here?” she sniffled.
“Eidi told me to look for you.” She set the lantern down, but she was hesitant to pull Tizzy any closer. Something didn’t feel right. Carefully, she brushed black curls out of her face. “She said you might need me. Why? What’s happened? Are you alright, my lady?”
Tizzy cried harder into Maran’s shoulder, and the woman rubbed her back.
“I have to get out of this place.” The words burst out of Tizzy’s mouth almost too fast to understand. “Everything Louvita did to trick me, all the lengths she went to and all the ways the others could have let me know—but didn’t—I did something, Maran. He’ll be so upset. He’ll be—”
“Who?” Maran parted from her and smoothed down Tizzy’s hair. “What happened? Who will be upset?”
Tizzy felt Aleth’s pull and covered her mouth over a sob. He was close. He was looking for her. “He can’t ever know, Maran. He can’t know that it was all planned. Everything that happened, she made it happen.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.” Maran blinked back scared tears herself.
Tizzy backed away from her and stood tall as she could feel Aleth drawing closer. How had he known to come after her? Had someone told him?
“Is this more of Louvita’s plan?” she whispered to herself. “Did she set this up too?”
Aleth found them. He crept through the trees, having tracked Maran’s footsteps with ease. He saw Tizzy’s tearstained face and smelled the blood on her hands. The distinct scent of nightwalker blood. The fear in her eyes when she looked up at him was like a knife twisting between his ribs.
“Eidi is upset,” he said. “Louvita leaves. Then she leaves.” He jerked his head toward Maran. “Tizzy… what did you do?”
The tears were hot as they slipped down her cheeks. She choked on the words when they came out of her mouth. “Torah’s dead.”
He shook his head before he even understood the words. “Don’t. Please, Tizzy. Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me anymore.” He clenched his jaw. “Don’t fucking say it.”
She knew his mind. She knew by now he was already aware of what happened, but as long as she didn’t confirm it, he was perfectly content to pretend it happened differently. But she would not let him run, and she would own her actions.
“I killed him.”
He tried to swallow and couldn’t. His throat burned with something—anger, words, tears—something. All he had was silence. He stared up and a sliver of a waxing moon became blurry. His eyes stung.
“Was he trying to hurt you?” he asked.
“He hurt you.”
“Fuck, Tizzy!” He ran his fingers through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp. “I handled it! It doesn’t matter what he did to me—I handled it. It was not your problem to fix!”
She closed her eyes and bit her lip. He didn’t stop.
“I needed closure—” his voice broke, “—and you took that from me! I got to control this, what happened to him, how long he should suffer his guilt—that was mine! It was mine, and you got your fucking hands on it and took it away from me!”
She sobbed in front of him, and it only made him tremble with anger. He twisted his face up.
“You’re not even sorry, are you?”
“I would do it again!” she cried. “You can’t do what has to be done! You killed those Hunters like an animal, but you let Torah live and walk among us like—”
“It wasn’t your decision, Tizzy! This was about me! I don’t care who the fuck you think you are; you do not get to decide how I should heal or what is best for me!”
He left, storming off into the trees.
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“Aleth, wait!” She started after him.
“Stay away from me!”
His words hurt worse than anything else she could have imagined. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed into the dirt. Maran came for her and held her as she wept.
Vayven 24, 1144
The funeral was held the very next day during a misty morning by the Sheerspine. The river’s current was eerily calm. Low clouds clung to the water’s surface, drifting through the air like ghosts.
Tizzy watched from afar. She knew she had no right to be among everyone as they tearfully muttered goodbye speeches over a mound of dirt. She’d hardly known Torah. Word hadn’t gotten out exactly how he’d died, but some people could tell anyway, likely knowing about Louvita’s plan from its conception. Eidi stared Tizzy down with cold contempt.
Tizzy stayed close to Maran and gazed out at the small crowd. Her eyes still burned from all the tears.
“If I had just stayed at the Spire, none of this would have happened,” she mumbled.
“And then something might have happened to Lilu. You had to come back, my lady. You knew that.” Maran held Tizzy’s hand.
Tizzy sensed Aleth nearby but couldn’t see him. He would be hiding somewhere, just like her. He would want to grieve alone.
She and Maran both heard Korrena’s sobs. They were the only sounds in the forest. Bitter, angry, screaming sobs through clenched teeth. Sobs that didn’t know how they felt. Everything else was at a standstill for that moment, setting the stage for her. Others came close as if to comfort her, but Korrena pushed them away and started kicking at the dirt pile and all the flowers that had been brought.
“I can’t watch anymore.” Tizzy turned away, tears in her eyes. “Why didn’t he do it, Maran? He should have done it. It had to be done, it had to happen, but it should have been him. Aleth should have killed him!”
Maran tried to find the right words. She wanted to explain that her brother knew it didn’t need to end in death but dropped the thoughts just as fast as they came to her. If Aleth couldn’t get through to her, she didn’t stand a chance.
