don’t have to wonder who is Troikan and who is Myriadian. The Troikans seem to absorb sunlight while a dark film covers the Myriadians.
These men and women...they aren’t just sun against moon but truly light versus dark. I tried to have the best of both worlds, while doing to others what I hated others for doing to me. Pushing my own agenda. I wanted peace. They didn’t. My choice versus theirs, when I only had half the story. Even now I realize there’s so much about the realms I don’t know.
“Nine.”
“Wait!” I say. “Please. Just a little longer. He needs more—”
“Ten.” Killian is merciless, yanking me backward and basically stuffing my spirit back into my body, and I’m too weak to stop him.
I gasp as spirit and body connect, my first thought of Archer. I scan his Shell. Despite my Lifeblood, his flesh isn’t yet repairing itself.
“Archer,” I say, my chin trembling.
“Okay. It’s okay.”
No! There has to be something else I can do. There just has to be. “Deacon!” I shout.
Archer gasps in a breath, blinks open his eyes. He blindly reaches for my hand, and his fingers curl weakly around mine.
Our gazes meet, and tears refill my eyes, only to splash upon his cheek.
“The Rest,” he says and gives me a smile I will never forget. Satisfied. Content. He’s lived a good life. “Finally.”
“No,” I say with a hard shake of my head. “You stay here, and you stay with me. I need you. You have more to do.”
“You will be...fine without me. Take care... Deacon, Killian...and yourself...don’t forget yourself. The law.”
“Stop talking like we’re saying goodbye.” My tears fall faster. “Deacon,” I shout again, scanning the battlefield, seeing no faces I recognize. “Someone! Help Archer! He needs more Lifeblood.”
The battle continues to rage. I can no longer see the one raging between the spirits, and I wonder who is winning.
Archer’s smile slips a little, now both sad and eager. “Not much time...tell me poem. Happy. Rhyme.”
As my insides are ripped to shreds, I close my eyes. He isn’t going to make it, is he? My Lifeblood just isn’t strong enough. Maybe because I’m Unsigned. Maybe because I’m still recovering from my own injuries. Maybe because of a thousand other reasons. I might never know the truth, but one thing is suddenly clear: his death is because of choice. Pearl’s choice to fight me. My choice to save Killian and Sloan.
And now, Archer will pay the price. My decisions—my indecisions—have never affected me alone, as I so confidently told myself what seems a lifetime ago. They affect everyone I love, everyone in my life. Even those I will someday meet. Even those I will never meet.
I mocked Pearl’s pride, but look where my own brought me. Look where my own brought my friends.
The knowledge washes through me, horrifying me, utterly destroying me, but I fight past the overwhelming influx of regret and sorrow. For now. I have to. Archer needs me. This wonderful guy needs me to be strong for him, to ease him into the Rest. After everything he’s done for me, I can do this for him. I will do this for him.
I will mourn tomorrow.
“A poem. One just for you.” I smooth a shaky hand over his brow, like a mother soothing her child before bed. “Year after year I hated my life. No matter where I looked, I only saw strife. Oh, poor me, I had no one to live for...until you arrived and taught me to soar.”
His lashes flutter shut, the sadness vanishing from his smile, leaving only happiness. So much happiness, despite the battle raging around us. Thankfully, Troikans have taken up posts around the dais, preventing Myriadian soldiers from closing in. “More. Please.”
I continue. “You saved me from the worst kind of death, as if you breathed into me my very first breath. You, Archer Prince, oh, how you shine. Now and forever, you’ll always be mine. I’ll miss you, dear Bow, for the short time we’re apart.” My chin trembles as I say, “Take care of this gift...for I give you my heart. You are loved, I love you. Because of you, I’ve been made new.”
“Yesss,” he says again, the drawn out s tapering off as he expels his last breath.
His head lolls to the side, and his grip on me goes lax. I imagine his bright, bright glow fading completely.
He’s gone. He’s really gone.
I collapse onto his chest, sobs racking me. He deserved so much better than this.