Abolisher [Drothiker #2]

18.

"So do you want to start by who you really are, or by what's your real name?"

Navy stretched out a hand for Syrene, who still stood atop the pile of rocks poured in the deep dent she'd caused in the ground. Sand was falling, landing to Navy's dusk-blue hair.

Syrene's mind worked as she took Navy's hand, and was tugged to the ground. But she came up with no useful lie, not as power still pounded in her head. Not as Drothiker whispered in her ears.

Kefaas. Where was Kefaas—

"Navy—" Syrene began, breathing hard.

But the water-wielder struck up a hand to silence her, her eyes furious. "Enough with the lies, Cerys." She shook her head. "Whatever your name is."

No, no—she didn't have time.

The walls bulwarking Drothiker—the walls of lightning, her mejest—had scaled down. Drothiker was at liberty in her system. It hissed, breathed, Syrene felt it against her blood, her veins—a treacherous beast stirring after being frozen for eternity.

"Navy, listen—" Her voice was low, exhausted. Her whole body was—her limbs felt weak and heavy. Her mind felt dawdling and murky. Syrene whirled around, dreadfully endeavoring to slur over the raining sand. Kefaas—

Navy noticed the fear that must have twisted Syrene's face. "Cerys, what's wrong?"

"Listen." Syrene turned to her, fighting to keep her voice steady, high. And failed miserably. "You need to get away from here, as fast as you—"

"Cerys." Navy placed her hands on Syrene's shoulders, as if she were a child who needed to be chastised, to be calmed. "You need to tell me what's happening, alright?" For a moment, Syrene dared meet her gaze. And flinched at what she uncovered there.

For there, behind the mask of fury, of confusion, Syrene found fear ablaze in her eyes. Fear, not of the destruction around them, not caused by any survivor instincts. But of Syrene. Of what she'd just witnessed her do, of everything else she didn't know Syrene was capable on. Of the unknowing. Of the monster she'd most likely harbored in her apartment.

A stranger—Navy looked at Syrene as if she were a stranger.

"Get away from here." Syrene's voice turned flat, unfeeling. Because she couldn't allow herself to feel, not when Drothiker moved in sync with her feelings. Not when it was now kindling. "As far from me as you can get. Understand?"

She didn't wait for Navy to express any objections and bolted away, disappearing behind the coat of sand. Had it not been for the whispers bellowing in her head, Syrene might have focused on Kefaas' heartbeat, might have spread her senses and let them hone in on him. But Drothiker was too. Damn. Loud.

She didn't need to, though, because the sand cleared soon, enough for her to see.

And as it did, her heart creeped into her throat.

The arena was no more. Only debris of perished chairs and boulders lay in her wake.

Syrene's heart began hammering. Harder when she scented blood. She leapt across the torn ground and followed the scent to the piled debris, near where chairs had been.

No, no, no, she pled silently as she landed on her knees.

Syrene scrambled at the debris, threw away heavy boulders without much effort.

She saw the severely wounded arm first. Syrene touched two fingers to his wrist—

Alive. He was alive.