Abolisher [Drothiker #2]

42.

Syrene felt numb.

She strode through the woods, everything a blur at the corners of her eyes. She was still raging when she felt wetness at her cheeks—tears ascribed to the anger more than the hurt.

She knew she must appear so childish, still craving her parents' care, their love. Must appear a silly girl rather than a duce or someone Destined to save a planet.

But she'd been merely sixteen when her life had concluded—merely ten when her childhood had been snatched and ripped to shreds. She couldn't help but feel the need for that care and love.

They'd both chosen their people over their own daughter. And Syrene knew that was the wiser choice—reasonable one—but it still stung. Left an icy shard in her chest.

Her mother hated Kefaas because he'd preferred his people over his family. But what had she done? When did she opt for her family?

Syrene hadn't realized when the woods cleared and she entered a shore. Her lungs felt tight when she noticed the sand beneath her feet, the singing of the sea dancing in her ears.

She'd come here countless times with Lucran and Kessian and Deisn—to train. Rare had been the moments when she didn't see Destiny at the horizon and let herself wind down. Rare had been the moments when she'd spent her time as a normal teen—gossiping around the bonfire as night fell, swimming in the sea as the sun sank lower, laughing and rolling across the sand while stars smiled down at them.

And otsatyas glared with scorn because she'd let herself get distracted for those moments.

Syrene's throat felt tight by the time she reached the shoreline. Even now she perceived Destiny where the seam of dusky sky and dark sea should have been. Glimpsed the Darkness spreading like ink across the sky, swallowing the twinkling stars.

Glimpsed the overgrown horrendous beasts as they flew over to human land.

Glimpsed the sea fading into a twilight sky.

She blinked, and it was all gone.

The sky was willingly resigning itself to the night. The sea was the darkest blue like Navy's eyes, as waves emerged at the horizon and discarded themselves at Syrene's feet, as if the journey from horizon to shoreline was a life completely lived.

No immortality for them.

Wind howled in her ears. And as if drifted forward by that wind, Faolin appeared at Syrene's side, lilac eyes narrowed as they watched the horizon with a warrior's calm laminating them.

Syrene wished the sorceress wouldn't speak, for she craved this silence and serenity like it would help her survive today to witness a tomorrow, as memories of Deisn, Kessian, Lucran wilted past her eyes.

Alive only in these memories.

Unwittingly, her mind raced to show her Deisn's weak form in that white-walled room as baeselk assaulted her, Kessian's dead body in pieces in her slave chamber at the Glass Palace, Lucran's bits she'd once chewed on.

She could almost taste his wet flesh on her tongue, his blood on her lips—

Then Syrene was retching.

Faolin's hands came to rub her back and hold her hair, but the images kept coming.

Nausea wasn't only in her stomach; it was in her entire body. She wished she could retch out everything inside her—all the painful memories, the feelings, the power. Everything she didn't want.

She wished this would all stop—this unforgiving pain and weight and anxiety.

When she was done, she slid to her knees beside the vomit, which was soon eaten away by a wave, leaving only wet sand in its wake. Faolin brought Syrene water in a shell. She rinsed her mouth until only the ghosts of that salty taste of seawater remained.