The Curse of the Blessed

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Everything felt numb.

The darkness behind my eyelids was comforting, in a strange sort of way. It was like I could shut the world out—like none of this had ever happened, and I was still at home, asleep in my bed, with Mam about to come in and tell me to get ready for market day.

Reed was gone. This thought tore through me like a knife. He'd been our leader. He'd organized us, brought us together, again and again. Without him there was nothing. We were lost.

He'd said I'd helped us before. He'd said I'd brought us all together and kept up the team morale, as though I was glue personified, the kind of person who helped stick everyone together and fill all the holes. What was I now, though? How could I do that without the spark of hope that had kept me going all this time?

Everything was my fault. I was the one who had said that we should keep going—I was the one who'd pushed us to this—I was the one who'd checked the knot over and over again, unraveling what had kept the remainder of us safe from the Magician. I had ruined Reed's last act. I had taken away the protection he'd bestowed on us.

There was nothing to be done. We were doomed.

"Fyra." Someone took my shoulders and shook me. "Fyra!" They shook me again, none too gently.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. The sunlight blinded me for a moment. Then my vision focused.

"Bran."

He stood right above me, hand pressed against his side, face twisted in a mix of pain and concern. "Are you all right?"

"No." I felt a dark laugh bubble up inside me, but I pressed it back down. It would just frustrate him. "Nothing's all right."

I thought he'd try to console me. I thought maybe he'd try to talk me out of it—return the hope that the Magician had whisked away.

Instead, he looked at his feet, sighed, and sat down beside me. "I know. It's all gone to rot."

"How do you feel?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Empty. My powers are gone. You?"

"I don't feel anything."

"Nothing at all?"

"Not really." I looked up to the sky. "It's beautiful out here... but not to me. I can see the colors, and the way the trees perfectly line the sky with green, and I know I should think it's beautiful—but I don't. It's got all the pieces of beauty. I just can't see the beauty itself."

"Do you feel the same about trying to get Reed back?"

I nodded. "I know I should be excited to have him back, but I can't imagine it at all. I can't imagine us winning."

"So that's how the curse works."

"I guess so."

I turned away from him, looking at where Lark still sat in the dirt, silent sobs racking her body. "What do we do for her?"

"I'll handle it," said Bran. He walked over to her and sat in front of her. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head.

"Stupid question," I said. "Of course she's not okay. None of us are."

"Fyra." Bran's voice was edged with a warning tone.

I ignored him and stood, walking over to sit beside him and Lark. "I'm right. We can't focus on being okay, because we're not okay. We have to focus on... I don't know. We need to figure out what's next. If there is anything next."

"Of course there's something next," said Bran. He shot me an annoyed look. "There will always be something next. For now, we should do what Reed told us to do."

"What, go and see if we can think of a better plan when we're on the Calamity? There is no better plan. Reed's gone. We're the survivors. We need to take care of ourselves."

Lark looked up at me, horror in her eyes.

"Fyra!" Bran snapped.

I buried my head in my hands, unwilling to meet his gaze, to see the anger and disappointment that probably rested in his eyes. "I know. I'm sorry."

A hand rested gently on my shoulder. I looked up to see Lark looking at me, forgiveness in her expression.

"It's okay," she mouthed.

Bran said, "It's just your curse talking."

I forced a smile, but it wavered and crumbled to nothing. "So we meet up with the Calamity?"

"It's all we've got. Maybe they'll help us."

"And you?" I asked Lark. "You agree with Bran on this?"

Slowly, carefully, she nodded.

"Good," I said. "As long as we're agreed."

Bran reached his hand out to me. "Can I have your rock creature to contact them with? Mine doesn't fly."

I shook my head. "No. Not here."

"Why not?"

"The Magician said he wouldn't hurt us if we made it out. He never said he wouldn't hurt the people on the Calamity. I don't know if any of the Blesseds there have history with him, but either way, it's not safe to bring them here. We need to get a few miles away before we send the creatures."

"Oh," said Bran. "That's a good point." He stood, offering us each a hand. "Shall we get going?"

Lark nodded and took his hand. I hesitated.

"What?" Bran asked.

"I don't know how much help I'll be. I'm... different. You know what the curse did." I shook my head. "We should split up. I'll give you my rock, and you and Lark can go do whatever you want. I'll find the nearest village and make a life there. I'm not going to be of any use to you in my current condition."

"And how do we know you won't just give up? How do you know you'll actually make it to the village?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes!" Bran angrily shook the hand he was offering me, as though to draw my attention to it. "We aren't going to leave you here to give up hope and die. You're coming with us."

"I didn't give up hope," I corrected. "It was taken from me."

"Then come with us. Get it back."

Lark offered her hand to me, too, mouthing, "Come."

"We'll take it step by step," Bran said. "You don't have to hope, you don't have to come to help us defeat the Magician, and you don't have to help us plan the attack. You just have to come with us. Take our hands, pull yourself to your feet, and focus on putting one foot in front of the next. Ignore everything else. We'll get you through this."

"And what if I can't get through this?"

"You can."

Lark nodded in agreement.

Slowly, I took their hands and pulled myself to my feet. My stiff muscles groaned in protest.

"How far away do you think we'll have to get before it'll be safe?" Bran asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. "We should at least get as far away as we can today. I can't be sure that'll be enough."

"Okay," said Bran.

And together, slowly but surely, we began to walk.

Fyra's out of hope, huh? I'm beginning to run out of hope too. Yet each time I see that one of you lovely readers has commented or voted on a chapter, I get a small measure of hope. Want to help me out?