The Glass Thief

Chapter Six

CELIAN

My sister vanished over the edge of Traitor's End without a sound, without a scream.

The world fell still. Even those who had been laughing and jeering fell quiet, as if the gravity of this moment was too much even for them.

As I stood there, numb, staring at the place where she'd been, a part of me couldn't help but think this was all just some horrible joke. Surely I'd return home to find Nyssa waiting for me there, with a familiar glint in her eye as she prepared to tell me the story of her greatest escape yet.

But I knew my sister wasn't coming back. Not this time.

In my shock, I found myself wondering whether she was still falling--or if the ocean far, far below had finally claimed her body as its own.

The High Archon's voice broke the silence.

"The traitor chose freedom," she said softly. "And for that, her memory shall be honoured."

Her words almost made me laugh. Do not speak of honour, when you've just condemned an innocent woman to her death.

The day's entertainment was over, and the spectators began to murmur and disperse--ready to return to their normal, mundane lives.

I remained there and let the tide of people flow past me. The more compassionate among them regarded me with pity, while others shoved and growled at me to get out of their way.

Soon only me, the High Archon, and the execution guard were left at Traitor's End. Some formed a ring around the Archon, preparing to escort her back to her tower, while others were sent to disperse the stragglers who were yet to leave.

One of the guards approached. Though I couldn't see much of her face through her glass helmet, her voice was not unkind. "Move along, son. She's gone now."

I didn't move. The guard looked as if she was about to say more, but seemed to decide it was best to leave me be. I watched her retreating back as she went to join the rest of her troop.

It wasn't out of spite that I stayed there--I simply couldn't bring myself to move. Ever since our parents had been forced off this same damned ledge twelve years ago, Nyssa had taken up their burden on her own frail shoulders--caring for me with all the love of a father, mother, and older sister combined.

Now that she was gone... I didn't know what I would do.

The numbness in my chest became a persistent itch that grew into a slow burn, the sensation spreading down my arms and into the palms of my hands.

Without thinking, I leapt forwards with a primal yell and slammed my fist into the guard's back.

I didn't expect to do much. At best I hoped to give the guard a few new bruises, but I'd more likely be repelled by the protective sigils on her armour. After that, well, I'd be thrown into the dungeons.

Instead, lightning pulsed between my closed fingers and, with a thunderous boom, threw the guard into the rest of her troop twelve feet away.

I stood there, stunned, as the other guards recovered their footing and stared at their downed friend.

What did I just do ...?

I backed up and got ready to run for it. Then I noticed that the guard I'd punched hadn't so much as twitched since she'd hit the ground. The visor of her helmet had fallen open, revealing a charred ruin of a face and smoking, empty eye sockets.

Stars and sea ...

I started running.

A dozen booted feet chased after me. The slow burn in my chest grew searing, making it difficult to breathe. Vaguely, I felt the first drops of rain on my skin--heralds of a brewing storm.

I didn't get very far before one of the guards tackled me to the ground. He slapped me across the face, making my head spin, before he grabbed my shoulders and dragged me back to the High Archon.

"Get off me," I mumbled through a swelling lip.

Pain jolted up my knees as the guard kicked the back of my legs, forcing me to kneel. He kept a firm grip on my hair to keep me from escaping.

I noticed the faintest tremor in the High Archon's voice as she asked, "What have you done?"

"Get off me," I repeated, louder.

The guard jerked his hand sharply, making my skull rattle. "Answer her!"

I turned around and pressed my palms into the guard's stomach.

The man convulsed as webs of lightning engulfed his body. His hand clamped down on my head, unable to release, and I screamed as electric fire seared down my face and neck.

I let him go. The intense light faded, leaving aching sparks behind my eyes.

The man's body slumped to the ground, a burned-out, lifeless shell.

Rain was falling harder now, droplets stinging on my burns. Thunder rolled in the sky just overhead. I got up slowly, breathing hard as I stared at the stunned guards still standing around me.

I thought--I hoped--that they would leave me alone. Instead, they ducked behind their shields and charged.

Before the first guard could reach me, a fork of lightning speared down from the sky and incinerated him as he ran--his body consumed by white-hot light. More lightning fell from the clouds, transforming my attackers into pillars of white flame.

It wasn't just the guards who felt the fury of the storm. Lightning danced across the island, killing civilians as they walked down the streets. Terrified screams were drowned out by the booming thunder of the storm.

The only person who seemed to still have some semblance of calm was the High Archon. Rain and lightning ricocheted off an invisible dome that surrounded her, held off by the powerful wards in her glass robes.

And she was staring right at me.

I fell to my knees, the burning in my chest threatening to destroy me. I clawed at my thin shirt, wanting it to end--and my fist closed around the necklace I'd forgotten was still around my neck.

The Pendant I had been so proud to have taken that morning was now a ruined lump of melted glass. I let it fall back, energy dancing along my palms.

I flexed my fingers, feeling a sting. I looked down at my hands and gasped.

Amidst all the old scars I'd accumulated over the years, a strange shape had been seared into my palms--a symbol as jagged as the lightning that flashed across the sky.

The storm suddenly fell quiet. I glanced up, surprised, to find myself face-to-face with the High Archon herself. She was so close that I was kneeling within range of her wards, the strength of her magic muting the roar of the storm.

Her face was a mask of rage.

I didn't--couldn't--move as the High Archon pressed her hand to my forehead. I felt the cold touch of glass against my skin.

"Tulog," she whispered.

The last thing I saw was the fire in her eyes before I fell into the dark.