Blood and Water - The Darkling

Chapter 19: We Do Not Bow

*Unedited

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𝕴 raise my hands to use the cut, to do something. All I can see is Alina tumbling toward the cliff's edge - hip, then head, striking damp rock. The bones, I think. Oh, Saints, the bones at the bottom of the falls. This is how it killed.

My scream mixes with Alina's as I continue rushing toward her. Before she disappears off the cliff, Mal grabs hold of her.

"I've got you!" he shouts.

He leans out farther. But I can tell that they are both going over.

"I've got you," he repeats.

In slow motion, I reach them. Wasting no more time, I latch on to Mal's waist, desperately trying to pull them back up.

The jolt slams through us at the same time. He flinches. Power surges between all three of us, bright and inevitable. I have the sense of a door swinging open, and all I want is to step through—this taste of perfect, gleaming elation is nothing compared to what lies on the other side. I don't know where I am, I don't know anything except the need to cross this threshold, to claim this power.

And with this hunger comes horrible understanding. No, I think desperately. I don't want this.

But still, I hold on. The burn of power is almost unendurable, but somehow I ignore it. Together, Mal and I inch backward. We all wriggle onto the safety of the plateau.

As soon as I release Mal, the shuddering rush of power relents. We drag ourselves away from the edge, muscles trembling, panting for breath.

That echoing call sounds again. The firebird hurtles toward us. We shove up to our knees. Mal has no time to draw his bow. He throws himself in front of Alina, arms spread wide as the firebird shrieks and dives, its talons extended directly toward him. Thanks for the concern, tracker.

Instead of shying away, I rise and stare at the magnificent creature. The firebird draws up short, its claws bare inches from my chest. Its wings beat once, twice, almost trying to drive me back. Time seems to slow.

I can see myself reflecting in its great golden eyes. Its beak is razor-sharp, and its feathers seem to blaze with a light of their own. Awe bombards me. The firebird is Ravka. It's right to make us kneel. Though, I vow never to do so again. Not even for this creature.

Slowly, my hand reaches out tentatively. "Sankta Vasilka, I wonder if it is you."

I pause right before touching it. The firebird cocks its head but makes no move to attack. Even if it were to do so, I would welcome her wrath. My hand rests its beak, feathers brush the tip of my longest finger.

"Oh, Vasilka... how I wish I could shroud myself in your golden wings and fly away. For I too am sought out by a sorcerer, intent on having me as his own. But you and I are meant for more than that, aren't we?" I whisper. "Are you lucky? Do you prefer freedom in this form over being bound? What shall I do, Vasilka? For unlike you, I care for the man hunting me. Perhaps, I'm a fool."

The firebird nuzzles into my hand, almost in a comforting way. I see understanding behind her glasses eyes. We are the same, are we not, little Saint? She seems to say. Free spirits, not meant for settling down. We do not bow. We can not.

I remove my palm. Then she lets out another piercing cry, whirls and flaps its wings, soaring into the gathering dusk. Though, she left something behind. One gleaming white feather edged in gold that resembles the brightest point of a flame. I pick it up with care, tilting it so that it catches the light. Power shoots through me, not quite as much as Morozova's true amplifiers but enough. More than enough. The firebird gave me my third and final amplifier. She must have somehow known I did not want to complete Morozova's trifecta. This ensures that I do not even have the option. How it's possible, I don't know. I'm not going to question it.