The Descension

Calypso

When Calypso had arrived for Kieran, he was on the ground, bloodied and beaten. In that moment, she had never felt more rage. Hadn't known she was capable of such intense hatred. Like a flowing river, she couldn't stop, couldn't control her own power. But when the body had fallen, and the blood stained her hands. . . She wanted nothing more than to take back what had been done.

Even after all she had endured. The fall of the village, the death of their beloved Ishta, and many others. Nothing would change what had happened. Killing that man wouldn't bring any of them back or stop the fire that still burned the land.

Calypso saw that look of terror on Kieran's face, and she needed to do something. But was that enough? Did that make it okay?

She shook her head, running hands across her face afterward. Calypso had been replaying the events in her mind. Watching that man die again and again on repeat as if it might somehow be undone.

She had killed someone. The blood on her hands belonged to a person. Someone who had been loved, and cherished. Someone who probably had a family, and friends, like the unconscious girl who lay at their feet. Her hands still trembled. Something deep within her chest had been aching since the moment her sword pierced that man's skin.

Oh, what has she done? What has she done? Her breathing grew uncontrolled, ragged. Why can't she stop picturing it? Why won't the woman's scream of agony for her friend leave Calypso's mind?

Calypso had never done anything like that. She wasn't sure she had been capable of something so awful, so terribly immoral. And yet, Calypso did it. She murdered whoever that was, and she didn't even know his full name, hadn't taken the moment to memorize his facial features. There was no image in her mind of who he might have been, just the endless void of her mistake. That man died in agony at the hands of Calypso Eodice. He died in pain, as his friend watched . . .

Was it a mistake? Was this awful feeling, and the life that had been lost worth taking for Kieran? Calypso shook her head, she had been staring at the floor, her mind full of too much agony to bare. It had to be worth it. She couldn't bear such an awful miscalculation on her part. Couldn't bear to know she had done the unthinkable for someone who didn't even deserve it.

Kieran needed her, and Calypso was there, without a second thought. That's who she was, and now she had to deal with the consequences.

"Calypso," Willow stepped forward. She placed a hand across Calypso's shoulder, and for the first time, the smaller girl flinched away from the burning sensation. Willow was quick to remove the hand. After a pause, she said, "we've sent warriors to the burrows and southern treesak. Once we have confirmation from Harden and Borcia, the warriors have been ordered to send half of us to the burrows, and the other half to the southern treesak."

"Ordered by who?" Kieran asked. "I thought Calla was dead?" "

"Nolan made the decision." Willow informed him. "He's still guardian, which technically—"

"Makes him the temporary Ishtar." Calypso realized out loud, her gaze finally lifting. Willow nodded in confirmation.

"Once we hear word from the other tribes, we're going to start splitting people." Willow pulled out some thin, brown paper. It was covered in scribbled names. "I'm assuming you want to be placed with Nolan and Aero?" Calypso's gaze flickered to Kieran, but she bobbed her head in a slow nod.

Something felt weird. The color of the world, the way people spoke and carried themselves. It was wrong. Everything was dark and gray, her senses twisted the world that surrounded her. The trembling would come and go, in awful spasms. She took several deep breaths. There wasn't enough air, wasn't enough, wasn't enough. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to stand, and think, and stare at all of these people who viewed her as something she wasn't.