Carmiabell: The Black Apple

Chapter 33

Though my fingers looked a little cadaverous and slightly swollen, they felt as new as a pin. Simon, of all of us, seemed the most shocked. If he thought I was going to die just to hurt Damon, newsflash: I was healing.

Everyone gravitated toward my palm, as if it was some newly discovered creature. One might have thought it was glowing. Technically, it was—since the darkness that had lingered around me had faded.

But the attack hadn't completely receded above my wrist. A wisp of darkness trailed toward a thicker shadow that clung to my features. Not exactly a call for celebration, was it? This curse was arcane; who knew what side effects came with nearly kicking the bucket?

“How do you feel?” Damon asked, glancing at my hand like it might sprout legs and dance away.

“Like…” I struggled to find the right words. “I'm alive.” Quite the informal way to describe feeling half-dead just a few days prior.

My sister, Marie, would have had plenty to say at a moment like this. She always had just the right words for the worst and best moments in life. Part of me wondered if she was still dishing out that kind of consolation to her colleagues.

Warrior was in my blood; not even my mother could have stopped me from joining the army. Not that it was the wisest decision—considering Ellialand was the only land that had "peace" in its vocabulary—but it was my choice, and I was steadfast about it.

I had written loads of letters to her, but they all went unreplied. Heartbreaking didn’t even begin to cover it. I could spin it in a thousand ways, but I knew my sister well enough. She wasn’t dead. She was the best soldier I knew, and I was going to see her again. I was definitely going to tell her about these strange black veins.

“This calls for a celebration!” Zuina declared, sounding far too enthusiastic for someone who was clearly hungry.

“No alcohol!” Phoebi and I scowled in unison, our voices sharp enough to cut through the tension.

Phoebi giggled, and Zuina shrugged, “Okay.”

I couldn't think of a better way to enjoy a three-layered jelly stick than with my friends around. Eating it alone would have made it taste less delectable. As Zuina craved more while everyone else sneaked bites away from her prying eyes, the day drifted by pleasantly.

Mrs. Tuth had yet to show up. Maybe we were looking at it in the wrong light. Perhaps it wasn't her at all. Or maybe she was simply on her way, stuck behind traffic somewhere in the realm of Eldritch beings.

From fun to boring, we all sat in a circle and began playing a confession game. This was Zuina's idea of fun—sort of a sneaky way to get juicy information out of us.

She was the first to pick a name from a pot of folded notes. Her note read Phoebi. “So, Phoebi, who's your crush?”

The question caught Phoebi off guard, her eyes dropping to the floor as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the room. Silence swallowed us whole.

“Okay, is that person with us here?” Zuina pressed, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Yes,” Phoebi finally admitted, not hesitating one bit. Simon's smile could have illuminated a dark cave at that moment.

Damon took his turn next. Of course, it had to be his favorite target: Simon.

“How would you like me to kill you?” Damon quipped, a devilish grin plastered across his face.

“You wish,” Simon shot back, rolling his eyes.

The game continued, each round more outrageous than the last, until it was my turn again. I withdrew a note, only to find Damon's name. A grin of mirth crossed my heart—though not my lips, because that would be far too revealing. But then again, he was staring at me, and it unnerved every barrier of my resolve.

“What’s happening to you?” I blurted out, recalling that he hadn’t been sleeping and hadn’t shared his struggles with us.

“What do you mean?” He leaned in, clearly not interested in dodging the question this time.

“You haven’t been sleeping, and you’ve been boarding a levitating train.” My heart raced at the thought.

He sighed and shifted to the side, “Do I have to answer that?”

“Rules are rules,” Zuina chimed in, clearly relishing the moment.

Resentment surfaced on his face, and the internal struggle was obvious in the way he shook his head. Paradoxical feelings played across his features; he wanted to share but also wanted to hide.

Finally, he cut through the tension and blurted, “I’ve been having bad dreams.” He averted his gaze from everyone. “Ever since my hand was cut off in the great library.”

“I’m, I’m sorry.” A wave of guilt crashed over me, knowing that I was the main reason for that.

“You don’t have to be. I’m figuring it out.” He smiled, but I could see the tears he was holding back. “They are poisoning the levitating dust.”

His father owned one of the companies, so it made sense for him to be talking about levitating dust.

“What do you mean?” Simon, usually so combative, seemed strangely calm as he communed with his favorite enemy.

“Ellialand is running out of the great phoenix ashes, so they are compromising.”

That was a lot to digest. First things first: the great phoenix’s ashes were real. Secondly, boarding a levitating train could jeopardize our lives. Damon was putting his life on the line for his father to call a quit to his reckless project.

Impure levitating dust meant risk. Risk meant gambling with creatures’ lives. Gambling with creatures’ lives could lead to disaster at a time like this. The last thing Ellialand needed was more deaths.

“I think he saw something. The great phoenix’s ashes are not as good as they sound.”