Corrupt

Chapter 32

I scream. I can't help it. I'm screaming until my very soul is hoarse, screaming for Daeva, screaming for Nikolas, screaming for myself, and there are other screams in my ears too, and they form a deranged, cacophonous choir. 

I run to where Daeva stood; to where, now, there is only an inferno. Between the flames, I can just about make out their twitching body, crumpled on the ground, eyes glazed with agony.

"Daeva," I whimper like a wounded creature, the uncontrollable heat of the blaze buffeting my hair, searing across my skin.

A tortured yell, full of fury, from behind me, and I know it is Nikolas'. 

They're too close. 

One was always set to destroy the other. 

But now, it seems, they will both be slaughtered. 

And it seems I have to watch.

What can I do what can I do what can I do what can I do

I can't say goodbye. I can't. Not like this.

"Lynette..." I hear, as if from a million miles away. My soul tears a little more at Daeva's desperation. I've never seen them this weakened.

"You can't die. You can't. Don't even try it. Okay? No dying. No dying," I murmur. I force my tone to be calm, as if I'm reassuring a child who fell off a bike, rather than an out-of-control, burning rebel leader. 

There's no response. I see them slump a little, hear a slight thud as their head falls amongst the ashes beneath them, the effort for control fading from their expression. They must be unconscious. 

They say that when everything is on the line - when the building is collapsing, the bear is roaring - something snaps. In that moment, a lover pleads with gods. In that moment, a mother becomes a feral, uncontained animal, tearing through metal, tearing through the universe itself. There's no time for thought, no room for pain; just that reckless, all-consuming necessity. The thread snaps, and a madness, a hysterical determination, settles in its place.

Inside me, I feel that thread begin to fray. 

Bewildered, the crowd backs away from the fires, uniting in their terror, clutching at each other from sheer trepidation.

They can't die.

I refuse to let them go. 

The thread snaps.

Before I can even process my recklessness, I've thrust my hand into the fire, and I'm clinging to Daeva's collar, tugging them with newfound strength, away from Nikolas, away from it all. I'm outside my body, the pain unable to locate me. I will save them. They will not die on me, not now.

Finally, the throes of torment catch up with me, and I shriek, jerking my hand away, collapsing onto the ground, scrabbling away from the ebbing bonfire. It is worse than anything I have ever felt before: worse than any betrayal, any wound I have ever experienced. But whatever I am feeling, they are feeling worse. I turn back to face them, gritting my teeth, forcing myself to continue. 

In front of my eyes, the flames flicker in and out of reality, so unnatural it is almost laughable - there one second, gone the next, then back again. Please. Stop. 

At last, whether from my prayers, my actions or just the weakness of its hosts, the fire dissolves into embers and ashes. And, from within them, Daeva lets out a muffled groan. My hands flutter to my mouth. I can't breathe.

Their body, the one I know so well, is gone. In its place, a charred remnant, hardly recognisable as the same person: the person that I love. Every inch of their shredded outfit, torn like cobweb, is flaked with soot, and red, scarring burns trace a language of agony across their skin. I collapse next to them, my fallen tears sizzling on their face.

"Daeva," I whisper. "Don't die. You can't. You can't." 

Gently, their eyes flicker with recognition, and their bloodied hands slowly reach up to cradle my cheeks. They smile, ever so slightly.

"You must be so tired," I murmur. 

It's as I look into their eyes, then, that I know what I should do. What I must do. 

"Stay here," I tell them softly.

"What the fuck else am I going to do?" they mutter, words slurring together, as I push myself to my feet, body trembling from the exertion. 

After that, there's only silence. I cross the battlefield, towards where I see the limp shape of Nikolas' body. He flinches, ever so slightly, as he sees me come to stand above him, as if remembering his weakness.

He threatened me, publicly, with my own knife. Everyone here knows, now, that he deserves whatever will come to him.

My eyes fall upon that very knife, lying in the trampled grass a few feet away.

I stoop to pick it up, ignoring the throbbing in my arms, and return to him.

Our audience watches in complete silence. Even the wind is still, like a held breath.

"No. No, Lynette, I- Forgive me. I'll change. I promise."

My foolish heart sighs in pity. But he's promised things before.

I kneel next to him.

I raise the knife. Hold it above his chest.

I look up, towards where Daeva lies motionless on the ground. He has exiled them falsely, painted an innocent child as a cruel villain.

I turn my gaze to the observing crowd. More victims. He has spread his lies to each and every one of them. There are empty spaces where my girls should stand. There are corpses lying on the ground, slain in his futile warfare.

And then I look inside myself. My battered heart. My love, cowering in its corners. He doesn't get to leave me like this: scarred from his abuse, still mourning my lost friends, my happiness trampled.

"Why, Nikolas?" I whisper. "Why did you do this?"

He doesn't respond, instead staring, eyes bulging, at the knife in my clenched fist.

"You got everything you wanted," I continue, trying desperately to open this vault of answers. I need answers. "Everything. You had Daeva exiled. You had people that loved you. You had power."

You had me.

Not anymore.

"Why were you so... So... So corrupt?" I choke out the word, tears catching in my throat.

And he begins to laugh.