Worlds Apart

Chapter 38

D E R A I L E D

Oct. 29 2020 20:02

The Valleys of Kaira, Province of Forseglet

The train screeched to a stop. Nocturnal birds cried out in the forests around them as they hung on a bridge in the middle of a valley. They were stranded in the heart of the mountains around Wim, where a velvet blanket stretched out around them, a raring river coursing beneath their winding tracks.

Riona waited with bated breath for something to break the sudden tranquillity, pressed to the floor away from the glittering piles of ore. Daisha and Naia had their guns out and pointed at the gap in the ceiling and the open sky beyond it. Hazy clouds lazily drifted by.

A gunshot punctured the silence. Bullets ricocheted off metal and sparks filled her vision. Her hand wrapped around her gifted dagger, the loose threads tying her to the souls buried in the mountains tightened, and then there was blood and screaming and soulless brown eyes staring into her own and an off-centre, broken Y she vaguely recognised from the news, and then there was nothing.

When Riona woke up, she was tied to a chair, a single old-fashioned light bulb hanging from the abyssal ceiling. She was alone. The room felt small and the air tasted stale, its corners lathered in darkness. She shifted under her bindings and realised there was tape on her mouth, but the gum had loosened from the tears on her face. She opened her mouth, ready to scream, but who would she call for?

Who could she call for?

Her throat hurt already. Why would she scream and try to escape when it was over? She should be here forever. She deserved it—no matter what she did now. Riona could never leave—she would be buried in the dirt forever, dropping into an endless void, decaying into the earth while Naia was decaying in a forgotten train car—

A sob bubbled up her throat, her shoulders trembling. She gasped for air and found nothing to breathe for so she choked and cried and wept until the darkness took her, too.

‡    ‡    ‡

Another fist collided with Daisha's jaw, bonier than the last. She shot the woman a sharp grin in response. The woman would have been pretty in any other scenario: lean, willowy, and capable of throwing a mean punch. She just wished it wasn't her being punched.

She scowled at Daisha.

"This ain't working," she grumbled to the man behind her.

He shook his head in annoyance, bald head reflecting the swaying, flickering light bulb. Daisha couldn't tell if she should take them seriously or not—it felt like a setting straight out of a movie...which could also be the exhaustion talking.

"I told you," Daisha cut in, "I don't know shit about you guys. None of us do."

The woman raised an immaculate eyebrow. "Oh? Even the little Marked crybaby?"

Daisha felt something dark twist in her gut. The gall—after what they did— "Yes," she said evenly.

"That woman with ya—"

"Child," Daisha hissed. "Naia was a child."

"The child with ya," the woman said with a mockingly sweet smile, "was a Bullet. And you're saying nunna you are?"

"No. Looks like you murdered the one person who could tell you anything if it was Bullet business you're after. Too bad."

She felt terrible talking about the poor girl's death with such levity, but it seemed prudent to act as if it wasn't a big deal in front of these people.