The Fifth Annual Writer Games: The Fall

The Fall of Lucifer - Nerida Cresswell

I'll never forget the first time I got caught by the tide.

I was seven years old, I think, and already I was venturing further than I should've been. It seems like forever since I told Nixie I was meant to face the things nobody else dared to, but I think I might have been wrong. I think maybe the truth is I like to get in over my head, love to feel the air rushing into my lungs all at once when I resurface. It's a dizzying feeling, an addictive one at that—a dangerous one, nonetheless.

My breath runs just as jagged today, interrupted by the stinging that hasn't fully left from the feast and its smoke bomb. Tears swell in my eyes whenever the light shines too close to them, but at least I'm better off than Ellie. I've spent the last few days nursing her, bandaging her cuts and applying lotion to the burns the explosion left up her arms. She can't hear from one ear, but I whisper into her ear and watch the goosebumps erupt down her arms instead, counting the seconds it takes for them to move from the nape of her neck to her arms. It's become my favourite game to play.

Everything is quiet here and now. It's peaceful, even, strange as that might seem knowing where we are. This section of the woods is our own little haven, an island we've been shipwrecked to during a storm. We built this from more destruction than my brain could process, but somehow, it's beautiful despite it all, so I try not to think of how we got stranded here.

This moment is all I need to think about; it's all I want to think about.

"Benthic is out there," I whisper. It breaks my own rule, reminds me of what else is out in our pocket of a world, but I can't avoid it. "I left him, and he's alone."

"I left Eitan, and he's dead," Ellie reminds me.

I cared about Eitan, flinched when I saw his face in the sky, but not like Benthic did. Not like Ellie did. She spent the night after the feast fighting back tears as though each one was a tribute in the way of her victory, desperate to hide them even from me. I tell myself it's not about me, that she doesn't want to cry in front of the cameras, but I don't know if I believe myself. We're here, fighting for our lives, but emotion is still more overwhelming than any violence we've faced. We're beaten, bruised, and burned, but there's no bandages for our sadnesses and fears.

"It's just us," I tell her. "Imagine, for a moment, that this is all there is to the world. You, me, and the woods. Nothing can hurt us. Nothing can break our hearts."

Ellie tsks. "No ocean? I don't think you can live like that, Neri."

I think about it, imagine a world without a sea to explore or a shore to laze on, nothing but earth and forest and snow and stone. It seems unbearably far from home, but then the rock takes on Ellie's face and I look at the girl in front of me, and she's so real. I remember, weeks ago, thinking her face looked like it was carved in stone, and it hits me that I was right in all the best ways. Every feature is carefully crafted by the most caring of hands. Looking at her, teary eyes and head pressed against my shoulder, it's impossible to miss the love whoever sculpted her put into their craft. It's overwhelming—intoxicating, really—and beautifully simple at the very same time.

"Maybe I got lucky enough to get two great loves in life," I reply. "You and the sea. I'm sure I can get by with you alone. Can't get greedy, can I?"

"I'm surprised you don't have a story about that." Ellie chuckles against my shoulder, and I kiss the top of her head.

"No story. Maybe we could become one."

She looks up at me, eyes full in a way stone could never be. "I'd like that."

We lie down in silence, chests rising and falling in sync as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is. The sky is dark above us, but starlight rains down so that every inch of Ellie's face shines for my eyes and my eyes alone. I pull her in and hold on tighter than if I was a castaway and she, the last piece of wood left over from my ship, keeping me afloat in the storm.