Powerful, page 13
I can make out those crooked bangs from where I stand.
My shout is swallowed by the roaring crowd.
I’ve found her.
At the center of a Trial.
CHAPTER 21 Adena
It is hot in the Pit.
Again, I suppose that’s to be expected.
I wake to the sound of stomping feet. The chanting of thousands has my ears ringing as my senses slowly hum to life. After struggling to blink open my heavy eyelids, I startle at the sight of hedges looming around me.
Staggering to my feet proves to be rather difficult with my wrists now bound behind my back and my ankles bound beneath me. I gawk at the hedges surrounding me, gulp at the sounds coming from beyond the dense foliage. At least I don’t have to look at my fingers anymore. Though they ache so badly that it’s impossible to forget what they look like. I do my best to ignore the image of cracked bones and swollen knuckles that persistently flashes in my mind.
I’m dreaming. I must be.
This is all just a nightmare. Pae will wake me soon with her fingers sweeping back my sweaty bangs. And then we will sit and stare at the stars from behind our Fort. Because that is where I am. That is where I want to be.
But that is not this place.
This place is hot sand beneath my bare feet and sun trickling down through the vines above my head. This place is a wall of greenery, a cage of foliage folding in on me. This place is foreign and familiar all at once.
My eyes widen with realization.
This place really is the Pit.
Why am I in the Pit? I can’t possibly be in the Pit. Today must be the final Trial and—
Did I wake up in the final Trial? I couldn’t have… I mean, why would I be…?
I spin in a slow circle, struggling against the shackles binding my ankles together. My head is pounding from whatever it was that knocked me out, making my vision eerily hazy.
Thundering feet and growing cheers are my only indication that the Trial has begun.
So I stand there. Stunned and still and silently hoping this is all in my head.
Pae will find me. She’ll know what to do. She always knows what to do.
Sweat rolls down my face. My fingers throb. My head aches. My stomach growls.
Time seems to slow. I hear a muffled scream and spin in its direction.
That terror couldn’t have belonged to Paedyn. No, because she’s strong and safe and probably standing right beyond these hedges, about to find me.
Patience has never been a quality I’ve possessed.
493.
I’ve started counting the seconds out of sheer boredom.
My legs are shaking, feeling unsteady beneath me.
494, 495, 496…
I’m not sure what this Trial is supposed to be, but I’m pretty sure I have the worst seat.
It’s difficult to ignore my throbbing fingers, or the nagging thought that I was thrown into this Trial for a reason.
What could they want with a useless seamstress?
521, 522, 523…
Pae will win this. Her prize will be finding me.
Shouts echo from every direction, chanting names I can’t make out.
Do they know I’m here? Do they see me struggling to stay standing?
The world begins spinning around second 547.
My mouth is so dry I can barely swallow.
552.
Any second now. She’ll save me any second now.
The corners of my vision are creeping in on me, making it feel as though I’m looking through a long tunnel.
I just want to wake up so I can see the stars.
I’m so dizzy that I almost don’t see the figure running towards me.
‘Adena?’
Her voice cuts through the haze of pain. My Pae has found me.
She’s bounding towards me, sand flying from her heels. I’m so flooded with relief that I sink to my knees, smiling at her blurry form. ‘Paedyn!’ I shout, attempting to stand. But the look on her face has me faltering.
Why does she look so upset? She’s won.
Maybe I’ve worried her with my disappearance. The thought has me spewing an apology, frantically trying to make her understand where I’ve been. ‘Pae, I’m so sorry. I—’
This second feels longer than all the ones prior.
This one feels like fire.
Fatal.
Like the beginning of the end.
Pain blooms in my chest, burns through my body.
I take my time looking down at what is to be the end of me.
I blink at the bloody branch that has found its way through my chest, vaguely wondering how it got there.
Everything feels dull, muted like the scream that tears from a throat that isn’t mine.
My eyes slowly find their way to the girl sprinting towards me, watching the scream form on her lips but never hearing it leave them.
She catches me before I hit the sand. I’m being cradled in arms I wish I could feel. Fingers are brushing away my bangs, and I manage a smile at the familiar feeling.
She’s always there to wake me from my nightmares, to push uneven bangs from my eyes.
I sense the pain racking my body rather than feel it. Like knowing when your heart has broken without needing to feel it shatter.
I keep my eyes on her. My strong Pae. She’s telling me I’m going to be fine. I know I’m not.
I may be dying, but I’m not dumb.
She’s promising me sticky buns now. Says she’ll feed me so many that I’ll grow sick of them. We both know that’s a lie. My love for sticky buns will die with me.
Die.
What a silly word, one I typically associate with the color of my fabrics. How odd it is to assign three little letters to the end of my existence.
‘… you have to promise me you’ll stay—’
Her muffled words pierce me harder than the branch jutting from my chest. ‘Pae.’ I take a shaky breath. ‘You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep.’
I don’t hear much of what she says next. Her tears are splattering my face, though I can’t feel them through the blanket of numbness smothering my body. She’s just as stubborn as always, denying the death that is so obviously coming to claim me.
That is the one thing I do feel. The brush of Death’s fingers down my face, like a calming caress. I thought I would be frightened of him and the end he’s dragging me towards. But it’s comforting in a way, being fully aware that this is the end.
‘Promise you’ll wear it for me?’
The words slip from my mouth, blood quickly following. Through blurry vision, I see the question on her face more than hear it from her lips. ‘The vest,’ I choke out. ‘Th-The green one with the pockets.’ Death is shushing me, but I speak over him. ‘The stitching took me ages, and I’d hate for all my… h-hard work to go to waste.’
It’s the last piece of me left.
The last physical piece of my passion in life.
No. There’s Mak. He is my passion in life. And I only wish for them both to wear my vests when I’m gone, tethering them to me for eternity.
But I say none of this.
She promises. She pleads. She pulls me closer.
She’s so good. I’m not sure she knows how good she is. How her worth is so much more than what power is or isn’t running through her veins.
I’ve never thought of her as anything less than extraordinary.
My eyelids grow heavy, but I force them open.
I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I’m dead.
It’s peaceful, being pulled into the unknown.
But leaving her is anything but.
I claw against Death, needing to speak one last time.
‘This is not a goodbye… only a good way to say bye until I see you next.’
With numb lips, I leave her with that.
I wonder if I’ll be able to watch over her when I get to wherever Death is taking me.
He better let me watch over her.
The taste of blood is bitter in my mouth, but the smile I muster for her is sweet.
And then I count.
One, two, three…
Death is gentle in a way life never was.
I look up into the sky, seeing stars swim in my vision.
What a beautiful night in the Fort.
Four, five, six…
I’m counting the seconds until I see her next.
I’m counting the stars until I see Mak shining beside me.
The stars wink at me, welcoming me home.
And on second eight, I know nothing.
CHAPTER 22 Makoto
My heart skips a few several beats, sputtering at the sight of her standing there in the sand.
I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stare helplessly at her figure so far away.
This can’t be right. Adena is the farthest thing from a criminal. The farthest thing from anyone who deserves to die.
An Imperial storms by, jostling my shoulder hard enough that I grab his arm. He whips round, temper flaring in his eyes. I’ve never once gone out of my way to interact with an Imperial, yet here I am, clutching his bicep and growling, ‘She’s not a criminal. Why the hell is she in there?’
The man scoffs, shoving me away from him. And if I weren’t so shaken, I likely wouldn’t have let him. ‘King’s orders, slummer.’ He bares his teeth in what he thinks is a menacing way. ‘Grab me again and I’ll throw you in there with her.’
‘Well, in that case…’ I catch his arm, twisting it out with a jerk that forces a gasp from his lips.
He staggers back, eyes wide with hatred. ‘Why you—’ He stops suddenly, and I fear the worst when his eyes narrow. ‘On second thought, I think you’d be hurting far more if you simply watched her die.’
My chest heaves at his words, and before I can do something drastic, he spins on his heel and strides away. I’m left staring after him, breath shaky and palms sweaty.
I turn back slowly towards the arena, fearing what it is I’ll find there. When my eyes land on her, I can just make out the rope binding her wrists behind her back.
But it’s her fingers I focus on. They look wrong, oddly different to what I memorized from the many hours of watching her sew.
I squint, shading my eyes from the blinding sun.
And then I’m once again grasping the rail for support.
Her fingers are bent, swollen, broken behind her back.
Her sewing fingers. They have broken her sewing fingers.
Emotion clogs my throat, making it hard to swallow.
Those beautiful hands of hers. Those beautiful hands that have cupped my face, created countless pieces of clothing, clapped joyfully at the smallest of things.
And now they never will again.
I shake my head, fighting the tears that beg to fall.
No, this isn’t happening. Why would this be happening to her?
A blur from the edge of the circle emerges from the foliage. Blinking away unshed tears, I lean over the railing, catching a glimpse of a vaguely familiar figure.
Paedyn.
Dangerously, I let hope grab ahold of my heart, forcing it to sputter back to life.
If what I know about her is true, then the Silver Savior would never hurt her other half. With that as my only hope, I watch her tear through the sand towards a stumbling Adena.
I pray to whatever will listen. Beg with every ounce of earnestness. Offer my life for hers.
And yet, it appears that nothing was listening. Nothing even cared enough to hear me out, consider my pleas.
Because a branch plunges into her back.
I scream.
The sound rips my throat raw, managing to turn hundreds of heads in my direction.
I can’t look away, can’t see anything but the blood blooming across her back. The branch pierces straight through her to protrude from her chest and the beautiful heart beating there.
When her knees hit the sand, mine meet the concrete.
Tears slide over my skin as I watch Paedyn fall to the ground beside her. Watch her cradle that head of curls, cling to her broken body.
It hurts to not be holding her. My heart aches and my vision blurs. The box in my pocket grows heavy against my chest, right above the mangled heart beating beneath.
The needle will never have the pleasure of being held by her.
And neither will I. Not ever again.
I can barely hear Paedyn’s desperate shouts through the persistent ringing in my ears, but I keep my eyes trained on her, not daring to look away until she’s truly left me forever.
Her eyes are trained on the sky. I picture those big hazel eyes that I loved to fall on me, and choose to remember them that way.
The Sights are now focused on her, displaying her death clearly on the screen above for all to see. I cover my mouth with a trembling hand, attempting to smother my sob.
She blinks slowly at the sky above, her eyelids growing heavier with each one.
She’s counting the stars.
I break.
All of me. Every inch of my being shattering at the realization.
Sobs shake my body as I clutch the bars of the railing, my legs trembling atop the concrete.
It’s a good thing I cut her bangs. The crooked strands kiss her forehead, allowing those hazel eyes clear view of the stars.
The stars she now counts for the last time.
I weep, unashamed, for her.
For the girl who shines so bright that the sun pales in comparison.
For the girl who I was helplessly tripping into.
For the girl who deserved a happy ending.
‘Just count the stars, Dena.’
I choke out the words, whisper them on the wind that will carry her soul far away from me. ‘Just count the stars.’
I count right along with her.
One, two, three…
Only, I’m counting down the seconds until I get to see her again.
Four, five, six…
I’ll count until I’m up in the sky beside her.
Seven, eight, nine…
And I suddenly wish that second would come sooner.
Ten, eleven, twelve…
I feel her power flicker and fade.
And then I watch her die.
Watch the life drain from her dark skin, steal the light from her eyes.
The connection snaps. Her ability slips between my fingers. Leaving me cold and shaking without its comfort.
And I’ll never feel it again. Never feel her again.
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…
When Paedyn’s hand sweeps over her eyes, shutting out the world for eternity, I stand and stumble down the path with shaky legs.
Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…
Tears blur my vision; anger burns my blood. I turn down a concrete tunnel leading to the world beyond. A world without her. A world she is no longer in.
And I’m not sure I can live in that world.
Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…
My sobs echo off the walls, drowning out the cheers from inside the Bowl. It should have been me. I wish it was me.
Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…
They are cheering. Cheering as if a sliver of the sun hadn’t just burned out before them.
Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…
When my feet meet the path outside, and my face is thoroughly doused in sun, I fall to my knees once again.
I clutch the vest around me, pulling at the perfectly straight seams holding it together.
Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty…
Never again will I get to admire her while she sews.
My head falls into my hands, collecting hot tears on my palms. Then I’m running my fingers over the vest again, tracing every bit that her fingers graced.
Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three… My heart stutters at the feel of raised thread beneath a pocket.
I don’t need to look at it to know what it says. Don’t need to read the words to have more tears rolling down my cheeks.
‘See you in the sky.’
I look up, choking back a sob.
Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six…
The sun drenches me in warmth, coats me in comfort.
It’s soothing. Gentle. Soft.
I smile sadly. Laugh despite the tears still staining my skin.
And there she is, outshining everyone.
In a way, she’s always been the sun. Always the brightness that existed despite the presence of such darkness.
Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine…
‘Thanks for picking the closest star, Dena.’
I take a shaky breath.
Forty, forty-one, forty-two…
‘Looks like you’ll be around to keep me company.’
CHAPTER 23 Adena
In the end, it was all light and dark, loud and soft.
I knew nothing but the memory of those I loved.
One, a friend. The other, unfinished.
And that alone is what I took with me into the next life. But I watched, warm and bright and high above.
Just as he promised.
Acknowledgements
It would be a lie to say I haven’t skimmed through several of my favorite author’s acknowledgments, trying to work out the best way to go about this. Because I’m convinced there is a secret formula to follow, one that keeps you – the lovely reader – engaged while I – the rambling author – attempt to express my admiration for the people who made this book possible. And maybe by the end of this, you can let me know if I figured it out or not?
To say I left a piece of my heart between the folds of these pages would be far too soppy for my liking. But Powerful means so much to me. Writing this story following the release of Powerless felt more than daunting. I so desperately wanted this story to be Adena’s alone, and the weight of not doing her justice was crushing. But within the span of a mere month, this novella truly wrote itself. Though, something far greater was also achieved when I typed that final word into the manuscript. I proved something to myself:
My story—my dream—did not end when I finished Powerless at the age of 18. And I’ve now gained the courage to keep dreaming. Keep writing. Keep doing what I love.
