Thorns of Fate

by Hayley Todd

  Carson held me, tears streaming down his face. He clutched me tightly and I realized somewhere in a far off part of my mind that that should hurt. He squeezed me too hard. But it didn’t. Nothing hurt but the writhing pain in my chest, the agony of heartbreak.

  I saw Will in my mind, smiling, his cheeks with a rosy glow. That smile could chase away a thousand nightmares. It could make me well on my worst days and now I would never see him again. I blamed myself. Deep in my chest, in the furthest reaches of my heart, I blamed myself.

  How could I have walked this path? How could I have been the one to lay waste to the vibrant life my best friend had once led? And for what? My freedom? That wasn’t worth it.

  Something in me knew there was more to it than that. I had prevented an era of destruction. I had destroyed an evil whose reached had tainted the earth already with promises of much more ruination. But the price had been high. So much death existed in the world around us. But so much death had still been caused.

  I thought about the bodies that I knew had littered the arena. Henrick and Liam and Will, but others too. Had I done what was right? Or had I followed selfish urges to only defend myself?

  My vision began to blur and wane. Carson was shaking, tears rolling down his face, dripping across my skin.

  He had fought for me. Had that been worth it? Had I been worth it?

  My mind twisted in turmoil while my heart thudded with agony.

  Will.

  I’ll see you soon.

  We’ll be together again.

  My vision faded to black.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “I didn’t anticipate seeing you again so soon,” Achillia/Not Achillia said. She stood over me in an empty black endless abyss. The darkness stretched out eternally behind her. I was laying on a flat surface, though there was nothing but darkness there. She stood over me, arms behind her back, peering down at me.

  She was stunning. She had long dark hair clear to her waist with beautiful twisting curls. Her eyes were similar in color to mine, a bright liquid blue. She had plump lips and a perfect slightly pointed chin. She wore a tunic style gown, long and white and cinched with a belt at the waist.

  “What exactly do I call you?” I asked, leaning up and sitting with my knee propped, elbow bent over it. It was so eerie that she looked so much like myself but meanwhile not at all the same. She was gorgeous though.

  She looked thoughtful for a long moment, pressing a fingertip to her chin. “Hm. I do not know. I have had a million names but I am all of them and none.” She peered down at me out of the corner of her eye. “I do not typically encounter my host frequently enough to require a name.”

  I nodded and tapped the ground beside me. She watched me carefully before finally crossing her legs beneath her dress and sitting beside me. “Would it make you feel better to call me Achillia?” She asked.

  I considered it. She didn’t look precisely like what little images I caught of Achillia. The name didn’t seem correct but it would do. I nodded my head.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked, sitting comfortably with me. She was so bizarre. She had an alien ethereal beauty but so was so familiar, so similar to me.

  I hesitated, my voice caught in my throat around a bulge that seemed to choke me. “Henrick killed Will,” I supplied, not offering an explanation. I wasn’t sure that I could. The brief response had been hard enough to spit out.

  Achillia nodded, staring into the empty abyss unfolding before us. “He broke his neck,” she responded. It wasn’t entirely a question but I nodded anyway. “I am sorry,” she said. Her words had an odd cadence, jerking and tilted in the wrong places.

  “Thank you,” I replied and we lapsed into a moment of silence. Will’s image danced through my mind, joyful and fun and loving. My heart ached even in this world of non-existence. “What was that storm?” I asked her and it instead blossomed in my mind’s eyes. The clouds that had churned above us, spinning and roiling, waiting for my instruction.

  Achillia paused before responding, seeming to search her or maybe even my thoughts for the incident in question. After several seconds she nodded, looking to have found the right memory. “The call of the storm,” she replied, cryptically. “Your powers are steeped in electrical origins. The most raw and natural electricity is the storm itself. It calls to you and you call to it. Your anger and pain spawned the storm.” She replied, staring into the dark again.

  I gasped at her. I had created that storm? “What about the giant circle of magick?” I asked.

  She looked me over for a moment. “You can use your magick however you choose. Achillia chose long whip-like cords of magick. Some prefer bolts. Some would rather manifest the raw energy of the storm. You, however, seem to be unique in borrowing elements from them all. It’s actually quite impressive, especially for one so young.”

  We lapsed into a long moment of silence. My mind filled with images of my final memories. Everyone had stared at me after the circle had dissipated. Was that power out of the ordinary?

  “How am I connected to Achillia?” I asked at long last, not able to broach the subject of my final moments yet.

  She seemed to contemplate how to phrase her words for a few minutes before responding. “Achillia and yourself are a line that share a soul. There are others. Achillia was the first to expose herself to you. I believe she wanted revenge.” She looked over to me, “Which you doled out with a swift hand.”

  I guessed she was correct. I had exacted Achillia’s revenge. Did I do it for Achillia? I guess I kind’ve had. I wasn’t certain it had been intentional. I had had my own selfish goals. But I had also done it for my family. I had done it for myself but I had also done it for my family and Carson and Anton and my people. I couldn’t have let Henrick run the world with an iron hand. He advanced his plans through murder and kidnapping and...rape.

  “We share a soul?” I asked her, disregarding the revenge.

  She nodded, folding her hands over her lap. “There is an ancient soul that is tied to your power and you share it with dozens of others, Achillia being one of them. She is you, you are her, we are them all.”

  I looked her over. Her eyes were a touch brighter than mine, her skin flawless. “What happened to Will?” I asked, feeling a clench in my chest at his name.

  She looked me over, hesitating before answering. Her face was tight, her lips twisted. “I do not know,” she replied, looking out into the abyss. She didn’t seem pleased by the fact that she was uncertain.

  “Who are you really?” I asked her, watching her reaction carefully. She stiffened for barely an instant.

  “I am Order. I am the spirit of destiny and peace. I carry with me a power, an overwhelming force that has been passed from person to person for millennia. I am you, I am Achillia, I am them all,” she replied.

  I could’ve sworn she glowed, ever so faintly. A blue-tinged white light running from her skin and clothing. The darkness around us began to glow, barely a sparkle of light at first before growing into a blinding sunshine like blast.

  “Achillia, what is our purpose?” I called, not able to see her any longer. A hand touched my fingers, gripping them tenderly.

  “To defend the world,” she whispered, “and it’s only just beginning.” The palm over me dissipated and my world shifted into a very different view.

  There was a steady but fast beeping near my head and my chest was cold, the skin bare. I opened my eyes to find a man with graying hair standing over me. He looked down at me with deep brown eyes, two flat squares with handles held above me. The handles had cords running out of their backs to a machine on my right. A plate of metal shone from their undersides.

  “Ah, welcome back,” the man said before docking the paddles on the side of the machine. He reached forward, tugging sides of a gown over my exposed chest and walked around the foot of the bed and up my other side, fiddling with a monitor on my left that beep beep beeped quietly. He pressed something, printing some sort of chart sho
wing the same lines as the screen, nodded toward me, and head out of the room.

  The room reminded me of the medical room I had woken up in what seemed like an eternity ago. I lay in a hospital bed, the sides lowered below the mattress. White sheets were drawn up over my legs exposing the pale blue gown now buttoned over my chest.

  A hand reached forward clutching mine with warmth and I knew before I settled my eyes on him that Carson was there.

  He pressed our entwined hands to his forehead, looking up at me with glazed green eyes. “Thank God,” he breathed, pressing his warm lips to my knuckles. He lifted his head, smiling wearily at me. “You’re alive.”

  “As are you,” I croaked, my throat raw.

  He reached to a table at my side and produced a tall clear cup with a blue lid and a bent straw poking out and lifted it to my lips. I gulped down cool water as though I hadn’t had a drink in a month.

  There was a tube jammed into the crease of my elbow, blood running from a bag at my side. Strangely enough, there was another one on the other side, running into my other arm.

  Carson laughed, a jingling, lovely sound. He rubbed his forehead with the hand not wrapped in mine. He looked endlessly exhausted, worse than I had ever seen him. Then he narrowed eyes on me.

  “What were you thinking, Kyra?” He asked through gritted teeth. “And a note? Just a note? Do you know how worried I was?” He had to take a deep breath but I could feel the panic and relief wafting from him in equal measures.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied, unsure of what else to say. “I had to. I had to try. He was going to kill Will.”

  His eyes softened and he leaned forward pressing a soft kiss to my lips. I kissed him back, fervently, wanting more comfort than a simple kiss could provide. He separated from me before I wanted him to.

  “I love you too,” he said and I knew he referenced the note that I had left him. I grinned as much as I could bear.

  “What happened?” I asked him, trying to find some sort of memory from the last conscious one I had had without much luck. I remembered being carried from the Coliseum, his arms wrapped around me, but I remembered nothing after that but my meeting with the spirit.

  “Just a second,” he said quickly, pulling away from me. “I promised Damien and Anton that I would tell them the moment you woke up. It was the only way they would leave.” He got up and headed out the door and for a moment I was left entirely alone.

  I didn’t hurt as bad as I had expected but my body still ached all across my form. The doctor had dimmed the lights before leaving and I was grateful for it, my eyes still burning at the sharp light.

  The door opened again and Carson reentered, leading Damien and Anton behind him. Anton flew to my side, grabbing my hand between his. “Thank God you’re alive, Kyra,” he cooed, running his cool fingers over mine.

  I smiled at him, looking deeply into those amber eyes. He didn’t look much better than Carson had. His hair was a mess, dark splotches beneath his eyes.

  “I-I’m sorry,” I told him. “I had to kill him. I just couldn’t...I...he…Will…” A burst of pain ripples through my chest and he sighed, his eyes glowing ever so slightly as he drew the pain and panic away from me.

  “I’m glad you did. As soon as I touched you...I...i felt what he had done to you. If you hadn’t killed him, I would have.” He had firm resolve on his face and that made me feel a little better. I thought back to what his father had done to him, the purple black bruises he had spotted that day in Damien’s office.

  “Who knows?” I asked him, feeling an awkward ball lingering in my belly. I didn’t want them to know what Henrick had done to me. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know what I had done in response.

  Anton had the grace to look embarrassed as he replied. “They all do,” he said. “I had to tell them. The doctors barely managed to revive you. Even with both Carson and my blood. You rejected anything else.” He shot a glance to Carson over the bed. Damien stood at the base of it, watching us all carefully.

  I glanced up at Carson, his expression was hard. “I carried you away from the Coliseum. Your father and family helped the wounded and cleaned up the Coliseum. Anton followed shortly after that to help draw the emotions from you. He said your heart was...overwhelmed. You wouldn’t wake up.”

  Anton looked back at me, watching my expression carefully. “I shouldn’t have left you,” he said. “You nearly killed yourself out of rage and panic and heartbreak. I could’ve stopped it. If only I had drawn it from you.” He bowed his head, looking heartbroken himself. I felt for him but it was me who had caused this, not him.

  I placed my hand on his, “Honestly, Anton, you couldn’t have stopped me...I...wasn’t myself,” I replied and I fought the image of Will that tried to force its way into my consciousness.

  Anton reached forward and touched my cheek. “Your emotions were...unbearable,” he said and I could tell that he felt ashamed. “I ran because I couldn’t handle them. It was bad enough to feel them from a distance but...I couldn’t…” I placed my hand on his, urging forward with my acceptance, hoping he could feel it. I didn’t blame him. Not at all. He looked relieved for a moment, but it barely seemed to pierce the sorrow on his face.

  Damien cleared his throat, touching my shin with his hand. “Kyra...you...it...we…” he faltered. I had never seen the man look so uncomposed. It actually touched me.

  “It’s alright, dad,” I told him, watching the relief pass across his countenance.

  We all sat in silence for several seconds.

  “Kyra,” Anton began, looking at me with wide eyes. “What you did in Rome...it was…” he trailed off, seemingly unable to grasp the words.

  “I know,” I replied, “idiotic, moronic, hideously unprepared?” I supplied.

  He huffed a laugh and shook his head. He grabbed my hand eagerly, looking up at me. “It was...incredible, Kyra. I’ve personally never seen a display of magick like that. Even if you did nearly kill yourself with it.”

  I stared at him. That wasn’t at all what I had expected.

  “He’s right,” Damien said. “You’re far more powerful than any of us had imagined. I’m sorry that we underestimated you. Running in their without backup was the only stupid part of your plan.”

  I shook my head, catching an exchange between the three of them out of the corner of my eye. “It didn’t matter. It wasn’t enough.” I rubbed one of my arms with the other hand, feeling awkward as the center of attention. My fingers lingered on the needles taped to my arm. I grumbled to myself as I tore the tape away, pulling the needles out and dropping them to the side.

  Carson reached forward, turning a knob at the base of one of the bags. Anton did the same with the other, ceasing the flow of blood from both of them. They exchanged a look but lapsed back into silence.

  “Are you feeling well enough to get out of here?” Damien asked, looking me over carefully.

  I nodded, tugging the nodes attached to my skin. The machine to my left beeeeeeped loudly. The door opened behind Damien and the same grey-haired man entered. He looked over all of us curiously, glancing to the machine. He stepped in, walking past the men before me. He flipped a switch on the monitor, fading it to black and ceasing its shriek. He wheeled it out without another word.

  Carson and Anton reached to me from opposite sides as I tugged the blankets from my hips and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I was wobbly at first and Carson clutched me, letting me lean some of my weight against him. After a step or two, my feet steadied. I reached for his hand, needing the warm comfort in mine.

  Damien turned to the door and swung it open, leading us out.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  My hospital room door opened onto a stark, white hallway. Carson hovered on my left, Anton on my right, both of them alleviating my strain by taking some of my weight. My heart swelled to see them getting along. I needed them. Both of them. Perhaps in different ways, but I needed them both right now.

  Damien led us down the hall
and past a nurse’s station. We exited through a length of double doors onto an enormous waiting room. There were dozens of people waiting there, including my mother, Gabrielle, and Kellic, front and center.

  The room erupted into cheers and shouts as they noticed us exit. My three family members threw themselves past Damien, crashing into me with hugs. My footsteps faltered and Carson wrapped his arm around my back, keeping me from losing my balance. My mother was crying and Gabrielle and Kellic spoke excitedly over each other until neither of their words made sense.

  Damien stepped nearer, looking at me with green eyes filled with adoration. “Easy now, she’s still weak,” he explained and my aunt, cousin, and mother backed away, looking me over.

  Kellic was the first to speak then. “Kyra, you were amazing!” She shrieked and only Anton stepped towards her kept her from throwing herself at me again. I couldn’t help but smile. Almost everyone I loved stood here in that instance, eager to see me. See me alive anyway.

  “She was stunning, as I always knew she would be,” Damien said and the parental pride in his eyes sent a pang of joy through my chest.

  “You killed that bastard,” Kellic said through a tight jaw. “And...well...his entire army.” She grinned at me, her face lit with excitement. She grabbed my hands with one of hers, the other laced through Anton’s fingers. I was happy for them both, really. They both seemed overjoyed, eager for each other’s company. Kellic had needed someone like Anton for a while. He had shed his selfish attitude and it occurred to me that his imprint with me was probably partially to blame.

  I pulled away from Carson gently, shooting him a grateful gaze. He smiled and tucked his head in acknowledgement. I threw my arms around Kellic, tugging her tightly to me. She returned the hug, releasing Anton’s hand. We stayed that way for several seconds, the room otherwise in silence. I needed this right now, the embrace of my best friend. Neither of us broached the subject of Will but I still wasn’t sure that I was ready for that conversation. I had failed him and I didn’t want to fall back into the pit of despair dwelling on it at that moment.