Corin.
Yes. He’s here.
Tears well up behind my eyes.
Raleigh lied—it was all a lie. All of it. Siora and Quinn aren’t his.
I fight the pain, pick myself up. My body throbs, a burning stabbing inside me—my old body, but I feel it. My teeth clatter. Pain in my jaw and—
“Sev.”
He’s in front of me, and I wrap my arms around him, press my head against his chest. His heartbeat is the rhythm of the place, and it speaks to me. Life in the one place there shouldn’t be.
But my heart pounds too.
A second body. Not dead? Just trapped? Trapped for eternity, like Death promised.
But he’s here.
Corin pulls back, looks at me, my eyes.
“Are they still mirrors?” The words seem to get stuck in my throat. They’re too sharp, lacerating flesh. Something hot rises to my mouth, but I swallow it. A fresh wave of pain hums through me, gnashing with a thousand teeth.
He nods.
Mirrors. Me. I swallow, uncomfortable. The world seems redder. Crimson, it’s everywhere, flowing over the rocks, the ice, the world. My world, now.
“They’ll fade. You’re not Enhanced,” Corin says. “You’re pure.”
My pendant burns in my hand, and I look at it. My blood has turned the crystal dark, with lighter flecks in it. Dark like Siora’s. I turn my pendant over, look at the sharp part of it. Siora’s had the same sharp bit.
I cut it into three, so my daughters each have a piece as well as I, even though we shouldn’t need them? But we do need them. And Siora gave it to me. Because it was linked to her? Taras said pendants swallow energy, absorb parts of their Seers’ souls. And this here, is linked to Siora.
It brought Corin here… Because she’s part of him too. And he needs to be here, so she can be born. So Quinn can be too.
I stare at Corin. My vision blurs as the pain in my head gets sharper. The scent of charred flesh fills my nose, but I know it’s not here.
“This place…” Corin looks to his right, his jaw hard. A muscle there pulses a little. His eyes narrow as he looks up at the sky: the blinding whiteness. “Is it all like this?”
I can’t look around to see, can’t look away from him. He’s here. In the vault of pain, torture. His face is only inches from mine.
“We’re together.” The words burst from me, a fierce whisper that wraps around Corin before a ragged gust drags it away, splatters blood over us. My blood. Still bleeding.
“We are.” He smiles, looks at me. And he shouldn’t be smiling—something tells me he shouldn’t. Because he’s here. A land of blood and stone.
But he’s here. With me.
I did it. We did it.
Energy thrums through my body—energy that fights the pain, that pushes it back, holds it with flimsy barriers. The light in Corin’s eyes changes, grows brighter, a golden hue slipping in. His hands are on my face. Light touches, around my jaw, his fingers so soft, cradling me as he looks in my eyes, as our souls see each other, as he sees my pain.
I kiss him. Kiss him hard. The pendant slips from my fingers and clatters to the ground. He’s here. Corin.
Ragged breaths burst from me, and I can’t get close enough to him, can’t—
Someone claps behind us. Three short, sharp sounds.
I jolt, inhale sharply. A hardness fills Corin’s eyes as he looks around, alert.
I turn, look.
The blood—my blood—seeps away, through cracks in the rocks, exposing a gray, dark world that rises, looks darker because the sky is so bright. My eyes flit from one stone to another. Death’s table is still there. Its top still shows the New World, moving images.
“There’s no one here.” Corin’s hand touches my shoulder. He shakes only a little.
No one here. I mouth his words, my lips burring. More pain rises, cracks through my shoulders.
It’s just us. That sound, the clapping—we imagined it? Both of us?
I step away from Corin, shield my eyes from the bright sky as I look around again. The air hums, the land flickers. Darkness, everywhere—a fog growing from the ground.
A howl, far away, makes the hairs on the back of my arms stand on edge. A spirit? Here? No. My mouth dries.
“You thought you could outwit Death, Seven Sarr?”
His words. Death’s words. The words he sent when the Dream Land was being destroyed… Because he’s not here—I spin around, neck cricking. The God is not here.
I look at Corin. The old scars on his face look deeper, like someone’s recently carved them open.
He lifts his hand up. “What is—”
“You thought you could escape the pain you deserve? And you thought you could bring another person here?”
The words cut Corin off. His arm falls. My mouth drops open. My head feels too heavy.
“And you deserve the greatest of pain. Your eyes reveal your final treachery. Well, you best be prepared.”
I shift my weight from foot to foot, feel sick, strange. My eyes? The mirrors….
“It’s okay,” Corin whispers, and he’s taking my hand, squeezing my fingers—but I can’t process his words.
“Step forward, Seventh One.” Death’s voice is a whisper.
I move forward, just like that. I’m not in control. His words, they’re too powerful. My feet just move. I stumble. My gaze jolts down. My pendant. My black pendant sits on the rock.
“Sev, what’s going on?” Corin’s voice wraps around me, but I can’t see him. Can’t see anything but the rock.
“Pick up the knife.”
The knife.
“The knife in front of you.”
I see it. The knife on the rock. So suddenly there, next to my pendant. It’s—it’s made from the shards of Siora’s broken Seer pendant. I don’t know how I know, but I do. It’s the same. And the knife knows Corin. And it knows me.
No.
My eyes widen.
“One last battle,” Death’s voice announces. “We’ll see who prevails. Or perhaps we already know.”
The strangest of sensations fills me, like this has happened before, hundreds of times before, playing over and over.
The air turns into a million thorns that scratch me, that claim my hope.
Because I know.
I feel it.
Corin’s shouting, but his words are lost before they’re planted.
I lean forward. My back creaks, and a fresh wave of pain dives through me—but it doesn’t stop me. Death laughs as my fingers curl around the knife. I expect it to feel different, special in some way, not like a regular knife—because I’m not in control, I can’t stop—but it feels normal.
I stiffen.
No.
Tears well and—
I can’t let go. My fingers, they’re melded around it. They’re—no, it’s becoming part of me. Bone and flesh grow over it. A searing pain that lacerates and pierces deeper and deeper.
Death laughs again.
I look at Corin and—
No. My heartrate increases until I can’t breathe, and the nightmare awakens in my mind.
The blade looks like flint.
I run the fleshy part of my thumb over the edge.
It’s sharp….
“Stupid boy,” Death says.
And Corin stares at me, at the knife, as I bring it closer. As I hold it over his chest. As I plunge it down.
As I stab him.
I can’t move. My breath is stuck in my throat. I was shown it. My knuckles click, and I try to throw the knife down, but I can’t. It’s me. I am the deathly sharp edge. I am a Seer of Death.
Corin steps nearer to me. He’s frowning.
“No!” I yell. “Run! Get away!”
But he doesn’t. “Sev, it’s okay.” He reaches out toward me.
“No!” I wrench my body away and run. I’m shaking. Shaking so much. My knife-hand tries to turn me toward him.
“Kill him.” Death’s command is like
a circling bird. It swoops round and round, and the words echo over and over.
“She’s not going to!” Corin yells, turning, his face upturned to the sky. “You can’t control her.”
Death laughs. “She cannot resist forever. She should not have anyone with her. Anyone who’s here must be killed. And only those she loves could be here—and must die by her hand—and that is her torture.”
Must die by my hand.
“Seven Sarr, welcome to your misery. Kill Corin and live with the consequences.”
No… No… No.
Bad things are going to happen to you… My mother’s voice this time.
No, not her voice. My memory. The words she said just before she died: Be brave. My visions, they always happen, and these haven’t yet… Stay strong. You can get through this.
The bad things.
This is it?
Me killing Corin? Killing him?
I look at Corin and—
I jolt.
Siora’s vision. Just me and them. The girls.
He wasn’t there.
Ten years? I manage it for ten years—resisted Death’s command for ten years? More? But not twenty-four.
Anyone who’s here must be killed.
I inhale sharply. The girls.
I didn’t send them through time to save them from the pain of Death’s realm. They weren’t in pain. Siora wasn’t in pain.
I did it to save them from me.
And—
My heart rips, a bout of jagged pain.
Quinn’s dead. Did she know she’d die? Do I tell her, in the future?
Because it’s only Siora…only Siora’s face which now fills the tabletop. And I don’t know how I see it, but I do. And the darkness inside her. Darkness that shouldn’t be there. Not in her.
“It’s okay,” Corin says. “We’re together. The Untamed are alive. We won.”
Won?
I wait for Death’s next words.
The realm is silent except for my heavy breathing and Corin’s footsteps as he closes in on me. My knife-hand tries to reach for him, and I pull it back, tense every muscle. A blinding pain unfolds. My breaths get heavier, thicker.
“Sev, we won.” Corin’s smiling, smiling as he points at me. How can he smile? “Look—you didn’t kill me. We’ve really won.”
Won?
Siora’s face on the tabletop blinks.
Won?
Quinn… He doesn’t know. My lips feel like stone. I look at him, and the words try to climb out of me, but I can’t. I can’t say them. Her body—I see it. It’s super-imposed on my vision.
“But so many are dead.” I bite the words out, and I’m sweating so much. Can feel it beading across my spine, huge globules. “I hardly saved any.” My teeth chatter. I’m not going to save you either. I’m going to kill you.
“But you saved some. That’s the important thing.” He steps nearer still, and I want to scream at him. But I can’t. I don’t. My throat is raw. “No Enhanced Ones are alive. We have won. And this—” He gestures between us. My hand with the knife. It’s welded to me. I can’t let go of it. “We can sort this out. We can fight anything. Have you got your powers?”
My powers… I swallow with difficulty, then I feel them, squashed within the folds of pain. Just my own ones. No other Sarrs inside me—and their powers are wrapped around the New World, keeping it alive. My body-sharing flares up, and the connection to Corin glows brighter.
No. I pull myself back. I can’t. That was life and death before. This isn’t. I promised him, promised I’d never body-share with him.
“I have my own powers.” My voice is a whisper, and my powers rotate inside me and—
The silver thread, it’s the center, the core. Vala’s power. No. Mine now. Time-manipulation. And it feels like it’s mine, like it was always mine, always meant for me. Like she was just keeping it safe. Because it’s always existed.
“Then you can undo what Death has done.” Corin says it like it’s easy.
He doesn’t know.
We can’t change this.
It has to stay the same. It will stay the same. If I have Corin here and never lose him, I’d never send the girls back to save them from their deaths. We’d stay here. All of us, believing Corin, that we can fight anything. But the past has to stay the same. Siora and Quinn are needed in it. They have to be in it.
I look at Corin. I shake my head. Tears spill from my eyes, sting my face.
“We have to make the most of it.” My voice cracks, and I want to reach out and touch him, feel his heartbeat under my fingers, but the only hand that responds is the one with the knife, and Death’s compulsion grows stronger inside me.
My eyes smart, and I feel the pain, the torment, the knowing, because that’s what this realm commands. Fate is a dark promise.
“We’re together,” Corin whispers. “And we have time.”
Destroyed is definitely the hardest book I’ve ever written. I can’t believe I’ve finished Seven’s story! I’m so grateful to have such a wonderful group of people supporting me and working with me on this book.
To my amazing critique partners, S.E. Anderson and Sarah Mensinga: thank you. Your feedback has been immensely helpful, and you’ve really helped me shape Destroyed into something I’m very proud of. Thank you also for providing such wonderful blurbs for this book too.
Equally, I must thank my wonderful beta-readers: Maria Sinclair, Holly Armstrong, Rosie Cranie-Higgs, and Em Jackson. Thank you so much for providing me with feedback on early drafts of this book. Your comments also made me laugh so much.
To Elizabeth Huxley-Jones, thank you for providing a sensitivity consultation on the character of Bea, regarding the portrayal of autism, and for reading the manuscript numerous times. It was a delight working with you again. Any errors are mine.
Michelle Dunbar, I couldn’t have finished this book without you! You are an amazing editor, and I’m so grateful I was able to work with you again. Thank you also for replying to my (many) emails (and so quickly too), and for your constant reassurance when I was convinced I’d never finish this book on time!
Once again, Molly Phipps, you’ve worked your magic in bringing my story to life with your gorgeous cover and interior design. Your work is beautiful. Thank you.
I’m really lucky to belong to some great writers’ groups, and so I’d like to thank the Fiction Café - Writers’ Group, AAYAA, and the YA Story Sisters for your ongoing support, as well as everyone in my own author group/street team.
To Tom Wija, Alice Varah, Rachel Hurdle, Rachael Bundy, and Susan Dowell: thank you for being so encouraging and supportive all the time.
I must thank my family and friends for being so enthusiastic, helpful, and understanding—even on the days when I’ve been so caught up in getting this manuscript just right and have barely talked about anything else. I’m so lucky to have you all.
And, finally, to Mum, Dad, Sam, and Nana: thank you for everything.
MADELINE DYER lives on a farm in the southwest of England, where she hangs out with her Shetland ponies and writes young adult books—sometimes, at the same time. She holds a BA Honors degree in English from the University of Exeter, and several presses have published her fiction. Madeline has a strong love for anything dystopian, ghostly, or paranormal, and she can frequently be found exploring wild places. At least one notebook is known to follow her wherever she goes.
Destroyed is her fifth novel.
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Find Madeline online:
Twitter: @MadelineDyerUK
Instagram: @MadelineDyerUK
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Website: www.MadelineDyer.co.uk
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WHAT WOULDN’T YOU DO FOR LOVE?
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All her life, adrenaline-junkie Keelie Lin-Sykes has known what she wants: to protect her brother and sisters by kill
ing as many of the soulless Enhanced Ones as she can. Oh, and to have fun while she’s doing it. After all, hiding in a secret Untamed community, while the group’s Seer warns them of danger, shouldn’t mean that life can only be serious, right? But, when a face from her past suddenly—and secretly—shows up, Keelie’s catapulted back into the very world she’s been trying to escape from for the last ten years: a game full of guilt, lies, and…love. And the deeper Keelie gets, the bigger the risks become. Now, Keelie must deceive those she values most in order to protect them, even though her actions will destroy everything she knows and haunt her family forever. But she can’t ignore her feelings—not again. And Keelie will do anything to be with the man she loves.
First, I hear them in my dreams.
Long, drawn-out screams. Screams that grab and burn, like fire; sounds that never let go. Sounds that—
“Keelie!”
I open my eyes, heart pounding, and see a figure looming over me. My father—short, red-faced, worried. He grabs my arm, pulls me up. The screams continue, still scorching me.
For a moment, I think it’s the Turning. That it’s the spirits screaming, that they’re reverting to their most dangerous of temperaments, and it’s a good job we’re inside, else they’ll kill us. But then I realize. The screams are human. They’re us.
“Keelie! Come on—we’ve got to go, got to leave. Now.” My father hands me several layers of clothes. “Pack everything quickly. Like we practiced.”
Behind him, my mother’s shoving everything she can get her hands on into the only suitcase we have. Her hands move so fast. “Owen, get the weapons!” she yells.
Nearby, there’s sharp movement—hands and arms reaching for things. Heavy, quick breathing. Bea, my older sister, scoops the baby out of the cot, holds Mila close to her chest just as the infant starts crying. I see the look on Bea’s face—how she’s trying to stay in control and not panic.
My body jolts; it’s happening. Actually happening.
They’re out there.
They’re coming for us.
Outside, someone shouts. I think it’s Red’s voice, but I’m not sure—it’s distorted by the heavy clog of the engines, the shouts, the screams.
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