by Olivia Arndt
Mr. Lieu met my gaze, a blank expression on his face as I pressed the gun barrel to his forehead. “You can kill me,” he whispered, his voice so quiet that I barely heard him. “But this moment will forever be etched in the darkest corners of your mind. I will always be there when you close your eyes. When you let your wildest fears wander, you will see my face. Tethys Victoria Cliffblazer, you can kill me, but through you, I will never truly die.”
I stared into his cold eyes, speechless. But you will die, I thought, pressing the dark metal to his forehead firmly once more. And so will the ranks that have divided us for so long with you. I looked over to the place where Griffin and Mary stood, his tired gaze meeting mine. He gave me a grim nod, and that was all I needed as I turned to face him again. The sound of the gunshot was lost in the deafening cheers of the crowd.
Epilogue
Five Years Later
As the years flew by, the colors faded. With every passing season, I noticed them less and less, seeing the people behind the clouds. I saw the light and the dark mixing together to create the people surrounding me. A little of each because no one was just one. A lesson that I had learned over my lifetime.
The audience could be heard applauding as the broadcast ended with the ruler of Britain shaking hands with our newly made president, Mary. The Fissure War had officially ended after many attempts with not only Britain, but also with our previous allies in France. These efforts had saved the thousands of lives that had been trapped in the horrid boot camps Mr. Lieu had put into effect, ‘training’ them to fight. Griffin had told me a few stories of his time in the boot camps, and none of them were good.
I clapped along with the crowd even though they could not hear me through the screen. The cameras panned across the varied audience, making a wide grin spread across my face. I still found it strange to see the Outsiders standing beside the Opulents, even though the ranks had finally been erased completely, along with all of the Chanteuses' songs. The children who had been left with songs before this would find their soulmates as usual, but it would be a choice whether they got married or not. I had high hopes for the way our nation was forming under the rule of Mary. Justice was already being served, and peace was being well maintained. She had secured most of our old allies once more and had formed many new ones. This land was going to prosper, and I was only sad that I wouldn’t get to see it.
The Outsiders and Insiders had been pardoned by Mary and declared citizens of the young nation of Liberté, but Griffin was a different story. We could not simply pardon all that he had done, seeing how murder was still murder no matter who ruled, so Mary ‘accidentally’ let him slip past the law forces leaving us standing on the outskirts of Liberté.
“Are you scared?” He asked, smiling down at me, and slipping the silver ring onto my finger.
I met his warm gaze and shook my head. “No, not anymore.” I grinned down at the gleaming metal, before helping him slip his own on. “Are you?”
“No,” he laughed, looking across the wide expanse of land before us. Great big plains as far as the eye could see, rolling hills covered with bright grass. It was breathtaking.
The wind billowed around us, whipping our hair and clothes. This was it. This was where a new chapter began. So many were lost in the previous story, so many lives gone who would never get to see this, but I would. I would see it all for them. Sugar, Drew, Hyperion, my dad…and my mom. I would spend each day treasuring the things they never got to, leaving the clouds where they belonged: in the past.
Griff smiled as he took in the view, his green eyes twinkling. He turned back to me and took my hand in his own, “Ready for whatever comes next?”
“Ready for whatever comes next.”
Acknowledgments
Before I get to all of the other thank-you’s, I’d especially like to acknowledge all of the lovely readers! You guys rock! Like seriously guys, I could not have done this without you. So, thank you! *fist bump* Ok now, get to bed if you stayed up late reading this!
Next, a big thank you to my sister Haley, for listening to my rants about Colors at midnight, helping me make the story better, and being a better artist than me.
To Mrs. Been, my eighth-grade creative writing teacher, thank you for inspiring me to venture deeper into storytelling and improving upon my ideas. You continue to be an inspiration in my life as I continue writing, practicing all you taught me, so thank you! *hugs*
To my super awesome BFF Elizabeth, thank you for sharing my enthusiasm, helping me edit, expanding my ideas making the story so much more interesting, and just being overall an amazing person! *air hug* I could not have eliminated all those extra commas without you!
Dad, thanks for not shutting off the Wi-fi, and helping me set up all of the technical stuff! *high fives*
Mom, thanks for helping me create the cover of this book, and with this whole process! You helped me design a cover more amazing than anything I could ever dream of, and I cannot thank you enough! You have always encouraged me to follow my dreams, and none of this would have been possible without you! Thank you for helping me accomplish something I thought to be impossible before, I love you!
And above all, I would like to thank God for giving us the ability to form such complex ideas and putting this creativity in my head. Without His ingenious creation of words, I’d be lost.
Thank you.
The Fugitive’s Tale
Stay tuned to the next installment in this series coming soon!
Prologue
I had only been eight. The smoke had already been black. My dad started like we all did, happy, and just trying to get by. Then it all changed.
He started coming home late at night, angry with no time for anyone but himself. I could always smell the drink on his breath, see the change in his eyes when he walked through the door. The smoke turned from crimson to black over the years. The color as dull as our lives.
My brother was dead, and he had been for six years now. His death had taken many things from us, and my mother’s joyful spirit was no exception. My two younger siblings couldn’t see the smoke. I was the only one, and no one believed me. No one except my mother. She had always listened; she didn’t give me the looks that the others did. Those sympathetic looks.
I didn’t have time for sympathy, it was a waste of hope. A childish thought that anything would ever get better. I knew it wouldn’t. I knew Bullet wasn’t coming back, I knew Dad would never feel the pain that his death had brought onto us. After all, a murderer never cries for the victim…